Mother lover
Rex Taylor
CHAPTER ONE
Cathy stood on the deserted beach. It had taken her half an hour to gather the pile of rocks and stones at her feet. She looked up and down the strand to see if anyone was nearby and, seeing no one, she bent over and picked up a stone. She drew back her arm and flung the rock with all her might onto the incoming waves. "FUCK!" she screamed.
Again and again she repeated the process, the heap of rocks disappearing much faster than it had been accumulated, and each time Cathy let fly she wailed the obscenity once again, wailed it despairingly, as though it were the last pitiful utterance of a broken heart.
Perhaps it was. Perhaps at this very moment Cathy was experiencing the most downcast and disconsolate emotions of her life. Eighteen-year-old girls tend to be extreme in their feelings and reactions at the best of times and, if anyone had been there to ask her, Cathy would undoubtedly have replied that she felt just like dying.
She stooped to seize the last rock, a big gray chunk of stone, which she had saved for last precisely because it was bigger than any of the others she'd found. Her fingers wrapped around it and she brought her arm back for the toss. Cathy closed her eyes and she saw her mother's face, and
it made her smile to imagine Gwen standing in the stone's imminent pathway, for wasn't it all Gwen's fault?
"FUCK!" she shrieked and the rock flew out of her hand to slap and splash upon the frothing wave rolling towards the shore. Her arm dropped and she stood a moment, panting heavily with the force of her emotions, her young tits heaving as frantically.
"Are you throwing rocks at the devil?" someone asked, and Cathy whirled around, her sandaled feet whipping on the warm sand. A young man, sun-browned and wearing only a pair of skimpy black swim trunks, stood at the crest of the bluff overlooking the beach, his longish hair blowing in the sea breeze.
"Huh?" Cathy called in reply. He was coming to join her, a smile growing bigger on his face as he got nearer. Jesus, she thought, he's cute! And he must think I'm crazy or something.
"I said, are you throwing rocks at the devil?" He cocked his head to one side and stared at her engagingly. "It's kind of a joke, but I guess it isn't funny if you don't know the language. I have this friend, see, who went to a church-run boarding school when he was younger, and the supervisor used to tell the boys that getting horny was a symptom of the devil trying to take over their bodies. So, until they found out it was caused by something else altogether, whenever one of them started feeling any urges, he'd run outside and start pitching rocks until the devil gave up and went back to Hell where he belonged."