Chapter 1

The rain had held off until Bobby and his mother were just over half way to the cabin. But when it struck, it came down with a vengeance. It came down in buckets and they were both soaked to the bone minutes after the downpour began.

There was no where to escape. They couldn't hide from it. They had to go on. They sloshed mud and goo that was sometimes knee deep as they slowly made their way up the mountain trail.

Finally, just when it seemed like they would never make it, they saw the cabin.

"Finally, the cabin," Bobby groaned, stopping for a moment in the pouring rain. "I didn''t think we were going to ever get here."

"I don't think I've ever seen it rain so hard," his mother, Doreen panted, rain streaming down her face. "I can't wait to get into something dry."

Clumping up the steps and onto the porch, Bobby flopped down and untied his mud-encrusted boots while his mother unlocked the door.

"I'll get a fire going," he told her, stepping around her as she pulled her boots off, "and you can go ahead and get into some dry clothes before you freeze to death."

"Aren't you a Darling," she shivered, her teeth chattering loudly.

Slipping his backpack off, Billy set it by the door and headed for the fireplace leaving a trail of muddy water behind him.

"Boy, am I glad Dad and I put some wood inside the last time we were up here," he said, hearing his mother's boots clump to the floor, "or we would be up the river with the proverbial paddle."

"You've got that right," she shivered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "I'm freezing."

"Hurry up and get into some dry clothes," he told her as he built the fire.

Putting some paper and kindling in a pile just as he had been taught in the scouts, he lit it. The paper and small pieces of kindling quickly burst into flames. Then he added several larger logs to the pile and stepped back to admire his handy work. As he watched the fire grow in strength, he peeled his sopping shirt off and pitched it over on the hearth. The warmth from the fire felt good on his skin as he stood warming his hands.

Then he heard his mother coming out of the bathroom.

"I'm afraid that all my clothes are drenched," she complained walking back into the room with a big, white towel wrapped around her.

"I guess that you'll just have to excuse my appearance until I can dry something else to wear.

"Hopefully that won't take too long," he grinned at her pointing to the fire, "I have a fire going."

"You'd better get out of you wet clothes, too," she smiled at him, walking up beside him and warming her hands by the fire, "we don't want you catching a cold either."

"Gladly," he said, picking up his backpack and trudging into the bathroom.

As cold and dreary as it was, he wondered where he would sleep as he skinned off his saturated clothes. He usually slept on the couch by the fire, but as cold as it was, maybe he should let his mother have the bed by the fire.

Searching through his pack, he found that all of his clothes were soaking wet too. Shivering, he grabbed a towel. Drying himself off with it, he tossed it aside and grabbed another towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he picked up his pack and left the bathroom.

"It looks like we are both in the same boat," he laughed, strolling back to the fireplace, "Nothing in my pack is dry either."

"I think your father was right," his mother said as she spread her clothes out in front of the fireplace to dry, "I don't think we are going to get in a lot of fishing the way it is raining."

"Oh, I don't know," he laughed, "we'll be able to fish off the porch if the stream keeps rising the way it is."

"At least we will eat well," his mother grinned, walking over to the cabinet. "We stocked up on food the last time we were up here."

"With this rain, it may be a couple of days before we can make it back down," he complained, spreading his clothes out in front of the fire. "Do we have enough food for that?"

"Plenty," she grinned, rummaging through the cabinet, "now what would you like tonight?"

Spreading out the last of his clothes, he turned around to see his mother searching through the cabinet. As she bent over, her towel rode up her thigh baring her long, lovely legs all the way up the very bottom of her butt. His mom sure had beautifully legs, he thought as he stared at them. They were full, and curved at just the right places. Not too skinny and not too fat. Just perfect, he thought, admiring the swell of her well-developed calves. Must be all the walking and exercising she did. Just then, she bent over a little farther and suddenly he found himself staring at her protruding lips of her pussy, beautifully exposed between her inner thighs.

"My, God," he thought, "she doesn't have any panties on."

He was unable to tear his eyes away from her exposed femininity as he felt a searing flash of excitement tear through his penis.

Her pussy was beautiful. His mouth fell open as he openly gawked at the captivating gash of pink flesh peeking out at him from between her lovely thighs.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, BOBBY WILKINS?" he asked himself as he continued to stare at his mother's conspicuous nudity. That is your mother's pussy you are gawking at. You'll probably go blind if you don't stop looking. He felt like a pervert, but he couldn't take his eyes away from his mother's nudity. Although he was excited by the captivating view, he was filled with shame and disgust.

Then she stood up. Tearing his eyes away from her, he was able to escape detection as she turned toward him.

"Well, did the cat get your tongue?" she asked him.

"Uh, oh, uh," he stuttered, his face turning beet red, "Uh, I don't care, uh, surprise me."

"What is wrong with you?" she asked him, looking down at herself. "Am I embarrassing you being dressed this way?"

"UH, I, uh, I don't know," he muttered, turning to hide the bulge that had suddenly formed under his towel.

"Okay, if you won't tell me what you want, why don't you get us a glass of wine while I throw something together," she told him, turning back to the pantry.

"Yeah, uh, sure," he replied, stumbling over to the other pantry where the wine was kept.

With shaking hands, he opened a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass. While his mother wasn't looking, he quickly downed it. Then he filled both glasses.

"Here," he said, handing his mother her glass as he held the bottle in front of the hump under his towel.

"Thank you," she smiled at him taking a sip of the wine. "Very good choice."

Bobby bumbled back over to the fireplace, setting the bottle on the table as he went. Squatting in front of the fire, he picked up a log about as thick as his wrist. He was just about to put it on the fire when their privacy was suddenly interrupted by a jarring knock at the front door.

"What in th... , " he blurted out, jumping in fright.

"Someone is at the door," his mother said, a look of apprehension spreading over her face.

"Do you want me to answer it?" he asked her.

"I guess so, but be careful," she cautioned him.

Walking over to the door, he laid the log on the table by the couch. Creeping up to the door, he turned and looked at his mother. Then shrugging his shoulders, he slowly opened the door a crack.

He couldn't believe his eyes. There was a man standing on the porch pointing a huge pistol at him. In the instant it took for him to react and try to slam the door, the man shoved his foot in the crack keeping the door from closing.

"What's going on?" his mother shouted from across the room.

"Man, gun," was all Bobby could grunt as struggled to close the door.

"That's not very neighborly of you, my lad," the man laughed coldly as he slowly forced the door open, still pointing the gun at Bobby. "Not very neighborly at all."

"What, what do you want?" Bobby asked, seeing that it was futile to try and stop the man.

Bobby stepped back from the door and let the drenched stranger step inside.

"Just a place in out of the rain, laddie," the invader smiled evilly, jerking the gun and motioning for Bobby to step farther away from him. "That's not too much to ask on a horrid night like tonight is it?"

Bobby didn't answer him as he watched the man's eyes sweep all the way around the room before returning and stopping on Bobby's mother, Doreen.

"Well, well," the man said, "what kind of party do we have going on here?"

"What, what do you mean?" she asked, her face reddening.

"It looks like the little lady has invited her young lover up to the mountains for a little hanky-panky," he leered, slowly easing his sopping coat back off his shoulders and letting it plop to the floor.

"How rude," Doreen spit out. "How dare you come into our cabin and accuse us of such a thing. This is my son and just who the hell are you?"

"My name's not important, but you can call me Tom, if you need a name," he smirked, motioning Bobby away from the fire. "I just jumped to the obvious conclusion what with both of you running around half naked."

"All of our clothes got wet when we hiked up here this afternoon," she explained futility.

"Hey, Lady, you don't have to make excuses to me," he said, "it doesn't make any difference to me one way or the other."

Grinning lewdly, he turned and keeping an eye on them, clumped over to the fire. As he stood in front of the fire warming his hands, the only sound was that of the wood snapping and crackling as it burned. Then he spoke again.

"You, boy, go get me one of those towels like you and your mom are wearing," he ordered Bobby.

Bobby frowned, but turned and started for the bathroom. Maybe the man would leave if he had some dry clothes. Then just before he stepped into the bathroom, Bobby heard the man speak again.

"While you're in there, close the door and don't come out until I tell you."

"No. No. I won't leave you alone with my mom."

"Do it boy. Do it now. Do it before my finger gets tired and one of you gets shot," he growled angrily, purposefully pointing the gun at Doreen to make his point.

"Bobby," his mother said softly, "do as he says. Please."

"But Mom," Bobby started to continue his protest, but stopped when he saw the look on his mother's face.

"He won't do anything to me."

"You listen to your mother, Bobby," the stranger laughed coldly.

"You better not do anything," Bobby threatened uselessly as he stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

The instant the door was closed, the man quickly laid the gun on the table where he could quickly scoop it up should Doreen make a dash for it.

"You'll have to pardon my rudeness," he muttered, his teeth starting to chatter, "but, I'm about to freeze to death."

Then, as Doreen watched on in disbelief, he started to undress. Within moments, he stood before her as naked as a jaybird.

Her face blazing with embarrassment, she quickly turned away.

"What's wrong," the intruder chortled, picking up the bottle of wine on the table and taking a long, deep pull on it, "don't you like my laddie boy?"

"God," she mumbled, facing away from him, "how crude."

"Haven't had any complaints about him in the past," the man smirked, wiping his mouth with back of his hand.

"Maybe, I'll let you play with him later," he cackled, "maybe that will change your mind."

"Hey, Boy, bring me that towel," the man shouted, picking up the gun again.

Bobby stepped out of the bathroom and stopped. He couldn't believe his eyes. The man was standing in front of his mother without a stitch of clothes on. Bobby's face reddened with anger and shame. Despite his anger, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop the man.

"Bring the damn towel over here, boy," the man commanded, motioning at him with the gun.

Suddenly, the gravity of their predicament dawned on Bobby. They were trapped in their cabin with a deranged psychotic.

Would he do unspeakable things to them and then kill them?

Bobby broke out in a cold sweat as he slowly trudged over and handed the towel to the man.

"That's more like it, laddie," the man smirked wrapping the towel around his waist as he kept the gun pointed at Bobby. "Now why don't you get us another bottle of wine and we can have a real party."

As the stranger spoke, Bobby saw his mother look tentatively over her shoulder. Seeing that the stranger had covered himself, she turned and faced them. As Bobby looked to her for guidance, she nodded her head. Bobby walked over to the pantry and opened it.

"What do you want with us?" Doreen asked the man as Bobby pulled out another bottle of wine and opened it.

"Well," the man paused, leering at her spitefully, "I have a couple of ideas to get us started and after that, we'll just have to play it by ear, or prick I guess would be more appropro."

"Oh my God, what, what do you mean?" she gasped.

"Well, lady, why don't the both of you come over here by the couch and get nice and cozy while I explain the rules of engagement," he grinned lewdly, stepping back away from the couch.

Bobby and his mother looked at each other helplessly. Seeing no escape, they both shuffled over to the couch like two prisoners being led to the gallows.

"Set the bottle down right here," the man said pointing to the endtable.

Bobby felt a growing sense of doom and helplessness inside his chest as he set the bottle down as he had been told. Then he slowly back away from the table.

"Mom, why don't you have a seat on the couch here," the man told Doreen.

She hesitated for a couple of moments and then slowly sat down. She tried to keep her long, curvaceous legs together so that the stranger wouldn't know that she was naked under the towel.

"Okay," the man grinned perversely, picking up the bottle and taking another long pull on it, "Now, Bobby, I want you to take your towel off so your mom and I can see your laddie boy."

"WHAT?" Bobby sputtered, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"You heard me," the man growled, "take your damned towel off."

"Hell, No," Bobby sputtered.

Then he heard the click of the gun being cocked.

"Okay, okay," he groaned, turning away from his mother so she wouldn't be forced to watch him uncover his manhood.

His whole body turned bright red from embarrassment as he slowly untied the towel and let it slip to the floor.

"Damn, Bobby, that is one big cocker you've got hanging there," the stranger laughed, looking down at Bobby's dangling cock.

Bobby had never been so humiliated. His whole body turned beet red as he stood facing the man. What was the crazed mad-man going to do now? Waiting, Bobby's mind feverishly sought a way to extract them from the devilish dilemma they found themselves in.

"Show your codder to your mom, lad," the intruder ordered him, laughing harshly at Bobby's humiliation.

Bobby had never felt such hate. There was a rage growing inside of him that would soon be uncontrollable. He didn't move, hoping that the man wouldn't make him face his mother.

"Come on, Mom," the man leered, taking another swig off the wine, letting some of it spill down his chest, "tell your boy to turn around so you can take a look at his laddie."

Neither of them reacted to the man's leering threat.

"Turn around, Bobby, or I just might have to shoot it off," the stranger snapped, pointing the gun down at Bobby's dangling manhood.

Realizing that defiance might end in bloodshed or worse, Bobby knew he had no other choice.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he whined as he slowly turned and faced her.

They were only three or four feet apart as he looked down at her. She had her eyes closed.

"Open up those pretty blues of yours, Mommy," the intruder ordered her.

Ever so slowly, she opened her eyes, looking up away from her son's exposed masculinity. Their eyes met for a moment. Then to Bobby's amazement and shock, he watched as her eyes quickly flicked down to his drooping masculinity. Bobby nearly died as her eyes widened momentarily then swept back up to his face. Bobby couldn't decipher the look on his mother's face, but he could see that she was blushing, too.

"Quite a hanger you boy has there, don't you think?" the stranger chuckled.

Neither Bobby nor his mother spoke, not knowing what was coming next.

"Answer me," the man commanded, "don't you think your boy has quite a cock?"

"Uh, uh, Yes," she finally said so softly Bobby could barely hear her, "he has a lovely penis."

"It is so lovely, I'll bet that you would love to suck on it," the stranger laughed, mimicking her as his face twisted into a devilish scowl...

"Please. Oh, Please," she groaned fearfully, "don't make us do that. Please. I'll do anything you say, but please don't make us do that."

When Bobby had heard what the man said, he had suddenly felt a jolt of wicked excitement tear through his body.

He couldn't believe what he had heard. The man wanted his mother to suck Bobby's cock. Bobby wasn't able to control the primitive excitement that was quickly evident as his cock began to swell and grow. While a part of his mind found having his cock sucked by his mother in front of another person disgusting, another part of his mind found it exhilarating wicked. But what would happen to them after they had done as he told them? Would he kill the both of them?

For a few moments, the only sound was the fire, snapping and popping. Bobby suddenly realized that the man and his mother were both staring at his cock. Looking down, he saw that his cock was already starting to lift up away from his dangling balls.

"God, NO, don't let this happen to me," he prayed to himself.

But he could only curse his own frailty as his cock continued to swell and harden, lifting its huge purple head higher and higher.

No one said a word until his cock was finally ripe and hard. He had always been proud of his giant penis, but now he hated the arrogant column of rock hard meat that jutted out of his groin. To add injury to insult, it bounced up and down in time with his heartbeat as it pointed directly at his mother.

"It would seem that your son doesn't seem to agree with you on this subject," the man cackled insanely, pointing down at Bobby's thick, hard cock, "I think that he wants his mother to suck him."

"Bobby, how could you?" his mother complained, looking up at him.

"Mother, I'm sorry," he blubbered, tears of embarrassment and shame flowing down his cheeks, "I couldn't stop it, it just happened."

"Hey, now that Bobby's showed us what he has and got his cocker charged and ready," the man chortled, taking another swig of the wine, "You show us what you have Mom."