Ma Butcher's Boys 

Chapter 1   Pickup 

2,610 words

by Ozmanga

"I can't understand it!" Mark Outhwaite muttered. "I know I filled up at the last stop, ten miles back. Now the gauge shows empty!"

He had free wheeled his late model top-of-the-line Mercedes Benz onto the shoulder of the seldom travelled country road. He now stood looking forlornly at the area of the car where he suspected the gas tank was located.

"Use your cell-phone, dear," called Helen, his second wife as she got out of the car to stretch her slim, shapely, legs. "Call the roadside help people."

Helen looked like the typical trophy wife. She was a doll-like creature with natural blonde hair and big blue eyes.  She was carefully dressed in a lightweight linen dress, which was cut low enough to show her full bosom without being obvious. Helen was no bimbo. It was her fortune and management skills that had saved Outhwaite and Partners from going to the wall during the panic of the previous year. She was now the controlling partner. Her marriage to Mark had been her way of clinching the deal. Mark, who thought the nuptials his idea, had difficulty in believing his luck. Not only was she clever, beautiful and wealthy but she was a tiger in bed, which made him feel slightly guilty. 

Helen was not more than six years older than his teenage daughter, Katrina, who now sat sulking on the rear seat of the plush automobile. She was cross because Helen had insisted on taking the "scenic route" and it now looked as though they wouldn't reach "civilisation" until late.

"I've tried," he whined, "but we seem to be in an area where such communication is not feasible!"

"Don't be such a pompous old fart!" muttered Katrina too quietly to be heard. "It's called a blind spot!" She stretched her lean denim-clad legs along the back seat and tried to look interested in a copy of "Vogue" her stepmother had bought at the service station.

 It was four o'clock. The summer sun was still high when a biker turned up. The Outhwaites had been marooned on the roadside for twenty minutes 

"What's the problem?" he asked, swinging his leather clad bulk off his powerful machine. "Maybe I can help?" He was a young man, bearded, tall and well built, but going to fat. 

Katrina later remembered that she had seen him at their last stop, giving her and Helen the once over and practically undressing them both with his eyes. He'd looked away when Katrina returned his stare, concentrating on the exaggerated bulge in the fork of his leathers.

It took the biker less than two minutes scrabbling under the Merc to discover a leak in the gas tank. A tow was needed, he said, to a local garage where a temporary repair could be made. He suggested that he lift either, "one of the little ladies," or Mark himself to a nearby hotel, where he or she could telephone for a recovery vehicle. Mark volunteered to go, possibly because the bearded biker   - "Call me Spike!" - suggested, with a leer, that, "one of the little ladies might enjoy having five hundred see sees of Japanese know-how throbbing and vibrating between her thighs."

When the tow truck arrived thirty minutes later, the "little ladies" were surprised that Mark was said to be, "Waiting for you at the hotel, ladies!". The truck was driven by Spike's older brother - "Call me Pat" - a clean-shaven skinhead who was fatter and squatter than his biker sibling. His attitude was even more chauvinistic than Spike's. He cranked up the front of the Merc for a suspended tow and invited "you girls" to share the bench seat in the front of the tow truck for the trip to the hotel.

The women climbed into the cab of the truck. The seat was littered with well-thumbed pornographic magazines and empty cans of mixed drinks. Pat watched as the women cleared a space to sit. He seemed amused at their embarrassment as they tried to stuff the lurid publications into the glove-box or the side-pockets on the door. Helen dropped "Lesbian Lust" on the floor of the cab. Pat recovered the glossy magazine and handed it to Katrina managing to press his beefy arm into Helen's chest as he did so. He tugged at the crotch of his grubby jeans as he settled behind the wheel. "Bit of a stiffy!" he explained, grinning."It's the mags. You can look at 'em if you want."

The journey was not comfortable. Pat's hand brushed Helen's knee whenever he changed gear. When she snapped at him to keep his hands to himself he just laughed. As the journey progressed Pat leered at the women and maintained a steady stream of questions. Some of them were very personal. Such as, "If she's your daughter, how come she's a brunette?" Then, "Are you a natural blonde? 'Course there's a sure way to prove that, eh!" And, "I reckon you both take the same bra size? Or is Momma a wee bit bigger?"

The frostier Helen became, the more outrageous were his questions. When he asked, "D'you two ever get together for, what d'ya call it, a bit of female bonding? You know, girl on girl?" Katrina quickly jumped in, telling her stepmother to pay no attention because the slob was merely jerking her chain.

"'Slob', is it?" said Pat, as the vehicle pulled up outside what looked like a dilapidated farm house. "Well this 'slob' is gonna teach you two high class cunts a thing or two. Get the fuck out of the truck and into the house! Your days of being lady-muck are over!" 

There were protests and a brief struggle before Pat hustled the two women out of the pick-up and up the steps and through the heavy wooden doors of the building.

They were dragged, protesting, through the doors and into a stone-flagged hallway. Here they were met by a short, wiry, dark-haired woman of about forty who radiated considerable energy. She was wearing a denim skirt and a black T-shirt which clung to her damply. She wasn't wearing a bra. Between her prominent nipples was printed "Butcher".

"So these are the rich bitches you two boys found," the woman greeted Pat.  "Barbie and fucking Mandy no less!" She inspected the two. "With, I'll grant you, nice tits!"

"Yeah, Ma," he responded. "Where d'ya want them?"

Ma considered the pair for a moment before making her decision.

"The big bedroom with the brass bed," said Ma."You boys can have your fun with 'em tonight!"

"I'm a mite horny now, Ma," Pat grumbled.

"I must protest in the strongest possible ter ..." began Helen breathlessly, at last pulling away from Pat's grasp. 

Her speech was cut short as Ma punched her hard in the stomach. Helen gasped and dropped to her knees clutching her midriff. Katrina moved to help her stepmother but Pat held on to the younger woman with a meaty paw.

"You speak when you're spoken to, Barbie!" snarled Ma.  "You gotta understand that things have changed. From now on you belong to me and my boys. You wanna live? You make yourself useful! You give my boys a good time. Me too, if I feel like it. You'll maybe clean and cook and whatever! You'll be a fucking domestic, Barbie, and I do mean, fucking!"

"Her name's 'Helen'!" shouted Katrina defiantly.

Ma looked at the teenaged girl and smiled a thin, cruel, smile. "Feeling protective are you, kid?" she sneered. "She's your step-momma. Kid's ain't supposed to like their step-mommas."

"Helen's Okay!" muttered Katrina. "How did you know she's not my real Mom?"

"Why, Sugar, your Daddy told me all about you while I was waiting. He's in the cellar."

"I reckon they frig each other," grunted Pat. "I'll bet Barbie gets her tongue in the kid's twat then fists the little slut twice a night! That right, Kid?"

"You ... you're disgusting!" groaned Helen.

Ma chuckled. "Well, Barbie, if you didn't screw the kid before, you will before we've done with you! We ain't got no Tee Vee and we do love to watch porn!"

"Never!" gasped Helen.

"Wanna bet?" asked Ma.

She took a step towards the kneeling Helen and kicked her hard in the side with the instep of her booted foot. Helen slumped to the floor, gasping. Ma's foot rose and thumped into the prostrate woman again and again. Helen screamed with pain.

"Stop it!" yelled Katrina. "Stop it! You'll kill her!"

Ma turned to face the angry girl. "You want me to stop?"

Katrina nodded.

"Then strip! Let her go Pat! Get your gear off, kid and I'll spare Momma a shellacking!"

Katrina hesitated for a moment. Ma dug her heel into the recumbent Helen. Katrina sobbed then swiftly reached up and pulled her cotton tank top over her head. Without a pause she unhooked her white lacy bra and slipped it off. Her full but firm breasts, adorned with small pink nipples, bobbed as she straightened up.

"Ain't she prime fuck-meat!" breathed Pat as Katrina kicked off her sneakers and undid the waistband of her jeans. The petite teenager unzipped, and slid the blue stretch fabric down her long, slender, legs.

Helen raised herself on one elbow in time to see her stepdaughter put the palms of her hands on the sides of her white cotton panties and slowly roll them down her thighs. Katrina bent over as she did so, and presented Pat with a view of her sweet round bottom and smoothly plucked vagina. When she stepped out of her panties, she was naked apart from a pair of cotton ankle socks. She stood, facing Ma. One hand covered her exposed sex, the other attempted to hide her breasts. It was cold in the hallway. Katrina's nipples puckered.

Pat moaned. The front of his filthy denim trousers bulged and his bloodshot eyes narrowed in anticipation as he watched the back of the young girl standing by her fallen stepmother.

"Good!" said Ma. "Now come here! Give me a kiss!"

"No! Don't do it!" groaned Helen from the floor. She struggled to her knees. Ma kicked her twice. Once in the throat and, much harder, in the gut. The little blonde rolled over and lay, moaning, curled into the fetal position. Ma raised her foot for a killing blow.

"Stop it!" yelled Katrina, "You said if I stripped ..."

"Yeah! Now it's kissy-kissy time!" She smacked her thin lips and beckoned to the confused young woman. Katrina took a tentative step towards her stepmother's tormentor and was seized in a tight embrace. Ma squeezed the teenager, her larger breasts crushing Katrina's shapely nakedness. She bent over her victim and kissed her full on the lips. Katrina struggled but Ma was much stronger than the teenager. As she squashed the breath out of Katrina, Ma forced her tongue down the young woman's throat.

Pat, unable to contain his lust any longer, unbelted his cum stained jeans and pulled them down to allow his hairy belly and genitals to hang out. He shuffled towards Katrina and Ma slowly pumping his growing erection with one hand and cradling his hairy bollocks in the other.

Katrina squirmed in Ma's tight embrace. She gave a cry of triumph as she twisted her head and then her body away from the older woman. But Ma's arms still circled Katrina. They held her tight, now facing the rampant Pat. Her clawlike hands dug into Katrina's soft breasts. Over the girl's shoulder Ma grinned at her younger son.

"You want this chick, don't ya?"

Pat nodded and made a low guttural sound. 

Ma leant back and pressed her groin into the small of Katrina's back which lifted Katrina's feet off the ground. Ma's hands clenched on the girl's bosom. "Open your fucking legs or I'll rip your tits off!" she snarled.

Helen had struggled into a sitting position again despite the sharp pain in her chest and aching stomach. She saw, with mounting horror, her naked step daughter offered to the repulsive fat-bellied pick-up-truck driver. She saw the monstrous size of his thick veined cock, its apron of foreskin pulled back to reveal the swollen purple head. She saw Katrina's legs part to expose her smooth girlish quim. She wanted to scream, but could only croak.

"Well," said Ma to the salivating Pat, "What the fuck are you waiting for? A fucking gilt-edged invitation?" She thrust her hips forward. "Fuck the little rich bitch!"

"No! Oh, please don't!" shrilled Katrina as Pat began to force his swollen member into her tightly clenched smooth-skinned pussy. Her pleas and attempted resistance merely inflamed his lust. He forced two fingers into her slit and followed this breach of her puny defences with the  slimy head of his penis.

"Oh, God!" Katrina wailed. "Stop it! Stop it!" She struggled in Ma's crushing embrace but was unable to break free.

"Jeez, you're a tight little bitch!" Pat grunted, as he forced his over-sized erection into the squirming teenager. "But...unh!...you're...unh!... gunna get ... all ten ...unh!... fucking ... AH! ... inches!" With a final grunt he drove the full length of his rigid cock into the weeping girl.

Helen watched in silent horror. She saw her step-daughter slowly impaled by the truck-driver's meaty tool then watched as he deliberately withdrew part way before slamming into the girl again and again. Ma looked at her and grinned. Her hips were pressing Katarina's round bottom in time to her son's lunges. This helped him to drive deeper into the youngster's belly.

Katrina burst into tears. She redoubled her pleas for mercy.

"Oh! Please!" she yelled "Stop! You're killing me! No more! No more, please!"

Ma laughed and continued to thump her groin into the screaming girl's buttocks in time to her son's mighty thrusts. To Helen it looked for a moment as if  the mother and son were copulating and that somehow Katrina had got caught between them. She tried again to protest but could only manage a strangled,"Nuh!"

Ma released Katrina and stepped back. Pat bore the teenager to the stone-flagged floor of the hallway and began a furious final assault. As his huge buttocks rose and fell he grunted with animal passion. He pawed her firm young breasts and slobbered over her long white neck. Katrina made a pathetic attempt to escape from under his fat, heavy, body but was pinned to the cold, stone, floor, unable to wriggle free.

"He fucks good, my boy Pat, doesn't he?" Ma said to Helen, crouching down beside the injured woman. Ma didn't expect an answer. Her hand was massaging her sex, forcing the blue denim of her skirt into her groin. "Gets you all excited, just watching the boys do their stuff, doesn't it?"

Helen looked at her, aghast. She shook her head.

"I'll bet you're as wet as me, Barbie!" said Ma and she reached under Helen's skirt. Her fingers brushed aside the crotch of Helen's cotton panties and probed between her moist cunt-lips. "Thought so!" she said.

Pat gave a howl of triumph as he began to ejaculate deep inside Katrina's womb. He banged hard into the supine girl with each spasm. She jerked and sobbed in response. His thrusts became less forceful and eventually stopped. Katrina's ordeal was over.

Pat struggled to his feet, his cock, which looked to Helen like a length of fire-hose, was dribbling semen. He shuffled over to where Katrina had dropped her clothes and picked up her discarded panties and wiped his sticky member. He pulled up his jeans and sighed with satisfaction.

"On your feet!" snapped Ma. "That's enough fun and games! Time to go in."





