In this episode, Mr. Marcus comes to the aid of Bree's mother, in more ways than one. Of course, Bree is not to be denied her pound(ing) of flesh.

I was tilted back in my threadbare recliner when Annie's voice came blaring from around the corner. "Daddy, Breann just called. Her mom needs help lifting some heavy stuff. Can you go over there?"

"Gee, Pumpkin, I wish you wouldn't volunteer me for stuff like that. You know how fragile my back is."

I was less worried about my back or Breann's mother than Breann. I didn't want to get seduced again. I still felt bad about our incident, despite how good they felt. They'd also led to incest, which weighed heavy on my mind.

My wife Harriett came into the family room, drying a dish. "Now, dear, Mrs. McCarthy has done lots of good things for our family. And these days, she's all alone taking care of her daughter. It's time we paid her back. Go on, get over there. I insist."

Alone? Did I know that? maybe that's why Bree seduced me, as a father figure. Nah! I walked over and rang the bell. Mrs. McCarthy came to the door.

"Yes, oh, Mr. Marcus, what can I do for you? Please excuse me, I'm not really dressed for visitors."

She smoothed her cotton print nightgown against her body, rocking her tits and accentuating the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra under it.

"Call me Harvey."

"Juliet."

"I was told you needed something heavy lifted. Isn't that right? Because if my daughter was playing a trick on me -"

"I do have something I need moved, but Breann was supposed to help me. Now she's disappeared. We've collected several large boxes full of things to go to the street for Spring Clean-Up Day next week."

"Thanks for reminding me. We have some things to get rid of, too." Too bad they didn't take nagging wives.

"The problem is, I can't reach one of the boxes in the crawl space. I've been saving up things to throw out all year, and now it's too far to reach."

"I'll be glad to take a look at it. Just show me where it is."

Juliet walked down the stairs and I followed. The light coming from the basement showed through her nightgown. Her body was in terrific shape. She approached the crawlspace, only two feet high and several feet above the basement floor. "See, I could reach the first couple of boxes, but I guess I accidentally pushed one too far back."

I scratched my head as I looked at the ones she'd already removed. "Gee, I don't think I can go in there on my hands and knees. Maybe if I lay down and scoot backwards, I can pull the carton over here and you can unload it."

"Oh that would be great. You know, this is a hell of a way to spend a birthday."

Birthday? "Happy birthday. I'll be the gentleman and avoid the age question," I said.

"Thanks. I never realized how lonesome a birthday can be," she said.

There was no reason for this attractive woman to be alone on her birthday. Maybe there was something I could do to cheer her up, besides moving a carton out of her crawl space. I stood backwards on the first step of a kitchen ladder and went in, Juliet trying to assist, getting her hands under my legs and torso. Whether she knew it or not, I was getting felt up. I slid on my back towards the carton. With both hands on the box, I tried to move it closer to the edge. "Boy, this sure is heavy. What's in it?"

"All of my husband's old stuff."

I knew there hadn't been a funeral. I would have remembered that. Harriett must have told me about Juliet's situation, but I didn't remember the details. Maybe I ignored them as just another of Harriett's ramblings.

"If he left behind something he wanted, it's his tough luck. The shithead," said Mrs. McCarthy. "Unless you want anything."

Had Mr. McCarthy run off, leaving his wife and daughter behind? I couldn't understand how he could leave an attractive woman like that. It didn't make sense. I got the box within a couple of feet of the door to the crawlspace. I came out feet first.

Juliet grabbed me before I fell to the floor. "Thank you, Harvey. Oh, look, you're filthy. The back of your shirt and pants are gross. Why don't you take them off and I'll wash them? I can't have you going home looking like this."

"Right here?" Was Juliet like her daughter, hungry for sex? She might be, without her husband.

"No, silly, there's a bathroom right over there. Just hand them out to me."

I did as Juliet asked. Handing her my clothes, standing behind the bathroom door in my underwear, was quite exciting. After all, Juliet was wearing less.

"Are there enough magazines in there for you to read?"

I looked through the large wicker hamper they used for bathroom reading material instead of dirty clothes. Most of them were women's or teenage girl magazines. I guess Juliet missed some of her husband's reading material because there were copies of Penthouse, Juggs, Leggs - quite a sampling of erotic publications. I leafed through them, sitting on the closed toilet. The erotic images and words were interrupted by hollers of pain.

"Oh, God. Oh."

"What's wrong?" I asked from behind the door.

"I think I cut myself," said Juliet.

I wrapped the only thing available, a red towel, around my waist. It barely fit. A bulge from my recently acquired erection was visible, but I needed to see if Juliet needed my help. I came out to see Juliet, standing next to the crawlspace door, bloodstains on her nighty and the floor.

"What happened?"

"I started to unload the carton. I was looking at one of Frank's erotic sculptures and I dropped it. When I knelt down to pick up the pieces, I must cut myself on some of them."

Sure enough, there were various female body parts - head, arms, breasts, and legs - lying on the floor.

"Those cuts need attention. Let me take care of them for you."

"Thanks. Our master bathroom has all of the medicine."

Juliet walked up the stairs slowly. I followed.

"Here, sit up on the counter and let me see the damage. I've taken a first aid course."

Juliet pulled her nightgown up her legs until it was barely above her knees. Her thighs were close together, protecting her modesty.

"Hmm, looks like there might be something still in the skin. We should wash those out. Get into the tub."

Juliet did as I asked, removing her slippers first.

I aimed the shower nozzle down as far as it could go. "It'll be a little cold, but warm water will make the bleeding worse."

After running the water and testing the temperature, I lifted the plunger that brought the water up to the spray. Juliet had the nightgown lifted to her thighs. She was just standing a little too close. The water soaked the front of her nightgown just below her breasts

"Put your knees into the stream, one at a time. Maybe we can rinse out whatever is still there.

While Juliet turned, to wash each knee, I examined the wet cloth that had plastered her nightgown against her belly and crotch. Her stomach was flat, and the area between her legs was an inviting bulge.

"Okay, that's good. Now step out and I'll dry you off. Do you have a towel you don't mind getting bloody?"

"Why don't we use the one you're wearing? The blood stains won't show up on a red towel."

I removed the towel, somewhat embarrassed at my half erection, from the magazines and Juliet's wet nightgown. "Take a seat on the counter. Where are your medicines?"

She pointed. "In the closet behind you."

I took a couple of bottles and some cotton from their shelves. "The cuts are clean. I don't see anything in them." I applied the hydrogen peroxide. The cuts bubbled a bit when they touched blood. "This will clean them out. We don't want them getting infected."

"It stings."

"I know. Here, this is even better at preventing infection." I showed her a bottle of red liquid.

"Oh no, don't use the iodine. It'll burn like hell."

"I'll just do what my momma taught me. I'll blow on it."

I nudged Juliet's knees apart slightly to apply the reddish treatment.

"Ow, ow, ow."

After applying it to both wounds, I started to blow on them. I moved my head back and forth, knee to knee. Some of my blowing went up in between Juliet's thighs. When I looked up, her eyes were closed, and she was moistening her lips with her tongue. I kept blowing, even harder. She parted her legs, to allow my air to caress the inside of her thighs, perhaps higher. Soon, her hands were on my head, directing my blowing straight up, in between her thighs.

Her legs were wide apart, her nightgown high on her lap, my head getting ever closer to her pussy. "Oh, oh, keep blowing. It feels so much better." Juliet raised the nightgown to her waist. I had a view of her pussy, shrouded in pubic hair. "Blow harder," she demanded.

Juliet spread her legs and used her fingers to pull apart the outer folds of flesh. She was pink and moist. My breath caused the dampness on her labia to evaporate. "Oh, it tickles."

Juliet scooted forward on the counter and tilted her hips up, so I was presented with her naked sex inches from my face. "I think there's something wrong between my legs, Harvey. Could you take a lick, I mean, a look?"

I moved my head closer. Juliet's odor was musky. I stuck out my tongue for a taste.

"Ooh, that's the area. Don't stop."

I buried my face between her legs, licking up and down her slit, occasionally thrusting my tongue into the warm crevasse.

"Oh, Harvey, you do know how to make a woman feel better."

Now I was alternating between Juliet's clit and her pussy. Juliet wiggled just enough to get the nightgown out from her ass. Her hands went inside to her breasts.

"You don't know what you're doing to me. Oh, God, I'm so hot. I haven't felt anything like this for years."

"That's not true, Mom," said Bree, appearing in the doorway of the bathroom.