The widowed mother of forty-six and her twenty-eight-year-old married daughter had also gone round and around about the job Becky had found for herself. Becky had won that argument though, and against her mother's wishes had gone to work as a cocktail waitress in what Eunice referred to as "that den of iniquity". Had Eunice known that her stunningly beautiful daughter was not only a cocktail waitress but a topless one, at that, she would've had a fit. But Becky, who'd always had the morals of an alley cat despite her proper upbringing, had spared her uptight mother the news that her new job required her to nightly display her magnificent knockers for the voyeuristic benefit of the hottest night spot in town's paying customers.
Now Eunice had another bone to pick with her physically perfect albeit morally deficient daughter. Becky was a grown woman with a child of her own, but she was an only child and Eunice – who dreaded the onset of menopause and literally hated the prospect of growing old – refused to face the facts of life. The way she'd handled widowhood (rarely going out, not bothering to make new friends, refusing to even consider taking a job – her dead husband had left her reasonably financially secure) proved this.
In short, Eunice had, instead of attempting to make a new life for herself, drawn into her shell more and more during the three years since her husband's death and, although she didn't realize it, she was dangerously close to becoming a borderline schizoid.
And so, actually believing the world was the way she'd always been taught – beginning with Sunday School as a small child of the strict, depression-racked thirties – to view it, Eunice was more than a little put out with her daughter's current misbehavior, as she saw it. Becky had said she would probably be filing for divorce, but she hadn't filed yet and, to Eunice's way of thinking, no decent young woman would be sneaking around with one man while she was still wedded to another.
Her own state of sensual arousal notwithstanding, as Eunice stood there nude in the privacy of her darkened bedroom, straining her ears to listen to the sounds of kissing mingled with male and female murmurings drifting back from the living room of her comfortable but modest home, anger welled up inside her.
Momentarily forgetting the phallic-shaped vibrator, Eunice indignantly snatched up her robe and put it on. She had no intention of permitting her daughter to carry on in this sinful way, not under her roof, at any rate!
You'd think Becky would have more respect for her father's memory! Eunice huffed silently.
After she'd buttoned her robe clear up to her neck, Eunice stuck out her slightly double chin and, with a self-righteous expression of stern disapproval firming up her middle-aged cheeks, she padded barefoot from her room. Wanting to catch them in some sort of illicit embrace so she would be positively justified in upbraiding her daughter and ordering the man, whoever he was, out of her house, Eunice tiptoed up the hall. Just as she was about to stick her head around the corner and peer stealthily into the living room, she heard the metallic whine of a zipper and her daughter's breathy voice, saying: "Oh, honey, yes! Take it out! Your cock! Let me feel it!"
A gotcha smile played tightly over Eunice's pious visage. Although she deplored the vulgarity of the mental image which flashed into her mind, she decided to wait until she could catch Becky red-handed in the disgusting act of fondling a penis not lawfully belonging to her.
Becky's cautiously modulated voice quavered with desire as it wafted into the alert ears of her lurking mother: "It's hard as a rock, and so big, too! You're really hung! Damn, Jack, a pole like that could rupture a girl!"
There was a masculine chuckle, followed by, "I don't get many complaints about it being too small."
"I shouldn't think you ever would. Mmmm! Does it feel good! I haven't had any for two whole weeks, but you're gonna remedy that, aren't you, honey?"
"Change your mind, did you? You want it now, do you?"
"I'll say!" Becky sighed, her gold-flecked brown eyes turning smoky as she gazed longingly at the oversized phallus which her femininely graceful hand was busy exploring. "I don't know if I can take it all, though! How long is this womb-jammer anyway?"
"Take a guess, sugar," he taunted, the powerful fingers of his hamlike hand burying themselves in the lustrous tresses of her naturally curly but now disheveled, dark-blonde hair. "Guess it within a half inch and you win the right to kiss it."
"Promises, promises," Becky laughed. Then she grasped his rod and tugged it down at an angle, absently licking her full, sensuous lips as her appreciative eyes estimated its length. "Nine inches," she breathed. "At least that. Do I win the prize?"
"Closer to eight," Jack told her. "But with lips like those, you get to kiss it anyway."
Eunice could hardly believe her ringing ears. She and her dearly departed husband had never carried on in such a shocking manner. Considering the sex act to be the holy communion of their love for one another, they'd always engaged in both foreplay and intercourse in virtual silence except for an occasional, but heartfelt, "I love you," and a few whispered endearments that turned to the inevitable tiny outcries of ecstasy when one or both of them reached fulfillment.
Understandably, Eunice was stunned by the lewdness of her daughter's flippantly indecent remarks. Only instead of becoming more outraged, as she felt she should, Eunice's reaction was precisely the opposite.
To her utter dismay, the sex-starved forty-six-year-old woman, who'd always thought of herself as a proper wife and mother, suddenly found herself hanging on every smutty utterance of the lurid conversation between her misbehaving daughter and the horny man whose identity remained a mystery to her.
Try as she did, Eunice simply couldn't force herself to storm into the living room and lay into them. The cocksureness of her convictions drained from her and, along with it, the courage to complete her self-appointed task.
Angry at herself now for her timidity, Eunice decided she'd better tuck tail and tiptoe back to her room before she suffered the embarrassment of being discovered eavesdropping on them. That was when she learned, to her bewilderment, that she couldn't move. She nearly screamed out loud. It was as if her bare feet had immobilized her by sending roots down into the carpet. There she stood, barely out of their sight in the hallway, reeling with frustration at her apparent inability to tear herself from the spot.
"That's the girl. You know you've got to peel my banana to get at the best part of it, don't you?" Eunice heard the uncouth man saying and, although her feet refused to budge, the rest of her didn't.
All at once her legs became too weak to support the weight of her pudgy torso. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. In the nick of time, she leaned against the wall to keep from falling. Inadvertently her head jutted forward and, when all motion had ceased, her right eye was looking at the wall on which her cheek rested, while her left eye – the one with perfect vision – stared around the corner and into the offset area of the living room, where Becky and a strapping young man Eunice didn't know were sitting.
With a sense of horrified fascination, Eunice watched as the graceful hand of her lovely daughter ruttishly tugged down on the thick shaft of the stranger's huge erection. When her hand stopped at the midpoint of his organ, his elastic foreskin had been drawn back all the way, leaving exposed the awesome sight of his swollen, purplish-hued glans penis.