You Can't Go Home Again

"Please come up to my room a while? We're both lonely and I want to do something for you."

"It's a lovely offer, but I can't."

He's ashamed and guilty! Gotcha, you old fart. She let the robe open.

"I wore this just for you," she said, which was true as far as it went. "I want to, we can meet at night before bedtime!" Aside from the belt, hose, and the heels, there was nothing to her outfit but warm blonde girl. "Please say you will, don't make me ashamed for asking."

"You're beautiful, and I'm just a sad old man. You don't have to thank me, Bev."

" At least once more? Please, Gil."

When he didn't answer, she looked alarmed and closed the robe. "I want to." But he froze.

She let her sad face argue with him a second or two, then fled for her room, gathering the robe around her and breaking into tears. "Oh, I've ruined everything! You hate me now! I'll have to move out again..."

No problem. He came up to comfort and stayed to fuck.

The next two weeks, like the leading edge of any sexual relationship, he couldn't get enough of her. She sucked him on the stairs, he bent her over the kitchen table, they took showers together, they were insatiable.

But along with the load of guilt he was taking on was a constant dosing with drugs. His wife began to go downhill, too. She prepared all the meals, it was easy. Before her husband Jaime had been convicted, back in Ohio, she had done much of the stealing of prescription drugs for him.

By the end of March she was in charge of everything. Her patient was hardly able to totter to the bathroom, and she slept all the time. Gil was being led around by his guilt and her blonde pussy as if he had a ring through his nose. He was just too doped up to think his way out of it.

The family savings began to fall into her spendthrift little hands. Lots and lots of lovely, lovely money.

Then Don had come back to Maine for the summer.

_______________________________________

Beverly's fingers rolled her nipples. Her high heeled patent leathers were hooked onto Gil's shoulders, and his mouth was at work. Languidly she opened her eyes, and there at the door stood Don, watching them. She almost choked.

"Get out!"

The crewcut head jerked up, and Gil's tongue came out of her ass. Don skedaddled. She shoved with both legs, digging into the spaces behind Gil's collarbones; he yelped and fell backward with a crash.

"It's your kid!" she told him. "What crap! Shut the door next time, you moron!" She stood and shook out her robe. Don's footsteps receded around the corner and down.

Gil checked the empty doorway, but his belly seemed to drop and his sphincter pull up. He had never feared his son, but when Beverly was upset, it was bad. He was naked and began to root around on the floor and the furniture for some trousers to throw on.

Beverly stepped across his legs and strode for the door and then away after his son, in black seamed stockings and the flimsy robe, heels clumping on carpet and then clicking on the bare hardwood of the hallway.

"Don! Hold up!" Downstairs! Christ, I can't let the old lady see me dressed like this! Penny wasn't stupid, just sick and drugged up. People only wear stockings like that for one reason; the only question would be which was fucking her, the son or the husband. "God dammit!" she said, cinching the robe.

She stopped, quivering with rage and gnawed by panic. If anyone started in investigating the events in this house, she would be up the creek! Slippers! She reached into the robe and jerked both garters up, pushed down a stocking and kicked the shoes off.

Gil was zipping his slacks and belting up, still naked to the waist, and barefoot. The other stocking went and she dug her mules out of the closet. "Get presentable! He went downstairs. And just go along with me, we can't afford to let him talk to anyone, understand?"

"You have a plan?"

"Not yet, but whatever it is, just agree to it! It's too important!" She pulled panties on, the garters flew and she drove her feet into the mules.

"Okay, I'll be down as quick as I can..."

"Assholes! I really hate assholes." Beverly was already thinking how long until breakfast. She could give Don the digitalis if she could figure a way to cover it. No. Narcotics or something. No bodies. But there's all night first! What the hell am I going to do?? She flapped down the stairs in the mules, holding the robe shut as the air lifted it. C'mon, Bev, think!

Don had heard her tell him to hold up, but he'd been faced with his father's vast pimpled ass, he'd seen his fat neck drive his head in circles in Beverly's crotch. He wasn't going back up there right now.

He slowed in the front hall once he was downstairs, and came into his mother's presence without haste. She looked really bad; she was asleep again.

Don himself couldn't seem to drive a thought in a straight line these days. He did figure that being in earshot of his mother might make Beverly hesitate to speak. He still had no plan what to do with the information he'd just acquired.

Leaning his head on his forearm, he sat and looked at his dying mother's face with the hissing green plastic mask on it. The sensuous images, stockings and tits, and the wide pale ass rolled in his consciousness, spiked with an awareness that Beverly was angry with him. He also imagined he had power somehow, but the reason was elusive.

He heard the woman in the hall. "Don, please, I need to talk with you."

"Right now?"

What a question! she exulted, He's spaced right out. This might not be hard. "Please. It won't take long."

"I'll wait for Mom to be able to hear it, I think."

"I'm sorry I yelled, I was startled. I didn't mean to sound angry."

"Where are the stockings?"

"What?"

"The black stockings, and the high heels?"

"Really, Don! If you want to talk, come upstairs. Your mother's asleep."

"Uh-uh. Dad's up there-- oh, hi, Dad."

"Don, please try to understand," his father said.

"Gil, please be quiet. Your father's down here now, come on up," she went on.

"Oh, I understand. I understand just fine!" But he'd stood up and he was walking toward the stairs. The same direction as his father.

"Beverly was unhappy, I was unhappy," his father said.

"Gil! Be quiet!"

"Ya, right! She looked pretty happy--"

"Don! Your mother is sleeping! Go upstairs, we can talk there! Gil, I said be quiet! Now, look, Gil. I have to talk to Don, and you know what about! Please wait here, watch television or something, okay? No, be quiet, Gil, I'll talk to him, it will all work out. Just let me handle it. Watch the TV. We'll be a while. Go on, Don, I'm coming."

She worked them past each other and didn't let them talk, then followed the boy up and steered him into her room. She hadn't felt so much like a shepherd dog with only one doped-up man to manage. The whole thing rattled her. She really wasn't some kind of mastermind; she felt overwhelmed.

Downstairs, the television went on. Gil looked woebegone, but he began flipping through the channels and his face smoothed out. Penny slept on, her mask hissing.

"Now, then, Don--"

"Dad comes up here before he goes to bed, every night," Don cut in.

She said nothing.

"You fuck him." She still was silent. "In stockings."

"What do you think about that?" Therapeutic Communication, they call that in the nursing courses. How does that make you feel? I hear you saying you resent that. It makes the patient define the problem.

"He's supposed to have Mom. It's not right."

"Penny has to breathe oh-two, three to six liters. She can't lie down long, she sleeps sitting up--"

"That doesn't matter, or it makes it worse! And you know it!"

"Your father knows it, too, Don, he feels awful about it, but we can't tell her, it might kill her, sick as she is! Can't you see that?"

"I ought to talk to the state and have them pull your license, the whole arrangement is screwy!"

He's not spacey enough by a long chalk, she said to herself. "Look, Don, what do you want? The TR?"

"What's the TR got to do--" "I'll sign the TR3 over to you, you'll own it free and clear. But you have to shut up about this."

"You have it paid for? It's an antique, it's beautiful! White kid leather top and seats--! It musta cost over a hundred thousand!"

Way over. "Oh yes. No payments. I own it, I can give it to you."

"And you have to stop fucking Dad."

"And then you'll shut up about it, never tell your mother or anyone?" Sorry, Junior, he's got the money. I'll still fuck Dad. Less often, thank God.

"And you have to fuck me instead, every night before bed, in stockings."

"Jesus." This is too bizarre.

"Otherwise, I go to the state licensing board."

"If I'm fucking you, I keep the TR."

"Okay, keep the TR."

"We have sex, I stop with your Dad, you shut up."

"That's it. Every day."

"Get your clothes off. I'll get the stockings." This will take care of it until breakfast. Under control.

"Oh yeah." Don was childishly happy; he felt like a winner. It is especially good to one-up your dad!

Then she saw it. "My Gawd! You sure didn't get that from your father!"

"He's not big like this?"

"Not even close!"

This was gratifying. "It's not really all the way up yet."

"I'm going to like this! You want a garter belt?" "Show me what's there... that one, tonight, if you don't mind."

"Yes, Sir! Wow, that's amazing! Hook it right in back, would you?"

"Sweet ass, Beverly." She squeezed and pumped his enormous cock while he explored her bottom with his hands. He nibbled her ear.

"Mmm. I can't get over this thing."

"Yes, you can," he said smugly, "Every time you want it, all summer long."

"I want to taste it. Let me clip these up!" It didn't seem like doing the chores any more. Variety, and youth, and let's face it-- "It's even bigger! How big does it get, do you know?"

"You'll have to find out!"

He played with her tits while she clipped in the stockings, and the thing poked at her ass and slapped her hip and elbow. He had a nice firm touch and big warm hands.

"Find out!" She turned and checked the mirror. "Okay, shoes! And then I suck it!"

"Screw the shoes."

"Yeah, gimme that!"

Gil lost interest in the commercials and drifted off into the front hall, toward the only real event in the house. The first voice he heard was Don's.

"Why don't you deep-throat me?"

"You're-- you're kidding, right?"

"Of course! Oh, shit, Beverly. That's sweet...!"

All his guilt came rushing back. It was overwhelming, awful, bottomless. The sound of the mask in the living room accused him! His son was--! She was sucking Don, she never did that now with him! Silently, the Commander who once had directed every tiny aspect of his life sat down on the stairs and sobbed into his hands-- but he kept listening. "I want your pussy while you do that."

"Yeah, lie right back, baby. There you go, Don-- kiss it. Tell it hello, little pussy... Oh, just light, just very light, oh golly. Oh, Don."

"Does it like tongue?"

"Yes, indeed! Oh, yes! Well, what was I doing? I remember!"

Gil heard more rude noises, very faint. His guilt was receding and his old cock was stirring.

"God, Don, this thing just keeps getting harder and bigger! You gotta let me have it, I want to feel it."

"What are you saying, little pussy?"

"Fuck me!"

The bed squeaked. Gil heard a pair of feet on the floor.

"From behind first, okay, it's so goddam big... oh sweet Jesus."

"That looks so hot. Here it comes again, now."

"Oh! Oh, Don."

"Got a little more in, that time... Uh!"

"Oh! Look, maybe I can't really take it all, I-- oh!!"

"You can do it, baby, uh, wait'll you feel it, wait'll all this meat, uh, is right up inside!"

Gil was almost up where he could see. There. Don was looking down.

"I'm so full! Hold it. Right like that."

"Like that?"

"I can't believe it. Fuck me now, fuck me good with that thing."

There's the top of her ass. One more step... Holy shit, the boy's a giant! Christ, I don't stand a snowball's chance now. The slut! She's mewing like a cat, for Christ's sake. I bought that garter belt! I bought her!! I did everything for her, and look at her! Jesus, she's taking all of it; why isn't it ripping her belly open, it's immense!

"This is the best fucking cock! Oh, Jesus! Lemme turn over, lemme just... Okay, do it again. Oh, shit..."

"Lift your legs more!"

"Oh, God, it's too deep!"

"Take it!"

"Oh, oh, no, wait!"

"Put your leg right on my shoulder. There."

"Oh, that's better, it's deep, but it's really really good, Don."

Gil watched, seething with anger, lust, hopelessness-- What's that?

"Gil, can you come here, please?" It was Penny! Gil lumbered down the stairs in a welter of remorse and shame, his cock deflated like a kid's balloon the next day.

"Of course, dear," he said.

"Now just relax, Beverly, you're all tensed up, I won't hurt you. You'll never come if you don't relax... That's the way. Just close your eyes and feel it."

"Oh..."

"Feel it. Big, fat cock, all for you."

"Yeah."

"Wanna get on top now?"

"No, just fuck me, fuck me just like that... "

"Hello, little pussy...!"

"Oh, fuck! Oh, Don, fuck it!"

___________________________________

"It has to be this way, Gil. We knew it couldn't be forever."

"What am I gonna do? I've been--"

"Look, he works."

"What?"

"He'll be out of the house! I won't be available most of the time. That means never, ordinarily! But when I need more money, you can have me when he's at work. Sign the papers and then you can have me, whenever I need more money, so long as we can hide it from him. Will that do?"

"Will you suck me and do anal like you did at first?"

"And no more spankings. But only when I need money for something."

"Do you want some now?"

"I could use another ten thousand."

"I get your ass, ten times, and you suck it."

"Dead secret, though. If he ever finds out, I'm leaving yall for good."

"For good?"

"He'll turn me in! I can't risk it. You'll have to act normal and wait until I say it's safe. Or I'll cut you off high and dry." The board's irrelevant, I don't need to work at all with this kinda money, but there'd be an investigation. No investigation.

"I'll have the money tomorrow, there's a certificate of deposit."

"Buy some K-Y, then. He works tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you. I was so afraid to lose you."

"It won't be very often; don't get used to it."

"I'm gonna hate hearing him go up there, knowing..."

"I know. Shh. Get the money, treasurer's check. We can work it out."

The spooky old bastard wants my ass so bad he's forgotten about his wife altogether! So she told herself. But whose fault was that?

She reconsidered her plan so keep the younger man drugged off his feet. He was little or no danger, and she wanted him to be able to get it up. She could carry on the way it was awhile longer, the money was still good, and the old man would make sure it got better, now.

Meanwhile, she had that amazing cock to play with, and a break from the whining old moron who'd become so disgusting to her. Gil came very quickly in her anus, the sessions would be brief and lucrative.

Nice of him to price it at a thousand; quite a compliment! She took her thousand-dollar ass upstairs and slept.

__________________________________

"What the hell is with you lately, Don? Christ, you act doped up all the time!" Stumpy wasn't the sort of guy to pussyfoot. It was one of the things that had made Don feel lucky to have gotten the job with him for the summer.

"I wish!" he replied. "All the guys I used to do shit like that with are out of town now. I'm sober as a judge, Ron, I swear!"

"Well, is it a medical problem? You're all over the place, you don't remember stuff one minute to the next, you're clumsy on the ladders-- Can you see okay? Are your hands numb or your feet or somethin'?"

"I'm okay, Stump." But he had been forgetful and inaccurate, and he'd felt close to toppling off the staging once or twice. Don's brows knit. "But you're right, a little bit, I was real unsteady this morning."

"You weren't like this the first week, but it's all the time now. I know I can't give ya insurance, and I'm sorry about it, but you ought to get checked out. I can front ya a couple hundred against your pay if you can't afford it. But you should see someone. You got a doctor in town?"

"Yes, Aucoin out by the Mall. My folks got money, Stumpy, you don't need to do anything like that. Aucoin will see me."

"Go now. I don't want to worry any more. You're better now than you were this morning, but it's the same most days. You get here, you're screwed up, and by afternoon you're better. That's why I thought drugs, you're young, what the hell. Tell me again, you ain't doing drugs every night."

"I don't wanna leave ya hangin', I'm okay, I'll finish the day--"

"No, seriously, Don, tell me the truth. Are you tokin' up or shootin' up or snortin' up at night before you come to work?"

"No! I go home, I eat, I help take care of Mom, I get laid, and I get my sleep, even. I used to have a lotta trouble sleepin', but I sleep nine or ten hours a night now."

Ron squinted at him. "I believe ya. In that case, though, you go see Aucoin, call him now. This is me, Don. You know I ain't fuckin' around. Call the doc right now."

"Jesus Christ, Ron!"

"I know, but I don't wanna have to fire ya and I don't wanna scrape you up paralyzed off the driveway. I'll see you tomorrow. Go on!"

"Don? Don Annas? I'm Magowan, P.A. Come on back, talk to me."

Aucoin had one of those "associates" practices, with a dozen P.A.'s, M.D.'s and N.P.'s altogether, and another dozen techs, in this rambling one-story office suite out by the Bangor Mall. Since he'd come without an appointment he'd agreed to take anyone available, to start the ball rolling. He described the problem to Magowan, who assessed him and wrote orders for blood screens for toxins.

"Your reflexes are slow and muted, your pupils are a little sluggish, the sclera are reddish, too. But you get better in the afternoons?"

"Yeah, that's the pattern..."

"See, when you improve away from home but go downhill when you go back, we think: the problem's environmental. A gas leak, say. You haven't had headaches? Nausea? Diarrhea?" Don denied it. "Constipation?"

No, he said, but then he thought about it, and said maybe.

"You're sweating, here, but it's not warm, and you're practically naked."

"Actually, I feel chilly." But he was sweating, a little.

"Well. The toxins screen may tell us something. Can you stay someplace else tonight, and see if it makes any difference? We'll have the results to most of this tomorrow, and I want to see you again tomorrow anyway, okay?"

"So you think something's wrong at the house?"

"I can't say. Everybody would be pretty sick if there was a gas leak. Do people act confused or dopey at home? Vomiting, headaches, anything like that?"

Don left the medical building with a lot to think about. They'd taken blood and a urine sample. He told Magowan he'd see about staying elsewhere one night, and let him know what he'd done the next day.

But his Dad was a different man. Maybe not dopey, but lethargic all the time and whiny and very suggestible. Not the Commander of old, at all. But he was devoted to his Mom, he would be expected to be thrown out of his routine if it seemed she was dying. On the other hand, he didn't seem to think about her much at all. He watched Beverly's ass and legs and the television as unconcerned as could be. He slept a lot, just like Don did, and Penny slept eighteen hours a day. Why hadn't he noticed how screwed up it all was?

He returned to the customer's house where Stumpy's crew was loading ladders on his truck. Ron listened to him talk about environmental stuff at his house, and Jip Haskell offered him a bed at his apartment.