So she did the next best thing – or so it seem to her lust-crazed mind at the moment – by tossing away the artificial penis and opening her legs to the dog she'd raised from a puppy.
"Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm!" she chanted, squirming her ass rapturously about when Bobo started licking her steaming pussy in earnest. Only seconds later she threw back her head in orgasmic ecstasy, going, "Ooonnnggggg… ooonnnggggg… ooonnnggggg!!" with her hand over her mouth so Kenny wouldn't hear her lustful cries of fulfillment as the blessed relief she needed so badly washed over her in great sheets of tension-releasing bliss.
"No, Goddamn it, nooooo!!" Frank screamed in drunken rage. "Ain't no shit-eatin' dog gonna do that to my maw!" He pushed himself to his feet and kicked viciously at Bobo, missed and nearly fell before he drew back his foot to try again.
But the rotgut was having its full effect on him now. He lost his balance and began staggering backward, swinging his arms wildly and muttering like a lunatic. He tripped on Marge's tattered dress and his hulking body went crashing down, his head grooming off the blunt edge of a sturdy old occasional table. He was out cold when he hit the floor.
Kenny came rushing back into the living room, all shook up, to see what was going on. His mother was still in the final throes of her climax. Before she shrieked and began slapping at Bobo's head, he saw that she'd been letting their pet lick her between the legs.
Now that her raging passion was satiated, Marge embarrassedly retrieved her panties and bra and dipped them on. "Put your pants on, Son," she told Kenny, her gaze unable to meet his after the terrible, sordid things Frank had forced upon them. "We're getting out of here, right now!"
At last she saw Frank for what he really was, and she loathed him, wondered how she could've ever thought she loved a brute like him. He was the scum of the earth, and he'd managed to drag her down to the point where she felt like a piece of worthless white trash herself. But he wouldn't get the chance to degrade and humiliate her again. There was no fear of the drunken bum coming around. He would be out till morning at least, and by then she and Kenny would be long gone. They would take their belongings and go to a motel. Tomorrow she would find them a plate to live, a nice little apartment or cottage in a decent part of the city where Kenny could go to a good school and she would take that job at the pants factory until she could find something better.
But they would need money until she earned her first paycheck. She tugged Frank's wallet from his hip pocket. It contained almost five hundred dollars. With no qualms, she took out two hundred and put it in her purse. Frank owed her at least that much. He'd been flat broke before he'd take the painting job for which he'd got paid today, and she'd given him her diamond wedding rings to sell. The set had cost nearly a thousand dollars, but Frank said he'd gone to three pawnshops and two hundred was the best offer for them.
She'd been put out with him for letting them go so cheaply, and thinking back on it made het infuriated now. She opened his wallet again and plucked out two more fifties.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning, ignoring her hangover and leaving Kenny at the motel to look after Bobo, Marge bought a newspaper and went apartment hunting by bus and on foot. She found several reasonably priced places that she didn't exactly like but would do for the time being, but she was turned down every time when she was asked about pets. A small dog or a cat, it appeared, was acceptable to most landlords, but not a full-grown German shepherd.
Marge seriously considered doing away with Bobo. She couldn't do it, though. It would break Kenny's heart. Besides, she'd raised the lovable mutt from a puppy and was rather attached to him herself.
She wished she could move back in with her mother. But that was out of the question. She wouldn't crawl, which she knew from bitter experience that she would have to do before her strait-laced mother would begrudgingly take her back into the house. Even then, there would be months of smug recriminations to face, for her "good Christian" mother would miss no opportunity to throw up her sinful ways to her and rub in her mistake like salt on an open wound, with a humiliating redundancy of "I told you so's," thrown at her, to boot. No, Marge was damned if she would put up with that. Her life had become miserable enough already; she refused to crawl home begging sustenance for herself and her child, and allow her mother to make things even more miserable for her.
Persistence paid off. Toward the middle of the afternoon, Marge found a tiny but surprisingly nice, well-furnished efficiency apartment above a garage at the rear of a large, fenced back yard. It was sixty dollars a month, all bills paid. The pleasant older couple who owned it lived in the single-family dwelling at the front of the lot. When she told them about Bobo, all they asked was, "He doesn't bite, does he?"
Assuring them that Bobo was very friendly and had never even barked at the mailman, much less bitten anyone, Marge grabbed the apartment and paid a month's rent in advance, plus a twenty-five-dollar deposit she would have to forfeit if the apartment wasn't left in good condition when she moved.
Moving was the farthest thing from Marge's mind, although the neighborhood wasn't as nice as she would like it to be and living above a garage at the edge of an alley wasn't exactly ideal. Under the circumstances, it was the best she could do. She was glad to get the inexpensive apartment. That was one worry off her mind. Now she would have to get a job. Not today though. She was tired and hungry and her feet hurt from walking so much, and the first order of business was to get moved in and settled down.
They retired early that night, Kenny beaming happily because he got to sleep with Marge on the hide-a-bed couch that was luxurious compared to the dilapidated old furniture at Frank's.
As Marge lay in the dark, smoking one last cigarette and worrying about the future, her young son snuggled up to her and tried to slip his hand up under her nightgown between her legs.
"Kenny, stop it!" she scolded, and slapped his hand. "You must never try to touch me there again. I'm your mother, young man, and don't you ever forget it."
"But, Mama, I like your pussy," he said. "Let me make love to you again, like I did last night."
"Oh, Jesus!" she groaned, and took a deep drag from her cigarette before she rolled onto her side and stubbed it out in the ash tray on the lamp table. She turned onto her back and stared up at the darkened ceiling. "Honey, listen… what we did last night… it was terribly wrong. That bastard poured liquor down me till he got me so drunk I didn't know my own name, much less what I was doing. I'm ashamed of the way I behaved. So ashamed. But we've got to go on as if it never happened. I want you to forget all about last night, Son. Don't think about it, and, please, Kenny, don't ever mention it again, to me or anyone else. Especially not to anyone else. Promise me you won't." Tears were trickling down from the corners of Marge's eyes, and her voice sounded all choked up.
Kenny promised. She didn't explain why it was wrong, just said she was his mother and he must never try to touch her pussy again. The nine-year-old didn't fully understand, but his mother sounded awful sad, and that made him sad, too. But he couldn't stop thinking about it, no matter how hard he tried, and when he fell asleep he dreamed that he was making love to his mother. There was just him and her. It was a good dream.
As for Marge, she'd been used to having intercourse with Frank every night. Though she was bushed, she couldn't get to sleep without her nightly orgasm, for it'd become as much of a habit as brushing her teeth. Not that she missed Frank. Oh, no, for she was glad to be rid of that redheaded sonofabitch now that he'd shown his true colors. But it humiliated her to realize how much she missed having that lovely fat cock of his working inside her greedy cunt.