Chapter 12

It took Helen several days to get well from her drinking orgy. She had spent the rest of the day at the motel and got so drunk that Peter had had to come and drive her home. The boy hadn't minded, though, because his mother had sprawled out in the car, her robe wide open, and passed out. He had sat looking at her and jacked off before lugging her into the house. Fortunately, his father had gone on to his office.

She hadn't slept with Dan, either. Partly because she felt so shitty, but mostly because he acted so shitty. He was back to his old funky self. She decided she needed a good fuck, not the kind her husband gave her, but a good fuck.

It was a week after the wedding when she noticed Joan Wagner's coat hanging in their front closet. "Oh, dear, she must have left that here the day of the wedding." She took the coat from the hanger and went into the front room where Peter was sprawled on the floor in front of the television. "Would you mind running this over to Joan's, honey?"

"Aw, hell, Mom, I'm watching TV," Peter whined.

"Don't talk ugly, Peter. I'd have your father do it, but he's bowling tonight. Be a good boy. You can take the car."

Peter got to his feet and jerked the coat out of her hands. He stamped angrily from the house.

Ten minutes later Peter slammed on the brakes in front of Joan's house. He grabbed the coat roughly in his fist, trying to wrinkle it, and stamped up the walk. Joan answered the door, her baby in her arms.

"Why, Peter, what a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you since the big wedding," she said.

"You left your coat at our house. Mom made me bring it over."

"I'm sorry, honey. You should have called; Rick could have stopped and got it. Now, that you're here, come on in."

"Nah, I gotta get back home."

"No, don't go. Rick is working nights again and I'm lonesome. I'll make you a drink after I finish feeding the baby and we can talk."

Peter liked the idea of having a drink with sexy Joan, but the thought of waiting around while she fed her brat bored him. He gave in grudgingly, however, and walked into the house with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. She had him sit in a big overstuffed chair and she sat facing him on the couch.

"I do have to finish feeding the baby. You don't mind, do you, Peter?" she asked.

"Naw, go ahead," he answered sullenly.

Joan's housecoat was a deep red and had a big collar. It was made of a satiny, quilted material and revealed nothing of the voluptuous body inside. Peter sat up with surprise when she pulled the collar down and produced a fat, milk-filled tit. He had expected her to go to the kitchen and get a baby bottle. The baby eagerly took her protruding red nipple in his mouth.

She leaned back, cradling the baby to her tit and tugged her robe open, exposing most of her other swollen boob. She always had big knockers, but now they were especially fat, and round, and smooth. Peter's eyes bulged.

Next, she hunkered down in the chair and crossed her legs. They were bare, and the robe fell open on either side, closing at the spot where her legs met, or maybe just a fraction below. She swung a long, smooth leg in the air.

"Do you like my legs, Peter?" she asked coyly.

"Hell yes," he stammered, his face reddening slightly.

"Your father likes them, too."

"My--my dad? When does he look at your legs?"

"Whenever I let him," Joan said.

Peter, forgetting himself, rubbed at the growing thing inside his jeans.

Joan licked at her heavily lipsticked lips, making them shine, and watched him rub at the lump in his pants. The way he was looking at her while her baby sucked at her tit, excited her terribly. She felt unusually bold exposing herself to this young boy and moved her legs in such a way that she was sure a hint of her thick pubic bush was in view.

"What's the matter, Peter?" she said.

Peter jerked his hand from his crotch, aware of what he was doing. "Oh, nothin', Joan; just had an itch. Sorry," he muttered.

"That's okay, honey, go ahead and scratch." She kept her eyes on the spot where Peter had removed his hand. His pants were tight, and the bulge was quite apparent.

She glanced down at the baby in her arms. "Little Ricky is asleep," she said. "Let me put him in his crib and I'll make us a drink and be right back."

After she had gone, Peter leaned back in his chair and put his hand between his legs, rubbing the knob of his cock through the denim. He wanted to take it out and give it a good stroking, but he didn't dare.

Joan returned with a glass in each hand, the ice clinking as she walked. Her hips rolled under the thick robe and her breasts bounced with each step. Peter could see most of her tits because she hadn't pulled the robe closed at the top. She handed him a glass and went back to her place on the couch.

She crossed her legs again, letting the robe fall away as it had done before. It opened almost to the skimpy bikinis, the only thing she had on under the robe.

"Is your drink good, Peter?" she said, swinging her leg again.

"Yeah, it's great," he said, taking a quick drink. He was sure he caught a glimpse of pussy hair.

"You've been sitting over there trying to look under my robe ever since you sat down, Peter. Is the view that good?"

"I--I, well, geez," he sputtered, and took another drink.

"Shit, have a good look," she said, pulling the front of her robe all the way open.

His mouth dropped open, his tongue stabbing out to lick at his dry lips. Her tits were huge, the nipples dark and erect. Her panties were very abbreviated, to say the least, the hair climbing out above the waistband and protruding profusely at the edges. Most of the hair was confined inside and bulged at the skimpy garment, though.

"I might let you see even more if you'll do something for me first," she said.

"Anything!" Peter blurted. "Just ask."

"Take your prick out and let me see it. I can tell it's good and hard."

Peter deftly unzipped his jeans and took out his prick, his hand shaking only a little. He had an unusually large glans at the end of his man-sized pecker, and it was wet and shiny from his excitement. It stuck straight up in the air.

"Ooooh, Jesus! Peter, you really have a nice one!" Joan cried. "Jack off a little, only don't come."

Peter proudly wrapped his hand around the long stem of hard flesh, and pumped slowly up and down.

"God, Peter, it's bigger than your daddy's!" Joan gasped.

Peter stopped his action and looked at her. "You've seen my dad's? When?"

Joan bit her lip. "Oh," she said, trying to sound casual, "I've spent a lot of time around your house. Your sister is my best friend, you know."

Peter leaned back in his chair, resuming his light stroking. He was sure that his father had fucked her now, anyway. What really interested him was that Joan thought his cock was bigger than his dad's.

"Come over here, Peter. I want to feel it," Joan said.

Peter got up and walked over to where she was sitting, his hand still around his prick. She brushed his hand away and put her own in its place.

"My, it sure is hard," she said. "And the end is so wet... it's all sticky."

"Yeah, it gets that way when I get excited," he said confidently.

"Maybe I'd better do something for it," she said, bending down, taking the whole head inside her mouth.

"Jesus, Joan, I really like that!" Peter cried.

She let the fat head plop from her lips. "I really like it, too," she said, looking up at him. "I think I'll suck it some more." She took him into her mouth again and sucked him. And then she stopped. "I'll let you come off in my mouth if you do something for me first"

"What do you want me to do?" he cried, his cock already aching for a good shot.

"I want you to get on your knees in front of me and put your face between my legs and kiss me. Peter, I want you to eat my pussy."

"I've never done that before," he lied, not wanting to tell her that he had eaten his own mother's snatch.

"If you ever expect to keep a girl happy, Peter, you'd better learn how to eat cunt, and there's no time like the present to start. Girls love to have their pussies eaten."

Peter dropped to his knees. Joan opened her legs wide and put her hands to the back of his head and slowly pulled his face into her crotch.

"Sniff around a little and kiss my thighs and bite at me through my panties before we take them off. I love a man's face between my legs. I love for a man to tease me with his lips and tongue."

Peter kissed back and forth on the soft tender skin of her thighs, working slowly up to the wet crotch band of her panties. He kissed the puffy lips through the soggy material, then bit gently, first one lip then the other. Joan squealed with pleasure. And then he drew the wet crotchband into his mouth and sucked at it, letting his tongue sneak in to stab at the frothy crevice of her cunt.