"Mmmmmm!" Marge moaned, still clinging to Frank and sucking his neck.
"Do you like that?" Frank asked aloud, watching the expression on Kenny's face as it mirrored the lad's sudden surge of excitement. "It feels good, don't it?"
Kenny nodded, and Marge, thinking Frank's question was meant for her, quit sucking his neck long enough to say, "Mmmm, it sure does!" Then her lips pressed hungrily to a new hunk of neckflesh and she drew it into her mouth to suck and chew.
"Christ, this is rich!" Frank chortled, and he started masturbating the unsuspecting mother with her son's fingers. After a dozen or so pumping motions, he asked, "You got the idea now?" and when Kenny nodded, he released the kid's wrist and left him on his own.
While the tipsy child eagerly finger-fucked his inebriated mother, Frank slipped his hands behind her and began undressing her. He had her dress unzipped and her bra unhooked before it dawned on Marge that both his hands were busy divesting her of her clothes. But her alcohol- and lust-fogged mind was too sluggish to immediately grasp what was going on. Pondering how one of Frank's hands could, be in two places at the same time, she quit sucking on his neck and murmured, "Frank? Frank?" as she drew back her head, blinking to get him in focus.
"Yeah, baby?" He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
"You've got… both hands behind me… haven't you?" Her speech faltered due to her drunken condition, but her words themselves were only slightly slurred.
"Yeah, guess I have at that," he admitted, his voice quavering with the need to break loose and vent his perverted glee.
"But you're still… how can you be…?" Marge's voice trailed off as her soggy brain cells filtered out the truth of the matter. If Frank had both hands behind her back, then the hand between her legs couldn't possibly belong to him. It had to be someone else's… and there was only one other person's it could be. "Oh, no!" she moaned, suddenly recalling that her son had been sitting beside her when Frank had begun loving her up. She didn't want to believe what her mind told her had to be happening. Not her own son! It just couldn't be!
"Oh, yeah!" Frank howled as he pulled away from her abruptly and jerked her head down, presenting her with an unobstructed view of the action between her legs.
The shock of discovering that it was her son's small hand pumping all that carnal pleasure into her aroused snatch left Marge stunned speechless for what seemed like an eternity but was actually only seconds. It was insanely wicked, too horribly perverted for words. Kenny was jabbing his small fingers in and out of her like a little fiend, the grin on his childish face reminding her of the Devil himself; and despite the horror of her outraged mind, Marge's feverish pussy insisted that it felt absolutely terrific anyway!
"Oh,no! My God, noooh! Oh,my Goddd!!" she wailed, and with righteous indignation she shoved Kenny away and hurled herself up from the couch of her shame, intending to turn on Frank and claw his eyes out for degrading her and her innocent son in such a despicable fashion.
But she had no strength, and precious little control of her muscles. To Marge's utter consternation, she heard Frank laughing like a fool as she found herself staggering crazily about the tilting room in a desperate attempt to maintain her equilibrium. She lost. Her rubber-kneed legs gave way and her ass hit the floor with a jolting thud. "Oooff!" she grunted, and helpless as a newborn baby, she toppled ignominiously onto her side, her unzipped dress having slipped down off her shoulders by this time.
Marge felt dizzy and weak. It took great effort just to struggle up into a sitting position. In the process, her unzipped dress slipped down nearly to her waist, trapping her arms at her side. She jerked at her dress, trying to pull it back up. Her movement caused the straps of her unhooked brassiere to slip down from her shoulders, and the freed bra cups spilled her foam rubber falsies into her lap.
"Shit!" she wailed in frustration, and began crying.
Her hair was mussed up. She was half undressed, in a state of total disarray, sobbing with anger and humiliation. The flood of salty tears liquefied her mascara. It began running in zagged, dark brown streaks down her quivering white cheeks.
Bobo, who'd been investigating Kenny's sudden appearance on the floor beside him, walked over to Marge now, his tail wagging, and began licking her face.
"Goddamn it, get away!" she whined, and extricating her arms from her fallen dress and bra, she shoved the German shepherd with one hand and slapped at his head with the other.
Normally Kenny felt sorry for his mother when she cried, but not this time. His feelings were hurt by the way she'd yelled and shoved him off the couch. And he was mad at her, too. Long as she'd thought it was Frank playing with her old pussy, she'd liked it; but she'd thrown a fit soon as she saw it was him doing it. Her reaction had made the boy almost insanely jealous again. It wasn't Frank who was trying to shut him out of their relationship; it was her! No matter what his mother had said, the wine-high child was now convinced that she loved Frank better than she did him. He was furious with her. If she let Frank play with her pussy, why wouldn't she let him? Especially since Frank didn't mind, and must have even wanted him to, for the man had put his hand on her there and showed him how to do it.
Frank was bent over double now, pointing at Marge, laughing uproariously and slapping his knees. And Frank was Kenny's buddy, so the boy began imitating the man.
"That'a boy," Frank told him. "You want'a fuck her?"
"Huh?" Kenny had heard the word, but he didn't know what it meant.
"Put your peter in her pussy and pump it in and out, the way you saw me doing this mornin'. You want to?"
Kenny shrugged. He sort of wanted to try that, but he was afraid his mother wouldn't like it.
"Maybe I'll let you," Frank said, picking up the unopened fifth beside the couch as he returned his attention to Marge, who at that moment fell again, cursing, as she was trying to get up. Her dress had slid down to her knees and tripped her.
Frank thought it was hilarious. He laughed so hard tears formed in his eyes as he twisted off the bottle cap, breaking the seal as he did so. When he lifted the bottle, taking several large pulls of the cheap whiskey, he couldn't shut off his laughter completely. Some of the rotgut ran down his chin and dribbled off onto his lap.
"Potent stuff!" he croaked, and offered the bottle to Kenny as he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
The lad took the bottle. Imitating his "buddy", he raised it to his lips and filled his mouth with the fiery liquid. His eyes snapped wide open and he spewed the whiskey back out. "Bleah!"
"Yeah, know what you mean, kid!" Frank guffawed.
Abruptly he snatched the fifth from Kenny's hand and recapped it. He quit laughing. His face took on an evil smirk as he set the bottle on the floor and reached under the couch for the paper bag he'd hidden there earlier, the one he'd said contained a present for Marge.
"Hey, Marge," he called, waving the bag at her as he got up off the couch, staggering a little, and started toward her. "Time for me to give you your present, baby."
"You know what… you can do with… your Goddamn present!" she muttered without looking up. She'd managed to push herself up into a kneeling position. The hem of her mini-dress was trapped beneath her knees. She was tugging at it, futilely attempting to pull it back up over her exposed tits.
The six-foot-three redhead weaved his way over to the kneeling, pitiful-looking, half-naked woman. Her mascara streaked cheeks made her look like a clown, what with her disheveled brunette hair framing her face in such a mussed-up manner. He lifted his leg, placed the sole of his scuffed cowboy boot on her bare shoulder and toppled her over to the floor again.