Chapter 1
Betty McCall’s blue eyes glowered darkly over the rim of her martini as she watched her nineteen year-old son Eric enter the bathroom down the hall. Normally she loved her only son almost to distraction, but on that warm September afternoon she felt like slapping his ass real hard.
Not that he’d done anything wrong. Far from it, he’d gone out of his way to please her during the past two worrisome days. Ever since Betty’s husband Paul had gone on a two week business trip to Japan, Eric had been a perfect angel around the house.
Betty was a highly sexed, fertile woman, but she had married for money and got stuck having a love affair with her fingers. Anyhow, she did have a son but the outlook for Eric was dim. Eric was nineteen and other than normal masturbation, he didn’t seem to take much interest in girls. He played tennis at college, usually with men, and when he was home, he would usually read, or study his Bible. He did not get himself tattooed, or shave his head, or put a ring through his ear. You could say he was a Jack Armstrong, all-American boy.
The day was hot. Eric was cooling off in the shower. There was only one full bathroom in the single level ranch house, and she’d have time to slip in there and sit down on the toilet before he came out of the shower. She didn’t have much on. Betty was wearing was a short cotton wrapper that was loosely tied in the front. Her very large breasts held the top of it open almost to her nipples and her thighs pushed back its hem to expose her pussy as she walked, but it wasn’t a big deal, no one could see her, except her son. Like a lot of teenagers, he took long showers and it was obvious to Betty he was in there choking the chicken.
Betty could see his nude figure hazily through the frosted glass of the shower door. He looked even more like his father then, and she was hard pressed to keep the irritation out of her voice as she announced, “It’s only me. I’ll just be a minute.”
Betty untied her wrapper and squatted on the toilet seat. The rush of her pee felt refreshing. Eric could probably hear its hissing sound in the bowl over the sounds of the shower.
Her mammaries alone were enough to make a man leave his wife. She had a pair of 38 DD’s and while they were considerably bigger than they’d been when she was nineteen, they were every bit as firm because of exerciser she bought to firm up her boobs.
Betty’s waist had thickened a bit during her last few years, but it still measured twenty-six inches with no stretch marks or flab. Her hips were a bit wider because her ass was out of proportion to the rest of her.
She knew men liked her ass and when she went out, she wore Yoga pants. No panties, just the pants. Betty had teased her husband in the past, doing the shimmy as she fixed his drink after work. After a couple of drinks and a big bottom in your face, it doesn’t take much to get it up. Paul loved her ass.
At five feet five and a hundred and thirty pounds, she was a lot of woman, and she giggled wondered how much weight she had in her hips. But fuck, Paul loved it. He loved to do it to her, up the ass. At first she was a bit timid, but using some pomade and working her anus, she learned to relax and enjoy the ride.
Right in the middle of her anal reverie, Betty became aware that the shower had stopped. She looked over her shoulder in the mirror and saw her son staring at her through the narrow opening of the shower door. Pervert, she wanted to say, you’re as bad as your father. But she caught herself, recalling that it was she who’d intruded on his privacy.
His wet arm snaked out, fumbled around, and grabbed a towel. Betty inwardly smiled and felt a tug at her heartstrings, for only then did she realize that her son was now a man, and wasn’t a Boy Scout anymore.
* * *
“I’m going out for a while,” she said and turned to face the mirror. “Stay and hook up my bra for me.”
“Sure, Mom. Where’re you going?” He was trying to avoid being obvious, staring at her chest while she applied lipstick.
“You know, now that you’re nineteen I shouldn’t have to be going out for some male company. I hate drinking alone. I might go over to Gloria’s and we might check out the sales at Bloomingdale’s. Just because your father goes on a business trip, I’m not going to deprive myself…” and she stopped because Eric look confused.
“I wish he’d get a job that keeps him home. Like that marketing position at Apple.”
“He always brings his secretary with him…”
“Yeah, the sonofabitch brings Terri with him. I don’t know why. She doesn’t speak Japanese and doesn’t take shorthand. If she wasn’t so cute, I wouldn’t mind so much.”
“Then why –”
“She’s an easy lay. That’s why. Your father talks in his sleep when he’s had too much to drink…”
“She’s kinda flirty,” he said.
“Did you sleep with that bitch? Did you?!? Did you?!?”
His eyes grew furtive in an instant. She wasn’t being fair to him at all. Of course he’d thought about it, but thoughts are not deeds. After all, she’d thought that very day about having sex with her son. She had asked him a very unfair question, and before he could lie to her in response, she quickly said, “It’s all right to think about things like that. We all do. But pick a better girl than your father’s secretary for sex. What could she teach you?”
Eric was searching his mind for an answer.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you? Eric, don’t look so shocked. You and I can talk about such things. Have you ever… done it with a girl?”
He blushed scarlet, and he shook his head, no.
As embarrassed as he was, the situation was far too pregnant for Betty to leave it. She was in the mood. “Ever played with a girl’s titties?”
“No!” he said, and tried to draw away.
“You stay right here, buster,” she said, tightening her soft grip about his neck. “It’s time we had a talk about sex. It’s almost time you started doing something about sex and we’d better talk about it first. Lord knows, your father won’t give you any advice, if he ever comes home again. Right now, I don’t care if he does or not. I’d be happy enough just being with you,” she said, hugging him softly and affectionately, feeling some of the tension go out of his body.
“Ever fingered a girl’s pussy, Eric?”
He tensed, relaxed again, and shook his head miserably. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“No time like the present.” She placed her son’s arms about her waist again, and she put her arms about his neck. He was still blushing, shy, embarrassed, and the hard bulge of his prick still pressed hotly against Betty’s hip. “Have you ever even necked with a girl, honey?”
“I kissed a couple. At parties. Never really necked.”
“Well, I’m surprised. A handsome guy like you. Have you ever seen a naked woman?”
“Pictures of ’em. Playboy and some magazines like that. And — ”
“And?”
“And my friend Allen has some. Women in… underwear and things. Stuff like that…”
She nodded. “Are these fashion magazines or photos of women with dildoes shoved up their asses? I know about those kind of pictures. I’ve seen them myself. They excite men. They get all hot and bothered when they look at pictures like that. It makes them play with themselves, and that’s not good. Do you play with yourself, Eric?” she asked, and pressed her tummy more warmly against his hard prick, just to be sure he knew what she was talking about.