"Okay, honey, you can back that sweet dick out of me now," Marge said after the rewarding moment of their incestuous union had passed. "I believe we've had enough for tonight, don't you?"
The head of Kenny's limber penis departed his mother's gripping rectum with a wet-sounding pop not unlike the uncorking of a small bottle.
"I can scarcely move," Marge sighed, as her son rolled off her and her fingers caught the pussy-wetted cucumber that came sliding from her hairy hole. She tossed it over the side of the bed and let it fall where it would. "Whooo… what a fucking you gave me!"
Kenny grinned. "You won't let nobody else now, will you?"
"Well," she drawled tauntingly. "Not tonight, anyway. Now go wash your peter, my jealous little lover, and let's see if we can't get some sleep."
Marge smiled to herself as Kenny got up and toddled off to the john. After the way he'd satisfied her with the aid of that long, fat cucumber, she was glowing with a sense of physical well-being. She knew they shouldn't have done it, but strangely enough she didn't experience enough guilt to disturb her lazy mood of relaxed voluptuousness.
She was smoking a cigarette when her son climbed back into bed.
"Love me?" she purred.
"Yeah," he replied grudgingly. "And you better not let nobody else make love to you, either."
"Jealous," she said, and laughed softly.
"I can't help it, Mama!" he wailed.
"I know you can't, dear," she replied as she got up to turn off the light in the kitchenette. "That's what makes it so delicious."
Kenny snuggled up to her when she got back in bed. He'd put his pajamas back on but Marge was still nude. She finished her cigarette, mashed it out in the ash tray, then rolled onto her side and took him into her arms.
The way she was feeling now, her own sweet, insanely jealous son was the only lover she would ever be wanting from this night on. But his possessiveness pleased her more than he would ever know, and she wasn't about to tell Kenny anything that might change his attitude.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One session with her boss in the anonymity of a motel room was enough to cure Marge of any serious leanings she thought she might have toward all-out female dominance. It was exciting at first, stripping down to her nylon hose and garter belt then putting on the boots and leather chastity belt with the broad waist cinch buckled above her hips. The leather bra Jim had was made to show the nipples of tits much larger than hers, so Marge pitched it away before she picked up the whip and began parading tauntingly around the room for him.
It turned her on a little to walk on his naked, prostrate body, digging the spike heels of the thigh-high black boots he'd bought for the special occasion into his more than willing flesh. She didn't mind flogging him, either. In fact, it gave her a perverted thrill to lash him and hear his moan of painful bliss as he jerked and writhed about. But she tired of this unusual, strenuous sport before he'd had enough. He wanted her to draw blood with the whip, and she couldn't bring herself to go quite that far.
His disappointment was evident, but it didn't stop him from groveling at her feet when, at his urging, she stripped naked and sat down on the edge of the bed. He began at the soles of her feet, holding them one at a time as he slavishly licked every possible inch of each sweaty foot then sucked each red-nailed toe individually.
Shrimping, Jim called it, but whatever its name, this part of their illicit interlude was highly enjoyable for Marge. Having her legs licked wasn't bad, either, and she loved it when he spit-bathed her buttocks, especially when he got going in the crack of her ass, the tip of his tongue tickling her anus every time it swept past. Then he pried apart her asscheeks and started eating her asshole itself, sucking it and tongue-fucking it as if it were a miniature cunt.
Marge was ready to cum when Jim ruined it all by requesting that she honor him with a turd. He actually wanted her to start shitting and allow him to eat her excrement directly from her body while it came sliding out of her butthole.
Just the thought of doing such an unspeakably filthy thing turned Marge off. She refused to oblige him, but after much begging on his part, she finally agreed to give him a piss shower. They went into the john and Jim sat in the tub, his knees drawn up to his chest, while she stood above him spraddle-legged and urinated down onto his upturned, enraptured face.
The next day at work she had no respect for her boss whatsoever, which only made him all the more eager to become her complete and devoted slave.
Day after day he pleaded for another session in a motel, but Marge kept putting him off. He made her sick now. She started looking for another job and found one much more to her liking – day hostess at a really nice restaurant – before she quit without notice, leaving Jim in the same predicament which she'd bailed him out of in the first place.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Marge loved her new job. It was the type of ladylike position she'd visualized for herself when she'd first found it necessary to seek employment. Her self-doubts behind her, she wore less make-up and dressed more becomingly for her age. She felt very feminine and confident, and it shone through in her cheerful disposition and graceful manner.
She and a dentist who lunched regularly at the restaurant soon became quite friendly. Doug was a few years older than Marge, a widower whose youngest child was in college. When he asked her to attend a concert with him, and bring her son along, too, Marge was delighted to accept.
All in all they had a very pleasant evening. Since Kenny was included, and seemed to like Dr. Alcorn, the jealousy Marge had expected from her son failed to materialize. Until they got home, that is, and Marge sent Kenny up to their apartment while she remained in the car with Doug, perfectly willing to be kissed goodnight by him. He was a professional man, doing very well financially, which made him ideal husband material, Marge was thinking.
When Marge entered the apartment with her lipstick smeared, perhaps a half-hour after she'd sent Kenny up, the lad was in bed, naked, with a hard-on and a cucumber.
"What happened?" he asked excitedly. "Did Doctor Alcorn fuck you, Mama?"
Marge smiled. This was her boy, acting just the way she liked him to. She kicked off her high heels and began disrobing in front of him.
"No, but he certainly kissed me a lot, and I let him pet my pussy. See how wet my panties are?"
She whisked her dress and slip off over her head and stood with her legs apart, in stockings, garter belt, panties and bra, so Kenny could view the secretion-soaked condition of her panty crotchband.
Bobo, who spent about half the time at Mrs. Nelson's now, was in the apartment tonight, lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. The big German shepherd caught the scent of Marge's aroused snatch and got up wagging his tail. He walked over to her and nuzzled her between the legs with his muzzle. But Marge, who'd only succumbed to bestiality that once, slapped him good and hard, and Bobo went back to the foot of the sofa-bed and flopped down dejectedly on the floor.
This did not go unnoticed by Kenny, but he'd seen the family pet trying to smell his mother many times before so he thought little of it. He'd been imagining what Dr. Alcorn might be doing to her in the car, and he'd worked himself up to a feverish pitch of desire.
"Come to bed, Mama. I want to make love to you."
"Of course you do, dear," she chuckled. "I knew it would be this way. Well, come on, jealous, aren't you going to scold me for letting Doug feel me up?"
Kenny shook his head. His jealousy was taking a different course tonight.
"Oh?" Marge said. It was a disappointment for her. She loved it when he gave her hell for even talking about letting a man ball her. That's what she wanted him to do now. "Uh-huh. Well, I suppose you're thinking Doug got me hot, and now you'll get to finish the job. Is that it?"