Now That Daddys Gone Ch 01

Now

Peter Balfour tied his horse to the hitching rail outside of his family's small farmhouse and slapped his Stetson against his thigh to remove the dust. He watered the horse, took off the tack and led the animal to the barn. He was dirty, dry and tired; it had been a long day. He stretched and then smiled as he smelt the delicious aroma of dinner wafting from the open kitchen window. A strapping lad of nineteen he could just about eat his weight in groceries his mother often said.

As he opened the back door the smell of something appetising increased and mingled with the scent of his mother's perfume. She had her back to him fussing with something on the kitchen bench. She was wearing a red, knee-length, A-line, pleated, round-neck, dress. It had white polka dots and was sleeveless to show off her tanned arms. She wore red four-inch high heels and seamed flesh-toned stockings. Peter admired the seams running up the back of her long legs.

His mother spun around and smiled at him through red-lipsticked lips and his heart melted. She was wearing full makeup, earrings and a necklace and her black hair was worn in a bob with bangs just above her big blue eyes.

Peter's father insisted that his wife dress to please him for dinner and greet him like a devoted, loving wife should and even now that he was gone Meg Balfour thought there was no reason for her not continue doing so. Her son deserved it after all.

"Hi Petey did you have a good day?" his mother's smile widened.

"Yes mom, I managed to get that last acre sown. I figure we should get one hundred and twenty bushels out of it," Peter smiled back.

He was lying, he'd done the sowing the day before and he'd had another matter to attend to today.

"Come give your mother a kiss," she opened her arms wide.

Peter strode across the kitchen and leaned into his mother and kissed her cheek. She smelled wonderful and her full breasts pressed against his chest. She closed her arms around his neck and her lips found his, she opened her mouth so that Peter could probe her with his tongue.

"My god you're so hard Petey," she gasped in his ear and squeezed him through his jeans.

"Step back and show me what I want to see mom," Peter sighed and nipped her earlobe.

She reluctantly disengaged from her son and leaned back against the kitchen bench and smiled coyly at him.

"What is it you want to see Petey?" she licked her lips and smiled seductively.

"You damn well know what I want to see mother," Peter said gruffly.

Meg took the hem of her dress in her hands and ever so slowly lifted it up her legs. Peter gasped when the coffee-coloured bands at the top of her stockings came into view, the silver clasps of her garters pulled the welts tight against his mother's legs. Then her creamy thighs came into view and finally the Vee of her white nylon panties. The panties were translucent and not particularly tight, he could see his mother's trimmed bush through them. Dewy pearls of vaginal secretions glistened on her pubis.

She was aroused, as she always seemed to be in his presence.

Peter stepped forward and lightly stroked her panties.

"You're wet," he stated the obvious.

"For you son," his mother whispered.

He could sense the heat from her mound and the aroma of her cunt drifted up to his nostrils.

"You know I love those stockings," he murmured.

"For you son," she repeated as she reached for his flies.

The sound of Meg unzipping her son's fly was almost ominous in the quiet of the kitchen. There was no one else around for miles, the only sounds came from the farm animals and the afternoon breeze.

"Oh gee you are so big," his mother gasped as she unleashed his manhood and took it in a firm grip.

"Bigger than dad?" Peter pushed his fingers against his mother's pubis.

"Much bigger," she gasped as her son's fingers pushed her panties into her vulva, they soaked up some of her juices.

Peter extricated his fingers from her panties and stroked her labia and then inserted two fingers inside his mother, his thumb found her clitoris and pressed against it just the way she liked it. She had taught him how to do so. She pulled her son to her by his shaft. Peter liked to see her red nailpolished fingers against his taut flesh.

His mother wrapped Peter's cock in her panties and stroked him, she knew he loved the feel of the gossamer nylon panties on his sensitive cock but she was careful not take him over the edge, he came quickly when they fucked for the first time each day. He leaned into his mother and kissed her passionately and then backed away a little.

"Let me get cleaned up mom, then we can do this in bed," he said.

"Don't be so obtuse Peter Balfour! You do your duty by your mother right now!" she snapped back, ripping open his shirt.

It was a little game they played, Peter had no intention of not finishing what he had started.

He lifted his mother up by her thighs and rested her buttocks on the edge of the bench and pulled the gusset of her panties out of the way and thrust himself inside her.

"Oh God!" his mother cried as she locked her legs around him.

She wrapped her arms around her son and raked his back with her fingernails then she lifted her nylon-sheathed legs and rubbed his flanks with her calves knowing it would drive him wild.

Which is exactly what it did. Peter gripped his mother by the hips and vigorously fucked her, his long thick cock coming nearly all the way out of his mother's vagina and then slamming all the back inside her. They rubbed their pubic mounds together to stimulate Meg's clitoris.

"Oh Jesus!" Meg bit her son's neck and shuddered, locking him against her with her long legs.

Her orgasm washed over her as she felt her son's huge penis throb and judder as he ejaculated inside her. Peter groaned and then his lips found hers and they kissed and lapped at each other. Meg could feel Peter's juices running from her quivering cunt, pooling in her panties and then running run down her thighs. Peter could smell his mother's cunt, the scent mingled with her perfume, he loved that smell.

When they were both spent, Peter eased his mother's legs from around him and stepped back a little. He took a handful of Kleenex from the dispenser and dabbed at his mother's sodden thatch and then at the juices running down her legs. The top of her stockings were stained with his semen and her secretions. She took a handful of tissues and wiped at her son's slowly deflating erection. Meg pulled her panties back into place and dropped to her heels and then smoothed out her dress.

Peter put himself away and zipped up, then buttoned his shirt. They never spoke after their afternoon ritual, Peter always felt guilty and he was sure his mother did too.

Meg took out her compact and fixed her makeup and lipstick while Peter collected his things and walked over to the stairs.

"I'll be down when I've had a bath," he called to his mother.

"Don't be long sweetie, dinner's not far away," she smiled at him lovingly in that sing-song voice he adored.

Peter soaked in the hot tub and improved a growing erection as he recalled how this had all come to be.

Then

In nineteen forty seven William Balfour inherited five hundred acres of farmland in the Midwest corn-belt and at twenty nine years old he was keen to marry. His farm was located thirty miles from the nearest town and he was lonely, he was an only child and his mother had passed one year before his father.

He saw Margaret Ryan in the general store in Hastings and was immediately taken with her. She was wearing her 'visiting clothes', a tight blue dress, nylons and heels. Her long black hair was unpinned and brushed out and she was wearing makeup. Her mother was gone and her father was keen for her to marry and deliberately made her dress her in alluring apparel in order to attract a suitable beaux.

William made small talk with her in the store until her father arrived and then William took him to the saloon and made him a proposition. William was blunt. He knew that Ben Ryan was struggling to make ends meet. William offered Ben one hundred acres of prime farm land for his daughter's hand in marriage. Ben accepted and they set a wedding date for the end of the month.

William was allowed to court Margaret before the marriage but they were chaperoned at all times. William figured he'd made a good deal, the girl had some 'book learning' but she also knew enough about farming to make a good farmer's wife. Neither Ben nor William asked Margaret if she wanted to marry and in particular did she want to marry William Balfour. Margaret, or Meg as she preferred to called, never questioned William's right to marry her. Her father told her it would be so and so it would be.

She was actually quite excited about becoming a woman and a wife and she knew that William earned a comfortable living off his land and he seemed to be a nice man from what she had gleaned on the four chaperoned dates they had before she married.

"So did you love daddy?" Peter asked his mother as she told him the story about how she had met her husband for the umpteenth time.

"I came to love your daddy Petey. Things were different back then, a girl did what her father told her to do without question and your father is a good man," she stroked her son's sandy hair.

"But he has his appetites," she said wistfully.

"He does like to eat," Peter smiled at his mother.

"Not those sort of appetites Petey, the sort of appetites that a man has for a woman," she turned the page of text book.

William kept his wife secluded away from the outside world. The farm was a long way from the small town and he restricted her visits to once a month and he always accompanied her. He wasn't mean and he gave her a generous allowance out of which she was expected to purchase the necessities to keep herself pretty and desirable. He showed her pictures of his favourite actresses and lingerie catalogues models had her dress just like them.

Meg was directed to keep her figure, keep her legs and her pubic hair shaved and to always dress nicely. When she fell pregnant with Peter he was disappointed that she put on weight and lost her interest in sex during the last trimester. He told her that he wanted no more children after Peter was born. Margaret agreed on condition that she be allowed to keep Peter in school until he had a decent education and William agreed.

William never asked his wife what she had done to prevent herself getting pregnant again and she never told him. She just told him he could now take her whenever it suited him without fear of her conceiving.

During the day when Meg was busy with housework she was allowed to practical wear skirts, Capri pants, or shorts in summer, with a comfortable blouse and a little makeup. But by six o'clock when William came in from the fields she was to be dressed to please him.

Bold makeup, elegantly coiffured hair, skirts or dresses which showed her long legs to advantage were the order of the day. Nylons and high heels were mandatory.

Meg would start dinner and then go upstairs to her bedroom to get ready for her husband around five o'clock and come down just before six o'clock sprayed liberally with perfume.

Petey would be sent outside to do chores with orders not to come back inside the house until called in for dinner around six-thirty. When Peter was old enough to work beside his father he was given extra chores to keep him busy until the appointed time. Needless to say as Peter grew into maturity he was curious as to why his mother and father were to be left alone during that half hour between six and six-thirty and one day he decided to find out.

But as he got older curiosity overcame fear and one day not long after his eighteenth birthday Peter snuck up onto the porch in his stocking feet carrying his boots and crept up to the kitchen window.

He was shocked by what he witnessed.

His mother was on her knees sucking on her father's penis. William was holding her head as he shoved his erect penis in and out of her mouth. His mother was lapping, sucking and stroking the immense organ and seemed to be enjoying it well enough.

Then his father lifted his mother to her feet and roughly spun her around and bent her over one of the kitchen chairs. She reached behind and lifted her dress up and out of the way while his father unbuckled his pants and dropped them around his ankles. His mother dutifully presented herself, her ample buttocks clad in frilly red silk panties.

His father came in behind his mother and yanked the gusset of her panties out of the way and thrust himself inside her. His mother gasped but she didn't seem to be in pain, in fact she pushed herself back, impaling herself on her husband's phallus. Then his father gripped his mother's hips and began to service her.

Peter couldn't help himself, he quietly put down his boots, took out his penis and began to stroke it. He stroked it in time with his father's thrusts and when his father pulled his mother back hard against him as came deep inside her Peter came too, ejaculating a runnel of semen that splashed against the weathered siding and pooled on the boards of the porch. He stroked himself harder as his mother's wanton moans escaped through the glazing.

When his father had finished he pulled out of Peter's mother and wiped his still erect penis with the cloth that he kept in the back pocket of his pants. His mother walked over to the bench with her panties around her knees and tore off some kitchen paper to pat herself dry, then she pulled up her underwear and smoothed out her skirt. She kissed her husband on the cheek and went to the stove to check on dinner.

Peter buttoned his pants and tiptoed off the porch and sat down on the old bench next his mother's small vegetable garden and began to pull on his boots.

When dinner ready Meg powdered her nose, freshened her lipstick and straightened her seams ready for her husband to sit down for dinner. It was time for her son to join them.

"Peter! What are you doing you silly boy, come and get supper," his mother called from the porch.

Meg was shaking her head in exasperation when she turned around to go back inside the house.

Then she saw the splatter of semen on the wall and the pool of creamy spend on the boards. At first she was alarmed, then she smiled to herself. Her son was now a man and he had developed a man's appetites.

Peter was naive in many ways. His mother and father's bedroom was the only room off limits so of course he was curious as to what was in there. Looking out of his upstairs bedroom he could see his mother tending her garden so he snuck into his parent's bedroom to go exploring. Rummaging around in her dresser he found a cache of corsets, bustiers, black fully-fashioned silk and nylon stockings and lacy French knickers.

He lay the garments on the bed fascinated by them. They smelled of his mother's perfume and they felt so soft and sheer against his skin. He began to become erect and he panicked. Peter began to stuff the lingerie back into her dresser but in doing so he snagged one of her stockings, he stuffed the accusary garment into the front pocket of his pants. He took a deep breath and unpacked the lingerie and took his time folding each item carefully and tried to put them back exactly as he had found them.

"What are you doing in here Peter?" his mother was leaning against the bedroom door.

Peter thought she would be angry but she had a bemused look on her face, watching her son panic and try to put her lingerie back in the dresser.

"You've found mommy's night clothes haven't you? Like most young men you find them fascinating, yes?" she stepped into the room, closer to him.

She was wearing a denim skirt, a white cotton blouse unbuttoned down to the rise of her bosom and flat comfortable shoes. She wore sheer nylons as always and although she wore full makeup her face and décolletage were flushed by the sun. Peter could smell her perspiration though the miasma of her perfume.

"I'm sorry mom, I know I shouldn't be in here and I won't come in here again. But yes, those clothes are so lovely and delicate and that they did draw my attention. They look nice but I don't think they're particularly suitable for farm life," Peter countered.

His mother encouraged Peter to ask questions, 'that's how you learn' she had told him. 'Never be afraid to ask me anything,' she had impressed on him.

Meg turned his question around in her head and told him a half-truth.

"They're my bed clothes, daddy likes me to wear them to bed," she replied.

She had noticed that her son was trying to conceal an erection and saw the toe of one of her nylons hanging from the pocket of his pants.

Peter knew nothing about what women wore to bed and didn't question why his mother would go to bed dressed in sexy lingerie and full makeup but he did wonder about the banging headboard, creaking bedsprings, and muffled moans coming from his parent's bedroom at night. At school the girls had teased him when he tried to talk to them so he had become reclusive and even though he was now legally a man he was naïve when it came to sex.

His mother diffused the awkward situation by telling Peter to wash up and come down for lunch. When he came down, having secreted the stolen stocking under his pillow, his mother had freshened up and fixed her makeup. She had put his chair beside her where she sat at the kitchen table with a large textbook open in front of her.

"Sit here Petey, I want to show you something," his mother patted the chair.

Peter was sitting uncomfortably close to his mother. He could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her body, his bare leg brushed against her silken-sheathed calf and he started to become erect again. He was glad that his erection would be camouflaged by the tabletop.

"I thought your father would have had the birds and bees conversation with you by now Petey but obviously not," she patted his knee and he jumped a little.

She left her hand there and he could feel her long fingernails gently scratching his skin.

"Birds and the bees?" Peter was bemused.

"Sex Peter, sex," his mother looked at him with some concern.

Peter blushed.

"Dad just pointed out various farm animals while they were... were... were doing it," Peter's face was flushed.

"Copulating?" his mother was absentmindedly drawing circles on his thigh with her fingernail and it was driving him wild.

"Yes mother, copulating. Dad said that's how they make babies," Peter thought his voice sounded thick.

"Yes that's right. But men and women also copulate for pleasure. Because they like the way it feels, do you understand?" she looked her son in the eyes.

Peter nodded but she could see he was confused.

"Look Peter, you're eighteen years old so I'm sure that you get erections. You know, when your penis gets hard. And I'm sure sometimes you notice that when you rub the erection it feels very nice," Meg's throat was dry having this conversation.

Peter was so aware of his bare leg rubbing on his mother's stockinged calf, her fingernails scratching his thigh, her perfume, her closeness, his erection, that his head was spinning.

"Look," his mother pointed to a page on an encyclopaedia she had taken from a shelf.

It was a lithograph of a male penis in both flaccid and erect states.

"So this what you and daddy look like when you are aroused," she tapped her finger on the erect penis.

"And this is what mommy and other ladies look like," she turned the page.

A lithograph of vagina, showing all of its intricacies including an expanded internal diagram. Peter thought he was going to faint.

"As you can see the vagina is basically a sheath for a man to put his erect penis into. He parts these outer lips, the labia majora and these inner lips, the labia minor, and thrusts forward. His penis fills the woman's vagina and they thrust against each other until the man ejaculates, just like you have seen horses and dogs do, although women are often on their back," Meg explained very matter-of-factly.