In retrospect, Charlene couldn't even be amused at Derek's genuinely funny reaction to the situation. It was like something out of an X-rated cartoon: hopping on one foot, trying simultaneously to pull on his pants and leave the premises, once losing his balance and falling till he reached out to grab Charlene herself in order to steady himself – and succeeding only in gripping the thrusting firmness of her left tit. His hand came off the swelling breast as if it were on fire.
What she remembered instead was the succession of expressions playing across her mother's face – first shock, then rage, and finally sheer, seething, smoldering rage. The worst kind of rage.
Quiet.
Charlene knew her mother, knew her well indeed. She'd seen her mother in such rages before. She knew it was a matter of time until the rage was expressed. When her mother was simply pissed off at her or rebuking her for some error of commission or omission, the matter was immediately discussed and the punishment fit the crime, so to speak.
But in rages like this…
For one thing, Charlene was aware that her mother figured Charlene knew what she'd done was wrong. Perhaps not from a moral standpoint, not in the conventional sense. Her mother probably wouldn't have been too upset had she learned Charlene was fucking and sucking someone. She likely would have been pissed off at Charlene doing it at home. She definitely would have been angry at Charlene doing it at home and being so indiscreet with her timing.
But to be sucking a man off in her own home with lousy timing -and a man her mother considered her own, to boot…
I'm going to catch it this time. But how?
She tried to force her mind away from worrying. The longer it took her mother to actually getting around to it, the worse the retribution would be. And the fact that her mother had, since, spoken not a single word about the matter – and otherwise acted as if absolutely nothing of the sort had ever happened – bothered Charlene even more, filled her with foreboding.
It's going to be a humdinger of a get-even, whatever it is.
The phone rang. She leapt for it, hoping it would be – It was.
"Hiya, Charlene," said the cool, deep male voice of her new neighbor in the building. His name was Tim, and his voice fit his looks: tall, strongly built, sandy-blond hair and rugged features. He was three years older than she was, but they'd gotten along well from the start.
"Hello, Tim," she answered, keeping her voice calm. She'd run into him in the elevator the day after the incident with Derek, returning his smile with her own. He'd explained he was new in the neighborhood. His family had moved – company orders for his father – and he was looking forward to starting as a junior at City College in the fall.
But in the meantime, he had time to kill and didn't know his way around the city – they were from someplace dreary on the West Coast -and would she help him out in getting his bearings…
She'd been waiting for his call.
Charlene had the hots for him in the worst way. And she was more than half hoping that feeling was reciprocated.
They made small talk for a few moments. Then:
"Listen, Charlene, I've been wondering if you'd come to the Village with me."
"Sure – when would you like to do it?" she asked, putting her emphasis on the words do it. The only thing that bothered her in the least about Tim was that he didn't seem too terribly bright to her. In fact, she wondered if he was just another pretty face.
"Ah, anytime you'd like," he said quickly, missing her nuance. "When would be convenient for you?"
You want him for his body, Charlene, she told herself, not his mind.
"How about tonight?" she asked matter-of-factly. Charlene was not a girl who believed in deception – or, at least, had never been before. She was definitely not the kind of girl who pretended she always had a date and couldn't be called on short notice. She didn't have a date -especially not since her split with her high-school boyfriend, Sal. None of the other guys in their crowd would go near her. Word was out that nice, mild-mannered Sal was ready to bust heads.
Most importantly, she craved some time with Tim.
Her pussy did, at least.
"Tonight?" Tim echoed, surprised, after a moment's hesitation.
"Sure. I mean," she added quickly, "if you're ready to do it tonight." Again, she'd chosen her words and tone to be everything short of a plea for fucking.
Again, it sailed right over his head – or at least through his head, since there seemed to be little between his ears to stop it.
"Uh, sure," he said slowly.
"I mean, do you need a lot of time to get ready to do it?" she asked, insinuatingly.
"Uh, no, I guess not"
Sheeeesh!
"Okay, then, what time would you like to make it?"
"Uh, how about an hour?"
But will he be able to read the clock? Think about that fabulous bod, Charlene.
Then, quickly, she did some mental figuring – what she would wear, what would she need, if anything, time to get changed and – "How about an hour and a half. Give me a chance to get washed up, all squeaky clean, you know. You'd like me to be squeaky clean, wouldn't you?"
A smart man would have said, Sure, so I can rub you till you squeak. Not Tim.
"Sure, sure. Okay, then I'll call for you at, uhhhhhh, seven o'clock, right?"
"Aren't you sure?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind, Tim, seven will be just fine. You know the apartment number?"
"Yeah, it's uh, right under mine."
"Ummmm – maybe that's a good omen," Charlene hinted. Hinted -like a runaway locomotive is a hint the train schedule will change.
"An omen? What kind of omen?"
"Never mind, Tim. I'll see you at seven."
"Yeah, sure. Bye"
She hung up the phone.
What a dolt. But, oh, man, what a body. What a gorgeous body.
Quickly, Charlene went into the bathroom, began drawing water into the tub for her bath. She was already formulating strategy in her head. With any luck, her mother would repeat the performances of the past few days – staying out to incredible hours, thus leaving the apartment to Charlene alone to the wee small hours.
Maybe I can get the oaf in here alone and then – better see what time Mom is coming home.
She went back into the kitchen, clad only in panties and tee-shirt. She half suspected that the husband of the elderly couple would have his binoculars on her – she'd seen him at it before – but didn't really care. He'd see less than he would've if she was wearing a bathing suit at the beach.
Quickly, she dialed her mother's office, told the switchboard operator the extension she wanted, then waited.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hello, Charlene." That was something else that bothered Charlene about her mother's attitude and demeanor since the 'incident' with Derek. Her mother never called her Charly anymore, the way she'd always addressed her since she was a little girl. Only Charlene.
"Mom, I'm going to go out on a date tonight." She quickly added: "If it's all right with you."
"Do you have school tomorrow?"
"Of course not."
"Then it's all right with me. What time will you be leaving?"
"About seven."
"Hmmm – all right. I'm going to be late myself but I think I'll stay at the office, grab a bite and then go out. See you tomorrow. Good-bye."
Charlene stared at the dead phone. That's what I call abrupt. Finally, she shrugged – mentally and physically – and hung up. If that's the way she wants it…
But then she was glad. I'll have my chance with the apartment empty. When I'm done with you, Tim, you're going to walk funny for a couple of days!
Charlene returned to the bathroom, shut off the water, stripped off the rest of her clothes and slipped into the steaming tub. The water felt good on her body, raised goose pimples all over and caused her nipples to harden to little spikes. She grasped them between thumbs and forefingers, squeezing the turgid, blood-filled spikes and rolling them. That felt good, sending all sorts of lascivious pleasures through her gorgeous young body. She pulled them outward. The pleasures from that went straight to her yearning little pussy.
"Just wait, my little beauties," Charlene said to her nipples out loud in her imitation of a pirate's voice, "you'll be getting treats aplenty before this night is over."
She ran her hands down over the sleek curves of her body, her fingers finally coming to rest in the tight slit of her labia. Soaked with water, the hair was even more apparent, darker than usual. It looked almost as if her cunt were on fire.
"And I'll not forget you, either, my sweet! Ha-hahaaaa!"
Charlene jerked her attention back to the planning of her attack on Tim – I might have to tell him what to do – and quickly finished her bath.
Toweling herself did little, however, to lessen her lusts. The rough towel managed to remind her of her hunger for the lips and mouth and hands – And cock; don't forget the cock, Charlene! – using her body.
She took her time about dressing, then made herself some instant iced tea. She sat down with the latest issue of an avant-garde woman's magazine to which her mother subscribed and began waiting.
At precisely six-forty-five, the phone rang.
Oh, cripes. It's Tim. He's got to cancel.
She answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Hello, Charlene."
Relief. "Oh, hi, Mom. What's up?"
"Charlene, I need a big favor from you. Please go down to the dry cleaning store in the lobby and pick up my pants suit for me. The claim ticket is tacked to the bulletin board in the kitchen."
"Now?"
"Yes, please, Charlene."
"But, Mom, why not call them. Marty's delivers."
"Not after six o'clock."
"Do you absolutely need it for tonight?"
"No, but I need for the morning and they won't be open till eleven. Please Charlene. It won't take more than ten minutes."
Down to the lobby and back – I can leave Tim a note telling him to wait, just in case it takes more than ten minutes.
"Oh – okay, Mom. For you."
"Thanks, Charlene. You're a dear. See you later."
Later? Ahh – probably a slip of the tongue. She hung up the phone, went into the kitchen and got the claim check, then quickly wrote out a note and stuck it to the door as she left for the lobby. Someone was just leaving the fire-stairwell as Charlene stepped into the lift, but she didn't pay much attention. It was probably one of the superintendent's staff.
The man behind the counter of the dry cleaners handed back the claim check with a toothy grin "Sorry, Charlene."
"Huh?"
His eyes swept over her again. She was wearing a pair of hot shorts and halter top – and nothing else. "Your mother didn't leave that with us."
"What do you mean, she didn't – oh." She went silent as she read the ton of the ticket. It was a Marty's claim check, all right. But for a different location in the chain of dry cleaners: the location near the subway station her mother used when going to work every morning.
"Uh, sorry about that," Charlene said and quickly strode out of the store and into the lobby. There she paused, indecisive. Her mother had undoubtedly taken it to the dry cleaner on the way to work and forgotten.
Or did she?
Charlene pushed that out of her mind. The pressing question was whether or not she'd be able to walk the three blocks to the other location, pick up the garment and return in time for her date. Even with the note, Tim might not wait.
And that's assuming he can read. The note, that is.
She decided that she was already on the ground floor. If she hurried, Tim wouldn't have to wait more than five or six minutes at the most. Tossing her lovely, titian hair back over her shoulders, Charlene strode quickly through the lobby doors and out onto the street.
The walk over to the dry cleaner was an adventure in hassles. She couldn't pass a male – single or in groups – without hearing:
"Hey-bayyyyy-bee! Wanna get your pussy sucked?"
Or:
"What's the rush, honey? Let's you and me discuss literature -like Masters and Johnson!"
She knew she drew attention to herself. The hot shorts showed off her legs – abundantly. The halter top accentuated the size and perfection of form of her luscious tits – and did nothing to conceal or restrain their bounciness with each long-legged stride. And her hair, drawn back by a cloth headband to flow long and loose down her back, drew stares the way homey draws flies.
She came to the dry cleaners, then frowned in consternation. The door was locked. The store hours said they closed at seven.
It's already seven?
Charlene turned and started back towards home, this time completely oblivious to the horn-blowing of a pair of young men in an old, beat-up Chevy trying to get her attention, oblivious to the hooting of a young man on a delivery boy's bicycle, oblivious to the slurping sounds directed at her by a pair of middle-aged men carrying tool boxes and wearing the uniforms of plumbers.
She wooshed through the lobby doors of her building, hurried past the closed and closing shops and leaped into an elevator just before the doors closed. She mentally cursed every stop between the lobby level and her floor.
Finally, she was leaving the elevator. Now she dared to run with no eyes to watch her, tits bouncing wildly with their size and heft, almost jiggling completely free of her halter.
No Tim. And no note on her door.
Oh, shit.
She reached into her pocket, took out her key and turned it. The moment she stepped into the apartment, she heard the sounds of two voices.
"Come on, Tim – don't be afraid." Her mother's voice.
Mom?
"But -"
"Don't be afraid, Tim. Let me get a good look at you with your clothes -"
Charlene stepped into her mother's bedroom – and gaped.
Her mother: wearing only a dressing robe and the front of it wide open, exhibiting all of her mother's more than adequate curves and charms.
Tim: standing naked before her mother, holding his briefs in his hand. As if he'd just removed them.
"Oh, hello, Charlene," her mother said in a relaxed voice. "Did you get -"
Tim, who hadn't noticed Charlene's entrance, spun towards her, holding his briefs over his groin in a ludicrous imitation of modesty. He paled, then blushed furiously. What made the attempt at concealment even more ludicrous was that Tim was hung like a horse and his huge prick was at full, rampant erection. The stiff, fleshy pole jabbed out beneath the draping cover of the briefs, accentuating, rather than diminishing, his nudity.
And arousal.
"Don't worry, Charlene," she heard her mother saying. "I won't hurt him. Did you know -"
"Charlene," Tim said quickly, "I – uum, uh, er -"
"Oh, now don't you worry, Tim. Charlene won't mind. Charlene believes in sharing – don't you, Charlene?"
Charlene closed her gaping mouth, thought furiously.
So this was how her mother was getting even: by seducing Tim right under her own nose. Evidently, this whole thing had been planned and held in abeyance for the right moment for some time.
Well, she's not going to get away with it – I won't let her.
On the other hand, there wasn't much Charlene could do to stop it. The only way out, she knew, was to deny her mother the satisfaction of seeing her upset at it.
And that's just a matter of acting.
"Why, not a bit, Tim – you go right ahead and enjoy yourself with my mother. She's one of the best fucks in New York City. Ask any prick you meet. Right Mom?"
Her mother's answer was accompanied by a smile of sweet savagery matched only by her tone: "Ahh, but my Charlene certainly does have an eye for the finer things in life. After all, she could well be considered an expert on such matters – isn't that right, dear?"
"I bow to your years, Mother – deeply. Please proceed."
Her mother seemed to hesitate, if only slightly, at Charlene's invitation to get on with it – something Charlene suspected and certainly hoped her mother had never counted on happening.
None the less, her mother did proceed.
During the exchange, Tim's lovely big cock had lost some of its hardness; seemed to have deflated quite perceptibly.
Her mother's first moves were calculated to restore that rigidity.
"See, Tim, a woman's body comes complete with many features lacking in those of a girl. Watch closely."
He was all eyes.
Her mother then proceeded to perform an elaborate and totally improvised strip for the young man – an accomplishment in itself, considering that she was only wearing the unlashed robe to begin with.
Nevertheless, her mother went right on with it, moving about the bedroom's confines with grace and ease, exhibiting all the youthful suppleness in her firm body to its best advantage while simultaneously displaying the ripe abundance of her curves in a way that would have put many strippers and exotic dancers to shame.
By the time she finally got down to the bottom of actually removing the robe, Tim's breath was coming fast and shallow and his cock was beating hard and strong.
She finished with a deep, mock curtsey that left her on one knee before the aroused – and bewildered – young man.
With her face just about on a level with his prick.
"And a woman," she husked, sliding her hands up Tim's long, strong, muscle-hard legs, "understands exactly what to do with her body to please a man – especially a young, virile man."
Her hands reached the young man's hips, then flattened, fingers splaying, as they began sliding around to his flat abdomen.
Charlene found herself getting turned on as she watched. She couldn't say exactly why. Perhaps she was identifying with her mother. She was certainly wishing that it was herself down there in licking range of Tim's prick. His dong was a good seven- or eight-incher and looked to be quite thick as well. Erected, it stood out from his body at an angle just slightly above parallel with the floor and the complexion of it was such a deep red that it bordered on the brownish -giving it the appearance of a sausage in her mind.
A fresh sausage, ready to eat.
Her mother was leaning forward, lips puckered and blowing lightly across the thick, purplish knob at the end of his dick. Her fingers were toying with his thick pubic hair. His cock jerked and throbbed ominously, like a restless animal about to strike.
She began moving her fingers about the base of his shaft, then trailing her well-manicured nails gently down the length of it.
Charlene tore her eyes from the point of contact to look at Tim's face. He appeared ready to go into a seizure of some kind.
Her mother's fingers opened and then closed again – this time gripping Tim's dick about halfway down towards the thick base. She leaned forward, licked her lips to wet them – and then placed a soft, easy kiss on the very tip of his meat.
Tim groaned out loud, his fingers clenching into hard-knuckled fists.
And she hadn't even realty gone to work on him yet! Charlene knew she was in the presence of a master – mistress? – of the art of arousing the male of the species. She almost wished she had a note pad with her. She had a hell of an opportunity to learn.
Her mother had opened her mouth. Her tongue slowly stretched out, the end curving upward. She brought the underside of the tip into contact with that purplish knob flesh and barely moved it in the smallest of circles. Tim groaned again. Charlene couldn't blame him. Her mother had carefully arranged herself so that everything she did would be perfectly visible to the young man. He was getting a voyeur's view of his own seduction.
Watching, Charlene was surprised at something else: the reach and agility of her mother's tongue. She couldn't believe the length of her mother's mouth muscle as it stretched far out from between the glistening lips, or its mobility as it began moving around and around Tim's thick, swollen knob.
Wow! Wish I had one like that! she thought wistfully. She made a mental note to ask her mother about it… in the unlikely event that they were on anything like speaking terms when the whole encounter was done with.
Her mother was moving her entire upper body slowly forward – as if she were reeling in her tongue. But always, she was carefully keeping herself bent low so that it was necessary for her to tilt her head back somewhat on her graceful neck, thereby ensuring that Tim was afforded a continuing view of the proceedings.
In case he lost track of what was going on.
And then her mother's mouth was fastening to the end of the young man's cock. Her lips spread slowly against the velvety surface of his glans, opening always wider – until she'd fastened her mouth about his knob.
With a sudden bob forward, she had all of that throbbing meat inside.
Tim's reaction was a bit passive for Charlene's taste – his reaction above the waist, that is. He merely let his jaw sag open, his eyes squeeze shut and his neck tighten with tension.
Her mother began moving her head slowly backwards and forwards, varying the speed and scope of her movements. Time and again she swallowed his prick into her mouth – only to pull away till barely half his glans was still locked in her oral grip. Her hands moved continuously, caressing the animal-perfect bulges of his sides, his stomach, his abdomen, his ass and his thighs.
Soon, Tim's hips were jerking back and forth in time to her mother's movements. Charlene could see the heavy round spheres of his balls moving within their fleshy sac as his scrotum drew up even tighter between his legs. Tim was well on his way to his explosion.
But her mother was not done with him – not yet.
Now her mother was sliding her hands around the backs of his thighs, fingering his testicles easily. Occasionally she actually cupped and lifted them and when she did that, Tim's pelvis shot forward with additional force.
But then she stopped – everything. Tim looked to be on the verge of collapse. Before he could open his eyes or martial his resources to say anything, though, her mother had separated his legs, inched farther forward till she was actually between them, leaned way back, supporting herself on her arms – and taken one of his balls into her gaping mouth.
Oh, wow!
This time, Tim didn't even groan – he gurgled. Pitifully. His left testicle was being sucked and laved simultaneously, superheating the male sap. Though her mother's hands weren't anywhere near his cock, it was swelling still more, turning a deep purple in color – and gave every indication that it was about to explode.
Her mother shifted to the other testicle, repeating the procedure. Tim gripped his cock with his own hand, his fingers clenching about his meat and his fist beginning to move up and down the length of it.
And then she took both of his balls inside.
Tim's fist moved faster and faster. His hips jerked rapidly, restrained only by the suction of her mother's mouth on his balls. The muscles of his legs rippled and clenched – and then he began coming.
The first gob of creamy sperm shot halfway across the room and spattered against the frame of the waterbed. The second shot beyond that, staining the bedspread. The third hit the halfway point and the rest came out in a single long, ropy geyser that left a trail of semen right up to her mother's head – where it matted her hair.
His knees buckled and he began to sink to the floor. Charlene's mother lowered herself with him, still refusing to relinquish her grip. Only at the last minute, just before she would have been pinned to the floor by Tim's straddling, weakening legs with his newly emptied balls crushed into her mouth, her mother slithered out of the way.
The boy knelt, slumped, over, gasping for breath, with his hands on his thighs. Charlene's vision telescoped in to focus on his limp cock before she glanced over to find her mother looking smug and superior as she sat on the edge of the waterbed frame.
Charlene knew she had her work cut out for her.