Barry still couldn't get over it. The woman in the Victoria's Secret Catalog looked exactly like his mother. Tall, blond, beautiful face and big, round, heavy breasts hidden under the thin veneer of the satin material. At least, the way he imagined she would look in something as sexy as the gown the lady was wearing.

Would she really look like the picture if she wore the slinky gown the lady in the catalog was wearing? Were her breasts as big as the lady's?

He found the lady to be the sexiest woman he had ever seen and as he ogled the picture, he suddenly felt his cock begin to stir.

As he stared at the woman's face, the strangest feeling came over him. It was as if it were his mother looking back up at him from the catalog. But why was he getting hard then?

A flush of guilt raced through his mind as he continued to gape at the picture. Was he aroused by the lady or was it the striking similarity between the lady and his mother? He had never felt anything like this before and he didn't know what to think of it. Flipping the catalog shut, he tossed it down on the bed beside him.

God, he was so horny, he couldn't think straight. That was it. That was why he had gotten a hard-on. He was just horny.

Burt had just gotten himself another beer from the fridge and sat back down to watch the start of the second half. Glancing out the window, he was glad that he hadn't gone to the game. It had turned out to be a dark, gloomy day, raining off and on all morning. Taking a sip on his beer, he watched the kicker advance on the ball and send it flying through the air.

Just as the kick-returner caught the ball, he heard the phone ring.

"Who the hell could that be?" he muttered, getting up and walking over to the phone.

"Hello," he said speaking into the receiver.

"Johnny, is that you?" he heard his mother ask.

"Yes, mom, it's me," He said, noticing the pain in her voice. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Johnny," she sniffed, "Hank left me."

"Not again," he mumbled into the receiver.

Johnny loved his mother very much; so much, that sometimes it hurt just being away from her. And now her latest boyfriend had left her. But he was just the last one in a parade of boyfriends that his mother had, had since Hal had died. Johnny knew how much his mother had loved his dad even though she kept trying to find another man like him. None of them could live up to what she expected, and eventually, she ended driving them off. Hank was the sixth one and after each break up, his mother, Marion took it a little harder. The last time it had taken Johnny a couple of months to pull her out of her depression. This time it would be worse. He just knew it would be.

It was only two o'clock on a Friday afternoon, but Carol had, had enough and took off from work. Her heart just wasn't in working. She was as horny as a sailor on leave and Stan had been gone for three weeks now. And three weeks without sex was making her crazy. Most women seemed able to ignore their needs, but Carol couldn't. She knew down deep inside that she must be a nymphomaniac. She had to have satisfaction, in some way, somehow, every single day and sometimes once or twice wasn't enough. In fact, some days, she was insatiable. No matter how much she had, it wasn't enough. Sometimes she wanted it so bad, she could scream. Sometimes, when Stan was gone for a prolonged period of time, she felt like she was going stark, raving mad. She felt like going out and humping every man she saw. Anything to quiet the fiery ache between her legs. Just like now, she complained.

But with Stan gone, she had to satisfy herself with her toys. She couldn't explain it. It was as if her body had taken control and was calling all the shots. She couldn't concentrate on anything but the burning emptiness between her legs.

Now the ravenous monster between her legs was in control. It had to be fed. Fed and satisfied as soon as she got home. But even though she would break out her dildo and take care of it the second she got home, she knew that it would only be satisfied for a few hours. Then it would be back again.

Using her toys only kept the craving at barely tolerable levels. There was only one thing that could bring her some semblance of gratification. And that wasn't available because Stan was gone. Gone and he wouldn't be back for another week.

"Finally," she groaned as she turned onto the street she lived on.

But, as she did, she spied Brad's car sitting in the driveway.

Ralph slowly opened his eyes. He started to stretch but found that if he did he would wake the two sleeping females. After a few moments, he carefully extricated his arms from the dozing ladies and slowly sat up. Being ever so careful not to wake them, Ralph gently slid down the bed and put his feet on the floor. Picking up his bathrobe, he started to slip it on, but a big grin crossed his face and he tossed it back down. Looking down at the two women, he took his big dangling cock in his hand and roughly stroked it a few times. Then turning, he walked out of the room quietly humming to himself.

Ralph flounced downstairs to the kitchen with his big, limp, half-hard prick flopping about obscenely. Once there, Ralph threw open the refrigerator and started taking out huge amounts of food. Scurrying around the kitchen bare-assed naked, his half-hard cock jutting out in front of him dangerously, he started building three huge, Dagwood-sized sandwiches. Thinking about his sister-in-law and daughter lying in the bed upstairs, Ralph found that his cock was getting hard again as he prepared the feast. At last, Ralph stopped running about and stepped back away from the tray to admire his handiwork. There's enough there to feed an army, he told himself.

Olives, he said, that's they lack. Throwing open the refrigerator and began searching through it. He had been so preoccupied with the sandwiches, he hadn't seen his daughter sneak up to the door leading into the kitchen.

Ralph, with his head buried inside the refrigerator didn't see her as she stood watching him, admiring his big strong back. She had taken time to slip on a little wrap-around towel that covered her hips, but up above it, her big, soft tits still jutted out seductively bare.

"That's enough food for a week," she laughed as she saw the pile of food on the tray.

"WHAT TH..." Ralph stammered, jumping and turning around, "You startled me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare...OH MY GOODNESS," she blushed and smiled wickedly as she saw his big, thick cock pointing at her. "It looks like I scared you stiff."

"I'm stiff all right, but it wasn't fright that made me that way," he grinned at her, turning around. "I was just thinking about your wonderful, hot, little pussy."

Without saying another word, they stared into each other's eyes for several seconds. Then their eyes moved down, drinking in the other's nakedness. Her eyes found her father's big, protruding penis and watched it jump with excitement as her father's eyes found her big, jutting tits. Openly gawking at each other, they didn't move for several moments. Then with an evil leer, Ralph slowly padded over to where his daughter stood.

Bobby watched Amanda slowly lift herself out of the pool. Just watching her made his heart ache watching the water course down between her majestic breasts. She was the prettiest thing in the whole, wide world.

He wanted her so badly, his whole body was throbbing with desire. As he looked on with unabashed reverence, she strolled nonchalantly over to the table by the pool and picked up her glass. Bobby's eyes devoured her as she slowly sipped on her drink.

It was all he could do to keep from tearing across the patio and grabbing her. He wanted to take her in his arms and shower her with kisses. Kiss her from head to foot. And hold her forever.

She seemed unaware of his worshipful adulation as he drank in her beauty. She was a goddess. A Goddess with long, flowing blond hair, now wetly hanging down her back. A goddess with the breasts of a deity. Heavy, round globes of beautiful pink flesh barely concealed in the wispy bikini that did little to hide her wondrous charms.

Just then, he felt a spark of jealousy twang through his heart as he saw his cousin, Will opening gawking at her. How could he dare desecrate her beauty by leering at her, Bobby asked himself angrily as he brought his eyes back to Amanda. Watching rivulets of water trickle down her bronzed belly, he felt a shudder of agony tear through him as his eyes caressed the cloth-covered V at the base of her tummy. It was torture to know that he couldn't have the delicate treasure hidden underneath the material.

The snowflakes hitting the window of Susan's car were growing larger and wetter by the minute.

Damn it, she thought to herself, if we had only started a couple of hours earlier we would've made it home and wouldn't be out in this mess.

Nervously glancing over at her son, she saw that he too was watching the snow as it swirled around the car.

Turning her attention back to the road, she concentrated on keeping the car between the disappearing lane markers.

"Mom, it sure snowing hard," Danny said, looking over at her.

"I know, Honey" she returned, trying to keep the concern out of her voice "I wish we had started out a couple of hours earlier and we would be back home by now."

"Are you going to try to make it home tonight?" he asked, "It's really getting bad."

"I don't think we'll be able to make it home," she sighed, feeling the wheels spin precariously on the thickening snow, "I think we are going to have to find a motel and spend the night."

"I think that's a good idea," he exhaled loudly, "it's starting to get scary out."

"Start looking for a place we can get some groceries, so we can eat in the room," she told him, concentrating on keeping the car on the road, "I don't think we're going to find any cafes open in this storm."

Peering out the snow encrusted window, Danny occasionally glanced over at his mother who drove along with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

Finally, in the snow-blurred distance, he saw the lights of a mini-mart.

"Look, Mom, I think there's a store -mart right up there," he said, pointing up ahead.

"Thank goodness," she groaned, "this road is really getting slick."

Gratefully guiding the car into the driveway, through the slippery snow, she slowed down and let it come to sliding stop directly in front of the doors.

Rodney yawned. Physics 202. Pretty boring stuff. He was admiring the bosom of the blonde sitting two rows over when the room classroom suddenly grew silent. Even the professor had stopped droning on about the dumb formula he had been explaining on the board. Looking around, Ron found everyone looking at him and snickering. What was going on? Oh, Shit, he thought, the professor had called on him. . He hadn't the foggiest idea what the professor had been discussing. He just sat there looking stupid and then he heard the professor call out his name again.

It was the first time he had been called on and he was just about to panic when he realized that the professor was calling him to his desk. Stumbling down to the desk, he heard the derisive laughter of the class following him.

Arriving at the front of the classroom, he stopped in front of the professor's desk. Looking stern and foreboding, Professor Amblers leaned over and told him that he was wanted in the Dean's office.

What had he done now, he wondered as he bumbled out of the classroom? He couldn't recall anything that would have resulted in a trip to "THE DEAN'S OFFICE." Well, maybe his grades, but surely they hardly warranted a trip to "THE DEAN'S OFFICE."

Lois Macaby stood in front of her closet door looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror.

Not bad for an old broad, she told herself, cupping her breasts and lifting them.

Her breasts were big; big, white melons of soft flesh tipped with Merlot tinted cups of pebbled flesh and big puffy nipples proudly sticking out of the center of the reddened cups.

"Maybe a little droopy, but what the hell, they're more'n forty years old," she laughed out loud.

Smiling at her reflection, she tweaked the rose colored nipples for a few moments, delighting in the warm feeling of pleasure spreading out from down below her belly.

Finally, she reluctantly moved her hands down away from her sagging tits letting them wriggle back down onto her chest. Slowly running her hands down over the soft, smooth skin of her belly, she turned slightly to check her reflection from the side.

"Maybe just a little pooch, but not really that bad," she murmured.

Turning farther, she looked back over her shoulder at her big, white ass. Stomping her foot, she watched the muscles of her ass quiver as she moved her hands around behind her and grabbed hold of cheeks of her ass.

Mary's whole body shook as she wept. Everything was going wrong. Her life had been hell for the last two weeks since Clarence had left her. He hadn't even had the courage to tell her why. He had just left her a note telling her that it was over and he was leaving. She had thought he might finally be the one. The one in the parade of men that she had been with since Sam died.

She just didn't care anymore. Nothing was going right. And today had been the capper. The house was a disaster; she couldn't even find a clean bowl for her cereal, so she hadn't eaten breakfast. Then the flat on the way to work. Ended up with two broken fingernails, dirt and mud up to her elbows and late for work. Her boss had threatened to fire her on the spot, but recanted only because he was short of help. But finally after she had gotten the fifth set of orders fouled up, he called her into the back and gave her, her walking papers.

"If you ever get your head screwed back on straight," he had shouted to her, "come back and I'll give you your old job back, but not until then."

If she could just make it home without some disaster befalling her, she told herself, she was going to crawl into bed and sleep forever.

Finally, she pulled back out onto the street and peering out through tear filled eyes, somehow managed to make her way to the street she lived on. Turning the corner, she saw a car parked out in front of her small, dilapidated little house and her heart did a happy flip-flop.

It was a warm, sultry Saturday evening. Bernard, his wife, Connie, their son Charles, and Charles's best friend, Billy Morris were eating supper.

Connie was watching the two boys eating as she wondered what chemistry had drawn the boys together. They were as different as night and day, she thought. But despite this, they were still the best of friends.

She wished that Charles with his slight frame and glasses was more like Billy who was taller and much more muscular. But, she was glad that Charles was the more intelligent of the pair. Charles's main interest in life was computers and math. Billy on the other hand was the archetypal jock. A good-looking little stud in a boyish way, she smiled to herself. She imagined that he had his share of girls and maybe that was why Charles liked being around him. And she was sure that Billy didn't mind the help that Charles gave him in school.

Watching the two boys eat, she saw that Charles, as usual was daintily picking at his food, eating only selected items while Billy wolfed down everything on his plate like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

Damn, Mrs. Vickers is a good cook. Billy thought. I wish that my mom could cook as good as she does. Boy, I would like another helping.

"Billy, would you like some more potatoes?" She asked him seeing that his plate was almost empty.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Vickers," Billy said, holding his plate out to her.

Wow, can she read my mind or what?

Amanda pushed her empty glass back and stubbed out her cigarette.     "This band really sucks," she hollered, trying to make herself heard above the raucous sound blaring from the giant speakers on either side of the bandstand.    "Oh, it's okay if you drink enough," the older redhead sitting across the table from her shouted back. "Have another drink."    "And the crop of studs in here suck too," Amanda complained, looking over the crowd.    "You're right there," the redhead agreed. "And they are all going after the teeny boppers from the college."

Morgan sat on the bench beside the tracks waiting for the train to come to a stop. The smell of diesel and hot metal washed over her as the Silver and Blue Amtrak slowly ground to a halt. A shiver of excitement trickled down her spine as she looked down the line of dirty silver cars. It had been a whole year; a whole year since she had seen her son, Anthony. A whole year and now he was going to be hers again for the summer. She had such plans for them. She was going to wine and dine him like he had never been wined and dined before.

Amidst the noises of the train preparing to disembark its precious load of passengers, her mind wandered back to the divorce that had left Anthony as her only touch with reality. It had been a bitter battle to win custody of him, but she had won. Ten years had passed since then, even though it only seemed like it was yesterday. Now he was coming home after his first year of college. Before he had left for college, he had been the center of her universe. He was her only son and being all alone in the world except for him, she had heaped all her affections on him.

It had been a long, miserable year for her, but now it was over and she had him for the summer. She was so excited, she couldn't sit still any longer. Standing up, she nervously ran her hand down her short dress smoothing the thin material down over her youthful body. Seeing her reflection in one of the windows of the train, she moved closer to check herself out. Staring at her reflection, she restlessly brushed her short, blond hair back and glanced down to see how her dress looked.

Andy heard the phone ring. Standing just inside the kitchen door, he listened to the answering machine begin to recite its message.

"Hello, this is the Dillon residence. Samantha, Howard, and Andy are unable to come to the phone, but if you will leave your name and number after the beep, we'll get back to you as soon as we can . . .

"Uh, hello, this is Steven Givens and I . . .

Just then, Andy heard his mother pick up the receiver.

"Hello . . . Steven Givens, of all people . . . Why haven't you called . . . Oh, I see . . . Yes, I can understand why you might be a little wary . . . But it's been over two months . . . I know, I missed you, too . . . No, he's out of town until next Tuesday . . . Well, my son, Andy is here . . . You are in town now . . . Certainly . . . You can sleep in the guest room . . . My, my but you are a naughty boy . . . I'm sure that something can be arranged . . . Seven o'clock . . . That will be fine . . . I can hardly wait to see you again . . . Leave that to me . . . Yes, just like that night in the cabin . . . Yes, yes, me too . . . I'm all a twitter . . . Okay . . . Seven o'clock . . . Bye!"

Andy didn't know what to think, but based on what he had just heard, it sounded like his mother had just made a date with some guy named Kevin. But he couldn't believe that his mother was capable of anything so indiscreet as an affair.

In the Climax of Taking Candy from Her Baby, Ted and Claudia find themselves in a real mess . . .

Brice's mother decides she wants to become a nudist and invites son to join her . . .

Dwight gets revenge on Pete and then tries to make his peace with his mother . . .

Learn how the seven dwarfs got their names from Snow . . .

Warren was wiping off the table when Keith walked up.

"Great burger, War, my man," Keith belched crudely, rubbing his belly.

"Say, what time do you get off work?"

"Around nine-thirty," Warren said, grinning at Keith who was doing a terrible pantomime of a vampire.

"War, why don't you stop by after you get off and have a celebratory beer?" he said whispering so that no one else could hear him.

"That sounds good," Warren grinned, "I might just do that."

"Good," Keith said in his sick imitation of a vampire, "and bring along an extra quart of O positive."

"Sure, I'll stop by the blood bank and make a withdrawal on my way over."

Pulling his cloak over his face, Keith made a weird, sucking sound and went slinking across the diner toward the door.

Laura loses her husband and daughter. See how she replaces them in her life . . .

Martha finds out that her son has an obsession with mother/son sex. Find out how she deals with it in this A Picnic with Mom . . .

Jake listened to the twin engines whine down as he sat looking out over the tarmac toward the aerial port of Kripston Naval Air Station. Waiting to disembark from the plane, he wondered if Carey would be home.

He hadn't been able to get in touch with her to tell her that he was coming home a day early. His ship, the Edmund Fitz, always had a lottery on their way back into port and the winners of the lottery got to depart a day earlier in one of the refueling aircraft. Jake had always entered the lottery, but in six years, this was the first time he had won.

He felt a sense of uneasiness sitting there waiting for them to open the hatch as he recalled all the scuttlebutt about navy wives.

He knew that a lot of the guys on the ship joked about winning the lottery and coming home to catch their wives in bed with another guy. While it was common knowledge that a lot of the navy wives entertained a second husband while her real husband was out to sea, Jake knew that Carey would never be capable of such a thing.

At last the hatch was thrown open and they were allowed to deplane. Spotting his B4 bag in the pile of luggage sprawled out behind the aircraft, he grabbed it and headed for the exit leading to the parking lot in front of the aerial port building. Just as he came through the gate, he saw a cab pulling up to the entrance of the building.

Whistling, he got the cabby's attention and threw his bag in the back seat. Giving the cab driver his address, he climbed in the back seat.

Five minutes later, he was pulling through the gate leading into the married quarters where he and Carey lived. As they drove up in front of their quarters, he saw Carey's car sitting in the garage, so he assumed that she was home.

Tossing a five into the front seat, he jerked his bag out and ran up to the front door. Dropping his bag by the door, he fumbled with his keys until he finally got the front door unlocked.

Throwing open the door, he stepped inside.

"What in the . . ." Carey sputtered as she stood in the middle of the living room staring at him as if she had just seen a ghost.

"I won the lottery and got to come home a day early," he grinned covering the few steps between them in an instant.

"Wow . . . this is such, uh, such a surprise," she mumbled as he swept her into his arms.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" he asked, giving her a big, wet kiss on the lips.

Glenda had gone to bed around ten and was now pretending to be asleep as she heard her husband, Will come into the bedroom. Trying to make sure that her breathing was steady and even, she listened to him move around on his side of the bed, dropping his clothes onto the end of bed and finally flouncing down onto the bed. Then, with an angry flick, he turned the light off.

She could sense the anger in him as she lay unmoving on her side of the bed.

Why did he have to want sex all the time, anyway? For some crazy, weird reason, it just didn't seem fair. Men always seemed obsessed by sex from puberty until death, yet in women the fires burned lower and lower as they aged. Why couldn't their sex drives be the same and the exasperation that led to all this anger wouldn't be there? Why he would probably do it every night if she would let him. Goodness, it had only been . . . . When had it been? When had they last made love? Then as her mind slowly tripped back over the days and nights, she realized that it had been a week and a half since they had done it. Oh, for goodness sake, she scolded herself, how could it have been that long ago? That can't be right, why it seems like it was only yesterday. She let her mind retrace the nights of television and days of social events, the teas, the canasta games, and all the other functions that she endlessly attended to occupy her time. Yes, it had been a week and a half. It had been that Wednesday night that Billy, Jr. spent the night with his friend, Wayland. God, it still seemed only a couple of night ago.

Maybe, maybe I ought to roll over and . . . .

It was around ten-thirty on a warm Saturday evening and Sa