Robert Vickers

Her lover son

CHAPTER ONE

"Phil, I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Tam?"

"I'm pregnant. And I think it's your baby."

"You think! You think! What do you mean, you think it's my baby? Don't you know?"

"Oh, fuck you!" Joleen Jensen said as she turned off the television. The soap operas used to keep her satisfied, but they had long since become boring. She could sit back and mouth the words of all the characters before they even said them. Nothing new ever happened. Nothing exciting occurred. The same old stuff all the time. Women getting knocked up by one of the other characters.

Joleen didn't like to read the confession magazines any more, either. The reason was the same. She knew how the damned things would end before she had finished the first paragraph.

Books from the library grew dreary after a while, too. What she needed was something to liven thin up.

Joleen sat back, a bourbon on the rocks in her hand, and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Goddamn! I hate everything!" She took a stiff jolt of the fiery amber liquor. It seared her throat as it went down, then formed a warm spot inside her belly. She realized she'd be drunk in another twenty minutes or so if she kept drinking as fast as she had been for the past half-hour.

But what else was there to do? Her husband was gone most of the time. Dear Harold, she bitterly thought, the flying ace out there fucking all those young stewardesses then coming home and telling me he's too tired to do a Goddamn thing. He never was any good in bed, anyway.

Her husband was a good provider, if it was only money and a nice house you wanted. Joleen couldn't complain about that. But a golden cage held her prisoner as surely as a cast iron one could have. If only Harold wasn't flying so much. But the airlines needed experienced pilots, and Joleen had to reluctantly admit that her husband seemed to be one of the best.

He'd never had a crash, obviously. If he had, she thought, she could have collected a wad of insurance money and lived it up. That tight-fisted skinflint bought her what she wanted but never let her have any money of her own. And when she had told him she was going out to get a job, he hit the ceiling. She remembered the scene as if it had happened yesterday.

"A job? What the hell do you want to work for? We're not starving and I can damn well support you."

"But Harold, it gets pretty dreary just sitting around staring at the walls all day long. I want to get out and meet people. You're flying all over the world. You see people and places that I don't."

His answer had dripped ice. "I want you here. A woman's place is in the home." That had settled the argument.

For a while, Joleen had tried the bridge club scene. Those old biddies were worse than sitting alone and swearing at the uncaring walls. All the time grousing about something or talking about the people who didn't show up for their silly games. Vicious, those bitches were vicious. She could imagine what they said about her when she had decided to drop out of the club. Joleen imagined really inventive and vivid descriptions, lurid and all wrong. Joleen sighed and took another pull at her drink, draining it. She sat staring into the ice cubes wondering if she could finish off an entire quart today. If she did, she'd have to go to the liquor store for another bottle. Tomorrow was just as long as today.

The black-haired woman was shaken out of her reverie by the ringing of the doorbell. She heaved herself out of the chair. At least, she could insult the Avon lady or Fuller Brush man or whoever it was. That would add a little spice to her drab life.

The bored housewife opened the door to find the mailman standing on the steps. "Yes, what is it?" Joleen asked.

"Are you Mrs. Jensen? I have a special delivery package for you." He eyed her in obvious appreciation. Joleen wasn't bad-looking, but she didn't feel much reason existed for her to fix herself up properly. She didn't wear any makeup around the house, and she was dressed in blue jeans and a grubby denim work shirt.

The mailman ignored such superficial things and studied what lay beeath her exterior covering. He couldn't ignore the swell of her ample tits or those fabulous thighs and pert ass sticking out in back. Her jeans looked as if she had painted them on. Joleen's face was a bit on the pasty side from lack of sun, but it was finely boned and symmetric. She wasn't pretty and knew that, but she also knew she was far from being ugly. She was an attractive woman who tried to keep herself fit. For what, Joleen couldn't really say.

Seeing the mailman drinking in her attractive good looks gave Joleen an idea. This guy wasn't all that bad-looking. A run-of-the-mill type, but younger than a lot of the mailmen. Maybe thirty, only seven or eight years younger than she was. And he looked as horny as she was feeling.

"I'm Joleen Jensen. Special delivery, you said?" Her tongue licked red lips, the coral tip barely poking through to wet the entire area around her mouth. The invitation was erotically obvious. Joleen dropped her gaze to the man's crotch for the briefest instant and saw the tell-tale bulge of his cock.

Her hint hadn't been missed.

"Why don't you come in? I'll get a pen so I can sign for that package."

"That's okay, Mrs. Jensen. I have a pen…" His voice trailed off as Joleen turned and disappeared into the house. She had left the door open and the mailman standing on the steps wondering what to do.

Joleen called from the depths of the house, "Come on in for a few seconds. I finally found my pen." The mailman went in, package clutched in his hands as if he were afraid it would fly away.

He should have held the package more tightly. He dropped it on the floor when he saw Joleen. She had opened the front of her shirt and exposed her naked tits. The mailman's field of vision was totally filled with white fleshy tits and ruddy aureoles cresting them. The red nipples had begun to harden in obvious lust and seemed to be fingers pointing at him, beckoning him.

The man slipped the mail sack from his shoulder and placed it beside the forgotten package he had dropped on the floor. He muttered, "Wow, lady, look…"

Joleen slipped out of her work shirt and stood before him, naked to the waist. Her creamy skin was unmarred. Not a freckle or mole was visible to disturb the expanse of satiny skin. But the man wouldn't have noticed. His eyes were glued on those twin peaks of Joleen's tits. He felt his cock growing hard, and his hard-on begged to be thrust into this seductive woman's cunt.

"Call me Joleen." The woman spun around once, treating the mailman to a full view of her smooth, silky back as well as her arousing tits. Those tits bounced slightly, tracing out invisible figure eights in the air as the woman stopped. The bouncing motion made the mail carrier swallow hard.

"Come on, man!" Joleen cried. "You're supposed to be a male man! The least you can do is tell me your name."

"M-Mike. My name's Mike." Although he seemed uncomfortable, he didn't back away when Joleen sinuously glided over to him and threw her arms around his burly neck.

"How do you do, Mike?" Joleen reached behind Mike's head and pulled his lips to hers with brutal strength. The mailman resisted for a brief instant, then, as if saying "What the hell?" responded with a passionate intensity matching the brunette's.

Joleen's agile tongue slithered out of her mouth and forced its way into Mike's. Inside the man's mouth, Joleen's tongue began spiraling and twisting around in feverish activity. Mike tasted the sweet mixing of their saliya.

He quickly dropped the thought of leaving. He enjoyed Joleen's mouth, and she was offering him even more if he'd stay longer. Mike was never one to turn down such an erotic proposition, though it was the first time he had been seduced. Usually, it was he who had to seduce the woman. But he couldn't care less about all that now. He was too busy with an armful of woman wantonly pulling herself against his muscular body and demanding to be fucked.

Joleen rubbed against the coarse uniform Mike wore until her nipples were as hard as marbles. She thrust her body forward and poked her passion-inflated nipples into Mike's chest. Joleen's mouth sampled Mike's until the woman was breathing heavily and with poorly concealed lust for the man she so desperately clung to.

She couldn't stand it any longer. The housewife-turned-seductress began to unbutton Mike's shirt and unbuckle his trousers. While she was stripping the clothing off him, Mike was getting the skin-tight jeans off Joleen.

Mike soon stood before the woman dressed only in boxer shorts. Joleen's panties were brief, almost nonexistent. Mike's cock flipped out the front of his shorts as he ran his hands over the silk-clad asscheeks and pulled the woman firmly to him. His throbbing cock was smashed against the mound of her cunt. The mailman almost lost his mind when Joleen began rotating her hips in a mock fucking motion. The smooth cloth hiding the dark forest of cunt hair rubbed against the sensitive underside of Mike's cock.

"Dammit, Joleen, get those things off!" Mike ripped the skimpy briefs from Joleen's hips with a powerful tug. The elastic band snapped and the material tore, but neither cared. His shorts were cast aside at the same time.

Completely naked, they clung to each other. Their kisses became deeper, more passionate, more demanding. Soon, they crumpled to the floor locked in each other's arms. The feel of Joleen's cunt grinding against his crotch really turned Mike on in a big way. He was having to fight to keep from spewing his jism out in a wild ejaculation all over her belly.

The mailman knew from the way that brown thatch of hair between Joleen's legs had gotten wetter and wetter, her cunt must be itching and damned hot for his cock.

And he was right. Joleen's tongue had never left Mike's mouth. She circled around and around inside with rising lust, exploring every crevice she could find. Her hands roved his muscular back; she loved a man who kept his muscles in good tone. She felt the flex and ripple of his shoulders, his asscheeks, as he rolled between her wantonly spread legs.

Joleen was out of her mind with lust by this time. The feel of Mike's massive cock pressing into her stomach and rubbing against her dripping cunt sent thrills of erotic electricity surging throughout her body. When Mike gripped her right tit in his strong hand, she felt the beginnings of an orgasm in her neglected body.

It had been so damn long since a man had made love to her. Harold had been out of town for over two weeks. She needed a man. She was a sexy woman and the full ache between her legs had to be filled with pulsing, throbbing, totally alive cock. Mike began to squeeze her tit like he would a rubber ball. The fiery red nubbin that topped her snowy-white tit ended up between Mike's thumb and forefinger. He tweaked the nipple with a powerful grip as he mashed the soft titflesh below against her chest with the flat of his hand. The squeezing, tweaking and pushing actions sent lances of sheer, undiluted ecstasy into her chest.

Joleen's heartbeat increased drastically. Her breathing became tortured, and her breath gusted out in irregular machine-gun bursts. She felt her fingernails sink into Mike's back, drag along and leave thin, bloody trails. Joleen couldn't restrain herself. The man was pushing her closer and closer to an orgasm.

"Oh, Christ, Christ! Fuck me, damn you, fuck me!" Joleen repeated again and again.

Mike pulled himself into a position for entry into the steamy interior he felt lurking near the tip of his cock. He looked down into Joleen's lust-glazed brown eyes and smirked a bit. He wished all his special deliveries were as much fun as this one!

Joleen's body quivered when Mike shoved forward with his hips, his cock seeking entry. He missed her cunt, and his cock slipped down the liquid path along Joleen's crotch. Before Mike could reach down and guide his cock to its target, he felt the feverish grip of Joleen's fingers around his rigid shaft.

Joleen felt the full, blood-engorged cock and pulled it toward her hungry cunt. As the purpled head of Mike's prick slipped into her body, the brunette screamed out, "Aaaiiee! Fuck me, dammit! I want you to fuck me!"

The long, hard shaft pounded its way into her cunt. Joleen screamed again as she felt Mike drive balls deep into her hot channel. He held his position for a few seconds, fully inside the tight cunt.

The woman moaned and began to thrash as the sensations grew in her body. Filled to overflowing, her pussy began to water and dribble out a steady stream of cunt juice. The tingling feeling of having the cock shoved all the way up her cunt soon turned into a blazing fire that burned her loins. The flames licked and lapped at her insides and threatened to totally consume her. Joleen hunched upward in a vain attempt to take even more of Mike's wonderful, huge and masterful cock into her cunt.

The man began to retreat from her, however. He pulled out until his broad cockhead was just inside the pink, scalloped lips that guarded Joleen's cuntal channel. Mike rotated his hips and circled his cock around and around until the woman began to cry in reaction. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she felt the delicate tissues of her cuntlips being hammered by a jerking, throbbing cock.

Mike shoved back into Joleen's wet, hot and clutching cunt. When the housewife felt his cock searing along her channel again, she tensed the muscles in her stomach and clamped down on his cock as hard as she could.

It doubled the intensity of the sensations smashing through her body like sledgehammer blows. She could feel his cock leap and bounce around inside her, trying to escape to some spot even deeper in her belly.

Joleen raised her legs and rubbed her inner thighs against the sides of Mike's body. As he began pumping back and forth, in and out of her clasping cunt, a lewd slurching noise filled the air.

Mike knew it came from his hard cock being engulfed with the wanton Joleen's cunt juices, but he imagined it was something more. He pictured a tiny, pink-lipped and black-furred mouth closing around his cock and sucking with incredible greed.

Joleen's neglected body was ready for an orgasm as Mike pistoned his meaty cock into her with increasing force and smashed into her sensitive cuntal area. Her clit brushed against his hairy pubic bone, and raising her legs allowed Mike the deepest possible penetration of her cunt. Joleen's cunt practically spewed forth its hot liquids as she felt his cock expand inside her.

Joleen knew that Mike was almost ready to come. Knowing she was the one who had seduced him, that she was the one who had gotten him to fuck her, as well as feeling ripped apart by his massive cock, set off the atomic bomb blast of orgasm in the woman's loins. Joleen's hands clenched and gripped at Mike's back. Her body rocked up and down as she arched her back and locked her long, slender legs around Mike's waist in an attempt to pull him even further into her hungry cunt.

The waves of ecstasy blasted at her brain and set off fireworks that blanketed her entire universe. Joleen was tossed on the oceans of passion she had created and was removed from the boring, everyday world of her reality for a few brief moments.

All too soon, her orgasm passed and Joleen became aware of Mike's slowing piston action. His fucking of her cunt soon ceased, and a limp, white, cum-drenched worm slipped from her body. Mike raised himself to kneel between her legs, cock dangling like a hose between his hairy legs.

"That was really something. You got a tight cunt. About the tightest and hottest around here, Mrs. Jensen." Leaving her spread-legged on the floor, Mike stood and quickly began donning his uniform.

Joleen rubbed her clit and found it was still erect, needing attention. As she fingered it and relighted the fires of passion in her body, the woman said, "Do you have to go right now, Mike? Couldn't you stay awhile longer?"

"Sorry, lady. Not rain nor sleet nor snow can stop me from delivering junk mail. Or however that slogan goes. Have fun!" With that, Mike quickly left, still buttoning his shirt as he went out the door.

Joleen remained on the floor, fingering her clitoris. She sighed and leaned back, thrusting a finger up her cunt. Another ten minutes of finger-fucking herself and she climaxed again.

But it wasn't as good as having a man's cock inside her. Any man's cock.

CHAPTER TWO

Joleen dressed after getting off on her masturbation. She idly wondered if it would be possible to get the mailman to come on a regular basis… everyday, perhaps. The bored housewife discarded that idea right away. She knew it wasn't realistic to think that Mike whateverhisnamewas would provide her with the needed lift to get her out of her boring, dreary rut. Joleen remembered the old saying, "a rut is just a grave with the ends knocked out". She felt half-dead – until Mike had come along to relieve her boredom.

She poured a couple fingers of bourbon into her glass and swirled it around for a few seconds before downing the entire contents of the tumbler. Joleen felt the impact of the alcohol in her stomach. For a moment, her knees felt weak and watery, and she had to sit down.

After the dizziness passed, she reached for the bottle again. The rest of the day drifted by veiled in a haze of liquor and longing for a steel-hard cock shoved up her cunt.

Joleen fell asleep for a while and was awakened when her eighteen-year-old son came staggering in.

The woman rubbed bleary eyes and knew from the difficulty she had in focusing her eyes, she was still drunk. But if she was drunk, Larry Jensen was in even worse shape. Her son couldn't make it down the hall without bouncing off one wall and smashing into the other.

"Larry!" she snapped. "Where the hell have you been? It's three in the morning."

Her son's answer came out in a string like taffy being pulled. His words were slurred, and she knew he was stoned out of his head. "Uh, hi, Mom. I… I've been over at… a friend's… house." As an afterthought, he added, "We were… studying. You know?"

Joleen could smell the sweet, pungent odor of marijuana as Larry came into the room. His clothes would have to be fumigated to get rid of the smell.

"Don't lie to me. You've been over at Katherine's smoking dope." She was having some trouble making her own words come out in the proper order.

Joleen took a stiff drink from the half-filled glass on the table beside her chair. She longingly looked at the fluid. It was the last from the bottle of Benchmark. Even the cheap stuff was gone; she had finished all of it off a couple days ago.

"So, all right, I was. Big fucking deal. You hit the bottle, I… I take a hit off… a joint. What's the difference?" Larry flopped down on the floor in front of his drunk mother.

Joleen studied her son as if for the first time. He looked so much like Harold, yet acted so differently. Larry had his father's aquiline nose, the sharp features and flat facial planes. Long black hair and piercing black eyes the color of coal finished the picture. Right now, those eyes seemed to be fogged over.

Joleen couldn't say too much about that. She felt a bit on the foggy side herself. She had drained an entire quart of bourbon, and her body had done nothing but soak it up like a sponge and get her drunker than a lord.

Besides, the woman didn't really think smoking dope was all that bad. Larry's grades had been steadily going down, but Joleen thought that was due more to Katherine than anything else. Larry had run across the red-haired girl two months after school had begun. Joleen wasn't sure, but she thought that Larry had probably been a virgin up to that encounter.

Her mind began to wonder about Larry. He looked so much like Harold. Did he fuck as poorly as his father? Or would he have learned things from Katherine that would make him a better lover? Harold was too traditional in his lovemaking. The missionary position or nothing. A woman's place was in the home. A woman's place was under her man.

Joleen wouldn't have minded the unoriginal fucking if Harold had been much good at it. She suspected he saved his really expert stuff for those damned sexy stewardesses. Joleen was certain that Harold balled every one of them he could entice into bed with him. And he had lots of opportunities flying to Europe once a month in addition to the domestic flights.

"Aw, come on, Mom. What's the matter?" Larry had reached out and limply put a hand on his mother's thigh. Joleen looked into her son's eyes again and realized that her mind had been wandering.

"Nothing, Larry. Nothing's the matter." She pressed her hand on top of his, then squeezed. Unbidden, Larry's hand closed on her thigh, then began stroking back and forth. Tremors of anticipation surged through the brunette's body.

Joleen's hand traveled along Larry's brawny arm while her legs unconsciously drifted apart. Without even realizing what she was doing, she was offering her body to her own son!

The thought filtered through her boozedrenched mind, but she didn't care. Her body was telling her she needed a man. Larry was man. And she wanted him so badly!

Joleen slipped from the chair and onto the deep pile shag rug. Larry lay down beside her and ran a hand under her shirt. His hand felt cool, exciting. As he pressed against her naked flesh, Joleen began to unbutton his gaudy, embroidered shirt. The buttons quickly parted, and Larry wiggled out of the garment. He returned the favor, and Joleen was naked to the waist, too.