Sonny struggled vainly to unhook his mother's bra.
She said, "There must be a loose thread caught."
Loose thread, hell. His fingers were rubber, that was the trouble, and his cock was so hard it hurt.
His mother, Kit, wore only bra and panties. She was sitting on the chintz-covered bench before her makeup table, leaning toward the mirror, brushing mascara onto her eyelashes.
His mother, Kit, was the prettiest woman in town. Silky red hair clouded about her pouty, babyish face. The blackened lashes shaded wide brawn eyes. A sliver of pink tonguetip showed between slick, full lips. And her shape! Men in the neighborhood called her Mrs. Pretty Tits. Sonny could see her boobies in the mirror, stretching her bra like they were trying to bust out of it. The rosy crowns were pointed puffs in the transparent nylon.
He tried to keep his gaze riveted to the bra hooks and her back.
But even her back was so luscious that the sight of it had made his cock grow out like a hammer handle stretching his shorts.
He was burning with shame. My mother, he thought, my own mother! I'm horny for my own mother!
Her back was narrow, the skin color a pale gold warmed by pink. Her spine channel was deep and the bra band stretched across it like a bridge. This should make it easy to free the hooks but his rubbery fingers only managed to twist them around. And his gaze kept sliding down to her pantied behind. She really had an ass. When she walked swaying down the street, men stopped to watch her chubby ass wobble and roll.
She seemed too intent on darkening and lengthening her lashes to notice his fumbling.
She had called him into her bedroom a few minutes ago, saying that this bra was uncomfortably tight, that she would change it, but the clasp was worn, cockeyed, tangled in nylon threads.
He saw no loose threads and nothing wrong with the catch. The trouble was his shaking, rubbery, useless fingers and the distraction of the terrible surging throbs of his cock.
One of the hooks came free. The taut elastic now pulled hard at the remaining hook.
She asked, "Are you going over to Lily's?"
Lily was the girl next door.
"I guess so," he choked.
It was noon and his mother was dressing for work. This unusual circumstance was due to her boss having been away overnight. He had just phoned saying that he needed her help in the office.
Kit was executive secretary to the president of the company. Her job had supported them for years, ever since her divorce from Dad. She had even paid off the mortgage on this little house on the edge of town.
He tried to squeeze the elastic bra band against the hook.
She said, "I may be late tonight. If I don't phone, make supper for yourself. Or eat at Lily's."
His throat felt tight. He could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Will you be back in time for the movie?"
"I don't know."
The movie at the Strand tonight was supposed to be really funny. They had been looking forward to seeing it together.
He knew that most guys hated going to the show with their folks. But Mother-Kit-was great to go places with. Like, in a funny movie she whooped with laughter, and everybody seemed to laugh with her. She caught every joke.
Besides, he was proud to be seen with her, Kit being so cute and always well dressed. Everybody ogled her. Now that he was taller she was almost like his date, because she was small and curvy, and the way she held his arm when they went into the theater made him really feel good.
Lily, the girl next door, sometimes got mad and called him a momma's boy. But he didn't care.
Miraculously, the bra hook came free.
The slippery nylon band escaped his fingers as the weight other titties jerked the bra harness. The shoulder straps sprang loose.
She pressed an arm to the cups, holding them in place while she continued brushing mascara onto her eyelashes.
She asked, "Why don't you take Lily to the movie?"
Looking over her shoulder, Sonny could see under her gaping bra cups to her swelling white breasts and thick pink nipples.
His cock gave a harsh jerk. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. It was a hot day in July but the air felt cool compared to the burning inside him.
"Take Lily to the show?" he asked.
She gazed up at his mirror image. "She'd like you to take her."
"Well, I don't know." The thought had never occurred to him. He and Lily were more like buddies. He helped with work in her father's greenhouse, and ate a lot of meals with them, and Lily was his best friend, but they didn't exactly date. He said, "Maybe if you get home in time, we could all three go."
Frowning, she returned to her makeup. She was more negligent now in holding the bra cups against her bosom. He eyed the lovely melon shapes, noting how they were drawn out to pink points. Gosh, if the guys who called her Mrs. Pretty Tits had this view, they'd bust their pants.
She said, "Lily would rather you take her alone."
He recalled that lately his mother had dropped several hints about his taking Lily places.
Kit put away her mascara box and said, "I have to dress now. Kiss me goodbye and buzz off."
He bent and kissed her downy cheek. The bra no longer hid anything. He could see all of her succulent breasts. This close, her nipples looked almost an inch long.
He suddenly got the idea that she wanted him to see them! Nor did he miss the shadow of her pussy hair, the arc of it under her belly fluffed out against the transparent panties, auburn curls glinting through.
He turned away toward the door.
He was almost out of the bedroom when Kit said, "Sonny, in the movies put pour arm around Lily. Girls like that. And kiss her.
He choked, "But I don't-you see-Lily isn't the kind-"
"Sonny, she's a girl. Surely you've noticed those pretty breasts jiggling about under the t-shirts she wears."
Kit's voice was sharp, rebuking him.
She continued, "Sonny, you're a handsome boy and Lily is crazy about you. When you kiss her, well, caress her body. She'll protest but she'll love it."
"But Mother, Lily is more like a friend-"
"Baloney. You go next door right now. Kiss her. See if I'm not right."
He edged out to the hall, toward the kitchen, blushing furiously.
Kit heard the kitchen screen door snap shut as her son went out to the back porch.
She burst into tears.
She could still feel the burn of his kiss on her cheek.
She thrust up from the makeup table, letting her bra fall as she hurried, breasts jiggling and bouncing, to the bathroom, the one room in the house with a lockable door. Shutting it and setting the latch, she went peeling down her panties to the john and squatted on it. She brushed the panties to her ankles, kicked them away.
Then she spread her legs and fingered into her juicy twat.
Masturbation was such a lousy substitute! Last night she had slipped into Sonny's bedroom when he was asleep, naked and uncovered because of the hot weather. She had gazed long at his limp cock.
Finally she had bent down and kissed the rosy tip. Her tears had splashed on his thighs. She had to stop this insanity.
The trouble began a month ago when one of her two steady shack-up guys, a man much younger than she, had gotten married. They had fucked the night before the wedding. She had phoned him since but the bastard was resolved on fidelity to his luscious new bride. So scratch him. Then, two weeks later, her other guy, a salesman working out of her office, was transferred to a distant state. He had been ideal, about her age, which was thirty-nine. He was a robust cocksman and an amusing companion. But he was married, had a flock of children, and was hundreds of miles away.
Oh, there were other men and she was pretty enough to attract them. But while surveying the field she had seemed to draw closer than ever to Sonny.
When she saw him gaze at young girls her teeth gritted. Jealous! Even Lily. Well, Lily was a sweetheart and Kit loved her but when the girl's velvety sloe eyes beamed at Sonny, Kit loved her less. And Lily knew it.
Kit had always adored the boy. She doted on him, pampered him, and these past days her gaze had lingered on the sleek hardness of his supple young body, which was mostly bare in this hot weather. Even worse, he thriftily wore last year's shorts, which were too tight and emphasized his genital bulge.
Kit slid two fingers up her seething cunt, thumbed her clit, and began hipping into the manual pressure.
Soon she was panting. Orgasm had always been easy for her to achieve. With a lusty man she often came five or six times to his single ejaculation. Yes, her troubles had stemmed from too ready a cunt. She did not blame Harry for having divorced her. When she was younger she had been unable to resist the blandishments of almost any man nervy enough to back her into a corner and shove a hand in between her legs. At parties, Harry had three times caught her in a bedroom, her legs wrapped around a man's waist.
This morning when she got up she had again peeped into Sonny's room and saw his cock stiffen as he thrashed through an erotic dream.
It was long, rigid, fat-knobbed. A beautiful fuck-tool!
Well, it had gone far enough. She had taken the first step toward sanity by pushing him at Lily. The girl was so hot for him that her legs bowed when he came in sight. Kit felt certain that he would be able to fuck her. And thus he would fall in love with Lily, and see his mother clearly, as an older person, as a mother less needed than before.
She had purposely excited him by making him remove her bra, and letting him see her breasts, intending to get him so horny that he would tumble Lily without further thought.
Kit's hips were wrenching through long, hard jerks. She raised up off the toilet seat, spreading her thighs, rotating her ass. Cuntal convulsions sucked at her fingers. Vaginal juices had begun drooling down her ass.
Her face caught fire. She panted, surging up to the first plateau of orgasm.
She had to get a man!
At the moment only one stud interested her, Don Whitlaw, a guy at the office. He was tall and angular, rather like Sonny. His hair bleached out under the summer sun. Yes, like Sonny's.
But there was something unsettled, overly boyish about Don. And his wife, Myra, was a puzzle.
One night at an office party the three had been drinking together and Kit had felt Myra's hand caressing her behind, even fingering between her asscheeks.
Before she got over the shock of the lesbian pass, other people had joined the group, separating them. She had moved away but not before glimpsing the lust in Myra's eyes.
Perhaps resentment for the woman had helped her decide to seduce Don. And this afternoon at the office she would organize it.
She simply had to get a cock up her cunt.
Her whole body whipped now. Rapidly finger-fucking herself, frantically thumbing her clitoris, she moaned into a full-fledged come, a teeth-gnashing, seething, juice-squirting orgasm.
She pictured Sonny climbing into the cradle of Lily's thighs and spearing into her slit.
The thought tore her inside. But it had to be that way, and she had to get Don Whitlaw in bed.
She lowered to the bathroom mat, knelt, moaning as she gushed over the peak of her come.
On the back porch, Sonny hesitated. He could not go to Lily's with his cock sticking out a foot.
His back lawn was shaded by big maple trees. Lily's yard, adjoining it, used to be like this but her father had cut down the trees to make room for the greenhouse, a glittering expanse of glass bigger than the house to which it was attached. The greenhouse was Mr. Folsom's hobby and also an extra source of income. During the day he worked as an accountant.
When Sonny's erection had eased somewhat, he angled toward the gap in the knee-high hedge that separated the two properties. He moved slowly, ruminating on Kit's actions. Darn it, she could have unhooked that bra herself in two seconds. Then, she could have hidden her breasts when she asked him to kiss her goodbye.
It seemed like she had meant to get him hot and bothered, and then had pushed him at Lily. Did she want him to make it with Lily?
His cock was still throbbing when he opened the greenhouse door and moved into smothering, steamy heat. He passed down an aisle between waist-high benches that bore flats of African violets, which Lily's father grew in batches of five and ten thousand to sell wholesale to shopping centers and roadside markets.
Not seeing Lily, he guessed she was in the house. But in the central aisle he glimpsed her crouched down between the benches, squatting on her heels, shoving clumps of plants into a broken flat.
She did not see him.
Her dark bangs were glossy with sweat. Her habitual work costume was a t-shirt and a blue denim skirt. No undies. Her jutting titties were reproduced on the cotton material by circular smudges from brushing against dirty things around the greenhouse. Every surface was coated with powdery florists' earth and mold. The smudges looked like targets because her nipples were dirtiest.
"Lily," he said.
Her head jerked up, startled. Dark, velvety eyes flashed.
"Oh, shit!" she cried. "You scared me."
"Looks like a fiat came apart."
"Yeah, the bottom wasn't nailed right. Help me."
He sat on his heels facing her. They carefully gathered up clods of florists' earth on which tiny green leaves were clustered, African violets only a few weeks from seed.
He eyed Lily's sun-bronzed, heart-shaped face. It wasn't as pretty as his mother's. That is, it was more lean and hard of chin. Though, Mother had once called Lily's eyes magnificent, and they were, very dark and large and lustrous. Still, he never viewed Lily that way, like sizing up a pretty girl on the street. He knew her too well and mostly saw her like this, working, not dressed up to show herself off. Her t-shirt armpits were dark with sweat but less dirty than her titties, because they stuck out so and squashed against every box or plant flat that she carried.
Lily wasted no time on frills. She wore her hair in bangs that needed only combing to set right. She viewed undies as an unnecessary bother. He could see up her pulled-back skirt to the dark furriness of her pussy.
He avoided looking at it. His cock was throbbing again.
When they had replaced the last clump of seedlings, they carefully lifted the flat, together slipping their hands underneath to hold the loose bottom boards, raised it to the bench, and shoved it in alongside the other flats.
Lily knuckled sweaty hair away from her eyes. She raised an arm and smelled under it.
"Phew! I stink."
Sonny had turned away to hide the stiffness in his shorts.
She said, "I've done enough for today. Want some lemonade? I'm going to shower off the stink."
"Okay."
He led the way to the house, which connected through the open kitchen door. Inside he turned to the refrigerator. Lily went to the bathroom.
Shortly he heard the shower spattering.
He poured two glasses of lemonade, thinking, Kit said I should kiss Lily, that she would love it. Well, he completely trusted his mother's judgments. She was never wrong except about things like baseball. She couldn't tell a strike from a ball until the umpire called it. Sometimes they went evenings to the park when outfits like Moose and Elk played charity games. Lily's father pitched for Moose and Kit always watched him instead of the ball. She had a thing for Mr. Folsom but he was turned off women. His wife, Lily's mother, had bankrupted him. He had kicked her out long ago but he was still paying off her debts.
His eyes got hot when Kit was around him but he never did anything.
Sonny took the glasses of lemonade to the living room, the coolest place in the house, and dropped down on the couch. The shower stopped spattering. Shortly Lily appeared in a fresh t-shirt and blue denim skirt, drying her hair with a towel. She rubbed harshly. Her titties hopped about, the dark points cutting wiggly arcs in the white cotton material.
She tossed the towel at a chair, raked out her hair with a comb, came and plopped down beside him, grabbing her glass of lemonade.
He blurted, "Want to go to the movies tonight?"
"What?"
He repeated it. She gazed, disbelieving, at him, an eyebrow raised.
She asked, "What's the matter, can't your mother go?"
"I just asked if you want to."
She sipped her lemonade, studying him. "I might have to help Dad deliver that last batch of overgrown petunias."
"I could go along. Then he could drop us off at the movies." He paused. "Lily, I want to ask you something. See, I've been thinking."
"It seems like you have." "Suppose I kissed you?"
She gaped at him. Lemonade dribbled down her chin. She knuckled it away. Slowly a peach blush colored her dark-gold cheeks. She glanced away, frowning, then gulped down her drink and set the glass on the floor.
"Sonny, did your mother say to kiss me?"
He bit his lip. Darn it, Lily knew him too well. But he said, "I'm asking you."
"You sure are dumb. I mean, you're really stupid!"
"Don't you want to?"
"You jerk, nobody ever asks for kisses." He kissed her.
He did it blindly, wildly, crushing his lips to hers, not knowing if she would claw his face or punch him in the belly or what.
What she did was freeze up stiff as a board. Then she clawed into his hair, twisted, and forced him away.
She gasped, "You want to break my teeth?"
He gulped at the lump in his throat. "Gosh; Lily, I'm sorry."
"Do it gently," she said. Her head fell against his shoulder. Her dark eyes had narrowed. She licked her lips, left her mouth half open, a pink line of tongue showing between her pearly teeth.
He turned in on her, kissed her soft-mouthed. Her lips rolled under the pressure, widened.
Her tonguetip slid into his mouth.
The slippery contact jolted him. The next few moments were a red blur in his mind as he tasted the sweetness of Lily's mouth, felt her lips suck at his, licked her elusive tonguetip. Her fingers caressed his cheek.
The voluptuousness of her surrender startled him out of his senses.
At last she slipped away, her head dropping back onto his shoulder.
She murmured, "I thought you didn't care about me.
"Lily, I do!"
Her fingertips caressed his throat. "Lily, you're the prettiest girl I know." "No, I'm not."
"Like Mother says, you have magnificent eyes- "I don't want to hear about your goddam mother." She nuzzled his throat. She had sort of cuddled up to him, fitting into the shape of his body.
This did not seem like Lily. She was always sort of energetic, no-nonsense, thrusting busily about- He remembered Mother saying he should caress her body when he kissed her. He stroked her bare arm. She gave a little shiver and squirmed closer. She pressed her lips to his throat and sucked lightly.
He gazed down at her titties, like cones protruding in her t-shirt but plumper, and because her body was turned, slanted his way. Had Kit meant he should caress Lily's breasts?
She asked, "Why did you decide you wanted to kiss me?"
She had already guessed why, when she asked if it was his mother's idea.
Darn it, his mother should at least stay out of this.
He said, "Because you're my girl. Aren't you?"
She gazed steadily at him, Then a blush touched her cheek and she turned to his neck and whispered, "If you say so, I guess I am."
He glanced down at her titties. Her nipples knobbed the soft knit cotton of the t-shirt. Quite deliberately, he moved his hand to one breast and cupped it firmly.
Lily gave a gasp and squeezed in closer.
He thumbed her nipple. It hardened.
She whispered against his throat, "Gosh; you've even noticed that I have titties."
He chuckled. "I always notice them, the way your t-shirt is dirtiest there because they're in the way and butt into everything."
Her hand slid up his neck, behind, and her fingers grew into his hair like the tendrils of a vine. Her face raised, her wet mouth open. He kissed her again, this time with more assurance, mouthing her lips and tonguing in. She sucked at his tongue. He could hear her breathing shorten, like rasping.
He explored her tittie, testing the firmness. Solid. And yet it was soft except for the nipple sharpening against his palm.
He fingered the t-shirt up over it and clutched the nude hard-pointed cone.
Lily's mouth slid from his. She gasped, "I have to breathe!"
She panted as he gently squeezed her bare breast, studied the nipple peg, still extending as her aureole puffed.
She whispered, "That does things to me. "Like what?"
She squirmed closer. "It makes me feel hot. In other places."
He got the idea. He glanced at her bare legs. Her skirt had wQrked up almost to her crotch. He reached down to her thigh and stroked it.. Gosh, it felt so different from his, soft, kind of waxy, slick.
He fingered up to her pubes and pressed the silky hair.
She gave a kind of shudder.
He asked, "There? It warms you there?"
"Uh-huh. In my pussy."
Then, abruptly, her arm dropped and her hand closed on his stiff prick.
She fisted it tightly.