If she had not been so pretty, she might've finally integrated her sensitive romantic soul with her physical body. Men never gave her a chance. Her slim, elegant figure combined with that sexy, lovely face, ethereal and romantic, topped by her luscious swirl of butter-blonde hair, made her a target from the first. It seemed to her that men wanted to use her beauty, absorb it into themselves and leave behind the sodden lump of her personality. They cared only for her curving legs and thighs, her cute behind, her breasts, her spectacular face. They didn't care about her.
At first she evaded and then avoided sex, becoming skillful in holding lovers with mere petting long past their tolerance with other women. Sooner or later they all left her, of course. To her relief. But that was not enough either. And so she married and went through the agony of married sex, fighting off the degeneracy of oral copulation and even once an attempt by her husband to pierce her rectum with his penis. She had one child and fought her husband down to occasional normal sex in the missionary position. He finally left her for his secretary.
Her divorced years were better. She still had her looks and men pursued her, but when they became a problem she could turn them over to her good friend, May. At the same time she worked on May to control May's animal baseness and most of the time succeeded. Between May and her son, now living with her, life was satisfactory, if not exciting.
And now the flood and the ultimate horror of May's animalism in perverting her son. Once again her whole life pattern was upset and once again it was all due to her old enemy-sex.
Could she return to her apartment, living with her son, after what she'd seen him do? Could she still enjoy her friendship with May after what she'd seen? No! Not even if they survived this flood. A lifelong anger at her lot seized her, so powerful it made her tremble. Her son and her best friend had-fucked!-right under her nose. They would do it again, if the flood let them. Dammit, no, no, no.
She went downstairs. May slept under a blanket on the sofa, a satisfied pig, her guts filled with male semen. Soon she'd awake and seek more dirty sex against the terrors of the night, possibly to die in degenerate debauchery. Possibly impregnated with her own son's juices!
Don sat hunched in a chair, avoiding her look. Her handsome son, taken away from her by this vicious woman! She swept past him into the kitchen. She found a carving knife. Heart thudding in her chest she went back to the sofa and stood above the sleeping May.
"I'm not going to let May get by with it!" she shouted in breaking anger. "She'll try it again!"
She jerked back the blanket, exposing May's breasts and lifted the knife that glittered in the firelight.
She hesitated just a second. That was long enough for Don to cry out in horror and jump on her behind, aborting the downward swing of the knife. At that it grazed his leg and he howled in shock and anger.
"Mom, for Christ's sake!"
May slept on in unconcerned languor, unaware…
Don lifted her from the floor as he jerked the knife away from her. She was gone into hysteria, shouting and sobbing senseless things about "pigs", "sex", and her life "destroyed".
Still filled with guilt and now further upset by her murderous outburst, Don did his own brand of wild shouting as he carried the struggling woman upstairs and flung her on the bed.
"NOW YOU WANT TO RAPE ME. YOU'RE OWN MOTHER!" she screamed and subsided into sobs a silken, gleaming creature reduced to tears of angry passion.
He really let her have it then, lashing her verbally. "You're totally screwed up on the subject of sex, Alice. You ruined my marriage with Joanie, telling me she was oversexed, telling me she had perverted ideas, telling me that if I didn't satisfy her lusts she'd run to other men."
"She did! She did!"
"Only because I listened to you. Only because I listened to your crap about the evils of sex all my life. Actually I like sex, even after all you pumped into me."
"Your father's alley cat habits. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's all men think about," she moaned, still twisting in her anger.
"Well, listen to me, Mom. If we get out of this flood mess, I'm going on my own way. I'm sick of your mothering me. People call me "Momma's boy."
"May did this. May turned you against me. I won't let her do it!"
"I'll tell you something, you blonde bitch. Yes, that's what you are! I've been attracted to May for a long, long time. And she likes me. You've tried to kill the healthy thing in her, too, but it won't work any more. So she's forty and I'm twenty-one. If I want to make love to her, I will."
"I'll kill her!"
Mother and son glared at each other. Usually in one of these battles Don backed down. But now the young man had a luminous glitter in his eyes that reminded her of her ex-husband when he was pushed too far.
"Not tonight, you won't kill her!" Don began to rummage in May's bureau.
"You can't stop me!" Then, genuinely frightened of him now-"What are you doing?"
"This!"
He was on top of her, on the bed. He had two of May's knit scarves. While she struggled helpless against his strength, in humiliation and fear, he tied her wrists to the bed so that she was pinned there. She could kick her legs and twist but with her arms bound above her head she was a prisoner on the bed.
"Oh, you bastard! You've tied me up so you can go downstairs and fuck your old woman lover!" she wept.
"That's all you think about, Alice. Sex, sex, sex."
"Go ahead, Don. Do her. And then do me. I can't protect myself. I'm sorry you were ever born. You're not my son! The sight of you sickens me."
Don got a strange expression on his face. "Yes, I am a degenerate. There you are, helpless on the bed. And me with a wild appetite. You're pretty sexy, Alice, you know that? Always dressed just so, hair just so, makeup just right. And you can't call the cops on me tonight."
He sat on the bed and squeezed her shapely thigh. "Rich girl-meat, Alice. A helluva package."
Alice thought she would die as her son felt up her thigh.
"Don, dammit now, stop!"
He put his hand on her flat belly, grinning. "I know your secret, Alice. Dear mother. You wear sexy satin panties that no man ever sees. Always dressed for the sex that never comes, huh? Well, your degenerate son can change that."
His hand went down to her pelvic shelf. It found her cunt.
"Don, for God's sake." She twisted away, horrified. He laughed and pinioned her with one arm. With his other hand he boldly rubbed her cunt.
"Yes, Mom, I've fought it all these years. Listened to you. Tried to suppress my evil nature. But lust will out, won't it?" Strong fingers forced her cunt lips through her pants and panties and rode into her tender, pink tissues.
"Oh, oh, De-Don!" she gasped.
"So you've got a cunt. And a clitoris, too. And you're jealous that May had all the fun. Well, the least I can do is jack you off, Alice, so you can have a few kicks."
She fought and twisted and yelled at him as he took down her pants, but it was no use. This son of hers had gone crazy. Deep, luscious sex thrills ran up her belly, scaring her even as they felt good.
"Oh, now, Don, I can't have this," she begged, hysteria gone now. He had her pants way down and his hand was hot on her belly and cunt while his longest finger drove her satin panties inside and he stroked several inches inside her tunnel. She began to make cunt honey for him, warm oils to wet his finger and her panties.
"Feels great. You've got a tight, sexy cunt."
"Don!" she wailed. She had to lift her loins for the good feeling and give unlady-like grunts of pleasure as that maddening finger thrilled her clitoris. "Ah-eh. Oh, no, no."
"Let's see you get it off, dear mother. I'll bet you haven't come in years."