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From: Knobby Seals <twominds8202@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Doing it for Mama 2
X-Original-Subject: Story part 2
Date: Fri, 29 Sep 2000 08:10:03 -0400
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Part 2 Doing it for Mama
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<1st attachment, "Doing it for Mama 2.txt" begin>
{Assm}
Author: Twominds8202@yahoo.com (mf experimentation, MF, mF inc)
Title: Doing it for Mama 2
Disclaimer
Not to be read:
by anyone under the age of 18
or if it violates the standards or laws of your community:
or if adult erotica offends you.
Not to be posted on any site, or changed or used in any way without author's permission.
Part 2 of 5
Jacob and Lessa were now in the bathroom again, but this time they
had the door open and were washing their hands for supper. They heard the
door just on the other side of the wall from them open and close, and the
steps of Whit, Willey and Beatrice as they stomped up the three steps into
the main level. The boy and girl dried their hands and came outside to greet
their parents. "Hi Dad!" Jacob said to Whit.
"His father nodded at him."
"Hi Jacob," said Bea, "You and Lessa have a good time today?" Jacob
glanced at Lessa and smiled, she looked down.
"Yeah, I guess so, we made mud pies." Jacob said.
"I got my feet dirty," Lessa said, "But Jacob wiped them off with his
hankie!"
That's enough, thought Jacob; don't say anything else.
"Well, that was nice of him, wasn't it?" said Bea.
"Hi Jake!" said Willey.
"Hello Willey," said Jacob.
"Would it fracture your face to say, `Hello Mr. and Mrs. Sanders?'"
Whit said.
"No! That's OK, Whit, we like him to call us by our first names,
Whit, we've known each other too long for there to be any Mr. and Mrs.
Between us."
Jacob's father didn't smile, didn't say anything. He guessed that Whit
was in one of his dark moods. Jacob didn't know why Whit went through
these periods, maybe he was tired from working long hours. This much he
knew, these spells could last for months. Whit hardly spoke to Ruth, who
was just spiteful enough to react with stony cold silent treatment. Just last
week Jacob asked his mother, "What's wrong with Dad?"
She said, "I don't know son, he's always done this. There are just
times when he isn't very nice--at least to me and you. Just remember that
he's your daddy, and treat him that way."
As everyone prepared for supper, Gifford came in from the bedroom,
carrying his cap. He was fully dressed in his navy whites, and looked very
sharp. He laid his white sailor cap down on the buffet, and took his place at
the table that had been prepared for him, which was at the far end from
where Jacob and Lessa sat side by side. Lessa's parents sat on the side
nearest the wall, Willey was diagonally to Lessa's right. Diagonally to
Jacob's left was his father and next to him was his mother Ruth, which put
her across the table corner from Gifford.
His mother had fixed pinto beans, cornbread and macaroni with
ground beef and tomato sauce. Everyone drank ice tea. The conversation
was usually lively, even without Whit contributing anything. He ate in
silence, listening to the others talk, nodding his head, or giving short answers
when Willey spoke to him. The most vocal conversationalists were Willey,
Bea and Ruth.
Willey was saying, "So I said to the foreman, `If you really want me
to increase my production, you need to go down the line where I get my
parts and tell them to get off their hind-end and get busy. I can't do nothin'
if I don't have the parts up here to work on!"
Jacob was looking from one speaker to the other, fascinated by the
adult experience in a defense factory. His lesson today was, "Don't let the
boss take advantage of you." After taking a bite of his buttered cornbread,
he was returning it to his plate, but his eyes were on Beau, who said, "If you
let those foremans browbeat, you, you might as well quit, they'll work you
to death by just scarin' you." Jacob's hand caught the handle of his fork,
which flipped end over end and fell to the floor skittering under the table.
He looked for some kind of scolding from his mother, but her eyes were rapt
on Beau and Willey.
So Jacob hopped off his chair, went down on his knees, and searched
for his fork, finding it just under the table. As he reached for it, he noticed
that his mother's dress was hiked up above mid-thigh. Her right foot was
bare, and she had it atop Gifford's black navy oxford, lightly stroking up to
his sock and inside of his bell-bottom pants. Then he heard her voice from
above, "You mean they brow-beat the women too, Bea?"
He scooted out from under the table and sat back in his chair. He
wiped it on his napkin, and took a bite of macaroni, staring at his mother
who was laughing at Bea's remark, "Honey, they'll do more than beat your
brow if your not careful," and both women and Willey laughed. Whit didn't
change his expression.
The conversation continued. Then Willey was discoursing on some
other factory matter, and Jacob looked across the table at his mother, now
listening carefully again, or was she? He looked at her eyes, which seemed
to be out of focus; she had slid down in her chair just a bit. Her shoulders
were rising with her breath. Jacob dropped his fork again, waited a beat, and
went after it. He looked again; this time his mother's foot was in Gifford'
lap, and she was kneading his crotch with her heel. Gifford's big hand was
wrapped around her foot, and her toes were wiggling above his closed
fingers.
"Son, can't you hang onto your fork?" It was his father. And he
backed out quickly.
"Sorry Dad."
He wiped the fork on the napkin a second time and forked a couple of
beans. He raised his eyes toward his mother and saw that she was now
sitting straight, and looking directly at him, a question in her eyes.
A few moments passed, then Gifford stood up, grabbed his cap and
held it in front of him. "Well, they're expecting me down at the Round Up
Club. I need to check and see if anyone's called. That's the number I gave
my unit when I left on furlough. They could call me back anytime."
"I know why you want to go to the Round Up Club," teased Willey.
"They got a waitress down there that looks like Betty Grable. Why else
would you stay out all night?"
The ladies laughed, including Lessa. Whit chewed on, unsmiling.
Gifford, holding his cap, half-backed out the room. Nobody seemed
to notice except Jacob. Then he looked back at his mother, who was looking
back at him.
Since it was Thursday Night, they got to listen to the "Lone Ranger"
on radio, and there were some other good shows on too. At 9:00, Whit said,
"Jacob, go get ready for bed." His tone was one that brooked no
disagreement.
After his bath, and putting on his pajamas, Jacob came back into the
living room and saw that the roll-away-bed had been made up with sheets,
pillow and a blanket. Lessa had already gone to bed on the cot in her
parents' bedroom. He slipped under the sheet over him, and kept quiet while
Bea and Ruth, in their housecoats, and Willey listened to the last part of a
radio program. His father was in bed, which in recent days was quite late for
him. It seemed as if that's all Whit did, go to work, eat, and go to bed. The
Saunderses stood up and Willey said, "Five o'clock comes awful early in the
mornin'. Goodnight, Jake, goodnight Ruth."
Ruth and Jacob said goodnight to them. Jacob pulled the sheet and
blanket up to his neck. His mother usually kissed him goodnight, but
tonight she simply turned off the lights and went to her bedroom.
Jacob lay under the cover, thinking about the day's events. As he did,
his fingers went to his penis and he begin to press and squeeze it and think
about Lessa, how he pressed against Lessa in the bathroom, how good it felt.
Then he thought about Lessa's foot on his crotch and his mother's foot on
Gifford's lap, and he found himself to be holding four inches of very firm
flesh in his hand. From the streetlight filtering in through the window, he
could see the sheet puffing up as he masturbated.
"Jacob?" a low voice said.
Oh God, it was his mother! She was standing in the middle of the
room. His hand stilled, but he did not answer.
"Jacob?" the voice came again, quietly, same volume, same
questioning tone.
"I know your not asleep, son."
"Yes, Mother?"
She walked softly over to him. She was in her white cotton summer
nightgown. Jacob's knee was out over the cushion a few inches and she
touched her own knee to his.
"Jacob," she paused a long moment, Do you know that you are the
most precious thing in the world to me?"
"Yes Mom, I love you too."
"And do you know, I would never do anything intentionally to hurt
you?"
"Yes"
"And Jacob, do you know that I love your daddy?"
"Sure I know, Mom."
Ruth knelt by the bed where he lay. Her hip was now touching his
knee. "Sometime, he's not very kind to us but darlin', you know I would
never say or do anything that would hurt Dad."
"No, I know you wouldn't, Mom."
She bent toward him and kissed him on the forehead. As she did, she
pulled the covers down around his waist. She ran her hand between the
buttons into his pajama shirt and stroked his chest.
"And Jacob?"
"Yes?"
"Do you love your daddy?"
"Sure I do, Mom."
"If you knew, or saw something that would hurt him, you know, hurt
his feelings? What would you do?"
"I would never hurt him, Mom," he said.
"Would you mention what you saw?"
"No ma'am."
Her hand was now at his stomach. She was circling around his navel
lightly with the palm of her left hand. Jacob's breath seemed to come to him
with more effort. "If you saw something that somebody did, even something
that I did, that would hurt him, would you tell him about it?"
"No, Mom, I said, wouldn't hurt him." Jacob said.
The house was quiet. All Jacob could hear was his own breath, and
his mother's breathing. He felt her fingers move under the waist of his
pajama to his abdomen, she continued to move in gentle circles. "Jacob?"
"Yes Mom?"
"Do you love me?"
"Sure I do, Mom." His breathing was hard.
"Do you know that I love you more than anything?"
"Yes, Mom, you've always said that."
Her right hand came up into his pajama fly and grasped his penis. He
caught his breath sharply, and did not exhale. She merely held him with a
firm grip, which she loosened, then closed again, holding him. He bucked
under his mother's hand, and felt a sensation he had never felt in his life. He
had been masturbating for a few months, but he never dreamed a climax
could be so dramatic. "Mom, Oh Mom!" His voice was a husky whisper,
almost too loud.
Now, very close to him, though it was too dark to see her eyes, he
knew they were looking into his. She continued to hold him firmly. The
wonderful pleasure seemed to be traveling like ripple from her hand out to
his belly and thighs and knees. "What about this, Jacob? Will you say
anything about this?" Her voice was low and serious.
"Oh, no Mom!" you know that.
"Why?"
"Because it might hurt him."
"Who will you tell?" Ruth asked.
"No one, ever! I love you Mom," said Jacob.
"I love you too Jacob. Now Son, go to the bathroom and wash up.
Put your pajama's in the hamper, and I'll have a fresh pair laid out for you
when you get back, OK?"
"OK, Mom."
She leaned in to kiss him on his lips, pressing much longer than she'd
ever done before. "Goodnight Jacob," she said gravely.
"Goodnight Mom.
<1st attachment end>
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