The Red Tin Can

THE TIN CAN

This little story has its basis in fact, though it has been significantly embellished. All characters are over 18. I may have left some wriggle room for a sequel if there's any interest, but since this is only my second story on LW, I have no great expectations.

I sat on the old cane chair on the verandah, shielded from the light, with a 12 gauge Browning auto shotgun in my lap. It held five shells of buckshot -- probably not enough firepower to kill, but enough to cause considerable distress. Car headlights paused briefly at the farm's entry gate, a door slammed and it continued slowly along the driveway towards the house.

The door slammed closed and a lone male emerged, skipping to the door with a tin can in his hand. As he was about to knock on the door, I called him.

"I have a shotgun aimed at you and at this range, I can't miss. Put the tin can down very slowly by the door and listen carefully. All tin can visits are cancelled, effective immediately. If any uninvited people turn up here, with or without a tin can, they will be greeted as you have been greeted, with a 12 gauge shotgun. Pass the word along. Understood?"

"Uhh, yes, I think so."

"YOU THINK SO? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes, yes I understand," the young man stammered.

"That's good. You have five seconds to get back into your car and fuck off. Now GO!"

I grinned as the young guy ran as though the devil himself was chasing him down and to add to his misery I fired off a shot over his head. The car burst into life and in a spray of dry earth, flew back down the driveway and onto the main road, disappearing into the distance.

With a deep sigh, I shouldered the shotgun and made my way inside to where mother waited for me.

##

Early that morning, I packed my stuff into the car and left my university digs for the last time. I completed my degree in Agricultural Science at the ripe old age of 22. After a hot three-hour drive from the city to my hometown I decided to stop by the local pub for an ale or two before heading home.

The bar was typical of most country pubs -- dimly lit, several televisions blaring out the races, football and cricket going on around the country and groups of young men intent on spending the afternoon as a journey into oblivion. Setting myself onto an empty stool, I ordered a beer and quietly surveyed the scene around me. Three young blokes nearby had obviously been there a while.

"It's bloody true I tell you," his voice raised, "This bird waits until her husband is away and puts a tin can on the gatepost by the road. If the tin can is on the post, she's open for visitors. She's also one of the hottest fucks I've ever had -- and I've had a few."

The trio vanished for a while, returning an hour or so later, having topped up on alcohol elsewhere in the meantime . Apparently the subject of their earlier discussion still remained unresolved.

The guy with the loud mouth, trying desperately to reinforce his credibility, went into detail.

"OK you guys. You drive down the SouthWest road about 12 miles, and there's a farm house on the left, about one hundred yards or so back from the road. It has a wide driveway which connects to the road between two bright white gateposts. There is a gate there, but I've never seen it closed. Anyway, when hubby's out of town, she puts a red tin can on top of one of the gate posts to say she's available."

I did a double take. Our home is about twelve miles down the SouthWest road. Our driveway is wide and it is flanked by a pair of gleaming white posts that we paint at the start of every summer. What the hell?

Deciding to take the bull by the horns, I cleared my throat and muscled my way into the group.

"Couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I wasn't really eavesdropping but you were kinda loud, you know. Does the woman you're talking about take on anyone at all or does she only open up to certain visitors?"

"Anyone can try mate, but I know she's sent a few guys on their way. She doesn't like drunks and abusive people. She's never turned me down and I have to tell you mate, she's a much better fuck than the missus. You're a young, good looking fella-- why don't you give her a try?"

Although I was seething inside, I smiled at the guy and answered him before knocking back the last swig of my beer.

"Maybe I will, mate. Maybe I will."

I stormed out of the bar, fired up the car and took off like a rally driver. Ten minutes later I pulled up alongside our entry gate, and sure enough, a brightly painted red tin can sat atop our pristine white gatepost. I gathered it up and jumping back into the driver's seat, headed for the house.

Mother was not expecting me for another week or so. To say she was surprised when I walked through the door would be an understatement. She was dressed in a sheer baby doll nighty that left nothing to the imagination.

"Hi Mother," I smiled.

"What are you doing home. You're not supposed to finish your course until next week."

"Nice to see you too, Mother dear. I completed my final thesis three weeks ago and so I was able to leave after yesterday's final exams. By the way, do you always dress like this in the afternoon?"

"Well actually Charlie, I'm feeling a little off right now," she blushed. "I think I need to get to bed."

"As I thought!" I growled at her, revealing the tin can which I had kept hidden behind my back. "I think I'll join you. Or is your time only available to strangers?"

I had to give her credit. She looked me squarely in the eye as she lied her teeth off.

"Charlie, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do Mother," I shot back at her. "When Dad's away, you advertise your availability with this can on the gatepost. I hope you've been responsible and selective. It would be horrible if you greeted Dad's homecoming with some sort of an STD."

Her head drooped and her eyes teared up, making me feel a little guilty for confronting her. Mother stands around five foot three and is one of those beautiful things that come in small packages. Perfectly proportioned, smart, proud of her appearance and sexy as hell. She couldn't know that I've secretly spied on her in the bathroom, I've seen her in her room getting dressed and I've stood outside her closed bedroom door listening intently while she and Dad made love. In short, I worshipped her and today's revelation was breaking me up.

Strangely, it was not the fact that Mother was cheating on Dad that troubled me. The feelings I had were pure, unbridled jealousy. Images flashed through my mind of my beautiful mother, writhing in extasy beneath those losers at the town pub.

"What are you going to do Charlie? Tell your father?"

My dad hardly figured in my thoughts until that moment. I loved my dad. He was my mentor, my teacher, my best friend. He supported me in everything I did. Praised my successes, commiserated when things failed to go to plan and was our family's rock. He was one of the best stud cattle breeders in the country and as such, travelled often to stock sales to evaluate examples of the breed elsewhere and to promote our own stud. He allowed us to live a very comfortable life.

And then I looked at Mother again and I was lost.

Her nipples stood out proudly beneath her almost transparent top. Her perfect breasts swayed sensually with every move. Her eyes were focused on mine, seemingly challenging me.

I never felt so conflicted. Should I make a move on my own mother, betraying my father? Should I destroy her life by telling dad about her exploits in his absence?

"Well?" she challenged.

"You know I couldn't do that Mother. It would destroy him."

"You know I have needs, Charlie. He's gone so often and I tried for years. I really did. And then this stock agent came around one day. Your father was away on the other side of the country at another of his stock auctions and I was lonely and frustrated. We finished the business he came for and went inside for a cup of tea before he left. The cup of tea led to a glass of whisky and another, and finally I almost dragged him into the guest bedroom. He suggested the tin can on the gate post and for a year or so, would drop in to see me when the tin can was at the gate. Then one day, another man came in with the tin can. Our regular salesman had been transferred to another state and he passed details of our arrangement to his replacement. His replacement was not nearly as discreet and before long I had no idea who would turn up at my door with the tin can in his hand. It was dangerous and exciting and I could not stop."

I listened silently to her confession, horrified at what I was hearing. My mother, my perfect mother, the woman who brought me into this world, had behaved like a common whore. Unable to continue, I broke.

"You disappoint me, Mother. I worship the ground you walk on and the thought that you've been allowing all the local trash to enjoy your charms make me feel ill. It stops today. Pick up the tin can and take it back to the gate post, NOW."

She started to move towards her room with the clear intent to change into something less revealing, but I was in no mood to give her any latitude.

"Go as you are," I ordered. "If anyone drives by I hope they see you in all your glory. Then get back here."

She turned, picking up the can and making her way outside without argument, strode quickly to the front gate. In less than two minutes, she was back in the kitchen, breathing heavily.

"What now?" she asked.

"Now we wait. Would you like to pour me a small drink please?"

"Coffee, tea or something stronger?"

"Scotch over ice please and settle yourself in a comfortable chair while we wait."

I made my way to the gun cabinet in the living room while she poured the drinks, removing the Browning from its cradle. Collecting the glass on my way through, I silently made my way to the far side of the verandah, settled in an old chair as the sun slipped below the horizon, and sipped the deliciously smooth scotch. And waited. Mother was under orders to stay inside.

It took several hours, but eventually a pair of headlights approached on the main road and slowed to a stop by the gate. Moments later the car fired up again and proceeded noisily towards the house.

Which brings me to the start of this story. The idiot visitor took off like a 787 as my buckshot flew harmlessly above his head.

After returning the Browning to the cabinet and securely locking it again, I approached Mother in the kitchen. She had not moved.

"Nice work, Tiger," she mocked. "Now the whole town will know that I have a lunatic with a shot gun in residence. Knowing the type of person I've been entertaining, I don't doubt that traffic will stop, at least until they're certain that you're not around any more."

I stifled my anger.

"Go and put some clothes on, Mother or go to bed."

Without another word, I turned on my heel, gathered my sparse belongings from my car and dragged them into my bedroom. It had been unoccupied for the greater part of a year and had the dusty, stale smell that comes with neglect. I was in no mood to worry about it, shrugged out of my clothes and shuffled into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Mother's bedroom door was wide open, allowing the light to bathe the hallway. She was humming to herself, so I hoped she was preparing to go to sleep.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I returned to my room, fell onto the bed with a sheet for cover, promptly drifted to sleep. What a day!

It was some time after midnight when I awoke, sensing a weight on my bed. Reaching across, my hand encountered bare skin. Wearily I opened my eyes and reached for the switch for the night light. Suddenly the room lit up, revealing my very naked mother sitting calmly on the edge of my bed.

"I can't get to sleep," she sighed, "and I desperately need company. Since you've sent my visitors packing, can I sleep with you?"

"WHAT?"

"It's simple Charlie. I need a man to snuggle up to and you're the only man around. Please?"

"You've got to be kidding me, Mother. Is this some sort of trap to pay me back for ending your little sex enterprise?"

She teared up a little at that, so I drew back the sheet and let her settle alongside me, turning my back to her. She moved up tight against me from behind, her firm nipples against my back, her arm flung over my waist.

I had no idea how to handle this development. I was acutely aware that I was rapidly developing a significant erection. I prayed that Mother would not let her hand go any lower.

Finally it was not my decision to make. Mother gently rolled me onto my back, exposing my raging erection. She grinned lasciviously as she spotted it in all its glory, threw herself over me and inhaled three quarters of it in a spit second. I was no virgin, but no woman has ever been so aggressive with me and I have to admit, I was totally overwhelmed.

Mother sucked and pressed, sucked and pressed, until she eventually took my member into her throat, her nose pressed hard against my groin. Being out of any permanent relationship, I had not had sex for some weeks, so I knew I wouldn't last long.

"Mother," I pleaded. "Stop. You're going to make me cum."

With my cock embedded to the root, she still managed a wicked grin and continued to suck until moments later, I erupted in her mouth.

"mmmm," she murmured as she swallowed my gift without spilling a drop. "Nice!"

She continued to suck on my cock until it responded. To my surprise, that took very little time so Mother pulled away, grasping it firmly and swung her leg over my body until her pussy was poised directly over it. She rubbed the tip up and down her gaping slit but need not have bothered. She was dripping. Once she centred my cock she dropped her weight on to me taking me fully inside without effort.

Slowly I was regaining my senses, realizing that my mother was in full control. That was about to change.

Pulling her down to me, I kissed her deeply, our tongues dueling. I wrapped my arms around her upper torso and with a violent twist, rolled her beneath me, propping myself up on my elbows to watch her beautiful face. I was not going to allow her to bring me off within minutes again. This was an experience I wanted to savour -- for both of us.

Gently kneading her nipples, I ground away at her slowly, watching her exquisite features as she felt her son deeply inside her. When I moved my head down to take a nipple into my mouth and bite down on it, she reacted with a whimper. I kissed her again and felt her starting to respond. I felt my own climax building. Increasing the tempo, I abandoned any pretense of gentleness and started pounding my mother with increasing ferocity.

"Yes!" she cried. "Do me hard, Charlie. Go hard. Please give me your beautiful cock. Come on Baby, cum in me."

Her hips rose fiercely to meet mine, only to be driven back into the mattress by my brutal thrusting as we crashed towards our mutual climax.

We clung together in the afterglow, my cock still embedded firmly, our combined fluids dripping freely on to the bed. I drifted into a deep sleep, thoroughly exhausted, with my mother's arm draped over me, her sweet smelling hair over my face and her soft breasts snug against my chest.

Bright sunlight streamed through my bedroom window when I awoke, alone but sodden damp patches on my bed a clear reminder of what had transpired overnight. I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder, taking the opportunity to splash some cold water over my face to return me to the land of the living before making my way to the kitchen, still naked.

Mother stood by the stove, wrapped in a loose fitting robe, frying up bacon and eggs while a toaster noisily coughed up two slices.

"Good morning, sleepy head," she smiled at me. "Are you okay?"

"Never felt better," I beamed. "But I think we need to have a chat about what we've done and how that will affect us later. I'm not proud of what I've done to my dad."

"Baby, you've done nothing to your dad, but what you've done to me is something you will never fully understand. You see Charlie, you've helped me to break a cycle that I could not break myself. If it had gone on, it is inevitable that your father would find out and what would happen then is anyone's guess."

As she talked, she served up our breakfast while I fired up our coffee maker.

We sat close together, side by side at the breakfast counter, and silently devoured our bacon and eggs, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Mine kept returning to my father. I knew I had seriously dishonoured him by my actions, but then again, if it had not been me, another man would have been between my mother's legs. I hovered between feeling like a villain and a hero.

Mother poured our coffee and returned to my side, resting her soft hand on my thigh and stroking gently towards my exposed cock. At some point her robe became untied, exposing her lovely breasts to my gaze.

"Seeing you're dressed for action, I think we should head back to your room to see where we should go from here."

She was naked before she entered my room, her arms reaching for me as we tumbled into my sodden bed. There were none of the frantic emotions we experienced the night before. In the warm sunlight that streamed in through my window, we kissed and fondled each other in a journey of mutual exploration. We kissed each other passionately. Moving between Mother's legs, I lapped at her sex, running my tongue over her clit repeatedly until I felt her hips starting to undulate and her hands pressing against the back of my head to draw me in deeper. She cried out as I brought her to a crashing orgasm, bucking her sex hard against my face.

My cock was as hard as an iron rod so I moved up and slowly entered her dripping pussy. We gently made love until I could last no longer, spilling my seed into her welcoming womb and collapsing on her soft, pliant body.

We spent the rest of the day naked. We made love many times until she finally admitted that her pussy was too sore to continue.

We talked about how we would handle our new relationship when my father returned in a few days and agreed that while he was home, I would behave like any normal son. I would pull my weight around the farm, preparing for the inevitable day that I would have to take over responsibility for our stud program, and try to ignore the fact that I constantly lusted after my own mother.

For nearly a year everything worked out perfectly. I surprised myself by being able to compartmentalize my feelings for my father and mother. I worked side by side with Dad and even accompanied him on some of his interstate buying and selling trips, though I would rather have been home with Mother. I wondered and worried whether she would be able to set aside her constant physical needs until we returned, jealously ready to inflict unspeakable harm on any male other than my Dad who dared to come near her. Interestingly, I felt no animosity towards my father when he was with her, even when I could hear them making love in their room at night.

One day we needed some tools from the shed, but when they were not in their normal place, started a detailed search. Dad reached up to one of the shelves and lifted out a red tin can, covered in dust.

"You know what this is for Charlie?"

"No idea Dad," I lied. "It's just a dusty tin can isn't it?"

"Let's go to the house. It's about lunch time anyway."

It felt like walking on glass as I followed Dad, who was swinging the tin can in his hand as he walked through the door.

"Hi love," he started. "Look what I found in the shed."

Mother blushed.

"It was covered in dust and looks like it hasn't been used for a long time."

"How long have you known?" she asked simply.