Dweeb Ch 13 Breakfast

Eighteen-year-old Suzanne Pomeroy pushed wide the partly open door to her parents' bedroom doorway and leaned casually against the jamb. Silhouetted against the ceiling light from the hall behind her, she chirped, "Hi! I thought I heard voices... Happy Mothers' Day, Mom! It's pretty early, but if you want, I'll go to the kitchen and whip up some bacon, eggs, and waffles. Would you like that?"

Startled by their daughter's sudden appearance, Edgar and Bernice broke off their conversation about the possible consequences of their unplanned unprotected fuck. Bernice coughed, "Uhm, 'early'? Yes, it's only five o'clock! What are you doing up, Sweetie?"

Alarm bells rang in Suzanne's head. She thought, "Just because Mom and Dad are awake and talking to each other, doesn't mean that she caught him. Don't get all defensive or nervous." Fearful that not even the room's semi-darkness could protect her from her mother's penetrating gaze, she was glad that she had pulled on her slightly baggy oversized sand-rust-and-mahogany Theodore Roosevelt High School sweatsuit before she crept down the hall to see for herself if her dad had made it safely back into his marital bed. As she looked at Edgar, seated on the mattress edge in red-gold-and-gray striped cotton pajamas with his inside arm behind Bernice who, in her summery floral print sleep-shift, was half-reclined against the pillowed headboard, she quickly assessed that they seemed normal and not at all upset about anything.

Suzanne's heart thumped hard. She took a deep breath and bravely fibbed, "Nothing, really, Mom. I just kinda woke up, you know?"

Bernice frowned while she squinted and answered, "Well, I shouldn't wonder! You were wearing that heavy fleece sweatsuit at dinner and while we watched that movie last night. Did you go to bed in it, too? You must have been hot!"

Edgar remembered pulling the jersey pants down over his little girl's bare bubble butt and paddling it pink as he silently exclaimed, "I'll say she was hot! And she got hotter!"

Thankful for the poor lighting, Suzanne looked down at her bare feet, blushed and agreed quietly, "Yeah, Mom, that must have been it... I got hot." Imagining that her dad's shooting cock was still stuffed deep and filling her up, she clamped her thighs tight around her sensitive swollen pussy. It squished damply and flared latent sparks all the way to her proudly poked out nipples. With a soft gasp, she interrupted herself, "...Umm, anyway, now I have to go to the bathroom... Excuse me!"

Bernice, too, felt nature's morning call and replied, "Yes, sure, Sweetie. But hold off on breakfast. Go back to bed for a couple more hours, okay?"

Suzanne had already turned and headed for the main bathroom. Over her shoulder she called, "Okay, Mom! I'll try..." Once inside, she leaned against the closed door, shoved her right hand past her sweatpants' elasticized waist and force a turtling gob of Edgar's semen back into her cunny. At the same time, she plowed her left hand up under her top and clawed her right breast's reactivated aching areola.

Four hours later, at the Womack's bungalow, a sunbeam filtered through the horizontal blinds' slats in Charles' bedroom window and divided itself into golden ladder rungs shining warmly on the sleeping eighteen-year-old youth's face. Next to him, his widowed forty-year-old mother lay in equally placid slumber. Their impassive countenances belied their dormant ardor but their cuddled posture testified otherwise. Moreover, the destroyed bedding gave specific proof that volcanic eruptions had repeatedly consumed them from the day's earliest minutes through the witching hour.

Colleen Womack still wore the royal purple baby-doll set that Charles had given her at midnight for Mothers' Day, but its see-through net-and-lace top only partly obscured her right breast as she curled her upper body into his uncovered nude form. The matching satin bikini bottom's scant crotch was completely skewed aside and, therefore, hid nothing as her long, left leg pointed her pearly russet enameled toenails straight to the bed's footboard. Unconsciously reacting to a stray lock of her ash blonde hair tickling his nose, he puffed it away. As the zephyr's gentle force on her brow prodded her from somnolence, she rolled her hips to perfectly align with his and then kissed him sweetly.

Opening his hazel-brown eyes, Charles smiled at his mother's full lips' first touch, then returned the kiss as an awakened lover, not as a son. His already erect cock scribed her naked navel. She grinned and greeted him, "Good morning, you." Then, tucking her chin to her chest, she looked toward the heavy hot rod sandwiched between their stomachs and added, "and to YOU, too!"

Charles closed his right arm around Colleen then rolled in place onto his back. As he carried her with him, he crushed her voluptuous boobs to his hardpan chest then covered her right ass cheek with his left hand and squeezed its meaty flesh while he growled huskily, "You in my bed makes it a great morning, Mom."

Colleen's unadorned dishwater-blonde beaver scrubbed Charles' hairy and already tight onion-bulb ballsack as electric messengers zipped from her stiffening nipples to her cunny and opened her juice taps. She kissed him again - harder, longer, more meaningfully - while she shimmied her tits in their lace housing against his pecs and squirmed her bottom under his spread hand. As he pushed his longest finger along her taint and teasingly circled her pussy's self-irrigating portal, she mewled, "Mmmm, and you... in me... makes it a perfect morning."

Charles struggled to control his excitement. He stroked Colleen's back with his right hand and coughed, "P-put me... uhn... where you want me, Mom."

Colleen straightened up and sat back on her haunches on Charles' quads, then raised and centered her cunt above his boner. Lifting his pillar eighty degrees with her right hand, she leaned forward and braced herself with her outstretched left hand against the headboard before her lowering hips lightly glazed his glans with her gravy. As his burnished tip sank past its flanged rim, he groaned and silently begged, "Please, oh please! Don't shoot off early!" While he bit his cheeks and counted to ten to stave off his feared premature ejaculation, she paused mid-drop.

With Charles' fat knob wonderfully trapped just inside her itching pussy's os, Colleen let go his staff and pushed her right hand slowly upward from his root's base, over his tensed heaving abs to the honey-brown hairs thatched sparsely over his sternum. Spreading her fingers to their utmost, she teeter-tottered her extended thumb and pinky nails to alternately scratch his hard little nipples. He rolled his eyes and then closed them tight. Desperate to come, but desperate not to, he grimaced his ecstasy as he cried in his mind, "NO! YES! Oh, God! Please!"

Colleen kept tap, tap, tapping and scratch, scratch, scratching Charles' cherry pits while she slid her slippery slice snail-slow down his dick. He arched his back reflexively as her cunt's squeezing friction brought him closer to his point-of-no-return. Then, just when he thought he couldn't help but burst, she sat completely immobile; flush to his loins. His incredible urge to empty his warehouse abruptly passed.

Colleen smiled knowingly and watched her son's chest. It inflated and deflated less dramatically under her hand as his breaths slowed down. Above his suprasternal notch, his contracted corded neck muscles relaxed while his grim mandibular joints unclenched. His fretful agony morphed into an easy calm as he psychically stepped back from his cliff's edge.

Leaning forward, Colleen framed Charles' wonder-struck face with her hands and tenderly brushed her full lips across his. Her baby-doll's spaghetti straps flopped useless to her elbows and her pendant D-cup pyramids fell heavily free from the inadequate purple paisley lace bodice. As they touched down and then skated over his torso, cinders flying from their plumped peaks kept his banked fire's embers alive. She cooed in a buzzing whisper, "There, Charlie. That's where I want you. Now stay just as you are; Mom will do everything."

Colleen tightened her twat on Charles' lifegiving lumber and insistently Frenched his mouth while she slowly ground her pubis against him. He groaned around her invading teasing tongue and responsively suckled. Exquisitely timing her gyrations, squeezes and probes, she repeatedly brought him to the brink, only to deny him the release he craved. Thrill after thrill fractured his senses as his libido luged crazily in a perpetually twisting toboggan run.

Although Colleen masterfully kept Charles' sexual frenzy at bay for a long while, she wasn't the all-controlling mistress of her own fortune. Shock waves raced from her cunny to her throat and back again as her fantastic horniness demanded satisfaction. Every nerve was lit up. Her breaths reduced to short air-grabbing nostril flares.

Ultimately, mother and son surrendered to their seismic pressures. Seizing her shaking ass with a death-grip, he lurched his own butt upward from the mattress while she shuddered from head to heels and laminated herself to him. As her orgasming sponge soaked up his spraying seed, they closed their eyes and lost themselves in their consuming love. After a time, she burbled, "I'm so hungry, Charlie... but I don't want to cook! Let's go to the Colonial Cottage and have a huge Sunday breakfast.

At the restaurant, the Womacks soon learned Colleen's inspiration wasn't singularly brilliant. The dining room was crowded and the waiting area was full to the double-doors. Charles tugged his mother's sleeve and pointed to a lithe teenage girl standing a few feet away with her back to them. "Look, Mom," he declared in an excited low whisper. "There's Suzanne Pomeroy!"

Overhearing her name, Suzanne swished her long Swedish-blonde ponytail as she turned her head and made eye contact with her classmate. She pulled on her parents' arms and dragged them with her while she moved past another family and breezily greeted, "Hi, Charlie! Hi, Mrs. Womack! Mom, Dad, this is the boy who's gonna help me pass that stupid old American Lit class that I have to have to graduate..."

While the adults were introducing themselves, Wilford Womack stepped through the restaurant entrance and joined the crowd. Spotting Colleen and Charles, he winked casually at Suzanne, whom he recognized immediately from his studious scrutiny of her on the couch Friday evening. He cheered, "Hey, Collie, Charlie! Fancy meeting you here!" Then, including Suzanne, he grinned and added, "And you, as well! Quite the reunion!"

Neither Edgar nor Bernice knew quite what to say, but they didn't have to say much. Colleen quizzed, "Ford! What the heck? Uh, excuse me... Edgar and Bernice Pomeroy, this is my, uh, brother-in-law, Wilford Womack. Ford, meet Suzie's parents." She paused as handshakes were exchanged, then went on, "Seriously... it's nice to see you, but quite a surprise!" With a light laugh, she asked, "You're not stalking us, are you?"

Wilford hooted, "Nothing like that, Collie. Just a bachelor out for an omelet and French toast... but I forgot it was Mothers' Day! Looks like I'm out of place. Guess I'll go back to the barracks and have a bowl of Cheerios." He chuckled while his eyes fished for an invitation to stay.

Edgar obligingly chimed in, "Yeah, a table for one is no fun on a holiday. Let me see if the hostess can get all six of us to a spot together. Frankly, I'd like another man around, in case anything comes up to a vote!" He guffawed at his own jest and turned away without waiting for any agreement. Bernice and Colleen shrugged their shoulders in helpless acquiescence while Suzanne and Charles stared at each other dumbfounded by the turn of events.

Popular though the Colonial Cottage was, its diner turnover rate was brisk. The Pomeroy-Womack party was soon seated at a round table in an alternating male-female pattern with the teens side-by-side between Colleen and Edgar. Seated cozily braced by Colleen on his right and Bernice on his left, Wilford ostensibly studied the menu while he surreptitiously studied the girl directly across from him. Meanwhile, the object of his sneaking leers pored over the pancake selections as if she were alone on the moon.

Whether it was her intention, or not, Suzanne's chosen attire magnificently magnified her natural allure. All the key features of her snappy 34-23-34 cheerleader-fit body were modestly, but undeniably, accentuated. Her snowy, slightly-too-large, Beefy-T men's T-shirt was cinched tight to her tummy by a twisted bun-knot at her spine and more than hinted at the pert contours that her shadowed cherry-red push-up demi-bra supported. Below its gathered hem, a two-inch strip of flat bare belly skin yielded to the beltless waist of her skinny Hollister stretch jeans, which clung tenaciously to every round point between their button snap and her ankles.

Edgar picked up the coffee mug which the plump middle-aged waitress had just filled for him and took a long sip. The liquid was almost too hot, but it served to occupy his mind while he grasped the cup handle with his itching right hand rather than reach below the table top to grab his delectable daughter's denim-protected camel-toe. On her other side, Charles dizzily wondered what had happened to all the manly self-confidence he had gained in the last forty-eight hours by fucking his mother and old Mrs. Krautheimer. He felt peculiarly dweebish, as if he were back in his desk in seventh-period English and all he could do was helplessly fantasize about what it might be like to kiss his strawberry-scented crush.

Forty minutes later, as everyone was forking their last bits of sausages, bacon, waffles, or eggs, Bernice pushed back her chair and exclaimed, "Excuse me! I didn't realize the time! I, uh, have to make a quick phone call."

Before his wife could stand, Edgar demanded, "What in the hell are you talking about, Bunny? Time? Phone call?"

"Oh, Eddie," Bernice retorted. "Don't tell me you've forgotten. I have a 'Pamper Package' all planned at the Lovely Lotus Day-spa and Salon. I made the appointment ages ago... just after Easter, I think, if I'm not mistaken... I'm sure I told you about it, and you must have seen the charge on the Visa." She made a face to underscore her bemused bewilderment, then continued, "Anyway, I have to tell them I'm here, so they know where to send the courtesy car. They're supposed to pick me up in twenty minutes!"

"Well, no, I didn't forget," fibbed Edgar in a complaining tone. "And I don't always go over the credit card bill that closely..." His voice tailed off as he recognized how idiotic, and ineffectual, he was beginning to sound to the outsiders surrounding him. "So, remind me, what is it you've got going?"

"It's exactly what I said, Eddie," Bernice began patiently. "I'm getting the works at the Lovely Lotus. I'll be there all afternoon. They're going to pick me up in their courtesy car and then, afterward, they will bring me home. It's my Mothers' Day treat for myself, and I'm sorry if I somehow didn't mention it before now." Rising from her seat, she pulled her iPhone from her purse and stepped toward the exit to make her call privately.

Edgar looked resignedly at Bernice's retreating back as he tried to recover from the announcement by casually addressing Colleen, "And what plans have you made to enjoy your special day?"

Wilford was quick to speak. While it was true that he had shown up at the restaurant quite by accident, it was also true that he regretted his Saturday evening promise to Colleen that she could spend the entire Mothers' Day with Charles if only she would go out with him that night. Seeing an opportunity to publicly corner her, he draped his left arm around her back and latched onto Charles' right biceps with an avuncular grip while he looked past Bernice's empty chair to answer Edgar, "It's funny you should ask, Ed. I've been sitting here wondering if I could butt in and take Colleen and Charlie out for a drive, dinner and a movie." He turned his head left and leveled his most disarming grin at the stunned tablemates as he baldly put it to them, "What do you think? It's a beautiful day for a drive..."

Colleen glanced at her son. His eyes flashed what he thought was a negative message, but his voice found no strength to push out words with any effect. While he cursed his cowardly inability to assert his dominion over his mother's heart in the face of his uncle's intrusion, she submissively responded, "Well, we hadn't actually made any plans. Uhm, I suppose we could at least go for a drive. It's a school night, though. I don't know if a movie would be a great idea..."

While Charles' heart sank, Wilford's soared. He exclaimed, "Great, Collie! We can play it by ear." Throwing his napkin onto his empty breakfast plate, he added, the Monte Carlo's tank is full, so we can leave whenever and go wherever!"

Edgar side-hugged Suzanne to his left ribs and concealed his inner excitement as he said, "Well, I guess it's just you and me, eh, Suzie?" Just then Bernice returned to the table and he jovially said, with total sincerity, "Don't worry about us, Bunny. Have a good time getting pampered. We'll knock around and find something to occupy ourselves." He squeezed his daughter firmly into his torso and felt heat transfer from her right titty's bulge to his lungs. "I think I saw a listing on ESPN3 for the PBA Elias Cup Finals from Bayside Bowl in Portland. Would you like to watch bowling with your old Dad?"

Below the table top, out of everyone's sight, Suzanne snaked her right palm up her father's left leg to his Levi's crotch, scratched her finger nail on his lumped testicles and murmured, "Okay. But you'll have to explain about the balls and how bowlers make them do what they want them to do." Unrelenting, as she sensed longitudinal growth behind his zipper fly, she curled her fingertips under the collected mass and teased, "Like, do really heavy balls ... umm, hit the pocket? Umm, you know... HARDER?"

Edgar covered his mouth with his right fist and fake-coughed to cover the groan welling in his chest. "Y-Yeah," he stammered. "No problem. I'll help you with all of that."

Stepping behind her husband, as her daughter retreated from his lap, Bernice kissed the top of his head and then said, "Oh good, Eddie. I guess I wasn't actually worried, but it's good to know you won't be lonesome. The car will be here in ten minutes, so I'm going to the Ladies and then wait for it outside. I'll leave it to you men to divvy up the check." After giving Susanne a quick peck on her cheek, she breezed, "Your friend seems like a nice boy." Then, looking across the table, she finished, "Good to meet you, Colleen. Let's grab a coffee, sometime." With a wave, she was gone again.

Wilford fished three twenties from his billfold while he rose from his chair then laid them on the table between Bernice's and Edgar's dirty dishes. "That'll more than cover the Womacks, Ed," he said. "Throw the extra at the waitress along with whatever tip you think is right." Extending his hand for a shake, he added, "Great to meet you. Thanks again for inviting us to sit with you. Very pleasant!" As he flashed a grin at Charles, he nodded toward the front door then exhorted him and his mother, "Let's roll!"

Colleen was a little disconcerted by how easily she had given in to who knew what, but even if she wanted to change her mind, she didn't see how she could. Her son's clouded face and tight jaw joints were a look she well understood. Hoping to head off the storm she thought was brewing, she stood and gently wiggled his tensed left-side trapezius as she encouraged him brightly, "Come on, Charlie! We haven't gone out just for a ride for a long time. It'll be a fun change!"