Denial by Peter James

Author:Peter James [James, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Horror
ISBN: 9781409133018
Google: QlIMZl7vgzoC
Goodreads: 703355
Publisher: Not Avail
Published: 1998-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifty-seven

‘Have you washed your choo-choo?’

Tom-Tom in the oval pink bathtub, head sticking out of the foam. A special treat – he loved it when his mother tipped the bubble bath stuff in, and it was like snow, only even frothier, even lighter; he could scoop great armfuls of it up.

‘Yes, Mummy.’

Standing over him, her white satin dressing gown open at the front. He could see her breasts poking through, with their big red nipples. He could see the line down the centre of her stomach where she had been cut open to let him be born. And the thick straw bush of hair below it.

‘Let me see, Tom-Tom darling. Let me make sure you’ve washed him really thoroughly.’

Nervous now. Scold or treat today?

She leaned over him. One breast touched his cheek and rested cool against it. Her hands slipped below the froth, gripping a bar of Camay. He felt the hard slippery soap against the inside of his legs and it gave him a strange kind of excitement.

‘Good boy, darling, Tom-Tom, what a beautiful clean choo-choo. Mummy will clean it a little more now.’

Treat today.

Relief inside him. And the excitement building.

Now he felt her soapy hands working on his penis, massaging it, teasing the foreskin back, then forward again, covering the tip. She soaped her hands some more and teased his foreskin back then forward again, and he was hardening now, growing in her fingers.

‘Such a big choo-choo. Going to have such a big, beautiful choo-choo when you grow up, aren’t you, Tom-Tom?’

He giggled excitedly. He loved it when she smiled, when she approved. He wanted, desperately, for her to smile at him all the time.

Slipping off the white satin gown now, she let it drop in a heap, like a pool of white liquid on the pink carpet. Naked in front of him, her huge breasts, the thick, straggly triangle of blonde hair; the flesh around her stomach a little loose. That was where he had been, in there, curled up inside her, behind that wall of flesh.

Hard as a rock now. He showed her proudly, knowing this made her pleased, and she rewarded him with a kiss on the forehead. ‘Good boy, Tom-Tom, I love you.’

He looked at her, wanting her to say it again. She didn’t, but she was smiling, and that was good.

She stepped into the bath, sat down facing him, knees sticking up through the froth. ‘How is your choo-choo now, darling?’

He wanted her to touch it again, wanted desperately that tight sensation that drilled through him when she held it. She reached forward, soaped her hands and held it again now, and it was harder than ever and he loved that feeling of the soapy hands playing up and down it.

Now she handed him the Camay. He gripped the pink bar in his small hand. ‘Mummy needs washing now, darling,’ she said.

He leaned forward, rubbed the bar in slow circles around her navel, really slow, following it in equally slow, circular motions with

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