Linda drove the car slowly; Helen sat next to the window looking out at the lengthening shadows of evening.
"What are you thinking about, Mom?" Linda asked.
"Oh, nothing, really," she said, without looking at her daughter.
Linda shrugged. There had been very little communication between them since Helen got back from her sister's, and her wedding was two days away. Linda pulled into the church parking lot and stopped the car.
"We're really early tonight," Linda said.
They went into the church and sat in a back pew. No one had turned the church lights on, and it was gray and mysterious inside. They hadn't been sitting five minutes when they heard someone come in.
"Hey, where is everybody?" It was Bill's voice.
"Over here, honey," Linda called.
Tom stepped in behind Bill, and the two young men walked to the pew where Linda and Helen sat.
"Hello, Mother Palmer," Bill said. "I don't think you've met Tom. This is Tom Henderson, my best man."
Helen stood up and put out her hand. She was wearing slacks and a blouse that buttoned down the front. Her tits looked big and loose. They were loose; she wasn't wearing a bra. She felt giddy with her tits naked like this. It was something she'd never done before, but she seemed to have these strange impulses ever since she had seduced her son.
"Call me Helen, Tom," she said.
Tom was impressed. He hadn't expected such a young-looking woman, or one as attractive. He especially liked her big jugs. He had a weakness for robust women. He found her prettier than Linda, also.
"I think we'll go for a ride, Mom; it's still a long time before practice. Want to come along?"
"No, you kids go ahead."
"I'll stay with you," Tom said.
Helen laughed, obviously pleased. "Don't worry about the old lady, Tom."
"What do you mean, old lady? I want to stay," he said, sliding in beside her. "You two go ahead."
Linda felt a twinge of jealousy. "We'll be back in about an hour. Come on, Bill," she said, going out the door.
"That was sweet, Tom," Helen said.
"I didn't do it to be sweet; I want to stay with you."
Helen picked up her purse. "I want a cigarette."
"Should you smoke in church?"
"I want to smoke, and I don't want to go outside."
"Okay, let's smoke mine," Tom said, and took two cigarettes and lit them.
They smoked silently for a couple of minutes before Helen leaned close to Tom, her face inches from his. "Now I need a drink," she said.
"There's a bottle in Bill's car," Tom said. Tom grinned and felt a tickle in his loins. She's in need of something, he thought.
"Go and get it," Helen said.
"Okay." He got to his feet. "Hell, I bet Bill took the car."
"If he did, there's a pint in the glove of my car."
A myriad of thoughts had been swirling through Helen's head since she got back from her sister's: many of them concerned sex. She hadn't let Dan touch her since she got back, either. She felt a warmth for this attractive young man, a warmth that she knew was not motherly.
Tom returned and slid in beside her. "It's on you this time; Bill took his car," he said, unscrewing the cap.
Helen took a drink from the bottle. While Tom took a pull, she slid over until their hips touched.
"Put your arm around me; it's cool in here," she said, tipping the bottle to her lips again. She felt his arm on her neck and his palm on her breast. "I can feel it already," she said, "I had a couple before we came."
"Yes, I could tell," Tom said, and kissed her.
Her lips were moist and came open quickly. When she felt him squeeze her tit, she crowded her tongue into his mouth. He sucked on her tongue for a long time.
"I'm glad I didn't wear a bra tonight. I usually do," she said, and unbuttoned her blouse all the way down. Her tits looked big and inviting when she spread her blouse open. "Feel them, and kiss me again," she said.
He felt the hard nipples while he kissed her. He couldn't believe his good luck. He'd barely missed fucking Linda; he wasn't going to miss with Mama. She was just like her daughter, a tramp. Her nipples were sensitive like Linda's, too.
Helen held his face and slid her tongue in and out of his mouth. She made no effort to stop him when his hand slid down her belly and squeezed inside her slacks. She raised up and pushed her slacks down over her butt. Tom moved back a little and watched her remove her slacks and then her panties. She lay down in the pew, one leg stretched out on the seat, the other with her foot on the floor.
Tom stood up and started to unbuckle his pants.
"Just unzip and take it out," she hissed. "And put it in me… Quick."
Tom grinned, pulling down his zipper. He liked a woman who was hot and ready, and Mama Palmer was hot and ready. His cock came out stiff and long. He stroked it several times while she stared, and then came down on top of her.
Helen grabbed his prick and pushed it immediately into her cunt. She lifted with her hips, forcing her cunt around his cock. When it was all the way in, she wrapped her legs over his back.
"It feels good, Tom… make it feel better," she said. He started pumping. "If someone comes in, sing a hymn or something," she grunted, feasting on the pleasure of his cock.
She was enjoying it too much to worry about where she was, or that she had just met him, or that someone might come in; she was living for the fuck. If she could fuck her own son, she could fuck anyone, and she didn't feel any guilt; it felt too good.
Tom stroked rapidly, feeling the pressure of getting caught. He knew he wouldn't last long; her cunt was too snug. It surprised him that she was so tight, especially as wet as she was. She was all but dripping.
"Not too fast, honey. I'll make it if you hold out a bit longer… I'm getting close." She let her legs fall free, snugging her pussy around his prick. It was enough; she started to come.
"Uung… yes… good! Come inside me; I'm there!"
Tom didn't need to be persuaded. The stuff came out into her cunt in globs. He had a load and she got it all. He stroked into her several more times and then pulled out. He laid the head of his cock into the thick nest of hair and let it drain slowly. He finally wiped what was left onto her belly and sat up.
Helen got to her feet and slipped on her panties without cleaning up. When she had her slacks in place and her blouse buttoned up, she sat down and lit a cigarette.
"That was a good fuck, Tom. I liked it," she said. "Is Linda a good fuck?"
"I've never fucked her," he said.
"That surprises me. I think we got done just in time; I hear a car. Kiss me one more time."
He kissed her hard. She responded eagerly, her hand clutching his prick through his pants. She opened the bottle and took a long drink, offered it to Tom, and when he refused, capped it and stuffed it in her purse.
Bill and Linda came in, followed by Dan.
"We stopped and picked up Daddy," Linda said.
Others in the wedding party started arriving for rehearsal. The preacher came in and turned on the lights. Helen wanted another drink instead of a wedding rehearsal, and she wanted another fuck, too. The quickie with Tom whetted her appetite. The insides of her thighs felt sticky, and her cunt wet.
After talking to Dan for a few minutes, she started counting heads to see if everyone was there. Her count stopped at Joan Wagner, and she wondered why Linda had chosen such a brazen snip for her matron of honor. Joan sat on a folding chair talking to one of the ushers and she had one foot pulled up into the chair, and was clasping her knee in her hands.
Helen's throat went dry, and a perverse thrill sent a chill racing up her spine. Joan's skirt was all the way up to her crotch, and she wasn't wearing panties. She could see Joan's cunt spread open from her awkward position, and the froth of cushiony blonde hair delicately embroidering her pussy.
Helen wanted a cigarette, and then as her hand went to her throat, she wanted a drink, and worst of all, she wanted to be fucked again, and she didn't care who did the honors. She thought of Peter and his man-sized pecker, and of Tom, and then the tall, slim youth talking to Joan. She wondered if his prick was larger than her husband's. She was sure that it was, even though she knew she would probably never find out.
She glanced around and saw that Peter was ogling Joan's pussy. Even the preacher, the pious man of the cloth, was standing so he could get a good view of the maid of honor's snatch. The maid of honor indeed – the girl was a slut, a whore. Helen wanted to push down her slacks and show the man of God that she had a cunt, too. A damn fine cunt.
After the practice was over, Helen left with her husband. She had already decided that when she got home she was going to get drunk, good and drunk, and maybe, just maybe, let Dan fuck her. She needed a cock, even if she had to resort to her husband. In the car, she resisted the urge to take his prick out and suck it, suck it until it squirted in her mouth.
When they got home, Helen made two strong drinks and sat on the couch. She got drunk very quickly. She usually ignored Dan when he got amorous, but not this time; she opened her blouse and invited him to suck. She even played with his cock while he sucked her tits. When his prick was good and hard, she stood up and did a slow strip, and then had him chase her around the couch several times before she lay down on the floor and let him fuck her.
Dan almost remarked how slick and wet her pussy was. She felt so damn good all naked and vibrant under his pounding hips.
Peter came in and watched his mother and father fuck. He could really appreciate it now that she was his fuck, too.
Helen came hard, jerking and grunting. "Oooh, Dan, that's good," she moaned. "I'm coming, hon! Fuck hard and fast!"
Dan couldn't believe his ears; Helen was talking like a woman of the street; his sweet wife was actually enjoying his cock for a change. It was too much; he started coming. It was the first time he'd fucked her in several months. He didn't know he owed her excitement to his son, and to Tom Henderson, and to Joan Wagner's wanton cunt display at the church.
Helen tried to remember the last time she made the grade with Dan in the saddle. When she couldn't, she passed out. Dan put her to bed in the nude.