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This story must be read with the following translations. It is written using Australian slang common in the 1960’s to retain its authenticity.

Glossary – Australian slang to American English

Tipsy = inebriated.

Port = Port wine, fortified fruity red wine with 17% alcohol content.

Le Gopuna = Leg Opener, Port wine.

Pisspot = heavy drinker.

Piss = (in this context) alcohol.

Knee trembler = sex with the partner standing, mostly against a wall.

Quickie = brief sexual encounter.

Grog = alcohol.

Tart = slut.

Going the Grope = forceful manipulation of mammaries or pubes.

Floppers = large breasts.

Fuckin Oath = words worth a thousand pictures, too right mate, yes. Meaning dependent on the emphasis on ‘Oath’.

Snatch = pubis.

Gob = mouth.

Do a runner = flee.

Swig = mouthful.

Muff = pubic mound.

Knocked up = impregnated.

A barrier to intimacy had been crossed. I had tongued the mother-in-law’s fanny, been sucked off by her as a reward and then milked dry by her daughter, all on the verge of a very busy highway.

My embarrassment began the moment the last drop of my semen hit the ground. I just wanted to get away from them.

“He’s got a big one, mum.” Denise mused.

“Yeah, he’ll do me!” and burst out laughing at the double entendre, “and he’s loaded too!” Madge made an approving lip licking action. But not loaded with money, I knew.

“He’s mine. Stick to your bottle.” Denise rounded on her mother.

“Enough of that. I know a bit about you too, Missy. Don’t you think I can hear?” Madge was clearly peeved. Time to go home.

Little was said as we left the civilised part of Adelaide and penetrated the suburban jungle of Taperoo. With some difficulty we got the tipsy woman inside the house.

“I just want a little nightcap before bed.” Madge pronounced.

“No bursa eskort Mum. You’ve had enough.”

“Just a little ‘Port’. For your lonely old mum?” With that she jumped up and grabbed a near full bottle of ‘Le Gopuna’ from the sideboard and disappeared into the bedroom. If there was a lock it did not work.

“Sorry about that, Brent,” Denise whispered, “Mum’s a bit of a pisspot. Gets on the piss and goes crazy. Bad enough she had a ‘knee trembler’ at the pub. Picked up a young stud and had him in the ruins of the horse stables. A real quickie! I don’t like that, do you?”

I was nonplussed. Did she mean she herself didn’t like quickies, or she didn’t like her mother having one? I chose the former as that implied she had tried it and was not a virgin. Another untested assumption.

Back on topic Denise confided “Mum has this condition, mental problem. It’s triggered by the grog. I think you had better go.”

Interested, I asked for more detail.

“The doctor called it Turrets Sindrone. (sic Tourettes Syndrome). Foul mouthed bitch, that’s all I can say. Such an embarrassment!” Clearly uneasy I changed the topic.

“I want to stay here with you a little longer. Please can I?” I recognised my heaven sent chance. I sat close to the girl on the lumpy sofa. Remembering the romantic lines from the movies I started my patter. “Denise, I love you,” in as many variants as I could utter, and finally the classic Aussie foreplay “I want to fuck you!” A lead balloon.

“OK, enough of that. I’m not a tart. You can go home, NOW.” she said crossly.

Knowing I had blown it I began to simper.

“Awl right, but not for long.” and she gave me a kiss on the cheek in recompense. Tellingly she removed her glasses and set the on the cluttered coffee table. Squinting in the semi gloom she looked quite different now, a little softer and vulnerable.

I was over on her, restraining bursa escort bayan her and planting awkward kisses on her face, going the grope on those prominent tits. At first she fought me away, then thought better of it and relaxed into the sofa. There upon she began to return my kisses her way, training me as she did so. The hand deflecting mine relaxed and I felt the smooth rounded orbs beneath her sweater. Learning quickly I slowed down and within five minutes she took me by the wrist and guided my hand up over her stomach and under the wire brace bra. I had found the first plateau on my way to heaven.

Fondling is too eloquent a description, mauling might be more appropriate. But still it had an effect for Diane bent forward, passed her arms around her back and released those treasures from their iron cage. Folding her arms over her chest she gripped the bottom seam of her top garment and tore it up over her head and free. My eyes boggled as I saw those floppers for the first time. A deft movement and her bra was airborne.

“Whadda ya think?” she asked as she scooped up handfuls of mammary and perked them out, then tweaked a nipple to make it crinkle. “Would you like a suck?”

“Fuckin Oath.”

Denise buried my head in her tits as she again settled back. I could scare breathe but couldn’t have cared less if I did indeed, asphyxiate.

Sucking hungrily, my right hand wandered down over her body, along her thigh to the hem of her skirt, and up to the hot terminus of her thighs. I wondered why the gusset of her panties were damp and sticky. It must have been uncomfortable for her too because she reached down to her hips and began to shimmy out of the plain white ‘Cotton Tail’ briefs, pushing my hand aside in exasperation. Taking control she then pulled my right hand up to a tangle of wiry hair, then forced my hand downwards to rub her snatch. I was görükle escort shocked for it was not as I had imagined a woman’s privates would be. Truly, I imagined a sensuous proto-mouth, smooth lipped, delicate and gentle, instead I was rubbing a drooling, coarse bearded, toothless old man’s gob! I wanted to do a runner!

“Fuck me, Fuck me, FUCK ME,” Denise’ voice rising in cadence as she ground my fingers deeper into her slit.

“Denise you fucking MOLL, stop that,” exploded from the bedroom, then the apparition of the devil herself, dressed in the same grimy house coat erupted through the doorway. “Get me a coke, quick!”

I was paralysed by fear. We both were, but it seemed that Madge was in some distress rather than disapproval at of our behaviour. Open mouthed I watched her pull another ‘classic’ coke from the crate, stumble around until she found an opener then take a generous swig. Placing the bottle on the floor she fumbled her purse until she found something and dropped it down the bottle neck, kneeling facing us in full view she pulled her coat aside to reveal her ample drooping breasts, podgy, many folded belly and a veritable wheat field of tangled ginger hair on her prominent muff.

The reaction of the aspirin with the cola had started. A brown, fizzing volcano of bubbles was rapidly rising up the glass – an oft repeated adolescent prank. Open mouthed with amazement I watched Madge shuffle her piggy self over the bottle and with one hand parting her vaginal lips and the other steadying the bottle, settle herself down on it.

“Shit, that was close,” she said in falling cadence. “I forgot about the tadpoles. Don’t want to get knocked up again!” Addressing me she said “be a darling and throw me those panties.” The vaginal douche was spewing its sticky brownness over the floor. Madge was clamping her vagina ever tighter. I could see the wrinkles in her lower abdomen begin to fill out, her face to grimacing as the pressure grew in her belly.

“Fuck, I can’t hold it!” A brown filth spewed on to the floor.

I threw up.

CAUTION: Children don’t try this at home! Consult a medical professional, a clergyman, your dirty old Uncle Harry or Madge from down Taperoo way!

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