Page 06
"I should fucking lay a good one on you." Billy hit me again.
"Fuck them," I retorted, wincing. "We don't need them."
"Bullshit. I was about to get laid," Billy yelled.
"You were about to get zip," I shouted back.
"Bull fucking shit!" Billy exclaimed, getting really agitated. "I was about to get fucked."
"You were about to get sweet fuck all, just like me."
"Bullshit!"
"They don't fuck," I yelled.
"What?"
"They don't fuck. Neither of them. Janet told me. A little fingering and a handjob, maybe a blowjob, but that's it."
"Bullshit. Wendy was about to drop her pants."
"Bullshit," I responded, derisively.
"I was about to..."
"No, Billy. You were going to get sweet fuck all."
Billy started to speak and I shook my head. His argument sputtered to a stop.
"So what have you been getting all week, then?" he asked. "You've been getting something. I can see it in your face."
"Nothing."
"Bullshit!"
"Okay. Can you keep a secret?"
"WTF?"
"Okay, okay. But you can't breathe a word about this. I mean it."
"Done. Spill it. Who you been doing?"
"No one."
"Bullshit. I..."
"Not yet," I cut Billy off. "Listen, you remember how Gary said those dolls really work?"
"The dolls? Who gives a fuck about the dolls. What's that got to do with..."
"Well, they do."
"What?"
"They work, but they're not the sticking-pins-in kind of dolls. They only work if you're nice to them."
"Nice to them?" Billy started laughing. "What the fuck are you talking about, some kind of lovey-dovey dolls?"
"Listen," I spoke vehemently. "I found out Gary Robinson's been getting his mom to do stuff."
"Do stuff? What do you mean, do stuff?"
"I mean..." my mind scrambled for something to say. "I mean, he's been getting her to be nice to him and letting him do stuff with her."
"What do you mean, 'do stuff'?"
"You know. She lets him fuck around with her. She can't help it. It's the doll. And she ain't bad, Gary's old lady," I added.
"You mean..." Comprehension dawned in Billy's eyes. "Holy fuck. I couldn't do anything like that with my old lady," his face screwed up in disgust.
"You don't have to," I broke in, "but you can make her be nice to you if you're nice to the doll."
"How do you know. What did Gary tell..."
"Nothing," I interrupted. "I tried it myself."
"You what?"
"I tried it myself. I was nice to the doll, and then Mom was nice to me."
"You were nice to the doll?" Billy guffawed. "You were nice to the doll?" Billy threw himself around in a circle, crouching, then doubling up with laughter. "Nice to the doll," he cried, hysterically.
I couldn't help but laugh along with him.
"And what did she do for you?"
I stopped laughing. "Nothing. I just stroked it a bit and Mom was nice to me. I found out by accident."
"What do you mean, she was nice to you?"
"I'm not talking about what my mom did."
"Well, your old lady is nice anyway so that doesn't prove a thing. Anyway, I'm not doing anything nice for my old lady, or to no look-alike doll."
I played my trump card.
"I mean my mom was more than nice, but no sweat, I'll take the doll back."
"I thought you already did?"
"Nope. Mine was working, so I thought..."
"Give it to me."
"I thought you didn't want to be nice to her."
"I don't," Billy insisted. "But I don't want anyone else doing anything nice to her either."
I cringed. Did he suspect?
"Fifty bucks," I said.
"Fuck off. Just give it to me."
"Fifty bucks," I insisted.
"No way."
"A hundred by Monday."
"Okay, fifty. Where is it?"
"At home. I'll give it to you tomorrow."
"Tonight."
"Tomorrow."
"Tonight!" Billy grabbed my arm.
"What does it matter. You said you ain't going to use it."
"I ain't, I'm just making sure no one else can, dumbfuck."
"Fine. Do what you want."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I gave the doll to Billy and he left. I was in. Fuck, my cock was so hard just thinking about it, picturing her luscious little butt bending over the end of the couch, and hammering into it. Fuck, I'd have to grab her hair to keep her head still, I'd fuck her so hard. Once she felt my meat, instead of what her limp-dick husband had to offer, she'd never play games again—she'd be begging for it.
So the doll shit was bullshit. Gary's mom had started it, getting one from that old black bitch to help her aches and pains and then, somehow, to get Gary to come out of his shell. She must have told Mrs. Robinson, maybe even suggested she try it to solve her problems with Billy, and Mom knew about it.
Shit. Mom knew about my hijinks with Billy too. I wondered what she was going to do? She had told Billy's mom that she'd have to handle me a different way because she thought I wouldn't be interested in her. Wait a minute. Did that mean she'd actually do what Gary's mom was doing and Billy's mom was planning to do? My own mother?
No, it couldn't, she didn't even know Billy had got a doll of her made too. That sucked. Billy had got one made of Mom on his own and I guess that old black vulture hadn't said anything. It was just as well. Obviously, from the one-sided conversation I'd just overheard, Mom wasn't into using her body to tease me into better behavior, even after hearing how bad I was.
Or, was she?
I would love to play along and pretend the doll worked. Actually, I had to admit, there was something about the doll. As I already noted, Mom had never been so sexual, at least not when I was around. What other explanation was there for that bump on Mom's head, the scene on the yoga mat in the living room, and the episode out in the yard? Could all three be coincidences?
Evidently so. I had heard Mom tell Mrs. Hammond she definitely wasn't into even the pretense of entertaining a sexual relation with her son. Too bad, because Mom had a nice body. It was one thing to watch her get herself off and jack off over it, but it was quite another to think about actually doing something with her. When I thought about it, she looked hotter than Mrs. Hammond. I wondered if she really was, then put it out of my mind. It wasn't right to think about that.
I picked up the doll but had to find a hiding place for it where Mom wouldn't find it. While I was holding it, I heard Mom calling to Dad in his studio and him answering. They talked back and forth, neither one bothering to get closer to hear the other, so their voices remained loud enough for me to hear upstairs in my room with the door closed.
Mom even had a nice voice. It was compatible with her good looks and hot body. Hot body? There it was again. How long had I been thinking about Mom that way? Stupid. I looked at the doll. My thumb was rubbing the front of its lower legs. While I watched, my finger slid under its dress and up the back of its thighs. A moment later, my thumb did the same up the front of its skirt. Upon hearing Mom's voice again, I spread the doll's legs and pressed my thumb into the juncture where they joined. As I rubbed the doll there, my finger scratched its panties down from behind until they were around the doll's knees. I used my other hand to pull the tiny panties off and threw them away, then slipped my hand inside my sweatpants to grasp my cock.
What if the doll really did work? What if those times weren't coincidences? I mean, how could they be, all three of them? What if the doll worked in general rather than specifically, like if I did things to make the doll get hot and it influenced Mom's behavior? That thought made me remember how the doll got always got warm when I played with it, and that wasn't my imagination. So, what if Mom got horny when I worked the doll up and she just had to pleasure herself? What if I got the doll hot just before she reproached me for the stuff she'd heard that Billy and I had done? I knew a confrontation was coming. Maybe if I got the doll hot every time we were alone in the house, she'd be horny when she talked to me about it and she might to what Gary's and Billy's moms were doing.
I brought the doll closer and pushed its dress up to its neck, revealing tiny, anatomically correct tits which looked surprisingly real. I brought the doll up to my mouth and licked its legs, then pushed the tip of my tongue between its thighs and flicked at its fake cunt. Oh yeah, that part was realistic too. For the next ten minutes, I licked and caressed the doll, at times feeling stupid but persevering anyway. It was worth a try.
I pushed the doll under my mattress and left my room, approaching the top of the stairs quietly. Dad was speaking to Mom.
"Whatever," she answered, not bothering to look up from the magazine she was reading.
Mom was lying on the couch, broadside to me. She was wearing a stretchy exercise type top and a knee-length skirt which had slid down from her bent up knees upon which the magazine rested. From the side, I could see most of her legs, even the underside of her thighs. I knew right then that I wanted her, more than Janet, and more than Mrs. Hammond. She looked so sexy with her perfectly proportioned, well-looked-after body and tawny, shoulder-length hair. Oh yes. I desired this woman and I didn't need my stiffening cock to tell me so.
I wanted to run my fingers up and down the backs of those soft, sexy thighs. As the thought passed through my mind, Mom dropped her right hand to the side of her leg and lazily scratched her fingers up and down the length of her thigh, from bum to knee. Hard, Jesus, I was already hard.
Mom didn't look up or say anything when I sat down on the end of the couch but she pulled her feet up a little to make room for me. I looked straight ahead for a minute or so but gradually looked her way. I didn't move my head. At first, I merely glanced but eventually turned slightly, just enough to look at her pressed together knees, whereupon I realized the magazine blocked Mom's view of me. I lowered my eyes, dropping below Mom's tightly fitted knees until I could look between the inverted 'V' of her calves.
Ah, God in Heaven, the back of Mom's gorgeous thighs and between them, her panties. Thank God Mom couldn't see me because I had inadvertently lowered my head for a better view. I was fascinated by the way Mom's panties swept up and over a puffy part in front of her legs. Her mound. Saliva swirled around my tongue and almost drooled out the corner of my mouth. I stared hard, looking for stray hairs peeking out, then sought evidence of the groove between her pussy lips.
"Jeff."
I jerked my head up.
"Yes?"
"I want to talk to you about something."
Here it comes. My chest constricted and I remained silent.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yes."
"I've heard that you've been getting into a little trouble lately."
Mom paused for effect, waiting for me to say something but I didn't speak. My heart was beating too fast anyway. Mom hadn't lowered the magazine, so I let my head droop down to sneak another peak at her puffy panties. What if the doll thing actually worked? Excitement coursed through me.
"I think we should nip this in the bud, before it gets out of hand."
"Yeah?" I replied.
Dad called out. Mom yelled back, "I'm busy now."
"Why doesn't he come in here to speak to you?" I asked.
"He wanted me to help him set up some lighting but I'm busy."
"I can see that," I said.
"Well, he wouldn't come in here to put lotion on my rash, so he can do his own damn lighting."
"You've got a rash?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"On my legs."
"Oh."
"About the trouble you've been..."
"Is it itchy?"
"The rash? Yes."
"Do you want me to put the lotion on?"
"No." Pause. "Well, I suppose you could. Would you mind?"
"I just asked you if you wanted me to."
"Sure, that would be nice."
"Where is it?"
"On the back of my legs."
"I mean...where's the lotion?"
"Oh. Here."
Mom reached behind her head and passed me a squeeze bottle of lotion that had been on the end table. She passed it to me and as I opened it, I realized that she hadn't once looked at me. Mom had kept her face below the top edge of the magazine. I squeezed a bit of lotion onto my fingers. It smelled liked medical stuff. Fleeting disappointment passed through me as it dawned on me that Mom really did have a rash.
"Where?"
"Here," Mom wiggled her right foot. "Above my ankle."
I pressed my fingers around Mom's ankle and rubbed up her legs a few inches, then rubbed down and around her Achilles tendon. I spread the lotion slowly and gently, surprised by how enjoyable it was to touch my mother this way, something I couldn't remember ever doing. It wasn't completely sexual, despite the boner between my own legs, it was also just nice. I rubbed and rubbed, working the lotion in well.
"Higher," Mom said.
"What?"
"Higher. The rash goes right up to my knee."
"Oh."
I put more lotion on my fingers and pressed them against the meaty part of Mom's calf. I didn't see any evidence of a rash there but I hadn't really seen any by her ankle either. Mom was quiet while I moved my fingers lightly up and down her leg, gradually pressing more firmly and kneading her calf muscles.
"Mmmmmmm," Mom murmured.
I moved my fingers beyond the muscle into the hollow under Mom's knee and tickled some lotion around the soft, pulpy skin there. It was strangely exciting because I was pushing into a haven, an area more sacrosanct than the back of a leg. I loved the softness and the forbidden feel of it. It crossed my mind that Mom didn't need help to put lotion on the back of her legs, from Dad or me, and that made the whole thing feel slightly wrong, and therefore more exciting.
"Do the other leg, Jeff. It's itchy too."
Obediently, I put some lotion on the fingers of my other hand and applied it to the back of Mom's other calf. As I worked it up and down that leg, Mom's knees parted a bit more so I put more sideways pressure on her legs to move them farther apart. Additional light and a wider view revealed what I'd been seeking earlier: evidence of Mom's pussy lips, a shallow groove running part way up the center of her panties. My cock ached.
I replenished my fingers with a generous amount of lotion and, pressing it against the meaty part of Mom's left calf, quickly pushed it up into the hollow of that knee. I worked it around the soft tissue in gentle circles, then slowly converted the swirling motion of my fingers to pushes in and out. This was crazy! It was like I was finger-fucking the back of Mom's knee. I had put so much lotion on, it almost felt like Janet's pussy and even made a faint squishing sound. Mom hadn't made a sound, not a single peep, but I sensed the squishy sound of the lotion was making her uncomfortable.
"Whoa, too much lotion," I whispered and moved my hand over to her upper leg and wiped it down the underside of her thigh. Mom's muscles tensed in surprise, as did my whole body. What the fuck was I doing? I was suddenly afraid I had gone too far.
And, I was right. Mom's knees locked together.
"Jeff, I don't have a rash there."
"Oh, uh...I know, I mean, I didn't think so, I was just...I just got too much lotion on my hand and I was wiping it off," I offered up my lame excuse.
Though Mom couldn't see it, I was blushing furiously, but I'm sure she probably knew that from the faltering sound of my voice.
"I see. Well, thanks for putting it on. That was very helpfu,." Mom said while smoothing her skirt down to her knees.
"No problem. Anytime, Mom," I gushed, immediately worried I sounded too eager and thus making my lecherous intentions obvious.
Mom started to reply but Dad startled me by walking into the room. I hadn't heard him coming.
"Can you not help me for a few minutes?" he demanded testily.
Mom ignored the restrained aggression in his voice, replying simply, "Jeff can help you."
"But he doesn't know lighting like you do," Dad replied, looking at me and adding, "no offense, Jeff."
I shook my head to acknowledge his skepticism was well-placed but Mom repeated herself, "Jeff can help you."
"Fine," Dad turned and stomped away.
I got up and followed my father, both reluctant and relieved to leave Mom. I pissed around for almost an hour helping Dad set up the lighting for his planned shoot. Evidently, he had promised to do a session for the young wife of a new couple that had recently moved into our community. I sat in various poses, sitting and reclining, that Dad planned to shoot while he adjusted the lights, took shots, and made notes. Between thoughts about what had just happened with Mom on the couch, I wondered why he wasn't taking his new 'model' into the studio at the office instead of bringing her here and what Mom thought about it. Maybe that's why she didn't feel like helping him?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"What else did Gary tell you?" Billy asked.
"Nothing," I whispered. I had just gone to bed when he called and had already told him what I knew.
"Are you sure?" Before I could answer, he asked, "What did you do to the doll to get your old lady to be nice?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," I answered his first question. "All I did was treat the doll nice and Mom was nice to me."
"What do you mean, 'treat the doll nice'?"
"Just touch it real nice. You know, rub it up and stuff."
"Didn't you feel stupid doing that?"
"Yes," I answered honestly, "but the payoff is worth it."
"Yeah? What did your mom do to be 'nice'?"
"I told you, that's not your concern."
"Come on," Billy pleaded. "My old lady said she wants to talk to me after Dad goes to bed. She's going to dump on me for sure. I need to do something to this fucking doll so she lightens up. What were those words, I mean, how did you say them? I forgot."
"Don't worry about that mumbo jumbo," I said. "It doesn't matter. It's the way you treat the doll that matters."
"Are you sure?"
"Look Billy, if you don't want her to dump a load of crap on you, be nice to the doll, real nice, for at least twenty minutes, no, half an hour, before you see her. Touch it as if it's a real chick."
"Fuck, I don't know if I can do that. It looks a lot like her."
"If you don't want to catch it, you'll do it. And no fuck-ups. Don't pinch it or anything."
"Okay, okay. I'll do it. This better work or you're in for it."
"Goodnight Billy."
Click.
I turned over and closed my eyes. Pictures of Mom and the underside of her thighs filled my head.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Jeff?"
"What? What the fuck time is it?"
"I don't know, midnight, maybe later." Billy was breathing hard like he was really excited.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"You won't believe it. You just won't believe it," he cried, trying to keep his voice down but failing. I had to hold the phone away from my ear.
"Believe what?"
"My old lady," he whispered intensely. "When Dad went to bed, she reminded me she wanted to talk to me and told me to get changed into my pajamas and come back downstairs. Pajamas!" Billy exclaimed. "When was the last time I wore pajamas? So I put on some of the ones she always buys me for Christmas, they're like brand new, and I goes back downstairs. Well! She comes down and she's changed for bed, too. You should have seen what she was wearing. She had on this long silky robe and, I'm telling you, there wasn't much underneath it, just some sexy pajamas or something. I mean, shit, I could see her tits bouncing around, her nipples and everything. Christ, I thought she was flat but in this thing, shit, they stuck right out. The old bitch looked pretty good."
Billy stopped to breathe.
"So what happened?" I asked. Did she give you shit?"
"No, that's the thing. It worked. That thing with the doll must have worked. I rubbed the hell out of it and it paid off, big time. I owe you man, I really owe you."
