It was hot, hard work and the pay wasn't all that great – a hundred a week for a forty-hour shift – but Marge was glad to get the job. Nor was it the kind of creative cooking which she enjoyed. Mountains of burgers and fries was what it took to satisfy the ravenous appetites of the drive-in's customers, mostly teenagers, and it kept Marge hopping to fill the stream of orders turned in by the one counter girl and the three carhops. Mr. Worley – Mrs. Nelson's nephew Jim – broke Marge in to the way he wanted things done and, when the orders piled up faster than she could fill them, he pitched in to help her out, always joking and carrying on with her the way he did with the young girls who worked for him.
Mr. Worley was in his early fifties, turning bald. He was a wiry little man. At five-foot-five, he stood two inches shorter than Marge. Mainly he made all the drinks and tended the cash register, but he seemed to love his business and was all over the place when things got busy. The only thing the jovial little man didn't do was hop cars. He and Marge hit it off right from the start. By the end of her first shift, they'd dropped the "Mister Worley" and "Missus Sayre" bit and were calling one another by their first names.
The only real objection Marge had about her job was the hours – two in the afternoon till ten p.m. when the place closed – because she didn't like the idea of leaving her nine-year-old son alone in the evenings. At first the boy walked to the drive-in and hung around for an hour or so after Marge had given him his supper, then Mrs. Nelson sort of adopted him and Marge quit worrying about him so much, knowing he was being looked after in the evenings and put to bed promptly at eight. It wasn't so bad. The drive-in was closed on Sunday and Monday because Jim wouldn't work on Sunday and said he'd learned the hard way that Monday was a money-loser.
Although Jim was married, happily he said, he insisted on driving Marge home every night and she let him. She liked the man and saw nothing wrong with accepting a ride from him since he was her employer. Then they got to stopping at a bar for a nightcap. One night they had three drinks before Jim took her home and Marge, who was a bit tipsy and hadn't had any loving for weeks, allowed her boss to kiss her goodnight.
Jim was all over her in a matter of minutes. They were parked in the alley behind her apartment, and he was wrestling her around in the seat as if they were a couple of teenagers, French-kissing her while he fought her hands to play with her foam-rubber tits through her blouse. Finally he shoved his hand forcibly under her dress and began rubbing her cock-starved pussy.
"No, Jim!" she panted, when he slipped his hand inside the secretion-soaked crotchband of her nylon panties and probed two fingers up into her juiced-up slot. "Ohhhhh… oh, don't! Damn it, I ca-can't… let you screw me!"
But screwing her wasn't what he was after. He begged her to let him go down on her, nothing more, swore he could worship her for her fabulous legs and ass, that watching her move around in the kitchen had made him crazy to eat her snatch. He didn't care that her crotch was sweaty and that she needed a douche. In fact, the strong smell of her aroused cunt seemed to excite him all the more.
He wouldn't take no for an answer. Like a wild man he wrestled her down and, jerking her panty crotchband to the side, began slavishing licking her hairy hole, whimpering and shaking with emotion as he did so.
Once she felt his lapping tongue and suctioning lips working on her erogenous crack, Marge melted and let him have his lustful way with her. He made her cum twice before he groaned and shot off in his pants.
"God, I don't know what came over me, Marge," he said when he finally let her up. "I've never done that to any woman before. There's something about you, baby, something that brings out the animal in me. I'm not gonna say I'm sorry because I'm not. Jesus, I've never enjoyed anything so much in my whole life. Don't quit me, Marge. Stay on. I'll give you a nice raise if you will."
She accepted a cigarette and a light from him. His hands were still shaking. Strangely, she didn't regret what had happened. He'd satisfied her sexual needs, leaving her in a relaxed mood of physical well-being. "I'll never have intercourse with you," she said. "You're a married man and I'm not about to become a home-wrecker."
"Just let me eat you out every now and again," he pleaded. "All I want to do is worship that delicious cunt of yours with my mouth."
"Are you sure you'll be satisfied with that, Jim?" she asked in a tauntingly throaty whisper, for she was beginning to enjoy the mounting sense of power which her physical appeal apparently gave her over her boss.
He gulped and shook his head. "I'll be wanting to lick those pretty little feet of yours, too, and your gorgeous legs… and, oh, God… your ass… that beautiful ass! Marge, I've been fighting this for years. But you, whatever it is about you… I can't fight it anymore. At work… nothing will be different there… do you understand? Except I'll raise you twenty-five dollars a week starting this week… and I'll pay you more later… if you'll…" His voice trailed off.
It was his expression of blissful humiliation more than what he'd said which struck a responsive cord in Marge and brought a part of her personality which she'd never known existed rising to the surface.
"I think I'm beginning to get your message, boss man," she intoned, and slapped him quite hard. When he only whimpered, she slapped him. "That's the way you want me to treat you when-we're alone, isn't it, Jim?"
He gulped and nodded. "We'll go to a motel next time. I've got some leather things I'd like you to wear. You will dominate me, won't you?"
"Completely," she assured him, for now that she realized what their relationship was to be, she was eager to get it going. She'd read of such things before, and now she knew why it'd held that inexplicable sense of fascination for her. "Do you sleep in pajamas?" she asked.
"Why, yes, I do, but why do you ask?"
Her smile belonged on a jungle cat stalking its prey. "Because I wouldn't want to mark you where your wife might see it. You don't want her to know, do you? Of course not, so bare your chest for me."
Obediently he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled up his T-shirt.
"I've noticed you admiring these long red nails of mine. I've always wondered why I took so much trouble keeping them this way. But now I know, lover, thanks to you."
With that, she reached over and raked her sharp fingernails slowly across his chest. The more he whimpered and trembled, the deeper she dug them in. There were four red welts across his chest when she finished.
"Did you enjoy that as much as I did, Jim? Does it excite you the way it excites me?"
"Christ, yes! More!" he pleaded.
"Oh, no," she laughed. "That's all you get tonight. I'm calling the shots from now on. Buy me some thigh-high boots, will you?"
"Black ones," he husked.
"Of course black," she said, and told him what size to buy before she sent him on his way.
Marge went up the stairs humming softly to herself. She felt good, confident, powerful, and she knew her new self-confidence was a direct result of the dormant streak of female dominance which Jim had evoked from her. It gave her a strange and wonderful feeling, although she realized it was only a small part of her total personality. She supposed she ought to poke it around, examine it, analyze it, but she was disinclined to do so. How much better it would be for her in the long run to simply savor and enjoy this new facet of her personality, for it drove away her fears concerning the future. All her life she'd felt dependent on men in one way, or another, and she'd resented it. But no longer. Now a man was dependent on her, and it worked an odd sort of magic within her. Now, for the first time since her husband had deserted her, Marge felt able to cope with life as it was.
It made no difference that her new-found optimism was totally unrealistic, for like the bumblebee – whose body is too heavy for its wings but it doesn't know that and so flies anyway – Marge refused to be concerned about details which didn't interest her.
"What were you doing down there in the car so long?" Kenny demanded.
"That, young man, happens to be none of your business," Marge replied as she kicked off her shoes and padded toward the bathroom in her stocking feet. "You're supposed to be asleep. Now turn off the lamp and get that way."
The room was dark when she emerged from the john dressed for bed, but Kenny wasn't asleep.
"I saw you down there," he muttered, as she slipped in beside him.
"Oh? You were peeking out the window again, were you?"
"I had to."
She couldn't help smiling in the darkness. "Jealous," she accused.
"I can't help it!" he snapped. "If you won't let me make love to you, then I don't want you letting no one else."
"I told you to forget about that, Kenny. I'm not going to let you. It was a mistake, so why must you keep bringing it up?"
He scooted closer to her and put his hand on her stomach. Marge said nothing. She lay perfectly still while he inched his hand lower. When he got this way, it was easier on both of them for her to let him feel her up a little bit. It wasn't healthy, but neither were his jealous tantrums when she refused to let him touch her between the legs. Ordinarily she didn't allow him to pull up her nightgown, but for some reason she didn't stop him tonight. She was in a rather devilish mood and wanted to see what he would do when he discovered that the crotchband of her panties was sopping wet.
"You're all sticky down there! You let him make love to you, didn't you?!"
"Maybe; but what if I did?" Marge asked teasingly, and immediately regretted saying it. For some strange reason his jealousy flattered her, but she'd never deliberately egged him on before. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've said that."
"Then you did let him fuck you!" Kenny whined in jealous rage, and started rubbing her clefted mound as if it was his right to be rough with it.
"No, damn it, I didn't!" Marge snapped.
"Then why is your pussy all wet?!" he demanded, and suddenly he snaked his small hand in through the elastic legband of her panties. She felt the same as she had that night Frank had put his hand on her. It excited him terribly. "Mama, Mama!" he cried, probing his fingers into the slippery softness of her warm, wet slot.
"Ken-nieee!" Marge wailed, grabbing his wrist. "No, nooh! Oh, honey, you mustn't do that!"
"I got to!" he whimpered, waggling his fingers inside her.
"No! You haven't got to!" Marge said, but his hand was locked inside her panties, and she couldn't get his fingers out of her snatch. "Damn, it, Kenny, don't! Stop it now! That's enough!"
"I can't help it, Mama!"
He wouldn't let up. She was full of hot paste, and he kept swishing his fingers through it. Marge tried not to like it, but it got to feeling good and finally she let go of his wrist.
"Oh, Son, this is so wrong," she sighed. "I shouldn't let you… mmmm… do this to me!"
"It feels good, don't it?"
"Yes, yes! Ohhh, it does!" she crooned.
He began sliding his fingers in and out of her hair-fringed opening, and Marge couldn't deny that it felt lovely. The fact that it was her own little boy frigging her only made it all the more delicious.
"Take off your panties and let me fuck you again, Mama!"
"Kenny, no-ohhh! Jesus, what am I going to do with you? I'm your mother! I ca-can't let you put your peter in me, honey! And I… shouldn't even be… letting you do this!"
"Don't you like it?"
In and out, in and out; his fingers were moving steadily.
"God, yes, I like it! All right… fuck me… but just with… aaaah… your darling little fingers!"
She drew her panty crotchband aside and held it out of his way, parting her legs so he could get at her better. She knew she was playing with fire, wished now that she'd never given in to his tantrums and allowed him to touch her pussy to calm him down. But it was too late for that. The damage was done, and now she was letting him finger-fuck her!
Dear God, what next? she thought. I must be losing my mind! But, he's all I've got… and it does feel good… Goddamn me, why do I have to be so weak?!
Kenny was kneeling over her now, and Marge had kicked back the covers. It felt like he was trying to work his whole hand up inside her. She drew up her legs slightly and spread her knees wide as they would go.
"I love you, Mama!" he panted, giving it to her with all four of his young fingers, his thumb cupped inside them. "I wish we had that rubber thing I fucked you with before! You liked it, didn't you?"
"God help me, but I did!" she admitted, rotating her rump as she grasped his wrist. "Push harder, honey! See if you can get your little hand into my pussy!"
The lad grunted and shoved, grunted and shoved, the way he'd seen Frank do with the dildo. It hurt his hand and made his mother groan as if he was killing her, but he knew she loved what he was doing to her so he kept it up, hoping she would let him do it to her again. Oh, how he wanted to make love to her! He dreamed about it almost every night.
"Aaaggghhhhh!" Marge groaned. "Keep trying! Ohhhhh oh, baby, hurt me! I love ittt!!"
Little by little her elastic cuntflesh yielded to the incessant rough probing of her son's small hand.
"Ithink it's going in, Mama!"
"Yes, yes! Push! Ohhhhh…harder… push, push, ppuusshhh!!" Marge shrieked, her buttocks quivering as she employed the muscles in her shapely legs to help her shove up her steaming twat.
With the aid of her free-flowing vaginal lubricant and the added force of her lifting hips, the hand of Marge's nine-year-old child popped in through the tautly-stretched cuntal opening between her legs.
"Ahhhhh, Goddd!!" she cried, and fell back gasping for breath, her body shuddering with the enormously wicked thrill of their vulgar accomplishment.
"Do you like it, Mama? Does it feel good?"
"Make A Fist!" she gasped, and shivered with the lewdness of it as she felt him closing his hand inside her. "NOW PUT your… arm up… into me!"
If anything, Kenny was more excited than his mother. He loved the feel of her warm, wet cunt and was only too glad to do what she said. He drew his hand up into a fist and, wondering how it felt to her, he started pushing it deeper into her heaving belly.
The crisp hair surrounding her slick, satiny hole brushed the kid's skin as he worked his arm into her slowly but surely. When his wrist disappeared, he paused and glanced up at her face in the semidarkness.
"More!" she panted, and when he gave it to her, she moaned, "Oh, Kenny, yesss! Keep it… aaaggghhhhh… coming!"
Her swollen sex petals hugged his arm like a tight rubber band. The more he inserted into her, the tighter her hair-ringed entrance gripped his ever-broadening forearm. By the time she'd taken half of it, she feared it was going to split her.
"Don't stop!" she said, her hands twisting the sheet beside her undulating hips. "More, Honey! I want mmoorreee!!"
Kenny forced more of his arm into her. He loved his mother more than anything in the world and didn't want to damage her. But she seemed to love the hurt so he figured it was all right.
"Ohhhh,it hurts!" she moaned. "Hurts soo gooooddd!!"
It was as if she'd read his mind. Kenny smiled.
Now he knew it was all right. Maybe if he hurt her pussy enough, she would give in and let him fuck her again! With this goal in mind, the boy began twisting his arm back and forth, pulling it out of her a little before he drove it back in with a grunt, sinking it gradually deeper into that wonderful, hot, wet, hole between her legs.
"Oh, God…ahhhhh uuunnngg-hhh… God, God… ohhhhhhh!!" Marge moaned and groaned, her perspiration-sheened torso jerking blissfully each time Kenny's arm rammed a tiny bit farther into her.
He was stretching her cunt all out of shape, but she didn't care. The wild pleasure of this insane act – which Marge would have thought impossible if it hadn't been happening successfully – plunged her into a fit of raging lust.
Incest! her conscience railed. This is incest!
No, no, no! Marge moaned inwardly. It's his arm not his penis! And I've got to have it! As much of it as he can stuff up me! Even if it kills me to take it!
"More, more, more!" she bleated, nearly passing out with the rapture it produced when his fist started bumping against the hypersensitive neck of her uterus, jolting that feminine organ higher up into her body.
"But, Mama, it's in up to my elbow already!" Kenny squeaked. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Yesss… Aaaggghhh… I'm sure! Impale me with it!Give it to me… ooouuuu… clear up to your… aaahh… shoulderrr!!"
What the passion-crazed woman told her son to do was a physical impossibility, of course, but the excited child did his damndest to please her, and her ravenous snatch actually did swallow his elbow and a couple of inches of his slender upper arm before his fist had her womb shoved up into her shivering torso far as it could go without rupturing something inside her.
"Gawd, gawd, gawd!" Marge chanted, her head burrowing into the pillow as she clawed the mattress beside her quaking hips. "I want… oooohhhhhh… I wa-want…"
"Me to fuck you with my arm?" Kenny asked eagerly.
"YES, YES!" she panted, revolving her hips in a tight, circular motion. "Oh, Good Lord… yesss do it… doo itt!!"
Kenny grinned confidently. He was pretty sure she would let him put his aching peter in her hole before long now. But he wasn't in any hurry. He was fascinated with her hairy hole. It felt nice to have his arm inside it, where she was real hot and wet and soft as velvet. Keeping his fist clenched, he started pulling his arm out to the wrist and sinking it back in till her pulsating orifice snapped over his elbow. In and out, in and out he fucked her with his arm, and the way she sobbed and shook made his own insides feel like they were melting and running together.
"Uunnn-aaahhhhhhh…uunnn – ooohhhhhhh!" Marge moaned as the lewd pleasure of her son's rhythmically pumping arm washed over her in a continual stream of flood-like waves.
It was obscene to the nth degree what they were doing, but glorious! Marge couldn't lie still. It was too fantastically good, the way Kenny's small fist kept her pleasured womb bobbing up and down in her belly like a cork on a wind-swept lake. She thrashed about rapturously with her arms outflung and her palms slapping the bed.
"Kenny… Ken-nieee!!" she said, the cords connecting her thighs to her groin standing out taut as bowstrings, jerking and twitching as she rotated her hips in a grinding up and down motion which threw her twat up to help her young child stuff his arm deep into her heaving belly. "Christ, yesss! aaahhhhh… give it to me, precious! Lord, but that… feels soo… gooooddd!!"
Sweat rolled off her feverish body. Her breath came in great gasping huffs. A continuous flow of pleasured outcries issued from the tremulous lips of her gaping mouth. The blood-engorged lips of her furry gash clung to Kenny's arm, making liquid, lurid slurping noises when he drew it partway out of her, then fluttered submissively and folded in around his forearm when he plunged it back into the moist heat of her secreting vagina, the deeper end of which responded with a joyously lascivious squishing sound.
Slurp, squish! Slurp, squish! Slurp, squish!
The wet sounds of her steaming fuckhole greedily gobbling then releasing the plunging forearm of her nine-year-old child only added to Marge's erotic pleasure. She had no excuse to fall back on this time. She was drunk, yes, but on lust not liquor. The flames of her perverted passion licked searingly at her insides. If this was incest, then so be it, for Marge was enjoying it tremendously.
With every raw-ended nerve in her keyed-up body she could feel her son's fist bumping her cervix like the head of a gigantic cock. His shaftlike forearm kept the soft, slippery ring of her dilated, hair-surrounded slot pumping in and out as it shuttled back and forth, back and forth, driving his fist like a piston into the very depths of her pleasured abdomen. She hoped it would go on forever, but the fantastic sensations it produced soon became too much for her human flesh to endure.
As the bittersweet tensions of preorgasmic delirium tightened her blood-congested loins, damming up the flow of pleasure until it became the sweetest form of torture on earth, Marge sucked in her breath raggedly and bore down with her heels and shoulders. Her spine bent into a bow-shape. For a moment her arched, trembling body hung suspended in the air, her firm/soft asscheeks quivering visibly.
Then the dam broke and her pent-up sexual tensions flooded out from her groin in concentric waves of boiling bliss. Her climax was unbelievably intense. She grabbed Kenny's arm, already into her up to his elbow, and tried ruttishly albeit unsuccessfully to stuff it up into her stomach clear to his shoulder.
"Nnaaaaa-gggaaahhhhh!!" she cried and fell back weakly, her entire torso shuddering ecstatically. "Cumming…cumming… ooohhh, Good Lord… am I ever… cccuuummmiiinnnggggg!!"
She threw back her head, her eyes rolling up until only their whites could be seen.
"Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhh!!"
Sweat rolled off her in sheets as a series of flesh-quaking tremors wracked her febrile form.
"Oooohhhh… oooohhhh… ooooooohhhhhhhhh!!"
Her long, shapely legs flailed about helplessly, the pink heels of her dainty feet beating the mattress erratically.
"Uuunnn, uuunnn… aaaahhhh ooouuuuuuuuuuu!!"
It felt as if the incredible blasts of agony/ecstasy exploding deep inside her were ripping her apart at the seams.
"Uuuuunnnnn… aaaaahhhhh… ooooooohhhhhhhh!!"
The total rapture of it overwhelmed her. All she could do was lie there sobbing brokenly when her orgasm reached its excruciating peak, the satiny walls of her juiced-up vagina grabbing convulsively at her son's pussy-engulfed arm as her perspiration-drenched body shivered and shook in a frenzied dance of mind-numbing sexual fulfillment.
"Can I fuck you now, Mama?" Kenny asked, as his mother lazed in the dreamy afterglow of her all-over cum, whimpering and sighing repeatedly.
"I su-suppose… I might as well… let you," she panted, knowing that after what they'd already done, he would keep at her until she gave in or spanked him, and spanking him was the farthest thing from her mind. "I shouldn't… but all right."
"Oh, boy! Take off your panties, Mama, and your nightie, too!"
He backed his arm out of her with a sluu-uurrppp! and Marge sat up and pulled her nightgown off over her bead, then lay back down and raised her midsection so her little boy could take her panties off her. She could see his face by the dim illumination from the night light in the kitchenette. He was terribly excited. She couldn't help thinking how cute he was as he stripped off his pajamas. His little dick was hard as a bone, angling up from his totally hairless groin.
Neither of them spoke now. A sensual smile of calm acceptance played over Marge's face as she scooted to the center of the bed and spread her legs for him. Perhaps she would hate herself for this tomorrow, but not tonight. The mood she was in, it seemed like this was destined to be. She took Kenny in her arms and kissed him the way no mother should kiss her own son, shivering with erotic pleasure as she insinuated her tonguetip between his inexperienced lips and gradually eased her taste organ into the warm, wet cavern of his hot little mouth.
No verbal communication was required to get the idea across to the bright lad. Tentatively he began licking back at his mother's wiggly, lapping tongue while she held him by his aching stem, her other hand stroking his buttocks. She kept making funny little noises in her throat as she squirmed beneath him, rubbing the sensitive head of his erection in a tiny circular motion within the top part of her wet, feverish crack. He answered one of her muffled sighs with a whimper of his own and instinctively started sucking her sweet-tasting tantalizing tongue.
Slowly Marge withdrew her tongue, its tip coaxing Kenny's to follow. When she had her child's small taste organ in her mouth, she sucked down on it and, cupping his quivering young asscheeks with both hands, gave a tug which drew his appealing little peter full into the steaming gash between her parted legs. "MMMMM!" she moaned through her nose, continuing to suck and lick at his tongue. The physical sensations of being penetrated by her little boy's fat, three-and-a-half-inch dick were pleasant enough, but they couldn't compare to the tremendous illicit thrill which giving in to incest provided. It was sinful and wicked but incredibly sweet!
She held him into her right up to his bird's-egg-sized testicles and, trying to swallow his tongue, contracted her cuntal sphincter until the elastic rim of her hairy hole puckered like the top of a draw-string bag to hug the flared base of his pulsating penis. Joyously she began working her sexual muscles, making her pleasured pussy squeeze down on Kenny's pecker in a rhythmical milking action.
"Uunnn, uunnn!" the kid whimpered into her mouth, his body shuddering helplessly. Then he started grunting as his prick pounded with a heartbeat-like cadence in the moist, velvety-warmth of his mother's wonderful hole. Shock waves of orgasmic ebullience blasted through him. He was cumming without having hunched her a single time.
Marge broke the deep, wet kiss and hugged him fiercely. "OH, PRECIOUS, YES, YESSS!" she cooed. "You're cumming in me! I can feel you cumming!Is it good, son? Do you love Mother's pussy? Ooouuuu… oh, cum, cum… have a good cum! Dear God, how sswweeeetttt!!"
At nine, Kenny was much too young and physically immature to ejaculate semen. A couple of drops of oozing, crystal-clear fluid was all his pumping peter produced for his mother's hungry snatch. The lack of sperm didn't matter to her one iota, though, for just feeling her son's penis twitch and jerk inside her thrilled Marge to the core of her voluptuous being. She wouldn't have missed this for the world now that it was happening. It was heaven on earth. She knew it was horribly wrong, but she didn't give a damn.
"Shit!" Kenny panted when he could find his voice. "I wanted to… fuck you… Mama… before I… ca-came!"
"Don't worry, you little bugger," she said with a throaty chuckle of pure delight. "We're not through yet."