Jane Tanner - Nanna_s big boy

What her daughter was saying made a little bit of sense to Eunice. After all, life did have to go on no matter what. "I thought you'd be furious, and here you are making excuses for me. Why?"

"Would it sound corny if I said I love you?"

Tears misted Eunice's eyes. "But it'll happen again. Reed's not going to leave me alone now. He's too young to realize how wrong and wicked it is. And he can be so persistent! I'm afraid he'll wear me down until I give in again."

"Tell you how to solve that little problem, Mom," Becky said matter-of-factly. "Slap his face the next time so he'll know you mean business. Then teach him to jackoff. That way you'll get him off your back and give him something to keep him happy at the same time."

It turned chilly and began raining the following Sunday morning. After church Eunice took Reed to a restaurant for lunch. When they got home, Becky was up. Evidently she'd just hopped out of bed, for they came upon her in the kitchen, nude, her honey-blond curls disheveled from sleep, toweling Buster dry just inside the door.

The boy's eyes nearly bugged out of his head before his mother squealed and hurriedly stood up holding the towel in front of her. It was the first time he'd ever seen her in the altogether, and the quick glimpse he'd caught of her pink-lipped pussy, while she was bending over with her butt toward hum, made his pecker spring right up.

"I didn't hear you drive up!" Becky gasped, clutching the towel above her magnificent breasts, the bottom of it dissecting her shapely thighs about six inches below where they joined her curvaceous torso. "Don't stand there gawking, Reed. Get out of here! Go change out of your suit!"

Eunice didn't know if Becky had noticed the way Reed had looked at her, but she had, and his sudden erection hadn't escaped her, either. "You shouldn't run around the house naked, Becky," she scolded after the child was out of earshot. "Especially not after what I told you. He's liable get ideas, you know."

"I didn't think, Mom. Buster woke me barking at the back door. When I heard the rain, I yelled for Reed to let him in. There was no answer so I knew you'd taken him to church with you. I didn't look at the clock. I just jumped up and grabbed a towel. You're not going to make me put him back out, are you? He won't stay in the garage, and he can be hell on screen doors when he wants in."

"Oh, all right," Eunice said. "Since you already got him dried off, I guess I don't mind too much. But he goes back out as soon as it quits raining, and I don't want to see him on any of furniture."

"Don't worry, Mom. Buster's not too bright but he's well trained. He wouldn't get on the furniture even if no one was around to keep an eye on him."

Actually, Eunice didn't mind too much. She was becoming rather fond of the affectionate Great Dane, even though she still didn't particularly care for animals in general. Having watched on more than one occasion while Reed romped in the back yard with the horse of a dog, she'd come to realize that pets were, after all, good for children. Though Reed didn't always show it, she could tell that he loved the big dumb beast.

It was a lazy afternoon. Eunice put on a pot of coffee and they all congregated in the living room to read the Sunday newspaper. Reed got the comics first, which was the only section of the newspaper that interested him. The letter with no return address that'd come for Becky in yesterday's mail delivery completely slipped Eunice's mind.

Reed lay on the floor with his chin in his hands, avidly devouring the comic strips that were spread out before him. Occasionally the eight-year-old giggled. A couple of times he laughed aloud. Buster lay beside him, yawning, glancing about, perfectly contented now that he was in the nice warm, dry house.

Eunice sat in her usual chair in a ladylike position, her knees together and both feet on the floor, the lamp beside her providing illumination for the section of newspaper she held before her. A cup of black coffee rested within easy reach on the lamp table.

Becky's posture wasn't quite as ladylike as her mother's. The young woman sat in a comfortably slouched position at one end of the couch. She had her lovely legs crossed in the typically feminine manner, the bare foot of her crossed leg twisting and turning about luxuriously as it pumped absently up and down. She'd put on her robe, was all, and hadn't as yet bothered to brush the loose natural curls of her sleep-mussed honey-blonde tresses. Absorbed in the newspaper, alternately puffing her cigarette and sipping her coffee, the gorgeous young wife and mother failed to notice that her little boy turned his attention on her instant he finished reading the comics.

His mother's dainty foot moving voluptuously round and around and up and down was what caught the boy's eye. It was a pretty foot, with red-lacquered toenails that highlighted its small size and graceful shape. Reed stared fixedly as her foot bobbed slowly up and down, twisting and turning, stretching itself in a lazy, relaxed fashion. He was too young and naive to know that his mother was subconsciously masturbating herself this way – as countless women and girls do in public every day – but just the erotic manner in which her foot and leg were moving was enough to fascinate the curious child. As he watched, her robe began slipping open and drooping down to reveal more and more of her creamy-textured thighs.

Oh, boy! he thought, his peter tingling as he visualized the glimpse he'd caught in the kitchen of her pouting, pink-lipped pussy.

Just the thought of it excited him. If her robe kept falling open like that, maybe he would get to see it again. He looked up. His mother's face was hidden behind the newspaper. Furtively he glanced at his grandmother and saw that she was busy reading, too. Neither of them were paying him any attention. Cautiously he started inching toward his mother on his belly.

Whatsoever ye ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive, the minister had said in his sermon that morning, and Reed sure hoped it was true because he was praying now – for another look at his mother's mouth-watering cunt!

And his prayer was answered, or so he believed, because Becky uncrossed her legs and leaned over to mash out her cigarette in the ash tray just as he was crawling up close to her feet. Absently she picked up her coffee cup, drained it and, never having lowered the newspaper, set the empty cup back on its saucer and went on reading.

She didn't recross her legs, either. Instead she squirmed about into a more comfortable position, and when she finally settled down again, the eight-year-old was convinced that his Nanna's pastor really knew what he was talking about!

Becky's dimpled knees were about eighteen inches apart. Her feet were pulled back to where her heels were resting against the bottom of the couch, with her toes and the balls of her feet on the carpeted floor. Her robe had fallen open clear up to the sash tied about her trim waist. She didn't have any panties on. Reed could see her navel, her lightly rounded belly, and everything! Man, the way she'd scooted her hind end out to the edge of the couch, with her legs open like that, his prayer was answered!

There it was, with its puffy pink lips partly parted, not more than three feet in front of him, and was it ever pretty! His mother's wasn't nearly as hairy as his grandmother's, and what hair it did have was brownish-blonde in color and a lot more silky-looking.

It's prettier than Nanna's! he said to himself, but then he decided, no, it wasn't any prettier, just different.

He liked them both. Pussy was great stuff and he sure wished he had some. His Nanna had slapped him the last time he'd tried to get to hers, and had told him he must never try to touch her there again. Pleading had gotten him nowhere. She'd told him if he thought he just had to cum, he could in his room and play with his peter until he did. That'd been kind of fun, and it felt good, too, it just wasn't the same. He liked the smell and feel and taste of a woman. It was pussy he wanted, not his hand.