She didn't know; then, she realized that it would be impossible to avoid it! He would squirt his cum into her mouth… and she would have to swallow it! Could she do it? Dear God! And then, there was no time to think. The thunder shower of her passion broke inside of her with brilliant, flashing lightning blinding her eyes, the thunder of her racing blood in her ears, the busy raspiness of her breath in her lungs… and she came, moaning out her ecstasy around the length of the racing cock in her mouth. "OOOOOooooooh! I'm cummminnnnnngggg! AAAAAaaaaaaauuuuuuugggghhhhh!"
Her body convulsed, as waves of welcomed release rushed over her. Oh, God! It's wonderful! It feels absolutely heavenly!
Gary knew he was going to cum, in a moment. He could feel the breaking tide of his semen, straining to break down the restraint of tumescent flesh, and he wondered if he should tell her… prepare her for the spewing flood of sperm from his aching, throbbing cock. Then, he felt the sudden convulsions of her body. He grasped her flexing, white buttocks, pulling their rounded flesh down tight to his face as he placed his lips directly over her voraciously throbbing cuntal mouth, suctioning her strongly with his lips, while his own hips flicked his expanding member in and out of her mouth with merciless abandon. Suddenly, it was there! He came!
His young swollen cock burst in her mouth, all its youth jetting streams of his white, hot semen into her throat that made her gasp and choke, forcing her to swallow it as fast as it streamed up into her mouth. With one final plunge, he rammed his long, hard cock to the hilt in her mouth, his hairy balls coming against her nose, almost suffocating her. She reached down then to his buttocks and pushed him down until only the bulbous, jerking head of his cock remained in her mouth. She had found the taste of him flavorful, and she sucked and licked, swallowing all of his sperm until the throbbing pump of his cock was stilled and there was no more of the viscous liquid left. And in this final act she felt a kinship with her sister, with Gary's father. The delicious ecstasy of oral sex was hers! In that instant, she understood her husband better.
Their bodies subsided from climax, Gary's penis becoming flaccid in her mouth. He pulled her around beside him.
She lay on her side, now, looking up at her son blearily. He was tall and spare, not yet filled out, but his sinewy strength was there. Yes! He was a man… a boy-man, but he had satisfied her completely. She sighed and slept, mouth open in the noisy snore of drunkenness.
CHAPTER SIX
It took her several trips to transfer Lester's clothes back into their bedroom but Bette Jean worked feverishly. Everything had to be in order, put away in its proper place before time to start dinner.
She'd never known such a nightmare in her whole life as she'd lived through today. For the first time in their married life she'd lain in bed and let her husband make his own breakfast. The moment her eyes had opened this morning the horror of last night had hit like a hammer striking her right between the eyes. Drunken and weakened, she'd committed the unforgivable… an act so horrible that it had been forbidden by every savage tribe as well as by all the civilizations since man began. With her own son!!!!! It was monstrous, evil and so hideous that she finally went into the bathroom and retched, great dry sobbing heaves wrenching her belly, as the full memory came back to her.
Lester had poked his head in the door as she'd shakily climbed back into bed. "What's the matter? Got the flu? I gotta get to work. Where's breakfast?"
She shook her head weakly. "I can't, Lester. I… I feel awful."
"You're pretty white. Been throwing up?"
Her eyes fluttered closed as she nodded her head.
"Well… stay in bed. I'll get some coffee and toast."
"Get Wanda to make…" but he was gone then. Gratefully she sank back. She couldn't face Lester. She couldn't face anyone again. Couldn't even call Dr. Madson. How did you tell your doctor you were ill with guilt… the most terrifying guilt the world had ever known… It was no use… the word wouldn't even pronounce inside her own skull. Her Gary… a modern teen age Oedipus… doomed by copulating with his own mother. She burrowed down in the covers, flinging herself over on her stomach to bury her face and head with pillows to smother the moving playing screen in her head that brought it all back in moving color.
Somehow the day had worn on. All the tears had been cried. All the filthy epithets had been hurled at herself… all the nightmare played out over and over until she remembered every grisly detail and remembered how it came about. The worst thing to bear had been the sure knowledge that she had reveled in it. That filthy perverted act with her own boy. She'd loved it… some unknown secret part of herself had relished and loved every depraved minute of it. The waves of pleasure had roared through her body like a tidal flood. And it had been her son who had taken her to such heights… her son! For the first time in her life she'd known why Lester had nagged her so tiresomely about sex all the time. This was what he felt… or very like it… and he'd felt it over and over and over. But it had been the first time in her life she had ever truly enjoyed and attained this particular incredible peak of passion and lust. And it had to be at the hands of her own son. It was unthinkable that he had turned her on to bodily pleasure and not Lester, her husband!
Finally, after all the solutions had been proposed and discarded in her mind, she'd resolved that the only penance she could make that might expiate the terrible transgression, would be to live out the rest of her life in the same room with Lester. Try to be a good wife to him. Try to make it up… and never let Gary know what she hoped his youth might help him forget. As soon as she could she'd send Gary away… to boarding school or military school… anywhere where she wouldn't have to see him and be reminded… where he might forget… think it was a nightmare, unreal and therefore without influence.
As Bette Jean hung Lester's sport coat in the closet in their bedroom she could almost feel the strong arms pinning her down. The empty sleeves reminded her just how big a man he was, how demanding, how brutal. Well no matter how brutal he was now, she deserved worse. He couldn't punish her enough.
Wanda would have to go. She couldn't be allowed to disrupt this household any more. Since she had come their whole world had turned inside out. Somehow, some way… get rid of her. Then, perhaps, there might be a way she could straighten out the terrible mess.
Dinner was very silent, the tensions so thick they hung palpable in the air, smothering their desultory attempts at small talk. Lester wolfed his food silently. Wanda kept a mocking smile on her face. Gary looked wounded and ill. Bette Jean wondered if her own face showed such illness.
For the fourth time that day, Bette Jean bathed her body that she'd come to think of as a traitor, the villainous traitor of herself. It was as if the constant bathing might speed the forgetfulness and absolution she needed so desperately. The sheets felt cool and icy against her naked skin. Lester would be coming to bed and he hated nightgowns. She would submit to whatever he wanted, willingly. He'd looked startled and displeased when she'd whispered to him that his things were back in their room… that she didn't want separate bedrooms anymore… in fact, he'd looked almost guilty. But his guilt, whatever it might be, could not compare with hers. She waited almost eagerly, the cold sheet hardening her nipples.
The neighborhood noises had stopped altogether and a pervading stillness enclosed the house. She lay rigid, naked and still, a small lamp making a pool of light to guide Lester to bed. Her eyes were open and staring, waiting. Time had no meaning now. It could have been minutes or days that she lay like a statue awaiting expiation or execution. It did not seem to matter which.