Chapter 3

Liz Rouelle had all she could do to stumble down the steps to her car. She smiled weakly around, attempting to look natural even though there was no one around to see. But she couldn't tell that because her lovely green eyes were filled with tears. If Tom Rouelle had that much sex to give away, she whimpered to herself, surely he could save a moderate amount for his wife! She opened the door of the car after fumbling with the handle, and once sitting inside under the steering wheel, she found she couldn't move: She couldn't seem to think of where she was and had to fight to remember that she was trying to drive home. Oh yes, she had to take the keys from her purse to start the ignition. Even this was a major task...

But finally, her trembling fingers managed to retrieve the keys from her purse, and she fumbled now with the ignition, stalling the car several times before getting it into drive. Slowly it lurched out of the parking lot and onto the street. I should not drive, she told herself. Liz was well aware that in her state of mind she wouldn't know the difference between reality and a mirage. People were walking along the avenue as she drove along, but it seemed to her that she would see a woman, for example, and suddenly the woman would be gone even though Liz's car had not passed her and the woman did not turn in anywhere or around any corners. She had been through such an experience before when Kevin had almost died of pneumonia as a child. Her head had been just as confused, alternately headachy and clear like a radio message traveling through intermittent waves of static.

She tried hard to concentrate on what she really saw through the car windows. After all, it was a beautiful day outside. The sky was a vivid blue, the clouds, puffs of pure white. Sprinklers whirred on freshly cut front lawns. There was the sound of an electric mower somewhere, though she could not see it. But the refreshment of her senses would not last. She found her heart falling into the much of self-pity as hard as she tried to prevent it. Angry, with deep revulsion, she imagined how Natalie had plotted the downfall of Tom Rouelle. His son Kevin was not enough for a whore like Natalie. Oh, no, she had to fuck the whole damn family! Seething with fury, Liz did not notice how the word 'fuck' fit naturally into her thoughts! But perhaps her definition of moderation was shifting!

Another surge of tears flooded her eyes. It became too difficult to see the road, and she pulled over to the curbing to wipe her eyes. She thought of driving to the beach or the hills, but she had seen too much this morning to solve her problems by driving around crazily like this. She couldn't erase the memory of Natalie moving her wetly sucking lips up and down over her husband's lust-hardened prick. She recalled, too, the expression on his face with guilty curiosity. She had never seen anything like it when she and he made love together, but she never would have performed an act like that on him, either. Then to her mind, Natalie and Tom became lower than the lowest animals through the very fact that they had consented to defile themselves like that! It was far easier for her to understand the mental concepts of fidelity and chastity than emotional depths she had never felt!

Yes, the new morality, so called, was not for her. It filled her with nothing but inner revulsion. Surely, her son could not have forgotten all that she had taught him. Surely, he, too, would be repulsed by the behavior she had witnessed. And he had the right to know to whom he was married, what kind of woman. The thought struck her in a flash as she started up the car again and pulled into the traffic on the avenue that she would go to Kevin and tell him everything. He just had to know what kind of a life that wanton harlot was leading him into, even if the facts hurt him as they were knifing into her at this very moment. Thinking of telling him, Liz was forced back into her memory once more.

She remembered the slowly flicking movement of her daughter-in-law's lips, the pouting and swelling of cheeks as Tom's large fleshy blood-filled cock had slipped up into her hungrily sucking mouth. Then she had seen Natalie swirl her tongue wetly across the opening of the inflamed member's smooth rubbery head and then dip and swirl again below the crown, slowly licking upward as a child might slap its tongue and suck on a red lollypop. Oh dear God, the image came back and she was unable to stop it! She had refused to do it to him so many times, and again she knew, but would not face, that perhaps her uncompromising policy of moderation left something to be desired.

As she approached home and what she knew was her moral duty to her son, to tell him when he came home for lunch all that she had seen at his new apartment, she tried hard to forget her obscene thoughts! Yet she could feel herself becoming involuntarily excited by the warmness of her pussy and the way she instinctively shifted her ass back and forth on the smooth seat cushion. Forbidden words flickered through her consciousness as they had done the night before; perhaps it was because she had seldom heard them and never had thought much about them, certainly never saying them aloud, that they had such significance to her. Words like cunt and suck and fuck and pussy and cock and prick and a myriad of combinations! Damn it, she thought, outraged at herself, this has to stop! She tried to steady her beating heart and calm herself from the excitement that had abruptly overtaken her moments before. But she couldn't. She found herself pushing back on the seat as she drove and pressing her cuntal lips into the form-fitting curves of the cushion.

At last, she drove into the gravel drive of her own home and was surprised to see the battered Chevie belonging to her son. Her heart leaped into her mouth and a wave of relief fell upon her. It would be so good to see him even though she had to break some terrible news. For some reason she couldn't understand, she was looking forward to his knowing. Well, she didn't blame herself. Enough had happened this morning to turn any woman's mind into an insane tangle of contradictory desires and thoughts! She entered the house by the back door into the kitchen, half expecting him to be putting a sandwich together for an early lunch, but he wasn't there. She tried the dining room and the living room and then started upstairs. The house was a bastardized ranch style with only three little stairs to the hall from which a bedroom opened on either side. The door to his room was wide open, so it never occurred to Liz to look the other way. Since she was looking for him, in fact, it was quite natural for her to look in! She had so much trouble believing what she saw that she was rooted to the spot and unable to move her eyes from the bed.

He was lying on the bed, completely naked, a drink in hand, his face turned up toward the ceiling. The radio was on and playing some rock piece, totally foreign to Liz. His nakedness in the flesh here reawoke the sounds of his lovemaking last night. It was startling. She didn't want to confront him like this, but she couldn't seem to pull away.

His head averted out the window now, he raised his drink lazily to his lips and rubbed his hand on his flat; tanned belly, running his fingers carelessly down to the soft dark pubic hair that covered his groin. In another almost lazy movement, he coursed his finger over his softened cock that still looked huge as it was and squeezed it tentatively, then more firmly. She watched the fleshy organ pulse out and grow in his hand, but he let it go, stretching slightly, then settled his hand on his thighs. His mother shuddered nervously and again turned to leave. She decided she better forget telling him about what had gone on, at least right now. But in spite of herself, her eyes remained fixed on his body. They drew her back, lighting on the harmonious lines of his muscled shoulders and arms lying on his stomach and thigh and on the half-erect blood-gorging length of his lusty cock that must have been six inches long in that state alone. He sipped again from his drink and ran his hand over his relaxed thigh in another casual movement that was provocative to Liz. She must leave! She must go! This was her own son, she thought.

Suddenly she began to understand her feelings more clearly in this moment that was mixed with fright and wanton desire. She realized she was attracted to her own son, but still she found no will to exercise, to help her leave the edge of the porch. Kevin lifted up one leg and scratched his knee. The soft sac of his testicles softly cradled on the cushion beneath his slightly flexing asscheeks, and she could see the base of his long thick instrument rise up from the nest of sparse hair surrounding it.

What could she do? Since she couldn't move away, she turned decisively into the room and stood next to the bed. He looked up at her casually as though he were laid out on the couch in the living room in his Sunday suit reading the funnies.

"Ma!" he smiled, his face becoming attractively more alert, though a slightly startled expression lit his brown eyes. Why should he be startled?

"Well, I, uh, I came to talk to you about something," she gasped, flushing with embarrassment. "But, b... but I think it can wait."

"Damnit, Ma, I'm sorry you caught me here like this," he smiled again, forcing it a bit. "I was sure I'd hear you come in..." His voice rose in apology and then trailed off. But he was not sorry! He couldn't be, Liz reasoned. What was he doing lying in her home with the door open like this? As he apologized, his mother still had full view of his long thick lusty cock, and what had been a slight erection enlarged still further. It stood out at a fortyfive degree angle, a rock-hard shaft deeply pink right up to the faint collar of skin under the blood-swollen head.

"Gosh, Ma, let me put my shorts on, at least," he said, swinging his feet onto the floor. "I feel as crazy as you do, talking to you like this."

Liz let out a short hysterical giggle. "I... I guess I should have called out for you before I came up to the bedrooms."

"Think I look like my father, Ma?" he asked, slapping his ass-cheeks in a cocky assertive manner as he faced her.

His mother flushed to the roots of her dark auburn hair and turned her face away.

"Okay, okay, I'm making you uncomfortable. Be back in a second." He trounced into the bath attached to his room or started to, then turned back, opened the door under his nightstand and took out a bottle of scotch and a glass. He fished an ice cube out of his own glass, poured the amber liquid generously, and handed the drink to his mother. Then he once more went his way to the bathroom.

Liz was still standing near the bed. She raised the tepid scotch to her lips. The burning liquor taken straight had an instant calming effect on her nerves, and she leaned back against the bedpost, momentarily relaxed. It certainly was embarrassing to walk in on her own son like this, although, true to the new morality, it didn't seem to bother him at all. But she had rather had her fill of lewd incidents lately, bodies in lewd copulation, poses, whispers that echoed tantalizingly in the dark. It was some kind of obscene nightmare.

As far as Kevin looking like his father, Tom... well, in a way it was true, despite the fact that Kevin was still so young, still in the finely sculpted stage of the early twenties, contrasting with his father's growth to a coarser masculinity. Kevin was still far less hairy. The image of Kevin's huge erectly throbbing prick standing out as menacingly as Tom's always did, the warmly pulsating head a few feet away from her, appeared in her mind's eye again with haunting clarity. Good God, it was gigantic! She blushed with the memory. It must have been as big and as thick around as his father's, she judged and tried to shove the thought out of her mind. She heard Kevin rummaging in the bathroom. It was not long before he appeared at the door into the bedroom again, his loins draped in a bath towel.

"I just draped this around me," he said, "I thought I left my clothes in the bathroom, but I don't see them."

Liz nodded limply. Her son picked up his half-finished drink from the night table and sat down on the bed.

"Sit down, Ma, and tell my why your face is all tear-stained."

She did sit down, taking another gulp of her drink. Being so near his almost nude body made her nerves flutter. She forced a smile and tossed her head back, taking a deep breath.

"I... I don't know where to begin. It... it all started last night. Oh, no it didn't. Let me think what started when."

"It started months ago, I'm willing to bet," he said with a young man's certainty. His attitude made her feel it necessary to defend Tom, at least. Had he said he knew it had nothing to do with his father, all of Tom's sins would have been laid bare! She was suddenly aware of this tendency to react against his attitude, his opinions, himself. It was a defense mechanism, she thought. This... this thing that was growing between them... it mustn't be allowed to get any bigger. It's head must be chopped off here and now. She must not agree with Kevin in anything. She must not feel that close to him... but oh, she did!

Now he lay his hand in an affectionate gesture on her knee. It felt reassuring resting there, and it did give her strength. She resolved to herself that she would not tell him that Natalie had been unfaithful with his father. She would simply inform Kevin of his own wife's infidelity. That was the important thing for him to know.

"Drink your scotch, Ma. That's a good introduction to any conversation."

"How does that work?" she asked, glad to be diverted for a moment from her difficult task.

"I guess it loosens your tongue enough so you can blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind!" he half laughed. "It's like pulling out the cork so you can get at what's in the bottle."

"Oh, God," she cried out. She did feel bottled. It was exactly the right word to have used. Her eyes once more welled with tears. "It... it was Natalie, dear. She's been unfaithful to you, Kevin. Yes, she's been making love to another man!" The words came then in a fast stream, punctuated by quick sobs. "I saw it in your new apartment. She did terrible things with someone. I... I don't know how you could stand her after all this. I saw it. God, dear, I can't stand to think what she's done to you!"

Kevin sat up straight on the bed, the towel falling carelessly down his waist and baring the pubic hairs of his groin. He clenched his hands across his knees and clasped and unclasped his fingers in a nervous, almost impatient gesture. "I can't follow exactly what you've said," he sighed in slight irritation. "What has she done? She's been unfaithful to me?"

"That's exactly what I said," she stated sharply, an iron resolve asserting itself.

Her beloved son pressed his palms to his forehead and bent over in apparent agony. She could not help putting a comforting arm around him. "That lousy tramp," he cried. "I... I can't understand it. We've been so close. God, you should have seen the way she made love to me just last night!"