Keith was one fried Partridge.

First of all, he was supposed to be in a rock band. But his band's rhythm section was little kids who could barely count, let alone keep up a beat.

And he was supposed to be the singer of this band, belting out lyrics about love and kissing and that kind of stuff. Not too hot, maybe, but he was supposed to put some feeling into it, wasn't he? But to whom does he sing this lyrics? To his sister Laurie, on keyboards. OK, she had a pretty cute face, with long swinging brown hair, but she was skinny as a straw and flat as a board. Lots of motivation there. Or he sang to his Mom. His Mother, for cripe's sake. Yeah, she was pretty, and she had a good body, what anyone could see of it underneath the jackets and pants she always wore -- but she was his MOM!

Oh, and he was supposed to be the heartthrob, too. The one the girls swooned over. Only they seemed to spend an awful lot of gigs singing to old folks or preschoolers. And when they did get an audience with at least a few girls who were somewhere between almost old enough to drive and not quite old enough for Social Security, Mom says he's got to stay in the motel room with his little brothers and curfew's at 10! Boy, the groupies really go for playing Go Fish with your whole family. Yeah, right.

But this was it. This was the rule he couldn't take. Their manager, Reuben, tells him he's been, what was it? "Wearing the shirts kinda wild, there, Keith. Can't you button them up? You know, all the way? You'll look a lot better, then, kid. Trust me!"

Keith didn't even bother to argue. He could tell Reuben was just passing along another one of Mom's rules. But, for crying out loud, it's not like he was wearing a codpiece or sticking out his tongue like those British groups did. A couple of measly buttons open! He didn't even have any chest hair, what was she afraid of?

He was determined to have it out with Mom over this one. But that was one of the many problems of being in a family of five kids: When could you ever get someone alone to have a real discussion? Without Danny sticking his sarcastic nose in or one of the twerps whining about something?

He tried all day, but either they were all in rehearsal or Mom was talking about stuff with Reuben or it was dinner or something. Finally it was bed-time; luckily they got to spend that night at home because the gig was so close. Keith put on his pajamas -- better button those up to the top, he thought to himself -- and sat in bed listening as everyone else washed and got into bed.

When everything was quiet, he peeked down the hall. It was dark, but he could see a thin strip of light underneath his Mom's door. She still used the big bedroom down the hall, the one she and Dad had used before he died. He padded down the hall, barefoot, being careful not to wake anyone along the way.

He was thinking about exactly what he was going to say, rehearsing it in his mind the way they rehearsed those sugary songs over and over again. On auto pilot, he opened the door without knocking, while debating to himself whether to mention that part about the chest hair. He took a step into the room -- and stopped cold.

His mom was sitting at her dressing table, facing away from him. With the angle of the door and the mirror in front of her, he realized she couldn't see him unless she looked very carefully.

But he could see her very clearly. She was brushing her short blonde hair, smoothing down the 'do that made her look like a pixie. A very beautiful pixie, though, with cute dimples and bright blue eyes and a full mouth, still shiny red with lipstick.

A very sexy pixie, too. Because Mom had nothing on but a pair of pink panties. Keith could see his mother's breasts reflected in the mirror -- proud, full breasts, still as firm as a teenager's, capped by small brown aureolae. Around the short, curving back of her chair, he could see the smooth curve of her back, dropping into wide hips and long, supple legs.

She was leaning in close to take off an eyelash when Keith approached, walking silently on the thick blue shag rug. She didn't notice him until he put a hand on her milky white shoulder.

Startled, she turned around and gasped. "Keith! What are you doing here? Why didn't you knock? If you expect me to respect your privacy, you have to..." Abruptly she dropped the outraged mother routine as she realized her state of undress. She pressed her breasts into the back of the chair, pushing her cleavage into a deep valley. "Get out of here this instant! I'm not even dressed!"

That reminded Keith of his purpose. "Dressed? That's why I'm here. You told Reuben to make me button my shirt, didn't you? How do you like this?" He quickly undid the buttons of his pajama tops and flung the shirt aside.

"What are you talking about?" Shirley Partridge, misreading her son's gesture, rose from the chair and backed away from him. She held her arms out to keep him away, affording him a close-up, unimpeded view of her slender, shapely body. Forgetting his anger, Keith drank in her beauty. His eyes roamed up and down: the gentle slope of her breasts, rising above her smooth, hard belly; the promise of a few curly blonde hairs peeping above the lacy waistband of her panties and around the sides of the silken fabric so closely sculpted to her vulva; deeply tanned legs. As he gazed, a very natural reaction took place, one that didn't escape his mother's horrified look.

"This has gone on long enough," she said, in a voice stern but softened by a slight quaver. "You have to... Oh, my God, Keith, look at you!" He followed her eyes to his crotch, where his cock had stiffened and grown, tenting out several inches and straining the combined forces of his briefs and PJ bottoms. The full magnitude of what was happening seemed to hit him then, but it didn't pull him back, it only made him bolder. Without a word, he advanced on his mother, brushing aside her defenses. He took her in his arms and kissed her hard, his tongue pushing between her lips and muffling her protests. He felt her breasts warm against his chest. His cock, still confined by his clothes, pressed against the silk of her panties. His right hand slipped down to her butt, caressing and squeezing. He brought it up again to the small of her back and then eased it into the gap between the panties' waistband and her skin, rubbing her cheeks and pushing a finger into the crack between them. All the while his mom pushed at his shoulders and tried to maneuver her face away from his hot kisses.

When at last he broke the kiss, she burst into protest. "Keith, how could you! I'm your mother! Get out now, and we'll talk..."

Instead of moving away, Keith had kept his left hand behind her back. Reaching down with his right, he slipped it behind her knees and brought it up smoothly, lifting his mother off her feet and cradling her in his arms. "You won't let me go out with other girls, Mom," he murmured to her. "I guess I'll have to get what I need at home."

In seconds he had carried her to the bed and tossed her into the middle of it, shucked off his remaining clothes and ripped her panties off, yanking them down her legs and tossing them aside.

Shirley tried to roll away but her son grabbed both her hands in his and jumped atop her, using his greater strength to hold her at bay while his legs forced hers apart.

Looking down, he saw her fully exposed now, the tumble of hair atop her mound, the pink of her pussy lips. His mother, naked and at his mercy.

"You know what's going to happen, Mom," he said through teeth clenched by the effort to hold her down. "You should have expected this. How many love songs have I had to sing to you? How many times have I had to look you in the eyes and sing about kissing you and holding you close? I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to fuck my mother's pussy. It's no use fighting. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna put my cock inside you and fuck your ass off. Come on, Mommy."

Tears were rolling down Shirley's cheeks and her breath was shallow and irregular. "Please!" Her forehead furrowed as she begged her son not to rape her. "I'm your mother, Keith! Think about what you're doing. You don't want to do this. Stop now, and we can deal with this in the morning! Oh, please, Keith, no!"

Ignoring her pleas, Keith stabbed at her pussy with his thick, hard dong. "Damn," he said, "you're dry. Come on, let me in!" He pushed and poked, but only irritated the head of his cock as it scraped along his mother's unwilling cunt.

He let go of one of her hands and brought his right to his lips to lick the fingers. Shirley tried to push him off, but she couldn't budge when she pushed on his chest and he twisted his face away when she reached for him there. Meanwhile, he put his fingers down to her crotch and rubbed her pussy. To her dismay, her juices soon began to flow and her son was able to stick a finger inside her, stroking her until she was well lubricated.

"It's not too late," she sobbed. "Please, oh, please, stop now. Keith, please, don't do it! Don't..." She sighed as she felt his cock slip past her entrance and slid deep into her cunt.