"Darling!" she bleated, shivering from head to toes. "Yesss! Hurt me! Ohhhhhhhhh…oh, gawd, gawd… aaaaaaahhhhhh… oh, Frank… I love yyoouu… aaaggghhhhhhh… with all my… mmmmmmm… heart! Aaarrrhhhhh… ooouuuu… aaahhhhhh… oh, shit, sshhiitttt… nnaagghhhh!!"
Her legs flailed jerkily about, her heels beating the mattress. She chewed her lower lip, moaning and whimpering as she pounded the back of her skull against the headboard. Her glassy eyes rolled up until only their whites could be seen, and heaving a guttural groan, she collapsed into a sobbing, blubbering heap of sweat-drenched feminine fuckstuff, her spasming pussy clutching blissfully at the sperm-spurting cock of her adulterous lover.
When finally she opened her eyes, she wanted to die, for standing in the open doorway were her son and his pet. The big German shepherd was wagging its tail, but the expression on her little boy's face was one of horror-stricken incredulity.
"Oh, My God! Kenny!" she gasped, her cheeks burning with shame. "How long have you been standing there?!"
"Long enough to get an eyeful, huh, kid?" Frank laughed. The boy nodded dumbly. Frank backed his deflating, slick-streaked dong from Marge's sperm-filled muff, and holding her legs open, he said, "I believe the little fart wants a look at your cunt, Marge. Come on, kid, take a gander if you want. I don't mind."
"Frank! What are you saying?!" Marge wailed. She felt like crawling in a hole and pulling it in behind her. "Kenny, nooh! Don't you dare come in here! Take Bobo down to the alley so he can go to the bathroom! Go oonnn!!"
When her son nodded unsurely and timidly closed the door behind him, Marge burst into tears, shrieking, "You bastard! How could you humiliate me that way in front of my little boy?!"
"Aw, pipe down!" Frank muttered as he climbed out of bed. "So your kid saw us! So, what? It was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn't it?"
"I… su-suppose so," Marge reluctantly admitted. She clenched shut her eyes and hugged herself. The way Kenny had looked at her! Dear God, she felt cheap, so ashamed of herself for exposing her innocent son to such a display of sinful sordidness.
"Then why make a big deal of it?" Frank asked. "Come on, sugar. It'll be all right. How about fixing breakfast now? Okay?"
CHAPTER TWO
It wasn't okay. What had happened would never be all right. Marge felt like crawling under the bed, not getting up to make breakfast. Kenny had seen her having intercourse and she was wretched with guilt. But it was done. There was no undoing it, and life had to go on. So Marge, sick at heart, dragged herself out of bed.
Happy go lucky as usual – when he wasn't drinking too much or sexing – Frank wolfed down a big plate of fried ham and scrambled eggs, with Kenny pecking halfheartedly at his smaller portion and Marge chain smoking cigarettes as she sipped steaming black coffee. She had no appetite this morning, was grateful for the lack of conversation.
"Gotta get rolling," Frank said, jumping up soon as he'd bolted his food. "Be finished with this job today. Maybe we'll celebrate tonight," he called over his shoulder as he went out the door without kissing Marge goodbye.
"What was he doing to you, Mama?" Kenny asked the instant they were alone.
Marge had known the question was coming, and she'd been dreading it. She gulped, fought down the urge to run and dive under the bed, and deciding the simple truth would be best, she said, in as calm and matter-of-fact a voice as she could muster, "He was making love to me, Son."
For a moment Kenny said nothing. It was obvious he didn't understand. "Sounded like he was hurting you. I got scared. I didn't know what to do."
How could she explain it to him? He was only nine years old. "It's too complicated. You won't understand such things until you're much older, but Frank and I love each other. We're going to be married soon. He's your new daddy now."
"I don't want him to be my daddy," Kenny pouted.
"But, Kenny, your real father deserted us, and I…"
"I don't want no other daddy! Or my real one back either!" the boy sobbed, throwing himself at her, locking his arms around her as he climbed onto her lap and buried his face against her padded bosom. "All I want is you, Mama! Let's go back to Grandma's and live! I don't want you to love that old Frank! I want you to love me!"
"Oh, precious, I do love you," she crooned, and hugged him tight.
"But you sleep with him now!" Kenny sobbed. "At Grandma's you slept with me! I don't like it here! I don't want you to sleep with that old Frank! You don't love me no more!"
"Oh, yes, I do love you, Kenny. Just because I love Frank doesn't mean that I can't love you, too. I love you both!"
"But you love him better!" the child sobbed. "He's the one you was sleepin' with!"
Kenny's reaction of frightened jealousy was quite normal for a child his age, under the circumstances. He'd lost his father and now feared he was about to lose his mother, too. It had been a traumatic experience for the nine-year-old, seeing his mother in the primal act with the big redheaded man who was a virtual stranger to him. It had shaken the very foundation of Kenny's already damaged sense of security.
"Honey, listen to me," Marge pleaded, her hands caressing his back as she gently rocked him to and fro, the way she'd done countless times when he was younger. "You've got to understand that there're many different kinds of love. I love Frank, yes, the way a woman loves a man. I love him the way I loved your father. Can you understand that?"
Kenny nodded. "I think so."
"Well, I loved you, too, didn't I, when your father was living with us?"
"Yeah."
"And didn't I sleep with him?"
Kenny nodded grudgingly but said nothing. "Then don't you see how it's the same way now, only with Frank instead of your real daddy?"
"I guess so," the child sniffed.
"Of course you do. Now, the way I love you, that's the strongest love of all. You're my little boy, and no man can ever take your place in my heart. I'll never stop loving you, Kenny, no matter what, because I'm your mother. You're my kid, my own flesh and blood, and you're the most precious thing in the whole world to me."
He drew back, studying her face hopefully as he asked, "Does that mean you love me more than you do Frank or Daddy either?"
"I guess it must," she replied honestly. "Because I love you even more than I love myself."
"Then let's go back to Grandma's!" he chirped.
"No, Son, we can't. Grandma doesn't want me in her house anymore. We're going to stay right here with Frank."
The boy didn't like it, but finally he drawled, "Well… okay, I guess, if we gotta. But he can sleep on the couch, 'cause from now on, me and Bobo's sleepin' with you, Mama."
Marge couldn't help smiling. "Why, Kenny, I believe you're jealous of me."
"What's that mean?"
She laughed softly. "Jealous? It means you want to keep me all to yourself, that you don't want me to love Frank, too."
"I don't mind too much if you love him just a little bit, but I don't want you sleepin' with him no more. Is it a deal? Him on the couch and me and Bobo in the bed with you?"
"No, honey, Frank would never go for that deal. Me, either, for that matter. When a man and woman love each other, they want to sleep together. You won't have to sleep on the couch for long. Soon as I find a job, we're going to move to a nice house and you'll have your own bedroom again."
"Then till we move, I'll sleep with you and Frank, in the middle, and Bobo can sleep on the floor."
"Oh, no, you won't," she chuckled, and kissed the tip of his nose. "Our sleeping arrangement stays just as it is. And, Kenny, I don't want you coming into the bedroom again without knocking first, do you understand?"