When the alarm clock went off, June Cleaver stretched beneath to covers and rolled onto her side, nuzzling up to husband Ward. He reached across and slapped at the alarm clock one time, silencing it. “Morning, June,” he mumbled.

“Mmmmmm,” June said, entwining her arms around her husband. In a low, sleep husky voice she purred, “Ward, I think you were a little rough on the beaver last night.”

Ward looked stern as he always did when delivering a moral or lesson. “Sorry, June. But when a man feels really special about a woman, even his wife, sometimes he has to express it in ways that are a little decisive.”

“Oh, I certainly liked it,” she said, her eyes growing wide and innocent as they so often did, showing that little girl kind of wonderment that often drove Ward over the edge and caused him to pump gallons of cream into her still surprisingly tight pussy. “I really did like it, Ward, especially the part where you had me crawling around on my knees so you could see all of me open to you without shame or hesitation.”

Ward said with great seriousness, “Well, June, sometimes when a man is in a bedroom with a naked woman, he wants to know that he possesses every inch of her, body and soul, and he also needs to feel, well, that nothing is hidden from him. It’s just the right thing to do and I know we all feel better when you do the right thing.”

“Oh yes,” she nodded, wide eyed. “We do.”

Ward threw back the covers, massaging his generous piss-hard beaver cleaver as he ambled off into the bathroom. His tool was such a source of pride that he and June had jokingly named their youngest son after it. June slipped out of bed wearing her pink baby-doll nightie and went to her vanity, plucking the dull cotton robe from the back of the chair. She slipped it on, buttoning it right up to her throat as was proper, and as soon as she put on her pearls she headed downstairs to fix breakfast.

“Jeez, Wally,” Beaver called out from his bed. “I’m not feeling too good this morning. Maybe I’m getting sick or something.”

“Shut-up you little squirt,” Wally said in a choked voice. “I’m trying to have a big squirt of my own over here and you keep distracting me.”

“Gosh, Wally,” Beaver said, turning over on one side and resting his head on his hand. “Are you pulling on that thing again?”

Wally threw the catcher’s mitt down on the floor and sat up. “Well I was until you started blabbing away over there.”

“So what do you get out of doing that?” Beaver said, wrinkling his nose up. “Does it, like, help your pitching arm or something?”

“Heck no, Beaver,” Wally said, tucking his cock back into his pyjamas. “It just makes you feel really good. All the guys do it.”

“Together?”

“No, Beaver. That would be kind of goofy, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Beaver. “I guess so.” He thought for a moment. “Hey, Wally?”

“What?”

“So what do you think about while you’re doing it? Hitting a home run?”

Wally laughed. “Sorta. I mean, after all, you start off thinking about getting to first base. Like with Monica Davenport. You know what I mean?”

“Monica plays baseball?”

Wally rolled his eyes. “No. Have you ever seen Monica Davenport?”

“Sure. Lots of times.”

“And you know she’s got - those?” Wally curled his hands up in front of his chest.

“Hands?”

“Forget it, Beaver,” Wally sighed. “Maybe you’re just a queer.”

“Am not,” Beaver said, angrily. “And I don’t even know what that is.”

“Like Lumpy,” Wally said, simply.

Before Beaver could ask about that, he heard his mother’s voice calling up from downstairs letting the boys know that breakfast was ready.

Wally sat at the kitchen table behind his box of Wheaties. He was looking at Roger Maris and thinking he had nice eyes.

“Where’s the Beaver? June asked.

Ward giggled sternly as if to say, “I know where to find the beaver...”

“He said he doesn’t feel good,” Wally said, wondering if Roger Maris liked showering with other guys in the locker room. That seemed kind of creepy and he dismissed the thought.

“The Beaver’s not feeling well?” Ward said, and June giggled.

“What’s so funny about the Beaver not feeling well?” Wally asked.

“Nothing, son,” Ward said, sternly. He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get to the office. Maybe I should go up and talk to him. Tell me, Wally, has the Beaver been doing something he feels badly about?”

“Gosh, Dad, I don’t think so.”

“He usually stays in bed when he saw a friend of his steal something and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Or when he promised two friends he’s go with them to two different places on Saturday at the same time and doesn’t know how to get out an embarrassing bind. Or...”

“Naah,” Wally said. “I think it was the hot dogs from the carnival last night. He ate about six of them.”

Ward nodded gravely. “I’ve told you boys about eating weiners when you don’t know where they’ve been. Maybe I should go up and give him that lesson.”

“No,” June said, “I’ll check on him. You go on to work, dear.”

Ward got up and gave June a quick kiss and, when Wally wasn’t looking, cupped his hand on her firm and well-rounded ass and gave a squeeze. With that, he was out the door.

“I’m waiting for Eddie to show up,” Wally said. “He needs a ride to school but I can’t wait. I’m supposed to get there early today.”

“Is something special happening?”

“No,” Wally said. “It’s just that I like to be there when the school bus arrives so I can hang out with the guys.”

“Oh, and you wouldn’t be getting there a little early to get a look at Monica Davenport, would you?” June asked.

Wally’s face reddened. “Gosh, Mom. Knock it off.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being interested in Monica Davenport,” June said, smiling as she put her lips around the breakfast sausage.

“Jeez, mom,” Wally said, standing up and taking his notebook from the table. “She’s just some dumb girl.”

“Now Wally. You sound like Lumpy.”

Wally bristled. He wasn’t like Lumpy. Lumpy wouldn’t give Monica Davenport and her oversized breasts a second thought, except to hiss that she was a cow. As for Wally, he was feeling another boner come on as he pondered the time Monica had dropped a pen and bent down to get it, revealing a peek at her expansive titties.

“Are you all right?” June asked.

“Sure mom.”

“You haven’t been eating bad weiners, too, have you?”

“Gosh no, Mom,” Wally said, silently adding that that was Lumpy’s specialty. “Listen, if Eddie shows up, tell him I had to go and it’s his tough luck for being late.”

“I will,” June promised.

As Wally’s car backed out the driveway, the engine purring, June finished putting the breakfast dishes into the sink and realized she needed to check on the Beaver. As she reached the base of the stairs, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door and looked straight into a familiar face.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cleaver.”

It was Eddie Haskell, way too skinny for his own good and wearing a huge smile.

“Good morning, Eddie.”

“Is Wallace at home?”

“No,” she said, “he had to go on without you.”

Eddie frowned and then sniffed the air. “And I hurried, too. I was in such a tremendous rush not to cause anyone any inconvenience that I forgot to eat breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”

“Yes, Eddie. Ward —Mr. Cleaver— teaches us that on a regular basis. So I suppose you’re very hungry?”

“Why yes, thank you very much,” Eddie said, bobbing his head as he brushed past her and headed for the kitchen.

June glanced up the stairs, thought about Beaver, and decided she’d have to check on him later. When she arrived in the kitchen, Eddie was seated at the table.

“You look exceptionally beautiful this morning, Mrs. Cleaver,” Eddie said as he watched her dish out the scrambled eggs.

“Thank you, Eddie,” she said, smiling.

“I think it’s important that a woman —especially an older, more mature woman— maintains herself even at early hours in the morning.”

June felt a little blush move across her, the same little wave of heat that always accompanied Eddie’s sweet compliments. “Why, thank you, Eddie. I’m sure your mother does the same.”

“Yes,” he said with enthusiasm. “Although she doesn’t have anything like the very attractive outfit that you’re wearing.”

June was suddenly aware that her dull green cotton robe was showing too much of her ankles. She readjusted her pearls, nervously. “Thank you.”

“I think older, more mature women have so much to offer,” Eddie said.

“What a nice thought.”

“Experience,” he said. “And nurturing care, something a young man needs. And ... and...” Eddie’s voice seemed to trail off a moment.

June glanced around and noticed that Eddie was holding his fork with his left hand while his right was below the table, fidgeting wildly.

“Are you all right, Eddie?” June said. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just that seeing you look so very attractive ... I mean ... you...”

“Eddie?????” June said, stepping closer.

Eddie flinched and tried to move to shield himself, but she caught sight of the tip of his cock peeking out through his clenched fingers.