Chapter 4

That evening, though, while we were still in shock, Diana had an attack of conventionality and tried to call a halt to it. We were in the living room, she sitting in her leather chair and I sprawled as usual on the matching couch, watching a new TV show, Saturday Night Live. John Belushi and Bill Murray were playing astronauts who had landed on the moon only to discover Gilda Radner sun-bathing there in a bikini. Both men instantly fell in love with the moon maiden. After much pulling and tugging John managed to get out of his space suit but then floated away into the void as soon as he stepped towards her. Bill swung her over his shoulder and started to carry her into his lunar landing craft, but she yanked out his hose and he shriveled into a little pile of plastic. Mission Control kept calling, "Eagle, come in, Eagle," while Gilda blithely went back to sun-bathing.

The commercial came on, and Diana turned to me with a grave look that brought out lines on her lovely, auburn-framed face. "I've been thinking about what happened." She spoke carefully, as if she'd rehearsed the speech, but as she continued, her voice crumbled. "I think we should just ... pretend it didn't ... happen ... forget it. We would never've done anything like that if we hadn't been tripped out. Even on grass we wouldn't have done that. It was the mescaline. So ... we should just write it off as a bad trip ... and get back to normal." She tried to give me her little mom smile, but her face was bleak and baleful.

I felt as if a wrecking ball had crashed into my chest, crushing it to a pulp. My throat was pinched so I couldn't breathe. I stared at her, and she glanced away from my stricken face. I burst into tears. Humiliated to be crying in front of her, I hid my face. She couldn't just cut everything off like that. It was too cruel. I wouldn't let her. I marched over to her, weeping and distraught.

Mom opened her arms to comfort me, and I collapsed into her, tears streaming, face scrinched. After our two frolics I'd been feeling so grown up and sophisticated, but her words reduced me to a bawling little boy. Resenting her power over me but needing her all the more, I burrowed under her baggy pink cotton sweater. It was cozy underneath, like a tent. She was so warm and soft and smelled so good. She couldn't take all that away and leave me with only two memories.

She patted my head, but that made me feel worse because she was treating me like a child again. Without thinking, just reacting on instinct, I lifted her bra, and her creamy pink treasures flowed out to me, glad to see me again.

The patting stopped. "Please, Tommy, don't. We really can't anymore."

Don't pay any attention to her, her tatas seemed to tell me. Sometimes she's impossible. Just ignore her when she gets this way. Now give us a kiss.

Still weeping, I snuggled into them, loving their splendid roundness, their proud fatness. As a nipple slid into my mouth, I could almost hear it squeal with delight: Yes! That's what we want!

It was what I wanted too—wanted and needed. I gorged myself on her, gurgling with contentment like a nursing infant, and my tears stopped. I was still sniffling and my nose was dripping onto them, but they didn't mind. We all felt much better. From deep within them, their peace flowed into me, calming me like a magic potion. Everything was all right again.

Just don't let us go, they told me. We'll show her who's boss. Simple solution to the problem: hold on to us and keep sucking. She'll come around.

From beyond the pink, mom's voice droned, "Stop ... this can't go on. We made a mistake, it was an accident, and now we'll stop ... and get back to normal. No one will know ... and we'll forget about it. Please, Tommy!"

I kept sucking one and squeezing the other, both so big and fine. I cupped my palm like a mouth over the nipple and nipped it gently, feeling it harden at my touch. Yes!

Diana sighed, but her hand tried to push my head away. "Do-o-on't," she drawled. She didn't push with much effort, though, and as I kept sucking and squeezing, the push turned into a stroke on my head, and she sighed again. Holding her tight, I nestled and slurped at her soft chest of wonders.

We slid off the leather chair together onto the thick shag rug, with me holding on for dear life. She tried to sit up, but I leaned into her until she gave in and lay back down. As she sensed my desperation, her maternal instincts took over; she wrapped her arms around me and mothered me with her body. "Don't cry," she crooned, "my baby ... baby."

My sniffling stopped and I reveled in her caring. I rolled on top of her, craving to be even closer. I also wanted to show her I wasn't a baby, even though right now I felt like one and loved her calling me that. With all mom's curvy contours underneath me, I relaxed totally, still very childlike and vulnerable, my head buried under her sweater.

I tried to part her legs by nudging mine between them, but they resisted. "Ple-e-ease," I whined, rubbing and tugging at her thighs. Gradually they opened to let me in. As I squirmed deeper, she hugged me with her legs but then began crying. The struggle within her poured out in great sobs, and she convulsed with shame. "I'm a monster. Only a monster would do this."

Now Diana was the desperate one. I left her breasts, emerged from the pink, and took her in my arms to comfort and cuddle her. "That's a lot of old lies. Don't believe it," I told her, wiping tears from her cheeks. "There's nobody here but us ... and it's right for us." I held mom's crying face in my hands and kissed her snuffling mouth, trying to heal her hurt.

As I continued to kiss, she began nibbling back at my lips, like a little girl distracted from her tears by sweets. I wanted so much to soothe her and protect her so she'd never cry again. "You're so beautiful," I said, stroking her reddish-brown hair and fine-pored skin.

I was now enjoying being the powerful one just as much as I'd enjoyed being the baby before. But the lump in my jeans was becoming painful, so I pressed it into her jeans, denim to denim. As she felt my adamance, Diana reflexively arched her hips into mine but then turned her face aside, mortified by her urges.

"We need each other," I told her, fondling her breasts and pressing my bulge in an insistent circle against her groin. I kissed and licked the tense tendons of her neck until they relaxed and her crying stopped.

She drew in a long gasp through clenched teeth, dug her fingers into my back, and whimpered. Collapsing into my arms, mom offered up her mouth to me in a fountain of surrender and let me kiss her deeply. My tongue probed in, hers rose to meet it, and they thrust and twisted around each other in a dance of lust.

On the TV Dan Ackroyd was doing a Richard Nixon imitation. I reached up and clicked it off, then pulled off the pink sweater and untangled the bra from around her shoulders. Mom's tits, large and proud, smiled up at me in happy triumph. We can handle her—piece of cake, they seemed to say. Exhausted by her inner turmoil, she had become submissive. The resistance had vanished from her face, leaving it a placid oval of willingness. Her buttery brown eyes were unfocused, almost stunned, and her full lips parted wanly. Diana let me pull off her jeans, then watched with increasing focus while I stripped down to my shorts.

I snuggled next to her, wanting to touch as much of her warm smooth skin as I could. Our eyes met in a crossfire of desire, terror, and joy. The gaze was too intense; I was afraid it might start us talking, which could lead to problems, so I kissed the crinkled corners of her eyes until they closed. Then I kissed her ear, sucked its lobe pierced by a gold and coral stud, ran my tongue around the seashell rim, blew in it, listened for the sound of the sea coming from within her, licked down into the curlicued spiral to taste the bitter salt of her wax. She shivered with pleasure and inhaled deeply, dilating her nostrils.

With my fingertips I delicately traced the line of chestnut wisps from her neck, up over her temple, and across her high, broad forehead. Breath soughed out between her white teeth and red, kiss-glistening lips. My touch pleased her, which pleased me. As I explored her beauty, the inviting hollow between her neck and shoulder drew my attention, and I pressed kisses onto its thin, freckled skin. Mom lay back on the rug, conquered, compliant, open, willing to let me do whatever I wanted.

Not so desperate now, I took my time, grazing again on her breasts, getting to know the sides and slopes of them, the calculus of their curves. My fingers slid beneath Diana's pink panties and sought her center, exploring its brambly mound and damp grotto. Her cavern was alive and moved to my touch; amid her folds and tucks, hidden springs flowed with slippery juices. Heat filled its chambers from the center of her earth. This cave was my home; it had made me and now wanted me back just as much as I wanted to come back.

Mom tugged at my underpants but was too subdued to be very effective. I pulled them off, and my rod sprang out at her. She took one look at this long thick red thing she had made, then closed her eyes and clamped her jaw in a grimace of fear and craving.

I pulled her wetties off and gazed at her hairy hillock while inhaling its tangy lure, the scent of the ocean from which life emerged and longs to return.

Needing her urgently now but not sure of what to do, I lay on top of her. Diana spread her legs but was too dazed to do more. Somehow I thought it was supposed to go in automatically, but it didn't. It was bouncing against all sorts of interesting anatomy but was still an outsider trying to get in. Daunted by engineering problems, I was beginning to feel foolish, helpless, frustrated. Mom sprawled supine, hands back over her head, passive and ready. She had guided me in before, but now I had to learn to do it myself. I groped around the moist terrain, exploring overhanging ridges and angles of access, and discovered I was trying to enter from too high. I lowered my approach, nudging in from farther under, and the tip of my impatient shaft finally parted her folds to be greeted by a warm, wet hug. Good to have you again, her nest seemed to say. Glad you managed to find your way. Come in and play.