Chapter 5

The television was on in the darkened living room and Bette Jean lifted her eyes occasionally to stare at the brightly colored pictures and the characters moving through a contrived drama. The sound was all the way down so her headache wouldn't be aggravated. She didn't think she could stand one other thing tonight.

She shifted her feet on the big ottoman and sank still lower in the big chair, adjusting the jersey robe automatically. Even her skin seemed sensitive tonight and the contact of the thin nylon was even uncomfortable against her skin. Dr. Madson insisted it was nerves. She'd done what he told her... separate bedrooms, trying to take it easy, getting out more, taking her pills, but nothing helped. Nerves, of course, entered into it. Ever since Wanda had moved in, the symptoms had increased.

Thank God Lester had a meeting tonight and Wanda had gone to the movies. She couldn't stand another evening of Lester's grumpiness and Wanda's sassy ways. Why had she ever taken her in at all? From the first she'd had a premonition it wouldn't work out. She tried to close her eyes and relax but the problems kept spinning around inside her head.

Gary didn't think he could stand it. Jesus, that whore Wanda had seduced him all right and now she was out with his father and they were fucking someplace. He knew it. Jumping tip from his desk, he slammed his book closed. Hell, who could concentrate on homework?

He paced back and forth. Christ, he could see Wanda's opened thighs and his father's cock shoving into the warmly wet haven. Oh God, the whole damn frigging world was coming apart. Maybe his mother bought that bit about a meeting and the movies, but he sure as hell didn't. He knew better. They were off fucking their damn heads off. What was worse... he was green with envy.

He sat down heavily on the bed, holding his head that made all those lewd images that were driving him crazy. Who was he kidding? He was as guilty as his father. Screwed and been sucked by that tramp right here on this bed and he knew that if the opportunity arose again he probably wouldn't be able to resist. Right now he wanted to be in his father's place, slamming it to her for all he was worth. Guilty... guilty as hell. He could see the huge bulge in the front of his jeans as he sat dejectedly. A huge hard-on just from thinking about her. She was a female devil, that's what she was.

A gorgeous female devil who tempted men and then laughed at them when they surrendered. She was evil and corrupt and she was ruining everything. Christ! If this kept up she'd have his folks divorced and set herself up as his stepmother. No. No. No! He couldn't stand it if she was. Couldn't stand it if his mother was suddenly without a home. How would she make a living? She didn't know how to do anything but be a wife and mother.

Gary threw himself on the bed and buried his face in the spread. Poor Mom in there watching television now... too innocent to know what was going on in her own house. And, here he was with an enormous erection despite his horror of what might happen. Ever since the fucking session with Wanda, instead of being relieved as he thought he'd be... he wanted it more than ever. Jacked off almost constantly, couldn't keep his hands off his own cock for a minute. Oh Shit! He was depraved and full of every kind of sin there was.

A cold shower. That ought to beat the meat down and take his mind off it some. Gary tore through to the bathroom and locked the door.

He stood shivering under the icy shower for long minutes. The chattering of his teeth wouldn't stop. Oh Christ! How did he ever get into this mess. Did every guy go through this torment over his first piece of tail? How could they? They didn't screw their own aunts... or watch their dads getting it from her too.

Wearily he shut the water off eventually and stepped out. His cock was still half hard and sensitive. Couldn't even dry it properly for fear of getting it up again. God damn it, he'd lose his mind if things didn't let up.

Bette Jean looked up to find Gary standing by her chair, his brown hair damp from a shower, the plaid bathrobe tied around him. His face was agonized and pale.

"What's wrong, darling?" She caught his hand solicitously.

"Mom?... Can I talk to you a minute?"

"Why, of course, Gary." No matter how confused and ill she felt she could never turn Gary down when he needed her. The other children had all resented him, probably with reason. She had spoiled him. He was the last, the baby. It was impossible not to spoil him.

"Mom... I... I've done something terrible..." he whispered miserably.

"I can't imagine you're doing something so terrible, Gary. Tell me about it. It can't be all that bad." She puffed him down. He sat obediently at her feet, his handsome young face tortured. A wave of love for this youngest child swept over her.

"I don't know how to start. We've never talked much about... well... sex... before."

"Why, I thought your father talked to you last year. I asked him to. It's his job."

"No, I don't mean that. Dad talked to me. I mean... well... I'm almost grown, Mom. I get those feelings. I can't help it... honest,... I've tried..."

Bette Jean stiffened. Her own son. The beginnings of the awful lust that Lester couldn't control. Oh God! It was unthinkable that her beautiful baby was growing into a rutting animal like his father. "Go on..." Dear heaven... how far had it gone?

"Don't look like that, Mom. Geez, I wouldn't hurt you on purpose... but I've really tried... I take cold showers... I keep busy... work out at the gym... nothing helps.

"I guess I had it pretty well under control till... well, I guess till Wanda came to live with us. I mean she's almost my age... and I kept thinking about her..." His voice died away to a whisper. He wished he'd never tried to tell her. His mother sat like a stone statue... her beautiful vulnerable face a mask. Hell, this was only going to make things worse. The thought of what Wanda was doing to her made him clench his fists. The knowledge that he'd betrayed his mother's trust too, was like a knife in his guts.

"Are you trying to tell me that you've... with Wanda?" The horror in her voice was unmistakable.

Gary felt the tears rush to his eyes and the hurt was closing his throat in a painful vise. Oh shit! Why did he ever start all this anyway? It was like he'd plunged that same knife right into his own mother.

He nodded, his head lowered and the sobs beginning to tear out of his chest that felt like it had a cement weight on it. "I couldn't help it, Mom. She's no good. I think... she would with... anybody... any guy... any age... Oh God, Mom... don't look at me like that!" His arms grasped his bent knees to make a haven for his flaming face that was soaked with the tears that flowed out of him. Christ! He'd ruined everything now... just because he'd been jealous of his father and Wanda... I'm no good... rotten!

Bette Jean involuntarily reached down to comfort her sobbing son. He was in pain too. The poor innocent lamb, seduced by her own sister... the sister she'd taken in. Oh God... there were no words for a woman who would do such a thing. The slut, the ungrateful bitch... coming into her home and contaminating an innocent boy with her breasts bouncing and her hips taunting. Oh God... there was no justice. The tears welled up and choked out of her, gritty and painful, the breath rasping in her throat. She patted Gary and held him close, leaning down and cradling his head against her knees. He was not to blame.

They sat for long minutes, entwined and sobbing out their mutual heartache. Bette Jean finally roused and wiped her eyes. The child would be sick if he didn't stop this crying. He was almost in hysterics, cursing and using foul language she'd never heard pass his lips before. So distraught he didn't even know what he was saying.

"It's all right, darling," she soothed. "We'll find a way out of this nightmare. I promise you, it will be all right. I'll get you something to quiet you. You'll be sick. Stay here... Let me help you to the couch."

Gary let himself be led, feeling weak and drained. If there was any decent way he could kill himself he would. Just cut out forever. Dimly he heard his mother in the kitchen. Oh God, he'd ruined her life too and he hadn't even told her yet about his father and Wanda. It would kill her. He may as well plunge a knife right into her.

"Here, darling." Bette Jean sat on the couch and handed Gary a glass. "Drink this... it'll burn... but it will help a little... I hope..." Helpless tears ran down her face again, silent and despairing.

"Wh-What is it?" He raised up a little.

"It's brandy. This is an emergency, darling... otherwise you know Mother would never give you alcohol at your age... drink it down. In this case, it's medicine." Bette Jean drank her own and felt the fiery liquid sear her throat and then spread in a warming glow through her stomach. This was the first time in her life she understood how someone could be driven to seek solutions in a bottle. Already she was beginning to feel better.

Gary drank, sputtering a little at first and then getting the hang of letting it slide down slowly. Jesus! His first drink. After the first few sips it tasted good, warm and comforting.

The television still glowed with brightly shifting images in brilliant color, a kaleidoscope of changing patterns. Gary could see it over his mother's shoulder. It made a kind of radiating halo behind her curly head. He didn't know how long they'd been drinking now but they were both feeling better. She still sat by him on the couch; he could feel the warmth of her thigh against his hip. They'd talked it all out... over and over. How Wanda was trying to break up their home, how cruel and unthinking his father was, but how terrible it would be to let their home and their family disintegrate. But, they were just not going to let that happen... no matter what. He'd never realized before how really great his mom could be. She was beautiful too, the soft colored light behind her, the thin jersey robe molding her breasts. The nipples were clearly visible under the clinging fabric...

"Don't you worry, baby... Mother won't let anything happen to us... s'a promise." Bette Jean patted Gary's hard young thigh reassuringly. There was a bulge under his robe that pressed against her arm as she did. His thing. Still hard just like when he was a baby. Every time she'd changed his diaper he'd always had a tiny erection, his little thing sticking up like a tiny flagpole. She felt a rush of love for this beautiful boy who was growing up now, the penis grown to man proportions. She felt it jerk and throb under her arm. What agony that Wanda must have put him through. She patted him again, her hand sliding and patting across his lap as she brought it up to steady her drink and drain it.

"Ohhhh, Mom..." he breathed. The blood was beating in his cock something fierce. God her hand felt good patting him like that. He knew she didn't mean anything by it but he wished she wouldn't stop. "You've been so good to me." He sat up dazedly, his head swimming a little and leaned over to kiss her soft cheek. She smelled like lemons and gardenias and brandy. Funny he'd never noticed before how soft her skin was, how beautiful and young she was.

Bette Jean felt Gary's kiss on her cheek. Such a sweet boy. So brave and never running around and leaving her like most boys did. His young lips were warm and full and kindled something deep inside her breasts. Her glass fell to the floor empty and made a little soft thud on the deep carpet.

Without thinking Bette Jean turned her head and kissed him back on those young lips. Such a good boy. He was going to be all right now. The brandy had calmed him down. Maybe they'd even had too much. Her head didn't ache anymore but things kept shifting out of focus. Suddenly she felt Gary's arms go around her, pulling her close to his hard young chest. She patted his shoulders and marveled at their strength.

Gary gathered his mother in his arms when she turned her head to be kissed on the mouth. A thrill shot through him as he felt her soft yielding body so close against him, the full breasts crushed against him. What a truly beautiful woman... warm and understanding and kind. Lucky... that's what he was... lucky. She wouldn't tease him the way Wanda would. She'd just love him the way she always had. He felt her shudder, her mouth trembling under his. Instinctively he kissed her harder, his lips bruising and demanding. God, it was good to hold her like this.

Bette Jean pulled away, the breath coming out in little pants. She had to get her breath. There were funny streaks of fire shooting through her breasts and her pussy was tightening and drawing inward. It felt so good, so right, so exciting. As she pulled back to look blearily into his eyes, Gary's hard young palm Inadvertently caught her breast and the fires there flamed higher, warming her.

Gary felt the soft globe, hot and full in his palm. She was truly a beautiful woman. His fingers dug into the resilient firmly ripe flesh, covered with the thin silky fabric. The nipple was hard and erect, poking into his hand in a fiery little point.

"You're so beautiful... so good to me... Ohhh, Mom..."

Catching his hand with her own, Bette Jean pressed the young male hand closer on her beating breast. As a baby he'd patted and played with her breasts while he nursed, kneading and loving them. Ohh, it was so lovely. She longed to hold his head there again. Her last baby. There'd never be any more. Nursing had always been such a joy, particularly nursing Gary, who loved it so. Without thinking, transported by the memory of his baby head nestled there, Bette Jean pulled the offending robe from her breasts and caught his dark young head to her flesh, giving him the nipple in his strong young mouth. She dimly heard him gurgle as he took it and began to suck. The flames rose in her flesh like a raging forest fire, burning brighter and brighter.

Gary felt the nipple, hard and quivering against the roof of his mouth. He sucked deeply as though nourishment would come pouring out. Oh God! Some deep instinct guided his sucking, his lips and teeth making strong sucking action while his tongue laved the tiny sensitive nib.