“Come on, boy, out with you!” The old man clapped his hands and stomped his feet with growing impatience. “We taint got all night, ya know!”
“But I was just starting to have fun, Grandpa!” complained young Bobby as he withdrew his sopping blonde head from the Desmond family commode.
“Well, I reckon there’s plenty a’ time fer that later,” the old man replied, throwing the boy a towel. “After we poison that little cutie from your bible studies class!” The old man laughed and winked a mischievous eye at his grandson. “One a’ my better ideas, I reckon, signin’ you up at that dimwitted school.”
The boy rubbed the towel over his face and head, his mind wandering back to the previous night. Blue memories stirred his senses and his loins. Memories of his mother and the family dog engaged in some moist and noisome activity. He had stumbled upon them quite innocently, drawn to his mother’s bedroom by sounds of breathy grunting and slurping which were just audible above the frenzied squeaking of well worn bed springs.
That unexpected coupling – viewed discreetly through a faintly cracked door – had been quite a sight, the sharp images of which incited a growing desire within the young voyeur.
“Stop daydreamin’!” scolded the old man. “We gotta’ prepare supper now, and I gotta’ make sure we got plenty a’ Rat-Away for the roast!”
The boy was obedient but distracted as they abandoned the bathroom for the kitchen, his head filled with thoughts of his mother.
“. . . So,” said the little girl, sailing ever further down a swirling stream of words which she had begun navigating some minutes earlier, “I was really excited when Bobby invited me to dinner.”
She swallowed a piece of roast, succulent and toxic, and grandpa chuckled behind his hand.
“Yes,” offered Bobby, dipping a disinterested toe into the shallow waters of conversation, “I thought you would be.” He had no interest whatsoever in this girl. It was grandpa who liked them young; Grandpa who was always scheming and plotting, using Bobby’s blonde haired and perky good looks to lure unsuspecting waifs to the dinner table.
In the past, Bobby had sustained a marginal interest in his grandfather’s devious plans and the resulting goings on. But that interest had been completely eradicated by the incestuous lust so recently kindled within him. He would, he decided, have his mother tonight.
“Yahoo!” exclaimed Grandpa.
Bobby blinked and looked up from his dinner plate (conspicuously free of roast beef) to see their little guest’s pretty face turning a curious shade of blue, her tongue protruding from her mouth as the Rat-Away claimed her. She stared at the two of them for a few frantic moments and then fell forward into her plate, splattering bloody juice and lumps of brown gravy across the table.
“That was a good one, weren’t it boy!?” Grandpa could barely contain his excitement.
“Yes.” Bobby agreed, rising from his seat and making quickly for his room. “I’ll see you later, Grandpa.”
The old man’s only response was an inaudible mumble as he leaned over the table and sank his dentures into the tender throat of their late guest.
Bobby peered up at the clock from the darkness beneath his bed – the luminous digital display indicated that it was now 8:30. He realized with some surprise that he had been lying there amid the dusty shadows beneath his box spring for nearly two hours! My goodness, he thought, how time flies when you’re having fun! But enough was enough. Mother was probably getting herself ready for a night on the town at this very moment, no doubt sharpening her knives while he dawdled.
Spurred to action by the thought of his mother’s imminent departure, Bobby rolled out from beneath his bed. He stretched young muscles and whistled a happy tune, anticipating the conquest to come. Things might go easier, he thought, if he disrobed in advance. So, with anxious hands he dropped shirt, pants and underwear to the floor until he was naught but naked flesh and goose bumps in the cool air of his room. He touched himself lightly and hoped that mother would not offer too much resistance.
Another look at the clock told him that he’d better hurry, for it was nearly 9:00 and his mother would be getting dressed soon. He strolled across the brisk space of his room and opened the door. Alice, the family’s husky German Shepherd, stood drooling in the hall. Bobby patted the dog’s head and whispered conspiratorially.
“You had your turn,” he said. “Now it’s time for mine.”
The big dog flopped over and rolled about on the floor, craving attention. Bobby, however, was far too excited to indulge in any of their usual games. Mother’s room was just down the corridor. . .
Bobby entered his mother’s room with a certain swaggering bravado, yanking the door open and strutting in with all the melodramatic flare of a gunfighter blowing into some notorious saloon. His mother, standing partially clothed before a full length mirror, jumped at his unexpected arrival and smeared the lipstick she had been applying across her cheek. In her black panties and bra, pink garters on her thighs, she had the appearance of a sleazy but not unattractive whore; and Bobby, who had experienced a nervous loss of determination after his impressive entrance, felt his courage and excitement grow at the sight of her.
“M. . . M. . . Mother. . .” he stammered, “I saw what you were doing with Alice last night. . .” His eyes crawled over her as he spoke, her length of shining blonde hair and the garters on her thighs inflaming him. “I’ve been thinking about you all day and I’ve come to get what I deserve.”
She gazed at him wistfully and dropped her lipstick to the floor.
“After all,” continued Bobby, “I am your only son.”
“My only living son,” she corrected. She rolled a glistening tongue over moist and partially painted lips. Bobby thought that the lipstick smeared crimson across her face looked like war paint. “But since you are so cute, I won’t hold that against you. In fact, since you are so cute. . .” Her voice faded into a breathy sigh as she slid the lacy black of her panties down to her ankles. “I think I can give you something better than the dog got.” She stepped out of her panties, now a black shadow on the floor. “Would you like that, Bobby?”
Bobby nodded his head in vigorous confirmation, his swollen adolescent flesh a testament to his desire. “Yes mother,” he said.
She un-strapped her bra and tossed it toward him, naked now except for the pink garters around her thighs. “Please, Bobby,” she whispered, “call me Rita. No need to be so formal.” She sauntered over to the unmade bed, all long legs and swaying hips. “Now come over here and make me forget all about that drooling canine.”
Feeling as if he might explode at any moment, Bobby hurried across the room. He clambered on to the bed, smiling at the familiar sound of bed springs squeaking beneath his weight; and there between the gartered thighs of the woman who bore him, he became a man.
By Richard Cody