Woodstock 8: Franklin
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
October 12, 1952
11:50 AM
Approaching her eighth month of pregnancy, feeling fat and ugly, Aundre considered doing something she knew she shouldn’t do to now ten month old Franklin.
This so far from anything that had ever entered her mind.
She knew she shouldn’t!
Aundre’s Catholic upbringing and heritage telling her, This will be a sin!
While feeding Franklin his gloppy lunch of mashed sweet potato, ground chicken and gravy, and applesauce…
Hesitating. Thinking about why and what she was about to do…
Doing it anyway!
Aundre stirred a teaspoon of vodka into Franklin’s sweet potatoes.
12:39 PM
Aware the guilt of doing this might haunt her the rest of her life.
The teaspoon of vodka putting the ten month old child into an extremely deep sleep.
Unsnapping the covering flap of Franklin’s ‘little boy pants’ then slipping them over and off his bare feet.
Lowering the training diaper….
The seventeen year old pregnant girl studied the ten month old boy’s long, thin penis…
Then reaching to it….
Whore! Slut!
Aundre’s mother and father called her ‘A whore!’ ‘A slut!’
The seventeen year old girl knew what her classmates thought of her. Called her. Aundre knew the names were deserved and in some perverse way welcomed the notoriety.
Better to be known as something, rather than nothing.
Nearing the eighth month of her pregnancy. Nearing the time she would have to give up her baby without ever seeing it...’It’. Without even knowing if her baby was a girl or boy.
Looking at the ten month baby. Helpless baby! The girl though.
Whore! Slut!
Her finger but an inch from stroking the sleeping babies penis.
Whore! Slut! Aundre thought. I am a whore and a slut, but not a fucking paedophile
Refitting the training diaper. Replacing the babies ‘little boy pants.
Turning the television on, Aundre watched, ‘As The World Turns’, while
anxiously waiting for little Franklin to wake up, wondering if the teaspoon
of vodka would show any effect once awake.
1:40 PM
The teaspoon of vodka caused Franklin to awaken in a — completely out of character for the happy ten month old boy. Franklin awoke in a lethargic state that lasted, Thank goodness! Aundre thought, as the baby began to gurgle happily shortly before Margery returned home.
Woodstock Festival of Music and Love
Bethal, New York
August 12, 1969
6:08 AM
Lust sat upright with his legs spread watching Sharon as she — unable or unwilling to turn away. Fascinated, thirty-five year old Sharon Murphy watched in shocked amazement as the young man calling himself ‘Morning Lust, offered a rolled joint in one hand as he openly masturbated wit the other.
Hearing a light snore, Sharon glanced at her husband that apparently was sleeping off too much weed or too much whisky, or too many ‘freely giving’ hippy women the night before.
Sharon and Clyde had spoken about it, and seeing and being part of this once in a lifetime, free-wheeling extravaganza with the greatest musical artists of this generation, and with no one— or very few in security to stop them, Clyde and Sharon Murphy had adopted the Las Vegas motto: ‘What happens at Woodstock stays in Woodstock’. To never be spoken of again!
Not knowing if it was the offer of maharajah — even this early in the morning, or the sight of Lust’s penis.
Shrugging her shoulders, standing, she crossed the few feet to the lean-too and sat closely alongside of the young man.
Nodding to the north. “Looks like they’re about through with the stage.”
“Yeah…” brashly taking Sharon’s hand “...hold this a minute, will you…”
Hesitating, looking at Lust’s penis. “Hold it?” Sharon questioned.
“Yeah. Can’t light the joint, unless you hold it.” Easily folding Sharon’s fingers about the hard shaft.
Feeling the cool, warm, soft, hard flesh of the boy/man within her hand.
Quiet a moment. Sensing her inner fluid beginning to moisten her vagina.“You’re pretty”… pun intended “... cock sure of yourself, aren’t you!”
Lighting the joint wit the ‘Zippo’ that had been by his side. Taking a deep draw, then placing it directly between Sharon’s lips. “Seems like you’re the one that’s cock sure.”
After but one day in this mad circus, becoming rather
expert at holding maharajah smoke within her lungs a second or two before exhaling.
The THC content of the strong joint hitting Sharon immediately… Immediately dispelling the gloomy morning and the unbelievably huge mass of humanity standing chest to ass, sitting shoulder to shoulder within the rain, waiting for the dream of Woodstock to begin.
Tightening her fingers, watching the pocket of foreskin expose Lust’s shiny glans with each upstroke, then, moving the pliable flesh downward, hid it again.
Sensing a rising passion, Sharon’s breath suddenly becoming a bit laboured…
Hauling her hand in mid-upstroke. “My husband?” Nodding to the sleeping man in their tent.
“Wouldn’t worry about him, if I were you.”
Sharon’s hand manipulating a little quicker. “Why’s that?”
“After what your husband… His name’s Clyde, huh?”
“Yeah.” The word coming between hastily drawn breath.
“Your old man smoked and drank and even…” nodding his head backward, towards the sleeping woman “… fucked my mother.”
Hardly able to get the words out. “Clyde… My husband fucked your mother?” Cocking her head backward. “She’s your mother?” Asked incredulously from within Sharon’s shimmering atmosphere of THC smoke.
Spreading his legs. Leaning back. His eyes half closed as his hips jerked — once, twice, three, four times within the rhythm of Sharon’s hand.
“Yeah…” suddenly sitting up and leaning forward, his penis pulling from Sharon’s hand “...she’s my mother.” Seventeen year old Franklin Binkowski AKA twenty year old Morning Lust said as ejaculating onto the sodden ground.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
November 20, 1957
At age thirty-five, as the legally undisputed CEO of newly renamed, ‘MB Plastics’; having absolute trust in the now twenty-one year old woman, bringing Aundre Rizzo along as — nearing nine year old Franklin’s ‘in home’ babysitter, Margery Binkowski— Giving Aundre her own bedroom with a side door entrance, Margery had purchased a four bedroom house on the outskirts of Milwaukee, and a Buick Road Master as her means of transpiration.
Never allowing herself the latitude she’d— by the grace of God, almost taken on 10/12/52, it did not stop twenty-one year old Aundre from occasionally sneaking a peak at the boy, and his man sized penis, as preparing to take a bath or shower.
Also, occasionally, one of— or, depending on the bra and blouse Aundre was wearing, one or both of her breast would ‘accidentally’ escape the confines of her blouse to expose themselves within full view of this rapidly growing boy...
Which always gave young Franklin a ‘boner’, that, as most young boys do; Franklin had discovered, and self taught himself the finer points of masturbation — which was to just keep doing it until gooey stuff shot from your boner.
Within her business, wisely wanting to align herself with people she knew and trusted, upon graduation from high school, forgoing college, Margery purchased college grade courses in shorthand and stenography, with the intention of bringing Aundre in the firm, starting as an assistant to her secretary.
At age ten, decreeing her son no longer needed a babysitter, Aundre and Franklin were given the freedom to do as they wished — For Aundre to study and home practice her courses and Franklin, after school and homework, to spend their time as they wished, with Aundre to pick up the household slack on the occasions Margery spent the night, or weekend out…
Always spending the night or weekend fucking one or another, older… or younger man, all of whom were beginning to bore her.
Needing something different to spice up her life.
11/18/63
Approaching his twelfth year…
On three occasions, Margery received notices that there had been complaints that her son, Franklin, had been groping thirteen and fourteen year old girls.
Even though she had to go for a conference with the school principle regarding this improper conduct, Margery, being the fantastic mother she was, privately thought it was kind of cute that a, not quite twelve year old boy enjoyed feeling girls tits.
Franklin’s school was located no more than a mile from his home. On nice days, the boy would walk to and from school. On bad days: rain, cold, overly hot, and snowing days, the school bus stopped on the corner a half block from Franklin’s home giving him the option to ride or walk to school, and home when school let out at three PM.
A blizzard blowing throughout the entire mid-west. November eighteenth being one of those, ‘best to stay home’, snow bound days, Margery decided not to go to her office, and to just remain safe and warm at home.
Franklin, though, being a twelve year old boy, and as twelve year old boys, and those younger and those older love playing in the snow — Red cheeked and wet from the scarf about his neck, right down through his four buckle galoshes. Franklin came into the house at 3:45 PM covered with clinging snow.
“Hey, kiddo...” Margery called fro m the kitchen “...take those galoshes off before tracking all over. “
“Mmmm! Smells good. What’ch’ya making?”
“How’s chilli sound ?”
“Great! I love your, chilli, Mom.”
Something she’d thought her son might be old enough now to join in now.
“Soon’s I’m finished here…” giving the chilli pot a few extra stirs “...going to hop in the tub for a nice long bubble bath. Want to join me?”
Nudity, at least when Aundre was not around, a common occurrence in this home, as Margery thought, The boy should know the bodily difference between male and female.
His damp clothing chilling him and, “Yeah, Mom..” enjoying looking at his naked mother’s womanly body “...that’ll be great.”
“Okay. Go run the water, and dump plenty of bubble soap in, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Hot and cool water mixing. Airy floating bubbles covering the entire inner surface of the tub.
Standing naked waiting for his mother. Shivering. Goose-pimples stippling his body, the boy tested the water a moment, then added a few seconds of cold water.
Wearing nothing — Margery’s thirty-seven year old body a bit on the stocky side and the area about her vagina, more than bit on the hairy side, and most definitely Margery Binkowski was much more than a bit on the busty side.
The boy and his mother had done this before. Taken a naked bath together before.
Standing to the side, Franklin watched as his mother put one leg into the tub, widening the fission within her vulva. Moments later, apparently getting used to the temperature, lifting her leg over the rim of the tub, Margery slid downward, her back against the rear. Her legs spread from side to side as, patting the water, the mother invited the son to sit, his now soapy slick back cradled between his mother’s large, flopping, soap slicked breasts.
Margery’s fingers massaging the mussels between neck and shoulder… then reaching over his shoulders, her hands rubbing his chest and nipples till they hardened and then — for the very first time, the mother’s hand going further, took hold of the excessive length her son’s flaccid penis.
Whispering in his ear, “You like it when mommy touches you here?”
Sliding downward a little, Franklin felt the warm, slick flesh of his mother’s breasts caressing his cheeks.
Warm and comfortable almost beyond description. This a position the boy loved: his back against his mother’s bare chest and soft breasts and now…
Feeling her son extend and grow rigid within her hand.
“You like it when mommy touches you here?”
Franklin’s upper back tightly against Margery’s chest,
she’s able to feel the increased beat of her son’s heart as it frantically pumps blood downward, filling the arteries and veins rigidly extending the twelve year old boy’s penis held within the hand of his mother.
Doing a thing Franklin had never done in the past while bathing with his mother…
Lifting her right breast from beneath, as the boy suckled on his mothers tightly constricted, dark brown nipple, the mother feels the constriction and release of the muscles at the base of her son’s penis as he ejaculates into the foamy bath water.
Breathing deeply, Franklin’s head turned upward, his lips meeting Margery’s lips kissing in a manner, such as never before.
“I love you, mommy!”
“Oh, baby…” spoken in the literal sense, or an affectionate sense, maybe both “...I love you, too.”
And the mother did! In more than a ‘motherly’ way.
Knowing her and her son would be entering an extremely taboo, incestuousness stage of their lives, and as becoming pregnant with her son’s baby was a thing the mother did not want to happen, later that day Margery called the ‘whoreish’ of her old high school girlfriends, asking the name of a Chicago Obstetrician that could do the job quickly, requiring none of the paperwork demanded for a woman her age requesting this type of life altering surgery in Conservative Wisconsin.
Within the next week, flying to Liberal Illinois, spending one night in the Chicago hospital, thirty-seven year old Margery Binkowski had a Tubal Ligation.
Next: Woodstock 9, The Need
