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Message-ID: <28126asstr$978268203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Tale Wiggler <talewiggler@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} TURN  ABOUT (mf experiment, MF cheat, mF inc)
Date: Sun, 31 Dec 2000 08:10:03 -0500
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{assm}
From: talewiggler@yahoo.com
Title: TURN ABOUT
Codes: (mf experiment, MF cheat, mF inc)
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.

Note:  This story is completely revised 
and renamed. The last half of it is 
totally different, and I think much 
improved.  I wrote it first under 
another penname. The formatting should 
be much better than the first 

TURN ABOUT by Tale Wiggler

Part 1

During World War II, in most cities of 
the United States, housing was scarce 
and many friendly families lived two or 
three to a house. With children and 
shift work, it was a trick to manage all 
the different schedules, but it was 
doable and nobody seemed to complain. 
They were Americans, and out to defeat 
the Axis.  A little inconvenience was a 
small price to pay.

Whit and Ruth and twelve year old Jacob 
had that kind of arrangement.  They had 
found a little frame house in Toledo. 
And when Wiley and Bea and their 
daughter Lyssa, followed Jacob's family 
to Toledo, they could find no housing.   
They had known this family back in 
Monroe County, close to the Ohio River.  
In fact, Jacob could not remember when 
he didn't know the Sanderses.  Back 
then, they went on vacations and outings 
together, visited at least twice a week.  
They were never really happy unless the 
other family was around. It was only 
natural that Whit and Ruth invite them 
to stay with them and split the 
expenses. 

So Jacob's house was a busy place. In 
addition to the extra family, other 
relatives of both families made frequent 
visits and overnight stays.  Some of 
them were young servicemen on furloughs.  
They would shuttle in and out of the 
little house, staying only for a few 
days at a time.  Sometimes they slept on 
a blanket in the floor.  Sometimes a bed 
would become available for a few hours 
and they would sleep in shifts.  They 
bore all this bother for the love of 
their Uncle Sam.  Tom Brokaw called this 
"The Greatest Generation."

Lyssa Sanders was a Beatiful blonde girl 
of ten.  Because she was only two  years 
younger than Jacob, they often played 
together in a vacant lot beside their 
house, the simple make-do play of the 
forties. One summer afternoon, Jacob 
noticed Lyssa in the vacant lot, 
squatting at the edge of a puddle of 
water, scraping in the perimeter of the 
puddle with a Maxwell House Coffee can.  

He walked up beside here and said, 
"Whatcha doin'?"  

"Oh nothin'," she said, and she scraped 
the can full of black mud, then she 
bounced it several times on a board, 
which lay between her bare feet. She 
upended the can, and out popped a 
perfect, round mud-pie, right beside one 
she had already made. 

As he squatted down, Jacob's eyes came 
to rest on her white delicate feet.  
Each toenail was topped with red polish. 
Jacob had remembered seeing them in 
sandals on Sunday at church.  On that 
day, they were under a white starched 
dress that stood out from her waist like 
an inverted "V" and ended at her knees.  
It fascinated Jacob that her dainty feet 
were now grubby, with mud oozing up 
between her toes. 

"You're running out of pie stuff.  Let 
me get you some fresh dough, and took 
the blue shallow can from her.  Jacob 
went to the opposite side of the puddle 
and  squatted.  He saw that Lyssa's 
worn, pink dress had ridden up to her 
thighs, and revealed her crotch.  She 
had on white panties. Jacob took note of 
how her panties had become dirty and 
damp from the mud and water splashing up 
on them.

"Your mom is going to spank your rear 
end, you've got so dirty!" Jacob said.  

Lyssa paused, holding her hands up and 
looking at them as if it were the first 
time she noticed how splotched she was.  
The raised her eyebrows.  "Uh-oh," she 
said, "I'll just rinse off in the 
puddle."  

She immediately stood up, and so did 
Jacob.  She stepped over the mud and 
into the center of the puddle, bent and 
washed her hands.  Then she hoisted her 
dress above her knees, and splashed her 
feet in and out of the water.  Jacob 
jumped back.  She then stepped out, with 
the muddy water running off her legs and 
feet.  "Is that better?" she laughed.

"A little bit, but you're still dirty," 
he said.  "Come around to the side of 
the house and let me wipe off your feet 
with my hankie."  

"OK," she said, and they walked around 
to the side door, the one they always 
used.  It was under a green and white 
striped awning.  Under the awning there 
was a single concrete step.  Lyssa sat 
down on the step and Jacob removed his 
handkerchief from his hip pocket, and 
squatted down in front of her.  

"Hold up your foot," he said, and she 
did.  He took it tenderly into his 
hands, pressing it tentatively, and 
wiped it gently with his clean 
handkerchief, careful to wipe between 
each of her toes. Then he said, "Let me 
have your other foot," She obeyed, 
suspending her clean, foot in the air.  
As he wiped her foot, she said, "Mmm, 
Jacob, that feels good."   Jacob looked 
up at her and he saw that her face was 
relaxed and her blue eyes closed, and it 
made him think of himself, relaxing 
while he took a bath in the big deep 
cast iron tub in the bathroom. 

Her free foot, which had simply been 
hovering, drifted slowly down and rested 
on his crotch.  He looked up, and saw 
that her eyes were closed and her pretty 
face were still slack.  It felt good to 
him, but Jacob knew that his friend 
didn't really know what she was doing.  
He kept wiping the foot in his hands 
even after it was clean and dry.

Lyssa took a deep breath and sighed and 
as she did, she waggled the foot on his 
crotch a bit. Jacob felt a shaky all 
over, especially at the base of his 
penis.  It began to grow under her 
touch.  She flexed her toes, increasing 
the movement.  Jacob looked up again 
into her face.  The eyes were still 
shut, but just a tiny bit tighter.  Her 
lips were pressing together, and Jacob 
knew she was concentrating.  Jacob's 
penis began to feel very good.  Then she 
stopped suddenly.  "What's that?" she 
asked.

"What?" Jacob responded.  

Waggling her right foot again, she said, 
"That thing, under my foot."  

"Oh-that's. That's my peter," he said 
smiling, trying to be off-handed.  He 
started to wipe her foot again.  

"It's getting' big," she said.

"Sometimes it grows like that."  He 
paused nervously.

She said nothing for a moment, but she 
kept her foot on him, with a definite 
pressure.  "Mmm, Lyssa, that feels 
good."

"It feel good when you rub my foot too."

Jacob began to wipe higher, up on her 
ankle.  "You splashed up here too," he 
said.  

Lyssa then reached for the skirt of her 
dress and pulled it up, revealing small, 
but graceful white legs, streaked with 
dried tracks of water.  "I think I'm 
dirty all the way up," she said.  

Jacob looked into her blue eyes, which 
were staring back at him, very wide.  He 
rubbed his damp handkerchief higher and 
higher along her left leg very close to 
her panties.  He noticed again that they 
were damp from the puddle.  He thought 
he could see a crack through them.  He 
had seen cracks like that when his 
mother's friends would change their baby 
girls' diapers.  They hadn't seemed to 
mind his watching, but this seemed 
different.

"I don't have no peter," Lyssa said." 
and she kneaded his penis gently with 
her toes.  "Mama says I have a virginia 
instead."

Jacob was glad that he now knew the 
proper name for her thing, "virginia."

"How come your peter's hard?" she asked.

"I don't know, it does that when I touch 
it sometimes."

"Could I see?" asked Lyssa.

Jacob looked around him.  "Not here, 
let's go in the house."

They stood up, and Jacob saw that his 
penis was making his pants stick out, so 
he tried to hold the handkerchief in 
front of himself.  They opened the door 
and went into the short passage, up a 
couple of steps, passed the bathroom on 
their right, and into the living room.  
The only person home was Jacob's mother.  
She was the homemaker for this extended 
working family, busy in the kitchen, 
getting supper ready for Jacob's father 
and Lyssa's father and mother, both of 
whom labored at the Willys Factory, 
making Jeeps.  They could see her 
through the door into the kitchen. Their 
destination lay through the living room 
to the hallway; it took them within 
sight of the kitchen entrance.  Jacob 
put his finger to his lips to make sure 
Lyssa was quiet.  He saw his mother 
working on the far side, near the sink 
with her back turned, and she paid no 
attention to them.  The two children 
walked silently by, and into the hallway 
that led to the bedrooms.  

Lyssa's mother had a 20-year-old 
brother, Gifford.  He was asleep in the 
first bedroom, in Lyssa's parent's bed.  
Gifford was sailor, and on a furlough 
from the war.  He was "using his 
furlough up by partying every night, and 
sleeping late every day."  He heard his 
dad say that, disapprovingly, to his 
mother. But no one in the family tried 
to wake Gifford because they figured he 
deserved to sleep late.  After all he 
was "fighting the Japs for us."  The two 
children tiptoed down the hall with 
Jacob in the lead, headed for his 
parents' unoccupied bedroom.  As they 
were about to pass the open door of the 
first bedroom, they were 
startled.Gifford's thick muscular body 
was lying on top of the bedcovers in his 
boxer shorts, snoring gently.  His great 
penis had worked its way out of his 
shorts and stood erect, redheaded, and 
pointing at a slight angle toward the 
ceiling.  Jacob had seen his father's 
penis in the bathtub, but it was nothing 
like this!  Gifford's penis had no 
covering of skin over the head, and it 
was very hard.

"Look at that, Lyssa!" Jacob whispered.  

Lyssa looked, then brought her hands up 
to her face and covered her eyes.  "What 
is that?" she whispered to Jacob.  

"That's his peter! Here,"  he said, 
taking one of Lyssa's hands.  They 
walked closer to the bed.  Her other 
hand still covered her face, and she 
peeked between her fingers.  As they 
drew close to the bed they smelled stale 
cigarettes, and beer.  But there was 
another smell and Jacob knew it was 
Gifford's great circumcised penis.  They 
stood hand in hand before the young man, 
enthralled by the spectacle, Lyssa on 
the left, Jacob on the right.    Jacob's 
own penis seemed to get "nervous" as 
they watched.  

Lyssa lowered her hand from her eyes, 
looked a moment longer, and then pulled 
at Jacob's hand to leave the room.  
Jacob followed, and they continued the 
few steps down the hall to Jacob's 
parent's room. They closed the door 
almost shut.  The the tiny blond girl 
whispered to Jacob again, "Let me see 
your peter."

Jacob whispered, "It's not big like 
Gifford's." He was feeling a little 
intimidated.

Lyssa giggled quietly, "I know, I felt 
it with my foot.  He's a grownup man and 
you're just a boy."  

Jacob felt a little better when she said 
that, but he was a little bashful.  He 
managed to undo his pants, dig in his 
shorts and push out his penis for her to 
see.  It was hard, and she stood in 
front of him, inspecting him closely.  
She reached her finger out slowly and 
touched it.  Jacob had not been 
circumcised, so the foreskin partially 
covered the head of his erect three-inch 
penis. 

"Oh Jacob!  Your peter is pretty!" she 
whispered.  "It don't smell bad like 
Uncle Gifford's."

"Really?"

"Yes, and it don't look like it either.  
She slid the foreskin around on its 
head.  What's this skin?"

"I don't know.  My daddy has skin on his 
too."

Then leaning her little blonde head 
close, she suddenly squeezed him very 
hard.  Jacob jumped and she drew back, 
her mouth open in surprise.  "I'm sorry 
Jacob, but it was so pretty, I just had 
to love on it."

"It's OK, it didn't hurt, it just scared 
me."

"You want to see my virginia now?"  

"Yeah."

She pulled her panties to her ankles and 
stood before him.  

"I can't see nothin'" Jacob said.

"Just a minuite," Lyssa said, and she 
sat down on the floor and kicked off her 
panties over her ankles. Then she spread 
her legs as far as she could and Jacob 
saw it.  It was the crack between her 
legs.  It looked like a mouth that went 
up and down instead of cross-ways.  
Something tiny stuck  out of the crack, 
like the very tip of a little red 
tongue.  Lyssa's fore-finder touched the 
tiny red tongue and tapped it several 
times.  "That's it!" she whispered.

"Jacob got down on his knees and drew 
his face close to examine it, but then 
his heart flipped when he heard his 
mother call, "Jacob!  Lyssa!"  They were 
frozen in fear, staring wide-eyed at 
each other as they heard her footsteps 
coming up the hall. 

"Ja-," he heard his mother  call again.  
Jacob had buttoned up his pants and 
Lyssa had pulled up her panties.  He was 
about to answer his mother, but then, 
Jacob heard her say, "Oh Lord!" He 
opened the door a crack and looked down 
the hallway. he could see that she had 
taken a half-step into the room where 
Gifford slept.  She was very still, 
standing there in the doorway. Gifford 
slept on and they heard him snoring 
steadily. The children remained still, 
standing in the doorway, watching Ruth 
watch Gifford.  Jacob saw his mother 
take a hesitant step into the room, and 
she disappeared from their sight.  Jacob 
put his finger to his lips, then 
motioned to Lyssa to follow.  They crept 
down the hallway, very slowly, very 
quietly, and came closer to the room.  
He could hear his mother's breathing 
through her mouth, like she'd been 
running. As they passed the room, Jacob 
saw his mother standing in front of 
Gifford, bent forward just a little, and 
her legs were slightly apart. Since her 
back was turned he couldn't see exactly 
what she was doing, but he could see 
that her  shoulder was moving, and 
evidently her arm, but her hand was 
hidden in front of her body.  His 
mother's breath was ragged. Jacob didn't 
pause long because he was afraid she 
might turn around and see them, so he 
pulled Lyssa on by the room and toward 
the front.

Jacob knew that he should get as far 
away from the scene in the bedroom as he 
could.  He didn't really know what was 
happening in there, but he had a feeling 
that it was a secret thing and that he 
shouldn't ask about it.  He wondered if 
his mother, Ruth, had been doing 
something like he and Lyssa.  Had his 
mother been examining Gifford's peter?  
But didn't grown-ups already know about 
peters and virginias?  Jacob wondered 
why his mother went into room where 
Gifford was.  If he had seen Gifford, 
and then gone straight to his mother 
with the news, he knew what she would 
probably say. "Well, just don't look at 
that, Jacob.  Close the door and don't 
mention it."  Ruth had not closed the 
door.  She had looked at it, even went 
closer to look at it, stood there and 
did something while she was looking.  
Was it all right to look if you were 
grown up?

Jacob led Lyssa out the side door and 
into the vacant lot by the puddle. There 
was a clump of small trees in the vacant 
lot, and a thicket of smaller bushes 
surrounding them.  Jacob had learned 
that he could force the wiry growth 
apart, and make a small entrance through 
the thicket and into the trees. He 
called it his "hideout."  He considered 
taking Lyssa into the trees and 
continuing their exploration, but the 
fear of getting caught was still present 
with him, and he decided he'd better 
wait.  The trees cast a shadow for 
several yards and he and Lyssa came into 
their shade and knelt down on the 
ground.  Jacob took his yellow-handled 
pocket knife from his pocket and opened 
it up.  He expertly flipped the knife by 
its blade into the sparse grass where it 
stuck.  He did it several times, hardly 
ever missing.   Lyssa said, "I wish I 
could do that."

He handed her the knife. "Be careful, 
Lyssa, it's sharp."  She tried flipping 
it several times and it failed to stick.  
He positioned her fingers on the blade 
and told her take it very slow, and let 
the blade flip over her first finger as 
she released it with her thumb.  The 
blade stuck.  "Now keep it slow, and 
when you get used to that, you can flip 
it hard.  When you get good, we can play 
Mumbly Peg."  

As Lyssa practiced, Jacob said,  "Lyssa, 
don't say anything about us upstairs, 
OK?"

"OK, Jacob."

"And don't say anything about seeing my 
mom or your Uncle Gifford, because then 
she'll want to know what we were doing 
there."  He knew Lyssa had seen Ruth, 
but he didn't think she had observed 
much.

"OK," she said.  Her blue eyes were 
concentrated on the pocket knife and she 
stuck it again.  Jacob noticed then how 
almost white her hair was.  Lyssa was 
ten, just two years younger than Jacob.  
Jacob was large for his age, and he was 
easily as big as some thirteen and 
fourteen year old boys.  Because of 
this, people seemed to expect him to 
know more than he really did.  He didn't 
know much about things like this.  He 
wished he did know.

Jacob was teaching Lyssa how to play 
Mumbly Peg when his mother called them 
in to wash up for supper.


Part 2

The children stood at the sink with 
their hands bubbling with suds, 
squishing the Lifebuoy soap back and 
forth between their hands.  They heard 
the side door just on the other side of 
bathroom open and close.  Lyssa's mother 
and father and Jacob's dad stamped up 
the steps. Willey and Bea rounded the 
corner and saw the children through the 
bathroom doorway, standing at the sink.  
"Hi Daddy!  Hi Mama!" said Lyssa."

"Hi Sweetheart!  Hi Jacob"

Jacob said hi and then his father 
stepped in view.  "Hi Dad!" he said.  

Whit looked at him, unsmiling, and only 
nodded.

The boy and girl dried their hands and 
came out to greet their parents.  

Bea, had noticed exchange between Whit 
and Jacob, and she lingered a moment.  
She directed her attention to Jacob. 
"You and Lyssa have a good time today?"	 

Jacob glanced at Lyssa and smiled.  
"Yeah, I guess so, we made mud pies," he 
said.

"I got my feet dirty," Lyssa said, "But 
Jacob wiped them off with his hankie!"

That's enough, Jacob thought, don't say 
anything else.

"Well, that was nice of him, wasn't it?" 
said Bea.

"Hey Jake!" said Willey, who was always 
cheerful.  

"Hi Willey," said Jacob.

Whit heard the exchange and turned back 
with narrowed eyes, fixing on Jacob.  
"Would it fracture your face to say, 
`Hello Mr. and Mrs. Sanders?'" Whit 
said.

"Oh no," said Willey, "That's OK, Whit, 
we like him to call us by our first 
names, we've known each other too long 
for there to be any `Mr. and Mrs.' 
between us."

Jacob liked Bea and Willey.  They always 
seemed to make him feel important.  They 
always ask him questions about his day.   
They wanted to know his opinion on 
things.  He knew his mother was 
interested in him that was a given.  But 
his father never asked, never talked 
except to reprimand or command.  So, it 
was nice that someone should take an 
interest.  He felt all this more than he 
intellectualized it.


Jacob's father didn't smile, at Willey's 
remark.  He didn't say anything.  He 
spun on his heel and continued toward 
the bedroom.  Whit was obviously in one 
of his dark moods.  Jacob didn't know 
why he father went through these 
periods. He guessed his father was just 
tired from working long hours.  This 
much he did know, the spells could last 
for months.  He hardly ever spoke to 
Ruth.  For her part, Ruth had come to 
react to Whit with a stony-cold silent 
treatment of her own.  Just last week 
Jacob had asked his mother, "What's 
wrong with Dad?"

She had said, "I don't know son, he's 
always done this.  There're times when 
he just isn't very nice-at least to me, 
and to you.  Just remember that he's 
your daddy, and to 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.  His 
shoulders were large hunks of bone and 
flesh and his face was beefy and his 
hips were narrow.  He laid his white 
sailor cap down on the buffet, and sat 
down at the large oak table at the place 
that had been set for him, which was at 
the far end across from where Jacob and 
Lyssa sat side by side.  Lyssa's parents 
sat on the side nearest the wall across 
from Whit and Ruth.  Ruth was beside the 
table corner near Gifford.  Lyssa looked 
at Jacob and grinned.

His mother had prepared 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 
slowly, 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, `You really want me to increase 
my production?  Then you need to go down 
the line where I get my parts and tell 
them to get off their hind-ends 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 internal 
workings of a defense plant.  The lesson 
today was, "Don't let the boss take 
advantage of you."  After taking a bite 
of his buttered cornbread, he looked at 
Bea, who was saying, "If you let those 
foremans browbeat, you, you might just 
as well quit.  They'll work you to death 
by just scarin' you."  Jacob's attention 
was focused on the grown-ups 
conversation.  When he laid his 
cornbread down on his plate, it hit the 
handle of his fork.  The fork flipped 
end-over-end and fell to the floor, 
skittering under the table.  He looked 
for some kind of scolding but his father 
had his head down and his mother's eyes 
were fixed on Bea as she was speaking.

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 his mother's 
legs.  Her dress was hiked up mid-thigh.  
She had slipped off her shoe and her 
foot was bare.  She was moving it 
lightly on Gifford's ankle just 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 his 
fork on his paper napkin, and took a 
bite of macaroni. Jacob stared at his 
mother who was laughing at Bea's remark, 
"Honey, that's not all they'll beat if 
your not careful," and Willey, Ruth and 
Gifford joined in the laughter.  Whit 
didn't change his expression.   Jacob 
watched this interaction on top, knowing 
what was happening on the bottom. It 
didn't seem quite right somehow.

It wasn't long till Willey was 
discoursing on some other factory 
matter, and Jacob looked across the 
table again at his mother who seemed to 
be listening carefully.  Jacob wondered.  
He looked at her eyes, which were on 
Willey, but not exactly.  It was like 
she was looking at his forehead instead 
of his eyes.  She had slid down in her 
chair just a bit.  Occasionally her 
shoulders rose when she took a breath.  
Jacob dropped his fork again, looked 
around and waited a moment.  Then he 
went after it the second time.  This 
time his mother's foot was in Gifford' 
lap, and she was kneading his crotch 
with her heel.  Gifford's big hand was 
gripping Ruth's inner thigh, feeling up 
close to her crotch, her hand on his.

"Son, can't you hang onto your fork?"  
It was his father.  And he backed out 
quickly, bumping his head on the way up.

"Sorry Dad," he said, rubbing his head 
in pain.

He wiped the fork on the napkin, and 
speared 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 phone number I give out to my 
unit to when I left on furlough.  They 
could call me back anytime."  There was 
no phone in their house.

"I know why you want to go to the Round-
Up Club," teased Willey.  "They got a 
waitress down there that looks just like 
Betty Grable.  Why else would you stay 
out all night?"

The ladies laughed, including Lyssa.  
Whit chewed on, unsmiling. 

Gifford, holding his cap, half-backed 
out the room.  Nobody seemed to notice 
that except Jacob.  Then he looked back 
at his mother, who was looking back at 
him.  She didn't break the stare, but 
Jacob did, looking down into his plate.


After supper activities proceeded pretty 
much as usual.  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 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 unfolded and made up with sheets, 
pillow and a blanket.  Lyssa had already 
gone to bed on the army cot in her 
parents' bedroom.  Jacob got into bed, 
slipped the sheet over him, and kept 
quiet while Bea and Ruth, in their 
housecoats and Willey in his undershirt 
and khakis, listened to the last part of 
a radio program.  Jacob's father was 
already in bed.  He was usually in bed 
before Jacob.  It seemed to Jacob that 
all Whit did was to go to work, eat, and 
go to bed.  The Saunderses finally 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 up the sheet and blanket to 
his neck.  His mother usually kissed him 
goodnight, but tonight she simply turned 
off the lights and went to her bedroom, 
saying nothing.

Jacob lay under the cover, thinking 
about the day's events. As he did, his 
fingers went to his penis and he began 
to press and squeeze it and think about 
Lyssa, how she spread her legs so he 
could get close to her.  He wished now 
that he had felt of her virgina like she 
had felt of his peter. Then he thought 
about Lyssa's foot on his crotch and his 
mother's foot on Gifford's lap, pushing 
down with her heel against his peter.  
Jacob found himself to be very hard.  
 From the streetlight filtering in 
through the window, he could see the 
sheet puffing up as he masturbated.  

"Jacob?" a quiet voice said.

She had entered silently and surprised 
Jacob.  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, I saw you 
moving."

She had seen him! He moved the blanket 
about, as if he had been adjusting the 
covers."  He tried to control the fear 
in his voice. "Yes, Mama?"

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 Mama."  Jacob sighed. 

"And do you know, I'd 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. 
"Sometime, he's not very kind to us but 
darlin' you know I'd never say or do 
anything that would hurt your daddy."

"No, I know you wouldn't, Mom." Jacob 
know what else to do but follow her 
lead.  He listened carefully.

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 top and stroked his chest.

"And Jacob?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love your daddy?"

"Sure I do, Mom."

"If you knew something, or saw something 
that would hurt him, you know, hurt his 
feelings, what would you do?"

"I would never hurt him, Mama," he said.

"Would you mention what you saw?"

"No ma'am."

Her palm was circling around his heart.  
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 your daddy, would 
you tell him about it?"

"No, Mama, I said I wouldn't hurt him." 
Jacob said. His heart was pounding.

The house was quiet.  All Jacob could 
hear was his own breath, and his 
mother's breathing.  He felt her fingers 
move down past his waist to his abdomen. 
"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, Mama, you always say that. I know 
it."

"Jacob, sometimes we see things that we 
don't understand.  We may even think we 
see things we don't see.  You know what 
I mean?"

Jacob thought she was talking about when 
he saw and her foot in Gifford's lap and 
his hand rubbing her thigh, but he 
didn't know for sure, so he said, "Yes 
Mama."

"Like just now, I've been standing here 
watching you awhile.  I thought at 
first, I saw you playing with yourself.  
I thought, I'm gonna have to tell your 
daddy.  But then I thought it over, and 
said to myself, `No, he was just trying 
to straighten his bedcovers.'"  She took 
her hand from his abdomen and laid in 
over the covers, which concealed the fly 
of his pajamas. "You know what I mean, 
Jacob?"

"Yes, Mom, I know."  He was a scared, 
but he knew what his mother was asking.

She continued, "And if we said anything 
about those things, then they might hurt 
people, you know, hurt them inside in 
their hearts. Do you understand, Jacob?"

"Yes, I know."  Did she know where her 
hand was?

"It could even hurt me, or hurt your 
daddy."

"Yes ma'am."

"You wouldn't say anything to hurt me or 
your daddy, would you Jacob?" 

"Oh, no Mom!  You know that."  She must 
not be feeling my peter, Jacob thought, 
yet he felt himself growing against her 
hand.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it might hurt him or hurt you."

"Who would you tell?"  Ruth asked.

"No one, ever! I love you Mom, and I 
love Dad," said Jacob.  

"I love you too Jacob.  Now son, give me 
a kiss and you go on to sleep and 
remember what we talked about, OK?" 

"OK, Mom."

She leaned in to kiss him on his lips, 
her hand not moving in the least, but 
just resting on the blanket over his 
penis, as if it were resting on his 
shoulder.  "Goodnight Jacob," she said 
gravely.

"Goodnight Mama."

Jacob felt strange when his mother left.  
Something did not seem right.  He knew 
she'd caught him playing with himself.  
He would not enjoy the consequences if 
she were to tell his father.  But as 
much as he feared that, Jacob would have 
understood it.  Now she was saying that 
she might not have seen him 
masturbating, which she had.  And she 
was saying that he, Jacob, might not 
have seen her playing touchy-feely with 
Gifford under the table, which he had.  
And the strangest thing of all was her 
warm hand resting there on the covers, 
right over his penis.  Of  course, that 
was probably accidental, he thought.  


Part 3

The next morning, about eight, Jacob sat 
at the breakfast table with Lyssa and 
ate his Cheerios.  He was remembering 
the strange but exciting experiences of 
last night.  He had no doubt at all that 
he had seen what he thought he'd scene 
under the table.  And now, he had an 
agreement.  He and his mother had 
entered into a kind of pact.  She was 
willing for him not going to get into 
trouble for something he'd done wrong.  
Why?  Because he agreed with his mother 
not to mention her indiscretion, else he 
"hurt" his father, and perhaps others. 
Though he could not articulate the 
source of his impression, somehow he 
felt as if he and his mother stood on 
equal ground, at least in this matter.


The three other members of the family 
had already gone to work and it was just 
he, Lyssa, and his mother in the house.  
Of course, Gifford, was back there in 
the bedroom, snoozing away in the 
vacated bed.  Evidently he had flopped 
as soon as Lyssa's folks woke up and 
were out of the bedroom.  Jacob had gone 
down the hallway that morning, and 
looked into the room.  He saw Gifford 
asleep, shirtless, right on top of the 
bedspread, lying on his stomach.  His 
boxer shorts had slid down and the top 
three inches of his butt crack peeked 
out above the waistband.  Jacob's mother 
had seen the front side of sailor 
yesterday and liked it.  Jacob knew 
she'd liked it from seeing her approach, 
and then stand there over Gifford, 
enthralled with the show.  Jacob shook 
his head at the spectacle and grinned 
bitterly.

Lyssa brought him out of his reverie by 
leaning across the corner of the table 
toward him and whispering, "Let's go 
look at Uncle Gifford again!"

Jacob shushed her with a finger to his 
lips and looked back at his mother, 
standing at the sink with her back to 
them.  They ate their cereal in silence.  
Jacob rose from the table and carried 
his and Lyssa's bowls to the sink.  He 
stood behind his mother, and set the 
dishes on the drain board, reaching 
around her waist on the right. Then he 
wrapped his other arm around the other 
side and enclosed her in a hug.   
Surprised, she said, "Oh, Jacob!"  He 
hugged her tighter and then moved his 
hand lightly over her stomach, right 
over the little depression of her navel, 
exploring.  He'd never touched her like 
that before and it felt different, and 
good.  Her hand came to rest over his 
and she hugged it to her.   He had 
wondered what her reaction would be 
after last night.  Would there be that 
familiar affection he loved so much?  
Would she trust him to keep the secret?  
Apparently so.

"Is it OK if me and Lyssa go up to the 
school playground for a while?"  
MacArthur School was only two blocks 
away.  

"Sure, Honey, how long will you be gone? 

"I don't know, probably an hour, maybe 
longer. Tommy and his sister may be up 
there too."  Tommy and Selma Matthews 
and other children from the neighborhood 
regularly met at the MacArthur School 
playground.   It was a summer gathering 
place for the kids, with swings, a push-
merry-go-round and monkey bars.  It was 
where Jacob's parents knew to look for 
him if he wasn't around the house.   

"OK, sweetie," she said,  "you be 
careful, and be home by noon, OK?"

"Noon? OK!"  It was an unusually long 
play time, Jacob thought.

"Swell!" said Lyssa.  

"All right, Hon," Ruth said to Jacob, 
"but not a minute passed noon."

Lyssa climbed down from her chair and 
she and Jacob walked out of  the kitchen 
and through the living room, and into 
the vestibule.  They were just out of 
Ruth's sight, Jacob lowered his voice 
and said to Lyssa, "You go on up to 
MacArthur School.  Tell Tommy and Selma 
I'll be there in a little while."

"Why? What are you gonna do?" she asked.

"I gotta go to the bathroom real bad.  
I'll see you a little later, OK?"

She thought a moment, shrugged and 
whispered, "OK."

He opened the door, saw Lyssa out, and 
then shut it again, banging it tightly.  
Jacob quietly made his way to the 
bathroom, catching sight of his mother 
at the sink.  He pulled the door half 
shut.  He pulled down his pants and 
under-shorts and sat on the toilet.  He 
simply sat, in hopes his mother would 
not enter the bathroom.  If she did come 
in, she would be surprised he was there, 
but he figured he could tell her he had 
to "do number two" and that would 
explain why he was still around.  But if 
discovered him, that would be it.  The 
spying would have take place on another 
day.  In a while, Jacob heard footsteps 
close by. He braced himself for his 
mother's entry.  It never came.  He 
heard her steps fading away as she 
entered the hallway leading to the 
bedrooms.

 From what went on last night, he knew 
his mother was slipping around, wanting 
to do "things" with Gifford.  He didn't 
know exactly what, but Jacob wanted to 
know more, and he intended on gaining 
that knowledge.  Obviously Ruth didn't 
want anyone else to know the little that 
Jacob already knew.  But, Jacob would 
keep that secret because of the pact, 
the agreement.  The agreement seemed to 
be working for him.  He thought about 
his mother's pretty legs and her feet in 
Gifford's lap, he felt his penis 
hardening in his hand. Then he stood up 
abruptly and pulled up his clothing.

He ventured silently out of the bathroom 
into the living room, and stuck his head 
cautiously into the hallway.  He 
listened carefully but could hear 
nothing but Gifford's deep breathing. At 
the end of the hall he saw that the door 
to his mother's bedroom was closed.  She 
was in there, doing something. He 
wondered if his mother had changed her 
mind.  He turned around and tiptoed back 
to the bathroom and was again undoing 
his belt, when he heard a door open.  
Ruth was humming, "Don't Sit Under the 
Apple Tree With Anyone Else But Me."  
Then the sound faded.  He peeked out of 
the bathroom and all was clear and 
quiet.  He relaxed, re-buckling his 
belt. He stepped out of the bathroom and 
tiptoed to the hallway, and paused.  In 
a little while he heard the low 
undertone of Gifford's voice.  "Ummmm." 

Jacob crept up near the hallway door and 
sank onto his belly.  He lay there a 
moment, feeling some doubt now.  Did he 
really want to see this?  Did he really 
want to know?  His heart was pounding 
and he realized that he was in real 
danger of being found out.  He struggled 
to control his breathing, knowing he 
must remain absolutely quiet.  He inched 
toward the door, squirming on his 
forearms, like he'd seen the soldiers do 
in the movies. He slowly ran his head 
into the opening of the bedroom doorway 
and his mother came into view.  She was 
standing with her back toward him, and 
her face toward Gifford.  She was 
barefoot and wearing only her white 
slip.  Jacob knew she wasn't wearing 
panties or bra, for her buttocks and 
back showed naked through the thin 
fabric. Jacob felt his lower back 
flutter.  He knew it was the sight of 
this grown woman, his own mother, doing 
this to him.  He struggled to control 
his breath, which was coming in short 
pants. He saw that Gifford was still on 
his stomach, his face toward the wall. 
Ruth bent forward, supporting herself on 
the side of the bed with one hand.  She 
pulled down Gifford's shorts, exposing 
his rear end.  She began rubbing her 
hand over Gifford's buttocks, Jacob 
heard Gifford sighing under her massage.  

"Do you like your ass rubbed?" asked 
Ruth softly, almost whispering.  Jacob 
had never heard his mother say "ass" 
before. 

"Only if you tickle my asshole with your 
finger," he said.  His voice was deep 
and sleepy-sounding.

"I can do that, sweetie," Ruth said 
quietly.  

Sweetie?  She called Gifford "sweetie," 
Jacob thought, frowning. 

He watched as his mother brought a hand 
to her mouth.  Her lips made a smacking 
sound as she brought the hand back down 
to Gifford's backside.  Her finger was 
wet, and it glistened in the light from 
the window.   Then there was a pause. He 
couldn't see exactly what she was doing, 
but he knew Gifford had ask her to 
"tickle" his asshole.

"Jesussssss," Jacob heard him sigh. She 
continued to play there for the next 
minute.

"I think I'd like to turn over," Gifford 
said.

"Wait, baby, stay on your stomach a 
while." said Ruth.  Jacob watched as she 
pulled his shorts down over his legs and 
feet and tossed them on the floor.  Then 
she hiked her skirt, put her knee on the 
bed, and threw the other foot over 
Gifford's lower legs.  He caught a flash 
of his mother's naked buttocks as she 
straddled him. She slid down over 
Gifford's legs, wiggling as she did, all 
the way to his ankles. He watched his 
mother as she laid her hands on either 
side of Gifford's cleavage and pressed 
down.  He couldn't see clearly from his 
perspective, but he thought she was 
spreading open Gifford's butt-cheeks.  
He saw her bend down toward him and lick 
his butt cheeks.  Then she nestled her 
face down into the crevice, lunging 
forward with short strokes, grunting 
very softly as she moved. 

Jacob thought, she's rooting around like 
a hog.  He had seen hogs eat on the farm 
back in New Berlin, and she seemed to be 
enjoying rooting as much as the pigs 
enjoyed it. Jacob's heart was pounding 
by now.  He had never imagined anything 
could be so filthy, yet so wonderfully 
exciting.  His penis was hard and he 
felt the pressure against him from the 
floor as he grew.  Then, Jacob saw his 
mother's sit up straight, rub her hands 
over Gifford's butt again while gazing 
down at it, obviously enthralled with 
what was in her hands.  

"Now, turn over Gifford, I want to see 
what I saw yesterday," she said.  

Jacob moved his head back from the 
doorway.  He waited while they were 
talking, but he listened carefully.

"Oh-ho! And what did you see yesterday?" 
Gifford said to her as the bed squeaked 
under their shifting.

"I saw your beautiful your cock, and it 
made me as wet as a water-snake," she 
laughed, "You were snoring away with it 
sticking up half-way to the ceiling!"  
Gifford and his mother broke into 
giggles.

The springs creaked as Gifford turned 
over, and in a moment he said, "Oh God, 
Ruth!"  

Jacob crept forward again, looking 
around the door frame.  Ruth was now 
sitting on the fronts of Gifford's 
ankles, her body stretched over him and 
his penis was in her mouth "Ummm" she 
said as she sucked.  

Gifford hissed, "Suck it, baby!" He 
pushed his club of a penis slowly up 
into Ruth's face.  

Jacob heard his mother mouth smacking as 
she sucked.  Sometimes she would pull 
away and lick it like she was eating an 
ice cream cone.  Then she would put her 
mouth completely over it slavering it 
with her saliva, making humming sounds. 
There was only one word Jacob could 
think of to describe what he saw.  It 
was "nasty."  He had never heard of such 
a thing.  To see this performed before 
his eyes was unbelievably arousing.  To 
see his mother do it was absolutely 
maddening.  He moved back a little, out 
of the door frame and listened.   He 
wondered, would Lyssa suck on him?  She 
might, Jacob thought.  Maybe he could 
get her to do it.  But, doing it with 
Lyssa would be like firing a cap-gun 
after he had seen a cannon discharge.   
Jacob was drawn to the grown-up body of 
his mother.  He was fascinated with her 
breasts jigging under her slip, her 
smooth naked leg, her pretty face with 
its mouth on a "cock."  He wished he 
were where Gifford was, and he wished 
Gifford were on a ship to the South 
Pacific.  He knew it wasn't right, but 
none of this was right and he wanted his 
mother.

Ruth took in a deep breath, and as she 
did, she popped her mouth off of 
Gifford.  Jacob took this as another 
signal to pull back.  Then he heard her 
say, "Lay still, Gifford, I want to be 
on top."

"Oh baby, do it!" said Gifford.

After a moment, the bed started rhythmic 
squeaking.  It bounced fiercely, and 
Jacob peeked around the corner again.  
Now his mother's legs were on both sides 
of Gifford's pelvis.  Her slip was 
pulled up and tucked into itself around 
her waist.  Her whole lower flank was 
nude.   Jacob gazed at his mother's 
beauty from bare waist to bare foot, 
moving and colliding with Gifford in 
hard sharp thrusts.  From his angle, he 
could just see a tiny bit of Gifford's 
glistening cock, the rest was snug 
inside his mother as she lifted her 
buttocks.   She groaned from deep in her 
chest and he could see Gifford pushing 
back hard, grunting with each lunge.  In 
a minute, the commotion rose to a noisy 
crescendo.  Jacob heard his mother 
commence a low groan, and then sucked 
the groan backwards, into her lungs.  
The sound disturbed him.  Was she hurt?  
Then she began chanting, "Yes, Fuck! 
Yes!"

Then came Gifford's rumbling orgasm. His 
animal grunts sounded like the men he 
saw out on the farm in New Berlin.  They 
were pushing a pickup out of deep mud.  
The men grunted and groaned with each 
heave, the mud and water sucked at the 
tires.  Finally, the car pulled free, 
spinning its wheels, and away it went.  
Gifford was now spinning his wheels, his 
body in a rearing rigid convex, his toes 
extended, holding himself deep inside 
Jacob's mother.  She was now supporting 
herself with her hands as she leaned out 
over her lover.  She shook her curly 
hair over Gifford's face, her eyes were 
shut tight.  The tumult on the bed began 
to slowly calm. Ruth laid her head on 
Gifford's chest and draped her body over 
him.   Jacob heard them both breathing 
very loudly, like they had been running.  
He backed away from the door, working 
his way down the hallway and eventually 
out of the house.  His testicles were 
very sore and he wished he could find 
some sort of release, but there was no 
time for it.


When he got to the playground, he 
greeted his friends, Tommy and Selma.   
Connie, their cousin was there too.  
Lyssa was playing with Tommy.  Jacob 
worked off the tension by working out 
hard on the monkey bars and merry-go-
round. In a short while, the morning was 
gone and he and Lyssa were walking back 
home.  In a little while, Jacob and 
Lyssa walked through their side door.  
Jacob called out.  "We're home!" 

Jacob's mother was in a pastel orange 
house dress.  Jacob could tell from the 
soft appearance of her breasts 
underneath, that she wore no bra.  There 
was a smoothness of flow where her dress 
draped over her buttocks.  Jacob didn't 
think she was wearing panties.  He 
wanted to touch her there. Her feet were 
still bare and as she moved about in the 
kitchen, Jacob wondered why she never 
painted her nails.  He thought he liked 
them that way.  Again the picture of her 
foot on Gifford's crotch came to him.  
He took note that Gifford had not 
appeared.  "Mama," Jacob said, "I need a 
clean hankie."  

"In the chest, in my bedroom," she said.  
He went down the hallway and passed the 
Sanders' room, the real reason for his 
stroll back there.  The bed was made.  
The smell was gone and a fresh breeze 
blew through the window and out the 
door, Gifford was apparently  gone with 
the breeze and Jacob was glad.  He 
picked up the handkerchief and returned 
to the kitchen.  Lyssa was at the table 
and Ruth was pouring a helping of 
Campbell's Tomato Soup into a bowl in 
front of the girl.  Jacob's soup had 
already been poured.  Ruth stepped over 
to the end of the table and poured soup 
into a third bowl.  She took the pot 
back to the stove, then came and sat 
down on the other end from Lyssa, with 
Jacob in between.  Jacob pulled his 
chair close to his mother, scooting his 
soup toward the end of the table.  He 
smiled at his mother and reached to take 
hold of her hand, which he lifted to his 
lips and kissed.  Ruth returned the 
smile, quizzically, and Jacob released 
her hand.  The children crumbled 
crackers into their soup and began 
eating.  Ruth sipped her soup from her 
spoon, and took little bites of her 
cracker.  She looked thoughtfully at 
Jacob.

"We played on the monkey bars!" said 
Lyssa.

"Really?" said Ruth, "were your friends 
there?"

As the conversation continued between 
Ruth and Lyssa, Jacob kicked off his 
shoes.  He took a spoonful of soup, and 
then bent to hook his finger into his 
sock and pull it off.  Then he pulled 
the other one off. 

"What are you doin' Jacob?" Ruth asked.

"I'm gonna to go barefoot, like you.  
It's warm today."

"Connie was there, said Lyssa. "She's a 
swimmer.  She swims every day," 

Jacob was not far from his mother now, 
just across the corner of the table, but 
he had to feel around with his foot. 

"Where does she swim, at a lake?" his 
mother asked.

He brushed his mother's foot which she 
had tucked up under the front of her 
chair.  Jacob passed the sole of his 
foot over the top of his mother's toes.  
Ruth looked at him but made no comment.  
She took another sip of soup.

"She goes to a city pool sometimes," 
said Lyssa.  

Jacob hooked his toes behind his 
mother's ankle and pulled it toward him, 
in front of him.  He took his other 
foot, ran it under hers and stroked it 
across the sole of her foot.  

Ruth kicked gently at him and pulled her 
foot away, but not all the way back.  
"What are you doing Jacob?"

Just giving you "huggins," he said, and 
hooked her ankle again.  "Huggins" was 
their word of endearment, as in, "Give 
Mama some huggins, Jacob."  It meant she 
wanted a hug.  She had always said it 
when she wanted affection from Jacob.  
Jacob supposed she'd said it when he was 
a baby.  She smiled at him curiously but 
let him play.  He brought his foot back 
and traced his toe along the side.

"How would you kids like to go swimming 
some afternoon, Lyssa?"

"Yes! I'd love that," said Lyssa, and 
babbled on about needing a new swimsuit 
and where she had seen kids swimming in 
a pool.

This time Jacob hooked his mother's foot 
with his ankle, pulled it to him and 
caught it with his hand. He took it into 
his lap.

Ruth looked at him sharply.  He brazenly 
stared back.  She did not pull away. He 
held onto the foot and began to squeeze 
it and fondle it. Ruth continued to 
stare at him, unsmiling.  Jacob knew 
from her look she was making a 
connection and she was not pleased with 
it.  However, she let him caress her 
foot and Jacob got the feeling she 
wanted to see just how far he would go.  
He encircled the foot with his left hand 
and massaged each toe.  Then he ran his 
hand firmly under and inside the arch.  

Ruth then continued her talk with Lyssa 
as if nothing out of the ordinary was 
happening.  How far could he take this?  
As he massaged her foot, he subtly 
pressed it against his penis and it 
began to harden.  In an effort to 
deflect attention from what he was 
really doing, Jacob forced a laugh as  
Lyssa attempted to tell Ruth about 
Selma's cat defecating on Tommy's bed.  
Ruth's heel was now on top of Jacob's 
crotch and he moved the foot so the heel 
came into definitive contact with his 
penis, pressing it down and moving it 
around.  When Jacob looked back to Ruth, 
she was again staring at him, unsmiling 
but she did not move.  Then Jacob ran 
his hand up his mothers leg and when he 
reached the spot just above her knee, 
she pulled her foot away.  

He sat a moment looking at her, his 
heart pounding.  He felt incredibly 
strong and unafraid.  He ventured, "You 
want me to give your other foot some 
huggins, Mama?"

"No Jacob," she forced a smile, "That's 
fine," and she pushed away from the 
table.  "You and Lyssa go on out and 
play for a while."


As they walked toward the trees Lyssa 
said, "Let's play Mumbly Peg again."

Jacob said, "OK but let me show you my 
hideout."

"Your hideout?"

"Yeah, but you've got to cross your 
heart you won't tell anybody about it."

`Cross my heart and hope to die," said 
Lyssa, crossing her heart.

They moved toward the back part of the 
vacant lot to the alley.  There was a 
stand of scrub bushes there, well above 
Jacob's head.  Behind the bushes, about 
ten feet, the grove of trees began and 
went almost to sidewalk.  Then there 
were more bushes.  Jacob said, "Follow 
me, Lyssa."  He squatted now and pushed 
a tangle of small branches aside.  A 
rough kind of tunnel revealed itself.  
About five feet in, the opening twisted 
off at an angle.  He crawled in and 
Lyssa crawled after him.  After 
traveling about three feet, Jacob 
crawled back past Lyssa pushing the 
vegetation aside.  Then he pulled brush 
into the tunnel to close up the 
passageway.  Then he crawled back around 
Lyssa again and pressing on, they 
eventually came to a small enclosure.  
Though the bushes were still thick, 
Jacob could look up from here and see 
quite clearly to the top of the trees.  
The enclosure was bare ground, for Jacob 
had been back here many times.  This was 
where he came to masturbate.

"Gee, this is nice, Jacob!" she said.  

"Yeah, nobody can see us here," he said. 

"Can I see your peter again?" she 
smiled.

"Yeah, I want to try something this 
time," he said. The boy struggled with 
his pants and underwear till finally he 
was naked from the waist down.  He was 
hard, both from thinking about the foot 
play with his mother, and now thinking 
about Lyssa.  She sat directly in front 
of him.

"I want to touch it again," she said. 
She toyed with the tip as she had 
before. 

"Wait a minute, Lyssa."  He raised 
himself to his knees and moved himself 
beside of her  "Like this, Lyssa, hold 
on to it like this." And he grabbed 
himself in the mode of masturbation and 
stroked himself several times.  He'd 
thought about having her suck on it, but 
he frankly did not want her to do it, 
not this little girl. 

Lyssa imitated his strokes, his hand 
over hers.  She smiled as she worked.  
"It feels like it's alive!" she said.  

Jacob liked what she was doing, but 
somehow he didn't feel the excitement he 
wanted. He guided her hand back to his 
penis and set it in motion.  "Now," he 
said,  "in a minute, Lyssa, there is 
gonna be white stuff that comes out of 
my peter.  It's not pee, it's just white 
stuff.  

"Really?"

"Yeah, now do it, keep going!  Keep 
doing it even when the white stuff 
comes!"

Lyssa pounded away, excited, watching 
for the white stuff.  In no time at all, 
Jacob was shooting his sperm out into 
the brush and was making an "ahhh" sound 
in his throat.    She said, "Wow! That's 
swell!"  She took note of Jacob's 
pleasure as she squeezed the last few 
drops of semen from his foreskin and 
said, "Gee, I wish I had a peter.

 "Well, I'm sorry," Jacob said, "Just 
let me rub your thing for you."   She 
pulled down her panties and he did rub, 
but she was not well lubricated and she 
grew uncomfortable. It was like rubbing 
a rubber doll, Jacob thought.  She said 
his fingers were getting "scratchy on my 
virginia."  So they stopped.  Lyssa 
pulled up her panties and Jacob pulled 
on his clothes. They carefully crawled 
out of the hideout, making sure they 
were not seen.   Jacob felt 
disappointed, and he supposed Lyssa did 
too.

Soon it was time for the rest of the 
family to come home.  The children went 
inside and washed up.  They found 
themselves sitting around the table, 
just like the evening before.  This 
time, there was a pork chop for each 
person.  Ruth kept a close eye on Jacob. 

That night, on the rollaway bed, Jacob 
wanted his mother to come to him for 
another visit.  But this time, he was a 
little afraid.  He realized from her 
glare at the table that he should not 
have tried what he had with her feet, 
but he was excited and he felt reckless 
and bold after he had seen Ruth in bed 
with Gifford.  A modern psychologist 
would say he was exerting a kind of 
control over his mother.


She did come to him, but she had to 
awaken him. He had been asleep almost 
two hours.  It was not altogether 
unpleasant, waking under her hand.  She 
was gently washing his face with a warm 
damp wash cloth, sitting beside him on 
the rollaway, her one knee drawn up into 
the bed, her gown hiked up on her 
thighs. "Jacob, are you awake?" she said 
softly.

"Yes Mama."

"Jacob?" she paused, patting him dry 
with a towel.  "Jacob, what am I going 
to do with you?"

Jacob didn't know what to say.

"You saw . . . under the table, didn't 
you?"

"Yes ma'am I did."

"Jacob, you don't even know how things 
should be between a husband and a wife, 
do you?"

"I guess not."

"Husbands and wives are supposed to love 
each other, and have fun together, sort 
of, you know,  play with each other.  
Your daddy and me don't do that 
anymore."

"Were you and Gifford having fun 
together?" he asked.

"Yes, darling.  I'm sorry, but I get 
lonesome for that, even though your 
daddy is around.  He doesn't like to 
have fun anymore.  I get so lonesome I 
want to run away!"

That scared Jacob.  "Please don't Mama, 
don't run away.  I love you."

"I know, darlin'" Ruth said, "and I'm 
not runnin' away, I'm just tellin' you 
how I feel.  I know it's not fair to you 
to be talkin' this way.  A twelve year 
old boy shouldn't have to feel like I'm 
makin' you feel."  She slid her hand 
under his pajama top and began rubbing 
around his heart.  He loved the touch of 
her hand on his chest.  As far as Jacob 
was concerned, she was making him feel 
just fine. 

"Son, are you angry with Mother?"

"No Mama," he said, but the reckless 
feeling of the noon hour returned to 
him.  He reached for her thigh that lay 
next to him on his bed.  His hand came 
to rest on the inner part.  He began to 
rub her there, feeling her in the very 
place that Gifford had felt her beneath 
the table, feeling his penis stir.

"Why are you doin' that Jacob?" she 
asked.

"I love you Mama, I want to love on you.  
You let Gifford do it."  Jacob continued 
to grasp and release the soft pad of her 
inside thigh.  He was very high on her 
leg.

"Yes, I did. I let him, and I shouldn't 
have.  Now, just look at you and your 
Mama."  She shook her head.  He did not 
respond.  "Jacob, Gifford's gonna be 
gone in a few days.  Everything is gonna 
be over and done with him.  You can just 
forget about what you saw under the 
table.  Even I'm gonna to forget it."

Jacob wondered if she would forget about 
Gifford fucking her.  He continued to 
stroke her thigh, occasionally feeling 
his knuckles graze against her panties.  
His hand came to a stop when he suddenly 
felt her hand on his penis. He caught 
his breath sharply.  He had no 
expectation of this at all.  In fact, he 
had thought she would push his hand away 
from her leg, and certainly her panties. 
Actually, he was waiting for it.  If she 
had, he was ready to argue with her 
about it, to press her, try to touch her 
anyway.  Instead, here was his mother's 
hand covering his sex.  He felt her 
increasing the pressure.

"Jacob, I know boys have a hard time at 
your age.  What you've seen me and 
Gifford do hasn't helped.  If I do this 
for you, this once . . ." her hand 
squeezed tighter. He was erect now, all 
at once and completely.  "If I do it for 
you this one time, do you think you can 
forget about this whole thing, just not 
ever bring it up again?"  Her hand was 
moving now.  Gradually he became aware 
his hand was still at her crotch.  He 
could feel her softness through her 
panties with the backs of his fingers.  
He was touching his mother's sex as she 
was touching his. 

Ruth bent low over Jacob as she 
manipulated him.  Her lips brushed his 
cheek and his ear.    "Come on Jacob, do 
it."  He felt a rising sharpening 
sensation he had never felt before.  His 
penis escaped the loosely buttoned fly 
and now his mother's hand was partially 
on his skin as well as pressing through 
the fabric.  He ran his penis through 
her hand so that she was stretching him 
back to the utmost length possible.   He 
had been masturbating for a few months, 
but he'd never dreamed any experience 
could be so marvelous.  "Mama, Oh Mama!  
I love you."  His voice was a husky 
whisper, almost too loud.  His first 
discharge of semen shot up and onto his 
chest and shoulder.   The rest cascaded 
over his mother's hand. 

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, hon, be quiet, now."  
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 lessening the pressure, still 
moving but less and less, until she 
hardly moved at all.  She let the 
minutes pass in silence.  Jacob's heart 
was slowing.  The wonderful pleasure 
that had been a peaked a few minutes 
ago, now seemed to be a gently sloping 
hill, the pleasure rolling out from it, 
out from her hand, down to his thighs 
and feet, up into his belly and chest.  

"Ruth kissed him on his closed eyes.  
Listen, sweetheart, I helped you out 
here.  Now Mama wants you to help her 
out.  Gifford's goin' to war in a few 
days and we may not see him again.  Just 
don't say anything and in a few days 
it'll all be over, OK?" 

"OK, Mama."

"Now Son, go to the bathroom and clean 
up.  I'll lay out some fresh pajama's 
for you here on the bed."  Only then did 
she let go of him.



Part 4

The next morning, Lyssa and Jacob were 
at MacArthur School, playing with Connie 
and Selma.  It was Saturday. The girls 
said they had to be home by 11:30, that 
their folks were dropping them off at 
the theater.  

"What movie are you gonna see?" he asked 
Connie.

"Bambi. It's at the Viking."

"Oh, we've seen that, it's good," said 
Lyssa.

When the girls had gone Jacob and Lyssa 
walked home, very hungry for lunch. 
Again, it was just Ruth and Gifford in 
the house besides the children.  The 
wartime schedule kept the factory 
workers away from home that day.  Jacob 
ached to know if anything had happened 
while he'd been at the playground.  

As they entered into the kitchen, they 
saw Gifford at the table with a mug of 
coffee, smoking a Camel.  Ruth was 
pouring coffee from the pot to a second 
mug on the table.  As she poured the 
coffee, she spoke cheerily, "Hey kids, 
did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," said Lyssa, "but it got boring 
after a while. Can I have a bologna 
sandwich?"

"Sure," said Ruth, and she went to the 
refrigerator and stood gathering the 
lunch meat and a bottle of milk."  

Jacob saw that she had on her blue 
summer house dress that buttoned up the 
front.  It had a low V-neck, which 
revealed more of a separation than a 
straight-line cleavage.  No bra, Jacob 
thought.  Again, her feet were bare.  He 
thought about how he had held one in his 
lap yesterday, pressing down on his 
penis, Ruth letting it happen.  She 
padded back to the table, and went to 
the cabinet for bread and milk glasses.  
She stood close to Jacob while she put 
the lunch meat on the bread.  She spread 
it with French's Mustard and put the top 
slice of bread on it.  As she worked, 
Jacob leaned into her soft hip and 
sniffed. She looked at him and smiled.  
He was disappointed, and he was happy. 
All he could smell was bologna. She put 
the sandwiches on saucers and put them 
down in front of each child.  Jacob took 
a huge bite, larger than manners would 
allow, challenging his mother.  She said 
nothing.  

Lyssa munched daintily on her sandwich.  
She took a sip of milk and said, "Connie 
and Selma are gonna see `Bambi.'"

"That was a good movie," Ruth said.

Gifford had the Toledo Blade folded in 
front of him.  He opened it to the movie 
section.  "I see it's playing at the 
Viking Theater," he said, looking over 
at Ruth.  Ruth held his stare.

"I saw it before," said Lyssa. "It was 
good, Selma and Connie are going today.

"I'd like to see it again," said Jacob.

"Me too!" said Lyssa.

Gifford looked at his watch.  "It starts 
at one o'clock, you could make it if you 
leave now."

"No money," shrugged Jacob. 

"Hey kids, my treat!" said Gifford.   He 
fished in his sock for his money, again 
looking at Ruth.  She looked back, then 
looked at Lyssa and smiled.  He 
extracted two one-dollar bills, was 
about to give them to Jacob and then 
hesitated.  "I mean, if it's OK with 
your mom."  

Ruth shrugged.  He gave the money to 
Jacob.  Then he paused,  "Just a 
minute," he said, and pulled out another 
dollar and handed it to Jacob.  "Get 
yourself some candy for dessert!"

"Wow!" said Lyssa.  "Maybe we can sit by 
Connie and Selma.

 "Wow!" exclaimed Jacob.   "That's a lot 
of money!" It would cost them ten cents 
each to get in.  Next year, Jacob would 
have to pay the adult price of thirty-
five cents.

"You'd better hurry," said his mother. 
"You've got a few blocks to walk."

"Just a couple," said Jacob, but pushed 
the money deep into his pocket and said 
to Lyssa, "Let's go right now or we'll 
miss the beginning."  Jacob and Lyssa 
were soon out the door.  They hurried 
down the sidewalk.  In ten minutes they 
were standing in line for "Bambi."  The 
sun was hot on their shoulders.  Jacob 
stood on his toes, looking back over the 
long line to the box office.  He noticed 
that Connie and Selma were standing 
eight or ten spaces back of them.  An 
idea occurred to him.  He went over it 
in his mind, deciding, then backing out, 
and then deciding again.  He went over 
the plan in his mind.  Then he said, 
"Lyssa, hold my place for me, I want to 
talk to Connie and Selma."  Lyssa turned 
back and jumped up and down when she saw 
her two friends.  

Jacob approached them and said. "Hi 
girls.  Listen, I have to go back home 
and Lyssa wants to stay and see  `Bambi' 
again.  Would you let her sit with you 
and walk her back home?  She's got three 
dollars, so there'll be plenty left over 
for candy."

"Sure!" said Connie.  

Jacob returned to Lyssa.  "Listen Lyssa.  
I don't feel so well.  I have to go 
home.  You think you could stay with 
Connie and Selma and walk home with 
them?  I'll give you the three dollars 
and you girls can buy lots of goodies at 
the candy counter!"  

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Lyssa said, and she 
walked back to where they were waiting 
in line.  Jacob left immediately for 
home.

When he came to the house, he went to 
the side door, as always, and carefully 
tried the knob.  "Shit!" Jacob said 
under his breath.  "It's locked." He 
surprised himself for he hardly ever 
used even mild profanity.  But he was 
extremely frustrated.  His plan was 
falling apart.

He sat on the step where he had wiped 
Lyssa's feet and tried to think of what 
he could do.  He knew the front door was 
always locked.  He considered going back 
to the movie, but he'd given Lyssa all 
the money.  Then he got up and walked 
around the house, hoping for some 
inspiration.  As he rounded the corner, 
he noticed that a basement window was 
ajar.  It was the window right over the 
washing machine.  His mother often 
opened it when she was doing a steamy 
load of laundry.  It was an old prop-
open steel-framed window with a handle 
latch on the inside bottom of the frame.  
He pushed it completely open and 
slithered in, head first.  He steadied 
himself with his hands on the wringer of 
the washing machine, upside down.  His 
feet hung in the opening as the window 
rotated on its pivots and flopped down 
on his ankles.  He worked hard, turning 
one foot sideways and slipping it 
through.  Then holding the window open 
with that foot, he dragged the other one 
through.  His arms were trembling and 
his scraped shins were killing him, but 
he knew he had to do it, so he held on.  
Finally, with a great many silent 
grunts, he dragged his feet past the 
sill and scuffing his shoes along the 
concrete block wall, he let his feet 
fall to the floor.
 
When he got himself inside, he took a 
step toward the furnace and sank down on 
the concrete floor to catch his breath 
and let the quiver in his biceps 
subside.

As his respiration slowed, Jacob heard 
scuffling noises above him.  He 
recognized his mother's voice as it 
radiated through the heat vent. There 
were metal vents fixed in the floor of 
the house, and in the winter they simply 
passed the warmth of the large coal 
furnace up into the house by the rising 
hot air.  These ancient iron grills were 
about a foot long and half a foot wide.  
They were located near the walls in 
every room of the house.  When it was 
dark in the basement, they even filtered 
down a faint light from above.  Jacob 
positioned himself just below, the 
bedroom where Gifford and his mother 
were.  He was able to see the side of 
the bed, up toward its head, close to 
the pillows.  Periodically, the bed 
would bounce and the bedspread would 
jerk and tremble.  Then his mother's 
voice came down to him, husky muffled 
and strange, "Fuck me, Gifford!  Fuck 
me!" but Jacob heard every word.  

"I'm fuckin' baby, I'm fuckin'!" 
Gifford's intermittent grunts were a 
counterpoint to his mother's, "Oh-Oh-
Oh!" 

Then came a pause.  "Hey baby, suck me 
off!" Gifford demanded.

"Mmmm, that's a thought!" Ruth said, and 
the bed squeaked as positions were 
changed.

In spite of a vague sense of resentment, 
Jacob began to harden. He visualized 
what he had seen yesterday.  We wanted 
to be in Gifford's place.  Minute's 
passed and the muffled sounds of oral 
sex filtered down to Jacob. 

"OK baby, I don't want to come yet, let 
me back into that pussy," Gifford said.

"First, I want you to do me a favor, 
OK?"

"Sure baby, what is it?" Gifford said.

"I want you to do for me what I did for 
you," Ruth said.

"What's is this, anyway?" Gifford asked, 
obviously displeased.

"I've never had it that way.  I mean, 
I've read about it, and I want to try 
it.  You know what they say, sweetheart, 
`turn-about is fair play.'"

Down below, Jacob was picturing the act 
in his head. The idea of the act itself 
was stunning.  The fact that his mother 
had suggested it completely overwhelmed 
him, and not in an unpleasant way.  

Then came Gifford's hard voice.  "You 
ever have anybody suck your pussy, 
Ruth?" 

His mother's voice sounded defensive and 
weak. "No, but I've heard about it.  And 
since I did it for you, I thought you'd 
do it for me."

"Hell, I will!" he said.  "I ain't 
puttin' my mouth on no fuckin' pussy."

"But Gifford," she said, in a pleading 
tone.

"Shit no!" he said.

"I'm clean, Darlin'."

"Ruth, I said `No!'"

"OK, OK, I'm sorry," she said.  "Here, 
I'll just do you."

There was then silence, except for a few 
indistinguishable sounds.  Minutes went 
by.  Jacob puzzled at the stillness.  He 
jumped when Gifford broke in loudly, 
"Fuck it all, Ruth!   See what you done?  
You spoiled it!  Damn it, Ruth, you 
fucked it up!"

"How?" Ruth said, she sounded as if she 
was ready to burst into tears.

"I can't get it up thinkin' about 
gaggin' on your fuckin' pussy! Just get 
the hell outta here!"

Jacob heard his mother sob, and saw her 
shadow flit by overhead. He heard her 
bare feet pad swiftly across the floor.  
Jacob felt like he had been slapped.  He 
considered the cutting words Gifford had 
used with his mother.  In fact, he was 
still muttering all obscenities right 
now.  Who did Gifford think he was to 
talk that way to his mother?  Jacob had 
never heard his father speak to her in 
such a way.  Why did his mother have 
anything at all to do with Gifford?  His 
resentment rose, but what could he do?  
He was just a kid.  Yet he couldn't even 
be a kid, because a kid could tell his 
father.  Jacob stood up and began pacing 
back and forth in front of the furnace.  
There was an old stuffed mow-hair chair 
sitting against the concrete block wall 
of the basement.  He walked over to it, 
and fell, rather than sat, into it.  He 
slid down so that the lower two-thirds 
of his back was on the chair-bottom and 
his shoulders were propped against the 
chair-back.  His heart was beating very 
fast and very hard.  He had never been 
so angry in all his life.  His eyes were 
shut tight.

 There was more movement and garbled 
conversation above him.  He wondered 
what was happening.  He shut his eyes, 
and when he did, a mental picture of 
Gifford's heavy angry face loomed before 
him.  He tried to force the vision out 
of his head, but it kept returning.  He 
didn't know how many minutes had passed, 
but he knew he was fighting the urge to 
run. The frustration was smothering him.  
Yet, there was nothing he could do but 
to sit there. 

Suddenly, "Ow! Gifford!" It was his 
mother's voice from above, a clear 
mixture of fear and anger. 

Jacob jumped to his feet and rushed to 
the stairway.  On his way he noticed a 
broken section of a wooden handrail 
leaning against the stairs.  Jacob 
grabbed it and bounded up the steps two 
at a time.  He burst into the kitchen 
and headed for the hallway.  The light 
from the bedroom shone on the hallway 
floor.  He saw shadows moving there, and 
heard his mother crying.  He rounded the 
corner and entered the bedroom.  Ruth 
was lying back on the bed, supporting 
herself on one elbow and rubbing her 
shoulder.  She wore her chenille robe, 
but it was gaped open, revealing her 
naked legs and pelvic area.  Her face 
was transfixed in fright as Gifford 
stood over her with his feet apart and 
his fists doubled.  He was dressed in a 
tee shirt and his uniform pants.  Jacob 
didn't give it a moment's thought, but 
swung the hand-rail like it was a 
baseball bat, and hit Gifford across the 
back of the head. Gifford was lucky 
because his heavy shoulders took some of 
the blow, but he staggered to the side 
and sank to the floor.  

"I'm gonna kill you Gifford!" Jacob 
shouted.  He drew back the rail for 
another swing.  

"Jacob!  No!  No Son!"  Ruth was on her 
feet now.  Her hands at her cheeks, 
pleading with Jacob.  

Gifford tried to get up, but he fell 
back to the floor.  

"No Jacob, don't hit him."  She was 
crying.  "I think he'll go now, I think 
he's gonna go!"

"Gifford, get outta here!" he said.  
"Take your f-fuckin' duffel bag and get 
the h-hell outta here!"  Jacob was 
yelling and crying at the same time.  He 
looked into the red face of the twenty-
year old sailor and saw fear, a raw 
fear.  Years later as Jacob considered 
the incident, he knew that it must have 
been more than the club that Gifford was 
frightened of.   Gifford was afraid of 
facing not only Jacob but also Whit, and 
even his own sister and her husband.  He 
pulled himself back to his feet, grabbed 
his shirt, picked up his duffel and 
stumbled out the bedroom door.  When 
Jacob heard the side door slam, he 
dropped the rail to the floor and began 
to cry. 

Ruth came over to him and tried to take 
him by the shoulders and hug him, but at 
that moment he could not take it.  He 
shook her off and scrambled to the 
living room.  He threw himself on the 
couch and continued to cry.  When he 
could cry no more, he simply lay there, 
feeling as if he were sinking down into 
the couch, deeper and deeper.  Then he 
fell asleep.  He awoke sometime later, 
feeling his mother's hand on his back, 
rubbing gently.  "Are you all right 
Jacob?"

Jacob felt weak, and he didn't know 
whether he could find his voice or not.  
He simply turned over and looked up into 
his mother's eyes.  Her hair had been 
combed, her face washed and her robe 
drawn snugly around her and tied.  Jacob 
felt a great wave of love pass over him.  
Ruth was the most beautiful creature in 
the entire world to him.  He smiled 
weakly.  

When he smiled, his mother's lovely face 
lit up and she smiled back.  "Thank you 
darlin'," she said.  "You were very 
brave."

"Did he hit you?"

"No, he just pushed me down on the bed, 
but he was gettin' ready to.  You saved 
me."

Jacob took a deep breath and found 
himself relaxed.  He crossed his forearm 
over his eyes and lay still for a 
moment.  He wanted his mother's touch.  
"Rub my chest, Mama," Jacob said.  


He felt her hand go under his shirt and 
begin its warm soft circle around his 
heart.  He took several long deep 
breaths.

"Jacob?" Ruth said.

"Yes, Mama."

"Honey, did you see what Gifford and I 
were doin' a while ago?"

"I did yesterday," he said, "and I heard 
you today."

"Yesterday?"  She thought a moment.  "Oh 
Lord, Jacob, you won't love your old 
mother anymore, will you?"

"You're not old, Mama.  You know I love 
you."

"Jacob?  Would you not. I mean, you 
won't." she stammered.

Jacob decided he would not respond.

"Oh Jacob . . ." she slumped where she 
sat.  Tears poured from her eyes.  She 
wept, but only in a soft whisper.  

Jacob put his hand on her breast.  He 
squeezed gently.  "I want to rub your 
chest too, Mama."

Ruth wept a moment longer, then looked 
at him a while.  She looked at his hand, 
still on her breast.  Then she put her 
hand over his and guided it inside her 
robe, spreading the lapels.  He passed 
his hand over her breasts and she 
returned her hand to his chest.  He felt 
so very peaceful, so very relaxed at 
this moment.  He felt his penis tighten 
and begin to grow as they caressed each 
other's chest.

"Your heart is beatin' fast darlin'," 
she said.

He moved his hand over her left breast 
and felt.  "Yours is too." he said, and 
smiled.  

"You used to suck on those when you were 
a baby, Jacob."  

"I want to suck on them again, Mama."

"Honey, it wouldn't be right for you to 
do that now.  Your twelve years old."

"Mama, I want to."  His statement of 
fact carried no connotation of request.  
Neither was it a demand, but it's sound 
carried a kind of assurance, a kind of 
confidence. 

"Oh Baby, I don't think we should," but 
at the same time she reached around his 
shoulders and lifted him, laying the 
side of his face on her bare cleavage 
between the spread lapels of her robe.  
He closed his eyes and absorbed what 
little nakedness she would give him.  
She patted the other side of his face 
and kissed the top of his head.  He 
tried to open his eyes, but the one 
against her breasts did not open.  
Because of her robe, the other eye's 
vision was distorted.   Dimly, he saw 
her nipple, dark and erect, seemingly 
waiting for him.  He moved toward it, 
spreading open her robe further with the 
side of his head.  He expected 
resistance, but it never came.  Because 
his face was flat against her, he 
mouthed the nipple with the side of his 
lips.  She pressed his head, not 
allowing him to turn, yet letting him 
taste the nipple.  He felt the wondrous 
softness of her naked breast against his 
chin and cheek.  He felt the sharp rise 
and fall of her chest as she hugged him, 
as if she were sobbing.

Then she relented.  "Oh baby," she 
crooned,  "Come sit on Mama's lap."  She 
shifted to accommodate him, and he lay 
back in the crook of her arm, she cupped 
her breast and fed it into his mouth 
like a nursing mother would do to her 
baby.  He brought his lips to her 
nipple.  He sucked gently for a long 
while, reaching up and fondling the 
other breast.

"That's right, sweetheart, go easy, I 
don't have milk for you, I'm sorry, but 
I've got lots of love."  She rocked him 
as he sucked.

After a while he pulled away and fondled 
both breasts.  He gazed at the 
glistening nipple where his mouth had 
been.  

"Honey," Ruth said, "Lyssa is outdoors 
playing, and I told her I'd call her in 
a little while.  She said you weren't 
feeling good at the movie and you'd 
decided to come home.  I ought to call 
her in now"

"Wait Mama," he said, moving her hand 
away.  Mama, I want to love you."

"I know you do darling.  You proved 
that, didn't you?  Now listen."

"No Mama.  Please!"  He came up on his 
knees on the couch.  He took hold of the 
lapels of her robe and spread it wide.  
She did not resist, but looked at him 
very hard.  He glanced at her eyes, but 
continued.  Now he pulled the robe off 
her shoulders and pressed it down to the 
waist.  Only her forearms were in the 
sleeves.  He took both breasts in his 
hands and fondled them.    

"What are you smiling at?" she asked. He 
had been unaware he was smiling.

He looked up to see an amused grin on 
her own face.  "I saw you once before 
while you were dressing," he said.

"I know, but you were nice then, and you 
turned around and left.  Why aren't you 
so nice now?"

"Lay down, Mama.

"Jacob!"

"I want to see you Mama."

His mother sat there, with her curly 
shoulder-length hair, her big curl on 
the top of her head, her torso bare to 
the waist.  Her expression was 
uncertain, yet, there was a look on her 
face just short of a smile.  

After another hesitation, she pivoted 
around and behind Jacob.  Then she lay 
supine on the couch.  Her head was 
turned toward him at an angle.  She 
looked into his eyes.  The robe was 
still cinched at her waist.  He slid his 
fingers under the belt and pulled it 
loose.  He spread the skirts of her robe 
and looked down on her dark public hair.  
Her legs were together.
 
"I want to look at your pussy," He said, 
standing.

"Jacob!"

"I want to see it.  I don't know what a 
woman looks like." 

She gazed at him, but he didn't turn 
away.  She pulled her knees up and 
spread them just a little.  He moved to 
her feet and sat looking in.  

"Oh Mama, you're so pretty," he said.  
She didn't respond.  Her face was still 
unsure.

"I want to touch it Mama."

She said nothing.  She shook her head 
from side to side. She took a deep 
breath, then spread her ankles as well 
as her knees.  Finally she said, "Touch 
it then."

He moved his hand tentatively to her. On 
first contact, she jumped, then tensed.   
Jacob moved his fingers through the hair 
in a light scratching motion, downward. 
He did it again, and felt his mother 
relax.  

He came closer, and looked, angling his 
head to the side, looking for that 
vertical mouth he had seen on Lyssa.  
All he could see among the hairs were 
wrinkled tissues of skin. They lay 
loosely on top of and at odd angles to 
themselves.   He moved his finger across 
her vulva and felt her tense again.  


He moved in, quite close, poking his 
finger into the softness, finding it 
wonderfully wet.  He expected his finger 
to slip in, but he was too high.  When 
he probed the membrane between the lips, 
he had no way of knowing he was 
stimulating her most sensitive organ.  
He was looking for the place from which 
he had come,  the dark mysterious 
tunnel.  

"Where.?" he asked, but he didn't know 
how to say it.  

"Just a minute," she said.  She brought 
her knees almost flat and opened very 
wide.  She brought both hands to her 
vulva and placed two fingers on either 
side of her labia and then began to 
"walk" the tissues open under her 
fingers.  Finally, Jacob was peering 
into the wet pink softness of her 
vagina.  One of her fingers went high 
above her opening and just where the 
tissues joined at the top.  Spreading 
more he saw the little protrusion 
glistening beneath her finger.  He 
brought his own finger to her vagina and 
inserted it, delighted with the 
welcoming warmth and wetness.  "You came 
from there, Jacob," she said.  He 
slipped another finger inside and began 
a slow in and out movement.  "Ohhhhh," 
she sighed, closing her eyes.  He 
continued that for a while.  

Then he stopped.  "Mama, let me kiss you 
there." 

"Oh no Jacob, we can't do that."

"Please Mama, I want it."

"Jacob, Jacob,' she shut her eyes and 
shook her head.  "Just look at us, a 
mother and her little boy.  Honey we 
can't."

He moved in anyway, very quickly and put 
his mouth on her vagina.  She clamped 
her legs around his head, which had the 
effect of holding him right where he 
intended to be.  He licked around the 
opening and she clamped tighter.  
"Jacob!"

He flicked out his tongue and took in 
the strong leafy taste of her.  She 
loosened d the grip of her thighs and he 
plunged his tongue into her as far as he 
could.  It was utterly strange to him.  
His nose was against the slick wet 
tissue above her vagina and he wallowed 
blindly in her pussy, sucking and 
rooting like she had done to Gifford's 
asshole, not knowing what else to do. 
She moaned softly and let him suck, 
humping his face slightly.  

He lost the tunnel and licked again, 
probing for it frantically.  His clumsy 
explorations drove her to a wild fervor.  
She jerked her vulva against his mouth, 
held it there and then crumpled, as if 
she had been broken.  She exhaled the 
words, "Yes. Yes, darling.  Oh God.  Oh 
God, Jacob."  She sobbed. Her hands 
caressed his face.

He stopped and looked up at her.  She 
was weeping, yet a kind of smile was on 
her lips.  Jacob said, "I know Gifford 
wouldn't do it, Mama, but I love you and 
I wanted to do it for you."

"Come up here honey," she said.  She 
motioned with her fingertips.  He move 
up on top of her and lay there, his head 
nestled into her neck.  After a while, 
she rolled to the side and let him slide 
away.  "Honey, we've got to get dressed 
and call Lyssa in.  

"Wait a minute Mama, wait a minute!" he 
said.  

"Jacob, this has got to stop!" she said.

"But Mama, `turn-about is fair play.'"  


THE END


<1st attachment end>


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