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Missy approached the door to the Turkleton household. She had her math book and a thin spiral notebook in the crook of her arm. She had decided to take Jennifer's advice about using a tutor. She was confident that she could have figured out things on her own, but her parents were more than willing to pay for help with schoolwork. It helped that Jennifer had assured her several times that Ned was no longer nerdish. She was wearing a sleeveless, fuchsia top that gathered up her breasts and shoved their tops above the square cut bodice. The top was skin tight and ended just above her white hip hugging shorts, also tight on her shapely butt.

She rang the doorbell and it was answered shortly by Ned. Missy hardly recognized the guy. Gone was the pudgy guy with awful, spiky hair that was full of product. Also gone were the black, horn rimmed glasses. The new Ned was slim and trim. There were no glasses. His hair was a sun streaked light brown and he'd let it grow over his ears, but it was neatly styled. He was wearing a pair of nylon basketball shorts and an oversized tee shirt. Missy was pleasantly surprised.

"Hi, I'm Missy," she said.

"Hey, Missy, come on in," he said as he stepped back. "My classroom," he said, making air quotes with his fingers, "is downstairs."

They walked through the rear of the living room and into a hallway. Ned opened a door and they descended a flight of steps into a workshop. Tools were scattered around and everything was covered in a fine layer of wood dust. "Dad's a great carpenter," Ned said, "but he's kind of messy."

"I see," Missy said, trying to sound uncritical.

Ned opened another door, and they entered a room that took up the rest of the space of the full basement. "This is nice," Missy said as she looked around. There was a wet bar in one corner; behind it sat a refrigerator and shelves stocked with foodstuffs. In another corner it looked as if a bathroom had been walled off. A sizeable flat-screen television hung on a wall and a comfortable, if a bit shabby, sofa and chairs were arranged before it. In another corner was a workout machine. It was a marvel of weights and cables, with bars to pull and push.

"Do you workout?" Missy asked, nodding at the machine.

"Uh, yeah, I try to do something every day," Ned said.

Missy thought that he was being modest. She could only see the muscles of his calves and forearms, but they looked cut and well developed to her.

"We can work over here," he said. There was a desk close to the long wall opposite the TV. Behind the desk, a couple of whiteboards had been hung. In front of the desk was a long table with several folding chairs scattered around it. They sat in a couple of chairs next to one another. "So what seems to be the problem?" he asked.

Missy opened her math book to the chapter where she was having trouble. "Pretty much anything after here," she said, pointing to a page.

Ned nodded. "Okay, give me a minute to refresh my memory." Missy watched Ned as he scanned the pages. He was instantly engrossed in the math.

He's kind of cute, she thought. Intense, but cute.

After five minutes of reading and making notes, Ned stood and went to one of the whiteboards. Taking a marker, he drew the axis of a graph on the board. "Okay," he said, "it's all about recognizing how functions relate to their graphical representations."

Thirty minutes later, Missy was at the whiteboard. "So this function," she said, pointing to an equation, "means that this line," she pointed to a line on a graph, "will infinitely approach zero, or this axis."

"I think you're getting there," Ned said. "You're a good teacher," Missy said. Actually, she'd had that 'oh, now I get it' moment in her head about fifteen minutes ago. But she'd continued to ask questions and feign confusion. She really did think that he was a good teacher. He was willing to explain things from a different perspective when the first approach didn't work. He didn't just give the same lecture more slowly and in a louder voice.

"Thanks," he said. "Why don't we take a break? You want a soda?"

"Sure, anything diet," she responded. As Ned went to the refrigerator behind the bar, Missy wandered across the room to the sofa. There was a coffee table there. It was full to overflowing with car, outdoor and woodworking magazines. "I guess your mom doesn't spend a lot of time down here," Missy said.

Ned came to her and handed her a diet cola still in the can. "No, she says it my responsibility."

"Can we sit here?" she asked.

"Oh, sure," Ned said.

Missy hesitated just long enough so that when they hit the sofa, she was right by his side. In fact, the sofa cushions sagged in a conspiracy to throw them together. "So," she said after a sip, "our school is pretty big, but I'm surprised that we haven't met before. I mean, I knew who you were, but it was my friend Jennifer who told me that you tutored."

Ned took a hefty swig of soda, suppressed a belch and said, "Oh but we have met."

"Really?" Missy said. "Where ... when."

"It was just before Christmas your freshman year. I was a sophomore, of course. You came into the library in a huge panic about a paper you'd totally put off until the last minute."

Missy nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

Ned nodded too. "I was shelving some books that I'd been reading ... and I guess you thought I was one of the student helpers ... so you asked me about where to find a book. So, long story short, for the rest of the period I helped you find quotes and make citations." He looked down and seemed to examine the top of his soda can. He made circles around the top with his forefinger. He said hesitantly, "When the bell rang, you thanked me and kissed me on the cheek."

Missy's eyes opened in amazement. "That was you?" she said. She remembered a fat guy with acne and a buzz cut who squinted a lot. She didn't remember the kiss, though she doubted that Ned was lying about it. She could be an emotional kisser.

"Yeah, well ... after that, I let my hair grow some and I had to start wearing glasses — contacts now," he said pointing to his eyes. "I guess that's why you never spoke to me in the halls, you probably didn't recognize me."

Missy winced. As a matter of fact, she had noticed his changes, but she had avoided eye contact with him after that day in the library. And later, he must have faded into the background with the rest of the students she didn't know or care about. She put her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry," she said. "I was just being your basic teenage girl snob. Here, let me give you a real thank you." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then she put a finger to his chin and turned his face to hers. "And here's for helping today." She kissed him full on the lips.

It quickly became clear that Ned hadn't had much practice at the art of kissing. At first he was too stiff; his lips were locked like a couple of boards clamped together. Missy used her fingers to purse his lips and encourage him to loosen up. He got the idea and put his mouth in a more receptive shape, but his lips were still about as soft as glass. Missy broke off the kiss and sat back.

"Wow," Ned said breathlessly, "that was awesome."

Missy thought it was the worse kiss she'd had since she had been twelve years old, and she'd been locked in a closet for two minutes with Darryl Queen during a birthday party game one afternoon; she'd emerge with a bruised lip and spittle over half her face.

But it was pretty obvious that Ned had enjoyed the experience. In fact, he'd enjoyed it so much that his shorts had an astounding bulge.

"Yes, it is awesome," Missy said, looking down at his cock-bulge.

"Oh shit!" cried Ned. He clamped a hand on his cock and pushed it between his legs. He hunched over and shoved his knees together, looking like a little boy trying not to pee in his pants.

"Oh no, no, no..." chanted Missy. "That cat's already out of the bag." She took his wrist and pulled his arm to his side with little resistance. Then she pushed the other arm away. "And now the knees," she said, pushing them apart.

"Are you sure?" asked Ned even as his stiffy made a whiffing sound against his shorts as it swiftly sprang back to attention.

"Oh yeah," Missy said. The leg of his shorts was so voluminous she could easily pull the hem back toward his groin. Now his cock bulge was hidden only by a thin pair of boxers. His cock-head strained against the cotton material and a wet spot appeared as some pre-cum escaped. Missy was delighted that she'd made him so hot so fast. The idea emboldened her. "Pull it out," she told him.

"Are ... are you sure?" Ned asked.

Missy rolled her eyes. "Here's a hint. If a girl wants to play with your dick, then she probably thinks it's alright."

"Oh," was all Ned could think to say. He squirmed around and tugged until his cock appeared through the slit in his shorts.

Missy's eyes widened. "Oh my god, Ned," she said, "your cock ... it's just huge!"

In truth, she thought that it probably wasn't as long as Donnie's, but she decided that it might be thicker. It would be a close call. She gripped it just as she'd done Donnie's. Her thumb was on the sensitive skin just below the head. She began to jack his throbbing member.

"Uh, Missy," Ned said, sounding alarmed.

"Relax, enjoy it," Missy said. She liked being the aggressor.

"No ... I ... uh ... oh, uhhhhhhhhhh," Ned cried out. His cock erupted.

A pencil thick shot of cum leapt from the tip of Ned's cock and landed on his shirt. Missy was surprised that he had cum so fast, but she continued to jerk his throbbing dick as she counted ten more shots of teen-cum, just as strong, followed the first one. Streaks of the white cream landed all over the front of his tee shirt. Finally, a couple of lesser squirts fell onto her fingers and ended the spectacular display.

"Wow, Ned, that was really something," Missy told him. "Why don't you take off that shirt?"

"Hmm?" was all the depleted Ned could manage to say, but he swept his tee-shirt over his head revealing his chest. He worked out all right. Ned had an eight pack and nicely defined pecs. Where Donnie had a V-shaped torso, Ned was slimmer, more boyish.

Missy took the tee shirt and cleaned off her hand where some of Ned's hot cum had landed. It was like pudding. She cleaned off the head of his dick; there was still some cum leaking from his slit. His cock hadn't softened at all. "Ned, you're still hard." She giggled and said, "What's the matter, you haven't cum in a month?"

"No ... no ... sometimes I..." he said; his voice trailing off.

"Sometimes you have to jack off a bunch to lose your hard-on?" she finished for him. He nodded. "Sounds like a problem most guys would love to have," she said.

"You don't understand. I was dating this girl about six months ago. Sometimes she would just look at my cock and I would pop like a firecracker. So I started to masturbate before dates ... you know, to take the edge off. But the more I did it, the more I had to do it. Sometimes, I had a sore dick before I even started the date. In the end, it really didn't help though. She broke up with me, and I ... I really liked her," he finished in a mumble.

"Awww," Missy said in sympathy, "I think you're a sweet guy — maybe a little rough around the edges when it comes to kissing, but a sweet guy." A sweet guy with a body and a dick to die for, she thought. I bet that girl was afraid of his monster penis — and perhaps six months ago he wasn't the hunk he is now.

Missy saw Ned's cock jump. A pearl of pre-cum appeared from the slit and oozed down his cock shaft. "Looks like you're ready to go again," she said as she captured the clear liquid on her fingertip and swirled it around his cock-head.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said. He looked hopefully at Missy, afraid to come out and ask anything of her.

Damn I'm horny, thought Missy. I'm practically gushing in my shorts. Well, there's a big ol' hard cock here, no point in letting it go to waste. She stood up.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, clearly afraid that she might. He moved as if to stand.

Missy put out her hand to stop him. "No chance of that," she said. She undid the button of her shorts and pulled down the zipper. She had to swish her hips from one side to the other in order to peel the shorts off her ass. Ned's eyes drank in the sight. "You like that, huh?" she asked as she gave him an extra bump and grind.

Ned stroked his cock and a big load of pre-cum washed over the head. "Oh yes," he said. His eyes locked onto her pussy mound and the downy strip of hair she'd left unshaved.

Missy straddled his hips. She brushed away his hand and grasped his steel hard cock shaft. She used his hard, slick cock-head like a dildo. She rubbed it back and forth over her clit and down her pussy lips. Soon, everything was slick and gooey with Ned's pre-cum. The stuff was really flowing.

Missy ever so slowly eased her pussy lips over the swelling knob of his cock-head. "Have you fucked?" she asked him.

"Once..." he said.

"About six months ago," she finished for him. He nodded.

"Just relax," she told him. "Maybe we can cure your need to masturbate so much." She slowly rolled her hips forward, engulfing six or eight inches of his wide-bodied cock. "Mmmm, you're really stretching my pussy," she said. She rolled her hips back until only his cock-head remained to stretch her vaginal lips.

She felt Ned squirm beneath her. She thumped the hard muscle of his shoulder. "Don't move," she said firmly, and he relaxed back into the sofa cushion. She rocked forward and then back again, two seconds forward and two seconds back.

"Missy, Missy, Missy this is unbelievable," he moaned.

Missy smiled; she knew that the velvety lining of her pussy was constantly stimulating every inch of his massive dick. Of course the reverse was also true. Just like Donnie's cock, Ned's was giving her cunt what it craved. But she was determined to draw this out and give him a fuck to remember. Minute after minute she maintained the slow pace.

"Missy, I can't stand it," Ned groaned. His head rolled from side to side and he looked as if he was in agony. He pushed his hips upward to get some more movement.

"No!" Missy said sternly. She thought it was funny. Ned could have rolled her over and screwed her into the floor if he wanted to, but he was willing to let her take charge. She liked that.

With a supreme effort of will, Missy slow-fucked Ned for several minutes. His breath grew ragged and he broke out in a sweat. Suddenly, his body became as tense as a bowstring. His back arched and his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Missy felt his entire body vibrate as his cock swelled and ejected a thick stream of cum.

"HUH ... HUH ... HUH," Ned cried in time with his ejaculations as they streamed into Missy cunt. Eventually, overwhelming her stretched pussy, his teen cream poured back over his massive cock and down his balls.

It seemed as if he might cum until his body ran out of fluids, but finally Ned relaxed back onto the sofa. Missy gave him all of ten seconds to recover. His marvelous cock was still hard and she was intent on using it. She stretched high on his body until her tits were in his face. "Grab my ass, Ned."

"What?" he slurred, pretty much dazed from the most amazing sexual experience of his life.

"Hold my ass in both of your hands," Missy said, enunciating each word slowly and carefully.

Ned did as he was told. It took a few seconds, but eventually he was holding the tight flesh of her butt cheeks in both hands. "Okay, Ned, it's time to cut loose. Fuck me, fuck me hard and fast."

Ned sent his still hard cock upward into her cum slick pussy. He was too slow at first. But when he realized that Missy wasn't going to slow him down, he built up speed like a locomotive, going faster and faster; not that he wasn't derailed every now and then when his cock would slip the tracks and go careening across one of her compact ass cheeks. Missy was quick to get him back into play by grabbing his big throbber - it was like trying to maneuver the cum coated barrel of a bat — and position it back where it belonged.

Donnie entered his home through the kitchen door. He was just in time to witness his mother take something from the oven. She had asked him to come home straight from work so that they could have a dinner together alone. His father was at a business conference in Las Vegas; Donnie wasn't sure where Missy was.

"Hi," he said, "that smells good." He went to the counter where Helen had set an aluminum cooking pan, its contents were bubbling. "Oh good, lasagna." His mother had promised to cook one of his favorites.

"Hey, honey," Helen said. She was looking good in a blue and rose colored halter dress. It had a deep neckline that revealed the curve of her full breasts. "Why don't you freshen up while I put the rolls in the oven? I'm starved."

"Me too," said Donnie. His shift at Charles'Mart hadn't ended until eight. It was going to be almost nine when they sat down to eat.

Donnie took a quick shower and donned a clean pair of shorts and a tee shirt. It was nice to be fresh and cool once more after sweating in a hot asphalt parking lot all afternoon. He walked barefoot into the living room. His mother had already set the table. There was the lasagna as well as a garden salad. He sat as Helen brought in a basket of rolls. She disappeared into the kitchen once more and reappeared with two glasses and a bottle of wine. She filled one of the glasses and put it next to her plate, and then, much to Donnie's surprise, she half filled the other glass and put it before him. Donnie pointedly looked at the glass and then at his mother.

She softly snorted and said, "I know your father sneaks you beers now and again. Just make sure that you drink plenty of water with that."

Donnie laughed. "I thought that was a secret between me and him."

"Your father doesn't keep secrets as well as he'd like," Helen said quietly. She sat and took a long sip of wine. She gestured to Donnie that he should help himself to the lasagna.

Donnie took a generous portion of the lasagna and just enough salad to keep his mother from fussing. Helen took mostly salad and only a taste of the meaty lasagna. There was a good reason that she had kept her figure into her late thirties.

They ate and talked about nothing in particular. Donnie noticed that his mother kept topping off her glass of wine. He'd had some cheap wine before, but it had been sweet and cold, obviously something you drank to get high. The dinner wine wasn't like that stuff at all. It wasn't sweet — drier, he thought was the correct term, and it had a more complex taste. But that was secondary to the fact that it warmed his tummy and made his groin tingle.

"Where's Missy?" he asked at one point.

"One of her friends, Ruth Jameson, is having a stay over party," Helen said.

"Mmm," Donnie said with a nod. He could just imagine Missy and five or six other girls sitting around scantily clad, maybe sharing some illicitly gained alcohol, maybe some kissing and giggling, then more kissing and less giggling. Damn, he was going to be hard as a rock in a few seconds. And didn't his Mom look good tonight?

" ... and then they bought the house anyway," his mother was saying.

"Ah," Donnie said. Yes, better to get his mind on real estate.

"I'll get the dessert," Helen said, arising from the table after they'd finished off the main part of the meal.

She returned from the kitchen with two dessert plates of cheesecake topped with cherry sauce, another of Donnie's favorites. She had a sliver of a serving for herself, whereas Donnie's practically filled his plate. She was also carrying another bottle of wine. She added some to her glass and then shrugged and filled Donnie's glass to the halfway point once more. He'd never seen his mother drunk, and she wasn't drunk now, but he could see the effect of the wine in her hazel eyes and the way she was beginning to enunciate her words carefully.

He was down to the last bites of the cheesecake when Helen said, "I wanted us to have some time alone because I have to tell you about some decisions I've made."

"Oh?" he said, clearly worried. When his mother talked about her decisions, it meant that something big had happened or was about to happen.

Helen waved her wine glass in the air; the liquid sloshed about but didn't spill. "Don't worry, you haven't done anything wrong. In fact, I'm hoping for your help and understanding."

"Okay," Donnie said. "So what's up?"

Helen took a full gulp of wine. She said, "I got an anonymous e-mail the other day. It said that your father was having an affair with a woman at work."

"Wha ... uhh," Donnie started to say, but Helen put up her hand.

"Please, let me get through this; it isn't easy."

"Okay," Donnie said weakly.

Helen drank more wine, but only a sip. "Your father and I haven't been in love for years. Oh we get along all right. We've tried to present a united front to you and Missy, and we don't argue over money; neither one of us has a problem staying on a budget. Of course it helps that we both have good paying jobs.

"Anyway ... there's a whole underground of gossip that goes on between Charles'Mart employees and their spouses. I've stayed away from it; after all it's all ninety-nine percent crap — people speculating without facts and others telling lies to screw over a fellow employee." She took another sip. "But I have a friend who knows how to cut through the bullshit — pardon my language." Another sip. "She did some research for me and found out that Robert has been seeing a young woman, and I mean she's barely out of high school. He's been seeing her for a while."

Helen waved her wine glass once more. This time a dash of wine slopped over the edge and onto her fingers. She put the glass down and picked up her napkin. As she wiped her finger she said, "I know your father's no saint. There have been other women over the years, but this is just stupid. I mean screwing someone at work? Come on, she could sue Robert in a heartbeat. He could lose his career. And ... and I won't have it." Helen had wound the napkin so tightly around her hand her fingertips were dark red. "I am not going to be the wife who soldiers on while her husband risks everything for some ... some young piece of ass! Hell, he's with her right now — in Vegas. I checked!" She took a deep breath, put down the napkin and took another sip of wine.

"So," she continued in a flatter tone, "I took steps. I went to see an attorney last week. With his advice I've moved some assets around. I rented an apartment across town. Tomorrow, someone is coming to change the locks on the doors, and movers are coming. We're going to box up at least most of your father's things and take them to the apartment. At the same time, my attorney is going to have someone serve papers on Robert — divorce papers. He's also carrying a letter saying pretty much what I've just told you." Helen finished off her wine. She put the glass down and nervously spun the glass in her fingers. She looked plaintively into Donnie's eyes.

Donnie was stunned. He was pale and he wondered if his supper was going to stay down. He looked up at his mother. "I ... I don't know what to say."

"I know this was a lot to throw at you," Helen said, "but I was hoping for your understanding ... and even for your support?" She rushed on. "With Missy I mean — she'll be upset and..."

"I sent the e-mail," Donnie blurted.

"You sent it?" Helen asked, astounded.

Donnie nodded. He told her about the day at work where the Charles'Mart employees had talked about his father. He finished with, "I thought that you and Dad might have a big fight at worse. I didn't..."

Helen stood and walked around the table. She moved slowly; she wasn't quite as steady on her feet as she normally was. When she reached Donnie's side, she hugged him, cradling his head on her breast. "Oh honey, you didn't do anything wrong. It would have all happened anyway. It was just a matter of time." They hugged for a long minute, and then Helen split the remaining wine between their glasses. "Come on; let's go into the living room."

The Somers' living room wasn't all that large. A sectional couch was set against one wall and faced an entertainment center on the opposite wall. A wide, low, slightly beaten up table acted as footstool, magazine rack and work space. On both ends of the sofa were sections that also doubled as recliners. As they entered the room, Donnie realized that was how his family had lived their lives. His parents each had had their own recliner. He and Missy had spent many evenings doing their homework at that old table while their parents occupied opposite ends of the room, sharing little but their kids and a television.

Helen maneuvered a couple of old magazines into place on the table to act as coasters and placed the wine glasses. Donnie sat squarely in front of the TV, like he always did; even though it wasn't on tonight. Helen sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder. She picked up her glass and sipped. Donnie did the same.

"Donnie," Helen said, "I'm not out to screw over your father. We'll split everything equi ... equab ... evenly. No custody battles — at least as far as I'm concerned. You and Missy can live where you want. I..."

"It's okay, Mom," Donnie said. He took a deep drink of the wine and put the glass back on the table. His head swam; that stuff was more potent than he realized. "I'm on your side. I haven't been able to talk Missy into anything since she was ten, but I'll try to make her understand." He and his father weren't all that close. Robert had never taught him a sport, and it was always his mother who came school events or little league games. Except for the awful episode with the stolen car, Donnie could hardly remember any conversations between him and his father.

Helen polished off her wine and put the glass down. With a deep sigh, she settled back and snuggled against Donnie's side. She slid her arm under his and rested her hand on his thigh and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Oh thank goodness," she said. "You don't know how much of a weight that is off my mind."

Donnie glanced at his mother's form. She had sat carelessly; the hem of her dress was halfway up her thighs. Her sun dress gapped open revealing most of her left breast. He couldn't believe how firm and nicely shaped it was. Missy was right; she'd be lucky to end up with tits like their mother's. Full C-cups he decided — maybe even D's. His dick began to harden, and Donnie didn't care. He felt warm and fuzzy from the wine and a nice stiffy seemed to be just the thing right now. His eyelids drifted closed.

Helen loved the feel of her son. There was a pleasant dichotomy between his soft skin and the hard muscles underneath. Plus, he smelled good from his masculine body wash and fresh clothing. She shifted her head on his shoulder and inhaled his maleness ... and saw his erection. She could actually see his big cock moving in his shorts. Helen felt a rush of heat in her loins. She shouldn't have had so much wine — it had a tendency to make her horny.

Helen tried to cut her eyes around far enough to see if Donnie was awake. His breathing was deep and regular, and she thought his eyes were closed. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand, which had been on her son's thigh, lifted and hovered over his cloth covered hard-on. She wanted to grab that expression of manly power and have her way with it — or maybe it with her. But she couldn't do that, could she? She'd just touch it ... maybe see if her fingers would wrap around it. That would be all right — if he felt anything, he'd think it was a dream.

Her hand lowered to the tip of his cock. She ran her finger over the head and then down his shaft until the tented fabric of his shorts took her fingertip out of contact. Donnie didn't react. She repeated her trick with her finger. Still, Donnie didn't respond. She took her forefinger and thumb and outlined his cock-head. Damn, the thing was wide. She could just imagine this man-child's horse-cock splitting her pussy lips. She shivered deliciously; she could feel her pussy getting wet with lust.

Helen bit her lower lip. This was awful. She was tipsy and horny and she badly needed cock. Damn Robert anyway. Why couldn't he have stayed faithful? She was still good looking; she still had a good — no by god, a great figure. At one point, she and Robert couldn't get enough of one another. Their lives had been built around hot fucks — any time, any place. It was hard to believe that their passion had all gone away.

She felt Donnie stir. She looked down and saw that, lost in her memories of hot sex with Robert, she had inadvertently begun to jerk off her son. Donnie's hand moved and she was scared that he was going to knock her hand away. But he didn't, in fact he put his hand on hers and encouraged her along.

"Oh Mom, that feels so good," he murmured.

Helen heard the catch in his voice. His breathing became shallower and erratic. He was hot for her hand job. "Do you like that?" she whispered in his ear.