Chapter 13

The second Sunday in October Pastor Richardson preached a sermon about the declining morals of today’s youth. According to him, Rock and Roll and the hippies were the main culprit. He preached a sermon every five or six weeks on ‘The devil’s music” usually after his monthly money sermon which implored folks to dig deep to keep the good works coming.

I kept a straight face with difficulty.

After church, my Aunt Jean volunteered me to help the church organist and choir director hang some shelves in her garage.

She wanted me to help Mrs. Welkins.

I remembered those big tits and that big pear-shaped ass from a couple of nights ago. The thought of hearing her inner secrets after seeing her that night was a temptation I didn’t even try to resist. So, I slipped the ring on then walked over to do the favor my aunt volunteered me for. Mrs. Welkins was another of the church’s inner circle of judgmental ladies. Now as I look back on it, she was probably bitter about her life’s disappointing outcome, but at the time, I just thought she was a bitch. She had a reputation as the congregation’s most avid gossip. According to my grandpa, those five women, all so called Christians, took far too much delight in other people’s scandals and missteps. That made me wonder about the sex lives of the others. I’d experienced Mrs. Richardson’s fantasies now I’d get a taste of Mrs. Wilkins’.

Her son, (the peeper) answered the door when I knocked.

“Hi, Steve,” he said cheerfully. “I’m Charley. Come on in.” He had his Little League uniform on.

“Game today?”

“Yeah, be nice to win for a change. Mom’s doing laundry.” He gave me conspiratorial grin. “She’s been running around without her bra on so you can see the outline of her titties. I had to go to the bathroom and jack-off.”

I looked at him, shocked at his comment, then remembered the ring. Apparently, it worked on males and females.

“Steve’s here Mom.” He yelled, then hooked his mitt on his bike’s handle bars but before he could leave, she hollered out.

“Show him where I want the shelves.”

He led me out to the garage chattering all the way.

“My friend Billy showed me how to jack-off this summer. I like to do it when I watch mom get undressed. Me and Billy do it together when we have sleepovers. I love getting the feeling. He peeks at his mom and his sister all the time.” He giggled, “We watched his sister Janet shave her pussy once. She has nice titties. Not as nice as his mom’s though. One night on a sleepover we got to watch his dad fuck his mom. Billy says he fucked her one time when she was drunk, but I don’t believe him.”

I listened bemusedly to his chattering. I knew about him peeking at his mother. I had seen him do it a couple of days ago.

He pointed out where the shelving was to be hung and left with a cheerful wave.

As I hung the shelves, I wondered why every person I talked only shared their sex secrets. They must have other things hidden, maybe the ring was only interested in sex. I wondered about Mrs. Welkin’s secrets; I was willing to bet they were doozys. By now, experience had taught me that the stricter and more repressive the surface, the more lascivious and lewder the underneath.

I was soon seated at the kitchen table drinking a lemonade she’d left out for me. I was iron hard in anticipation of what was to come.

Mrs. Welkins came out dressed in a silky flower print loose kaftan. Her blond hair, which was shot through with gray, was tied back in a ponytail making her seem younger than her age. Her big tits were indeed bra-less and swayed heavy on her chest; her nipples were expanding through the thin fabric of her dress as my eyes swept over them.

“Oh Steven. Thanks so much for putting those shelves up for me. Things like that go undone without a man in the house.”

She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down across from me.

My ring finger tingled. Her face adopted a disapproving look at my staring.

“I see that you are another disgusting male staring at my bosom. You are alike. My own son does that as well. Staring at me and then going into his bedroom and closing the door and playing with himself. I know because I’ve caught him. Can I tell you something and you promise not to tell?”

“I promise not to tell your secrets.”

“Last week, I caught him with my panties over his face, smelling them while he was stroking his cock with another pair. He was smelling his own mother’s pussy! Excuse my language. I’m ashamed to say that I’m raising a pervert.”

“How does that make you feel?

She ignored my question. “Sometimes, when I forget to close the bedroom door, he peeks at me. Can you imagine? I don’t know what I’ll do if the ladies at church ever found out my son’s seen his mother’s breasts and pussy. Although, from the rumors I’ve heard some of those ladies have no room to talk. They are no better than they have to be, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s pretty naughty all right,” I said. “Do you like it when he peeks at your naked ass and titties?”

She leaned back in her chair.

“Well of course I shouldn’t, good girls don’t like things like that, but I can’t stop him. Sometimes, I forget to close the door when I pee. I’ve caught him standing there bold as brass staring at my pussy when I wipe. Everybody knows boys are dirty. Peeking at his own mother’s spread open pussy with unnatural lust in his heart. Did you know that when I caught playing with himself, I noticed that his cock is a good sized one and it’s getting hair around it. So you know what he wants to do.”

She looked at me waiting I assumed for me to tell her exactly what he wanted to do with it. I didn’t respond just deliberately swept my eyes down to her crotch.

She blushed and said breathlessly, “I think he wants to fuck his own mother’s pussy. Shove his cock in his own mother and fuck her. Can you imagine? And I haven’t been fucked in a good long time. Funny how I feel I can tell you anything. His father was like that, oversexed. My husband, God rest his soul, was a crude man, full of base desires. He thought nothing of using the foulest language around me. Words like pussy and cunt and fuck. He forced me say them too. He liked to make me do dirty things. Forced me to do and say the most degrading things. God only knows what the ladies at church would think if they knew. Although some of them would have spread their legs for him in a New York minute if he had crooked a finger. Your stepmother and aunt are two of them.”