Chapter 3

Sherry met him at the door. She was clothed, but that didn’t last long.

“I lied,” she said, shyly, clasping him close. “There’s nothing wrong with the radiator.” She reached up for a kiss, and he gave her one, squeezing her buttocks, too.

Her eyes were slightly out of focus when he pulled away from her lips, and they opened. He slid his fingers up her back, and under her arms, to caress her breasts, before beginning to unbutton her blouse.

“No bra today,” he said softly.

“I need you so badly,” she moaned. “I’m a slut.”

“You’re not a slut,” he whispered, pulling her blouse apart and squeezing her nipples. “You’re a woman who wants to be made love to, that’s all.”

She moved, as if her frozen body had suddenly thawed, and pulled him to the bedroom. Her blouse was off by the time they got there, and her shorts were at mid thigh. She let them drop and stepped out of them. He caught her hips as she tried to crawl onto the bed, and held her there, on her hands and knees.

She looked around, over her shoulder.

“Stay there,” he ordered.

“Why?” she moaned.

“I’ll show you. Be patient.”

“I don’t want to be patient!” she whined.

He slapped her right buttock, and she jumped.

“Owwww,” she complained, arching her back and trying to see her butt. “You left a hand print on me!”

“Be patient,” he said, removing his clothes.

She watched, as his stiff prick came into view, and sighed.

He moved up behind her, and put his hand between her legs, to rub her already-wet pussy.

“What are you doing?” she moaned, dropping her head.

“Touching you,” he said, sliding his other hand along the small of her back.

He rubbed, until she was panting, and had dropped her head to the bed as she wiggled her hips. Then he stepped in, and with no warning, slotted his prick between her pussy lips and pushed into her, holding her hips firmly with his hands.

“Awwwwwww,” she moaned. “This is nasty!”

“It’s not nasty,” he said, sliding out and then back in.

“It’s the way animals do it,” she complained, pushing her butt back as he slid in.

“Human beings are part of the animal kingdom,” he said, prodding her again.

He reached around and cupped her breasts, which were only fractionally larger. Even gravity didn’t affect them. But his prick in her pussy had made her nipples long, and he squeezed them, and pulled at them.

“I can’t ... believe,” she panted, “I’m ... going to cum ... already!”

He pounded her, then, as her pussy squeezed and milked at him, rippling along the length of his penis. When her muscles relaxed, he pulled out of her.

“Nooooo,” she whined.

He pushed her sideways, and as she fell, manhandled her onto her back. Her legs flew apart, and he lunged, to land on her, and she squealed as his knees forced her thighs apart even more and he reached, to put himself in her again. He slammed home, hard, and she gasped. Then he pounded her again, until she cried out as her second release flooded her body. Immediately, he began going more slowly, just a leisurely stroking motion, in and out, letting her tight pussy massage his prick.

“That ... was ... amazing!” she gasped, dragging in lungfuls of air.

“I didn’t hurt you ... did I?” he asked, going in deep and rotating.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” she groaned, as the tip of his prick pried at her cervix. “I can’t believe ... how you make ... me feel.”

“I have something for you,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

“What?” she gasped.

“This,” he said, going deep.

She felt his prick bulge inside her, and then the heat of his sperm as it washed her, deep inside. She was still amazed at how it felt, and immediately envisioned his sperm surrounding a tiny egg ... battering at its defenses ... until one wiggled its way inside.

This was the reason she had called him again. Lying in bed, alone at night, she’d tossed and turned, remembering what it was like to be loved by Bobby. She wanted children. At first she’d been horrified at her thoughts of wanting Bobby to make her pregnant. But, as the week passed, and she felt the signs that always told her she was primed to become a mother, the thought of that wonderful heat in her belly as he spurted, became something she had to have again.

And ... here it was. She wanted to laugh out loud, as he gave out a tiny grunt, and another spurt rocketed into her. Her arms and legs clamped around his body, holding him there, as each spurt made her feel more and more like she was going to explode with joy.

Before he left, that day, she’d felt it three more times. She told him she was too tired to get up and see him out, but that wasn’t why she lay there as he got dressed, and gave her one last kiss. As soon as he was gone, she grabbed Sam’s pillow, and stuffed it under her hips, raising her loins. Then she dreamed of having a baby. She felt no guilt at all. Sam should have made her feel like this, but all he was interested in was toilets.

Mirriam’s nerves had not been calmed by her talk with Bobby. Perhaps that was why, when he appeared again, hours after going to see Sherry Winston, she hugged him. When she did so, her eyes opened wide, and she pushed him back.

“You smell like ... sex!” she gasped.

Bobby would never understand why he felt the urge to kiss his mother. Perhaps it was because he was still feeling the glow of love making. Maybe it was just a way to shut her up, before she started in on him again. It was also possible that he just loved her.

For whatever reason, he did kiss his mother, and he kissed her like he had learned to kiss other women.

Mirriam’s surprise flashed to the kind of weakness that leaves a woman helpless, as the part of her brain that recognizes a lover’s kiss moved much more quickly than the part that would soon tell her this was insanity. Just for a few seconds, she kissed him back. It had been years since she had been kissed like that, and her body responded to it instantly.

Then sanity took hold, and she pushed him away.

“Why did you do that?” she gasped.

“I don’t know,” he answered, truthfully. “Except that I love you.”

“You can’t love me like that!” she gasped again.

“Okay,” he said, his hands sliding from her back to her hips.

“You had sex with Sherry Winston ... didn’t you?” she moaned.

Bobby wouldn’t lie to his mother. He might withhold information, but he wouldn’t lie.

“She needs me, Mamma,” he said softly. “Her husband is never home. He neglects her.”

“I thought we talked about this!” she said, distracted by the feel of his hands on her hips.

“I’m being careful,” he said. “I took tools with me. Her radiators work perfectly.”

Mirriam was further distracted by the fact that the penis that he freely admitted had recently been inside Sherry Winston was pressed against her loins, as their upper bodies leaned back, but their lower bodies stayed in the hug she had initiated.

“You can’t...” Her orders to him were interrupted by him kissing her again. He pulled away, grinning.

“Now I know why I did it,” he said. “I like kissing you.”

She was shocked, not only by his calm acceptance that he liked kissing her like that, but by her own flooding emotion at being kissed like that.

“It’s not proper!” she barked, pushing him away.

“I love you, Mamma,” he said.

“Wow!” came a soprano voice, from the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

Mirriam and Bobby looked to see Mary, his eldest sister, standing there, her eyes round as saucers.

“It’s not what you think!” yelped Mirriam.

“What is it that I think?” asked Mary, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was now seventeen, almost eighteen. She didn’t date, but only because the farm was so far from town and she spent so much time working on it. Bobby could pretty much come and go as he liked, but it wasn’t so easy for the girls. Mamma always seemed to have something for them to do that prevented lollygagging around in town. Mary had noticed boys for years, and they had noticed her too. She had Mamma’s full body, but a pug nose and freckles that were her bane. She had no idea boys thought she looked cute.

“Never you mind what you think!” spluttered her mother. “Don’t you have chores to do?”

“I’ve been waiting for Bobby,” said the girl. “He’s supposed to help me.”

Had Mirriam thought about it first, she might not have done what she did. But the fact is she was so rattled by her feelings, and what Bobby had done, and then Mary seeing them like that, that she just sank back into the comfortable role of “mother”.

“Well get on with it then. You too, Bobby Jordan! Go help your sister! And don’t be taking too long either. Supper will be ready in twenty minutes!”

Mary stared at Bobby sideways, as they walked to the chicken coop. The basket was hanging on a nail, inside the door, and Bobby grabbed it as he entered.

Mary hadn’t seen the first kiss, but the second, though shorter, had been just as obviously not the kind of kiss that a boy gives his mother. Bobby, being the only boy around, for most of her life, had become her de facto example of manhood. She remembered Joe, and the joy of sitting on his lap, and listening to his stories, but Joe had been gone for years, now, and Bobby had, in many ways, taken his place.

“Why did you do that?” she finally asked, when it became obvious he wasn’t going to volunteer anything.

“Do what?” asked Bobby, his voice innocent.

“I saw that kiss,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“A boy can’t kiss his Mamma, and tell her he loves her?”

“You’re no boy,” she snorted. “You’re all grown up, and that was a grown up kiss if I ever saw one.”

“So you know all about grown up kisses?” he asked, grinning at her.

“No,” she said, feeling like she had missed out on a holiday that everybody else got to celebrate. “I’ve seen some done, though.”

“It was just a kiss,” said Bobby. His voice made it clear that he was finished talking about it.