His body touched hers, and Charlotte flinched mightily. His hands came over her shoulder, her hips; oh God, it was wild and crazy and wrong, but so wonderful that she was going to explode with the wonder of it. She was going to screw her best friend's son!
"Mrs. Mason," he said, his breath tickling her back, stirring into the nape of her neck. "Mrs. Mason. ... "
Then she felt his hard rod against her naked back, felt it pushing against her bare buttocks and, in reflex, she hiked her ass back to press it harder. His fingers found her breast, and his slim, warm hand cupped it, caressed it slowly and with seeming awe, feeling over the erect nipple and pressing gently down upon the melon shape of the tautly packed flesh.
1His other hand drifted over her shivering tummy, felt into her navel, fondled slowly down until his fingertips barely touched into the thickly matted wealth of her pubic hair.
With a broken gasp, Charlotte turned over, whirled to slam her aching body against his young, slimly muscled one!
CHAPTER ONE
Her eyes were closed, because she saw pictures on their lids. She had had the pillow between her legs and the vibrator shoved inside her vagina, away from the clit as yet because she didn't want to come right away. Charlotte wanted to delay it as long as possible, to luxuriate in the sinfully voluptuous sensation of making love to herself.
She looked at the images behind her eyes, rolling her hips slowly and sweetly to the noiseless throbbing of the penis-shaped vibrator, letting its long, smooth and rubbery shape slide in and out of her wet pussy.
She saw the man who wanted to marry her-saw the handsome face of Mark Travers, but she couldn't hold his image long. She had never screwed Mark, although he had been patient with her and needed her so obviously.
But then, she'd never screwed the next boy she saw in her imagination-not in reality, but in her dreams she had taken him into her hotly clenching body a hundred times. And that was a terrible, improper thing to even dream about, since Blair Chapman was only sixteen years old.
She arched as the vibrator touched off a series of erotic responses in her shuddering cunt, lifted her legs and pretended she was about to put them around young Blair, about to take that slim, beautiful young boy's body between her thighs and hold him prisoner there.
She wasn't old. Thirty-five wasn't old at all. She was just coming into the full bloom of her life, with many more lively and useful years ahead of her. Old? No, no; Charlotte had never been so passionate in her life, never so sensuous. Sex filled most of her waking thoughts, although she fought it back, most of the time.
Until she had to succumb, as now, to the driving, naming demands of her body. Then she'd pull down the shades and lock the doors, all of them, and hide herself in her bedroom to do what she was doing.
Charlotte rolled her hips again, and the grinding, kind of dirty feeling was good, good. She imagined the boy again, beautiful and tanned, his young body supple and strong, his thing-his penis, rigid and hungry. In her, it would slide; up her pussy it would be, and Blair would love her very much for showing him how to use his thing, for teaching him about sex and love this way.
His skin; warm and satiny; his legs sleek; his belly, flat and hard; and his testicles-dear, sweet testicles covered with silken hair-they would be firm and eagerly swollen. His thing-she imagined Blair's penis on a scale and design with his lovely body-slim and long and tapered.
It would shove up her so; and stroke her so; and the thing would slip and slide and push and pull.
Charlotte bit her lips, caught them between her teeth and began to rock violently up and down on the vibrator she manipulated in her vagina. It brushed her clit, and she clamped hard with her legs on the pillow as the feeling grew hotter and bolder within her cunt.
She began to hunch, to hump the thing within her. She shivered and moaned, and dared to whisper: "Ooh ... Blair, Blair my sweet, my love, my darling. Oh, Blair! Do it to me, love; screw me, my dear ... oh Blair, fuck me!"
And somehow Blair was also Mark Travers, the boyish face crossed with gray, the boyish body thickened-and the pricks, the long, lovely pricks, they were made one and thrusting, thrusting, plunging to their full adorable lengths into her flexing pussy, making her ass rock and bounce; and the shuddering, nice, heaving sensation was ballooning now ... growing and ...
Ahh! She lurched upward and groaned aloud, and the orgasm shot through her taut body, came spangling and shattering to center on the distended and quivering nub of her clit. It spread from there throughout her pussy, through her womb, into her backbone.
She came. She came and twisted and humped and came some more, and the deep, thickly rich hairs of her cunt were wet from her fluid releases.
The waves of passion grew less, and the tidal crestings slowly subsided. Charlotte drew out the vibrator, not even wanting to see it now, already in the grip of her shame, her fearful shame.
She sat up and glanced at the windows with their drawn curtains, their tight shades. The door was shut, and she listened for the step of her own son, for the sounds of Duncan coming home early today, and all the while she wished very hard he hadn't.
If he should ever think, if he would ever discover her doing something so ... so dirty, she didn't know what she would do. Die, probably; at the least, flee screaming into the world and never let him see her face again.
For Duncan would certainly be forever disgusted with his mother for ... for masturbating; he would forever hate and despise her, and he would certainly be right. She shouldn't do it; this was wrong and immoral and she was old enough to know better.
Quickly, Charlotte swung her legs off the bed and tidied the blankets. Then she took the vibrator into her own bathroom and washed it thoroughly before hiding it in the pouch of her douche bag, its usual resting place. Tomorrow, she thought; Ttt go somewhere and throw it away, tomorrow.
Hurrying into her robe and slippers, she pulled back her hair into a bun and rubbed a towel over her face. Duncan might be home any minute, and it wouldn't do for him to find her looking sleazy.
Back the drapes and up the bedroom shades; unlatch the door and swing it back-there. She walked casually down the hall to the stairs and down them, too. It was barely possible that Mark would come visiting tonight, also. Though she wasn't sure about that, after she'd turned him down again, the last time.
She wondered why she was afraid of Mark. He was a good, kind man, ten years older than herself, and Duncan liked him. He'd make a good father and a good husband, and he had plenty of money. Yet she kept putting him off, telling him it was too soon after her husband's death.
But it wasn't really. And if her husband was alive, she wouldn't have to use that ... that thing lurking upstairs in the rubber bag. They hadn't had a wildly satisfying sexual relationship, but at least Charlotte had been able to have orgasms once in awhile.
So why didn't she let Mark lay her? She didn't know; after five years of being a widow, she was lost and afraid and unsure. Maybe she didn't know how to please a man in bed; maybe she had never known.
Moving her head high and proudly, although she certainly didn't feel regal, Charlotte went to unlock the street door. This was a nice neighborhood, and she didn't actually feel afraid, but she'd often made that excuse to her son and friends for locking up everything.
Duncan would be coming home now, and she halfway hoped that Blair wouldn't be with him; but only halfway. Another part of her longed to see her son's friend, to have him near her so that she could find excuses to touch him. Dear Blair, who never suspected that a woman old enough to be his mother wanted him so much. And dear Duncan, for not ever noticing how tense and sometimes silly she got in the presence of his buddy.
Charlotte moved into the kitchen and brought out the cold sandwiches already prepared, the jug of milk; the boys were always hungry when they came in. See? The boys, both of them; two of them. But maybe Blair wouldn't come today, and that would be awful.
Blair; she kept thinking of a sixteen-year-old boy when by all rights and all morality, she should have her attention dedicated to a man, a man turning gray but very much virile, and someone who might not wait much longer for her to make up her mind about him.
Could it be that she was so fearful of sexual relations with another man that she was avoiding them by dreaming of screwing a boy, instead? Everything had been so mixed up for her, ever since her husband died. At least while Jim was alive, she had something of a pattern to hold to, a habit for clinging. Good or bad, it was familiar, and therefore not something to fear.
And Jim had been her only man. A tremulous virgin when she married him, Charlotte learned whatever she knew about sex from her lawful, wedded husband, which was as it should be. Men were expected to sneak around, to have sex with prostitutes and the like. But good women, decent women, were virgins and never pretended to enjoy copulation.
Charlotte shook her head; of course, she knew better now, and had long known that such hidebound traditions were utter nonsense. That didn't mean she could slough off everything she had been force fed by her straitlaced family. Logic was one thing, and concrete habit another.
The masturbation was unspeakable, according to the mores of her past; it was an acceptable release, claimed the enlightened articles in women's magazines. Self-love, immaturity, fantasy, stated the psychology books. And her own conscience drew a black, unforgiving mark across her soul for it.
The front door rattled open and they exploded inside, laughing and leaping, and Charlotte knew a quick lift of her heart because they were together. Turning, she gave them a bright smile, and Duncan bounced in to kiss her cheek.
"Hi, mom, those look like cold turkey sandwiches. Wild."
Blair Chapman grinned at her. "Hello; it's always nice when you're home, Mrs. Mason."
"Thanks," Charlotte said. "I'll get the cookies."
Her nostrils had flared at the young male animal odor of him, the clean-sweaty strength of him. The boy was lovely; slim and muscled and downy. No more handsome than her own son, she admitted, but not her son, and that made some kind of twisted logic difference.
"That's a pretty robe, Mrs. Mason," Blair said, and Duncan grunted, "Yeah."
Charlotte smiled down on them where they sat at the breakfast nook table. "Thanks again ... but I only have so many cookies."
Blair's answering smile reached into her belly and nestled warmly there; when he looked at her that way, her legs went weak. He said softly, "I'm not trying for more goodies. I mean it. You and my mother are the best-looking women around."
"You know it," Duncan seconded. "A couple of real dolls, you and Mrs. Chapman, mom."
Charlotte's tummy fluttered, but she forced herself to make a face and say, "Oh sure; we old ladies could compete with the young chicks-miniskirts and all."
Blair's deep brown eyes held hers. "You'd look great in a mini ... and my mother, too."
She turned unsure, shaky; were his eyes telling her that he admired her legs, her body? Were they really sliding approvingly over her tummy, her hips, up to her full breasts-or was this boy just being polite to an older woman, doing his duty to the mother of his best buddy?
It was so hard to know, so very difficult to be certain. She stood there feeling his eyes caress her, feeling the answering heat rise in-her body, the trembling somewhere deep inside her vagina. If her son wasn't here ... if she could gather the nerve ... if it wasn't so wrong ... .
She'd love to touch his cheek, to run her hands deeply into his long, richly brown hair; maybe to kiss him just once, on the mouth, making a joke of it, a teasing thing, a funny. But if he responded? If he held to her and put that gorgeous slim body next to hers, and if his sweet mouth opened and moved, and if she were to realize the length and shape of his thing when it pressed her tummy. ...
He might pull away. Blair might stare at her first in amazement, then in shock, quickly followed by disgust. She was his friend's mother, and old, and a crazy thing like kissing him might make him hate her.
Swiftly, Charlotte turned from his eyes and busied herself at the kitchen sink, forcing her mind away from him and to the man who'd asked her to marry him. Marriage might be the very thing to take her away from these abnormal needs, these terrible urgings and this morbid fascination with sex.
Mark could take her on a honeymoon, an extended one, say to Spain; she'd always wanted to visit Spain. Duncan could stay at Blair's home for a month-two or three months even. By the time she got back, Charlotte ought to be over her infatuation with the boy.
And happy with Mark Travers?
The boys said something behind her as she walked quickly from the kitchen and into the living room, but she pretended not to hear. What if Mark learned that she had used that ... that thing, that awful vibrator? He'd never respect her anymore.
And suppose she couldn't satisfy him, that she was so dumb and inexperienced he would laugh at her ineptness? That would be so embarrassing that she'd never get over it. After all, a thirty-five-year-old widow with a nearly grown son and a pretty little daughter-that kind of woman should know how to please a man.
But women weren't supposed to love it, dote on it, revel in fucking, and that's very well what might happen once she got that thing of Mark's inside her. He'd think her a whore, a bitch; he'd think that certainly she had been screwing around ever since her husband died.
It was so confusing. Charlotte found herself standing at the bar, found herself with a jigger of bourbon in her hand, but she didn't remember pouring it. Her second of the day, too; she'd downed one just after lunch, just before going upstairs to-play with herself.
No; to be perfectly honest, this was her third drink, for she'd poured some brandy into her morning coffee. A little jolt made her feel better and softened the hard edges of her loneliness, made her feel just a little less insecure.
She drank the bourbon quickly, and waited for its warmth to spread from her stomach. Anything to help the alone ache, the needful ache. K she were married, she wouldn't be alone again, even after her son finished growing up and went away, her son who was Just as handsome, just as attractive as Blair Chapman.
Another drink wouldn't hurt her; it was after five. She sipped this one, adding water and ice, but not too much of either. A diluted drink lost its flavor and kick, to say nothing of the taste.
Mark; she had to think of Mark. There must be something wrong with her for not snapping up Mark right away; he was mature and traveled, educated and reasonably wealthy; he was fun to be with, and if he wasn't handsome, his craggy looks were appealing, and his rugged body was always in good condition. He had a divorced wife somewhere, and there were always secretaries after him.
She wondered how many of them he laid; she wondered how large his penis was, and how he might use it, if it trembled and shivered when it slid into a vagina.
Guiltily, Charlotte finished her bourbon and water, rinsed the glass because she certainly wouldn't have any more today. Not unless Elena Chapman came over to visit. Elena was dear Blair's mother, and a lovely person, too. Lovely inside and outside, and all bubbly with fun things.
Charlotte wished she could be more like her friend, that she could kid about her affairs and ex-husbands and the lovers she had an eye on. That sort of thing was okay for Elena, but not for Charlotte; she couldn't even try to talk that way.
It made her feel embarrassed and wanton and just a bit silly.
"Hey, mom!" Duncan slid to the bar, grabbed her waist and kissed her mouth. "Blair and me are going to the flicks. Take it easy."
He'd bounced away while the pressure of his hard young body was still warm upon her own, and she stared after him. Blair was near, though, his soft eyes peering into her, down into her soul.
"Mrs. Mason ... I think my mother said something about calling you this evening. If she kind of forgets, maybe you should give her a ring. She wanted to talk over something with you."
Charlotte touched her hair, held her back straight. He was so tanned, bronzed, touched with deep golden tones like some Boman god. "Elena wanted to talk over s-something? Did she say what, exactly?"
His smile was white and even, his teeth small and square. Blair's mouth was mobile, shaped firmly, young and unused. His lips moved gently. "Something important to ... all of us, she said. You know my mother when she gets an idea. Mrs. Mason, I hate to leave you alone like this. I mean, if you'd like, Dune and me can forget the flicks and hang around, keep you company."
Dune and him. Not alone; not just Blair in this big, empty house with her. Oh God, because if ever she allowed that to happen, she might not be responsible for anything that might happen.
"No," she said. "I'm fine, just fine. Elena will probably come over and we old ladies will entertain each other."
"Okay," he said. "But I meant that about the mini. You ought to try one."
He left on that and after the door closed behind him, Charlotte poured herself another shot.
CHAPTER TWO
Elena Chapman lifted her glass. "Hell with 'em; here's to us, then."
"Bottoms up," Charlotte said, and giggled. She was feeling no pain, but her head was perfectly clear, and everything that Elena said made perfect sense.
like getting that big house bus of her cousin's and putting both boys in it and just moving on out across the country for awhile; maybe they'd move on out across the whole silly world, if it came to that. Elena sure had a lot of very good ideas.
"See," Elena said, "since my last ex-husband is bugging me, and his lawyers want to put a stop to. the alimony, this will get them all out of my hair for awhile. Not that they could stop the alimony unless I signed for it, but they might use Blair for leverage. I mean, Jerry's spies no doubt have a whole potful of evidence, if he wants to go to the trouble of proving that unfit mother stuff. That way, he can get Blair taken away from me and I'd have to sign away the alimony in order to get him back."
"Dirty," Charlotte said. "Dirty, dirty."
"So, let's duck out on 'em all," Elena said. "Take a trip, see the world. The boys will enjoy it, I know."
The boys; Blair-Blair and Duncan, in close quarters, day and night together, traveling, always close. Somehow, something would happen; for good or bad, in proximity like that, something would happen. There'd be no more wonder, no more guess, only yes or no.
Only love or hate.
Elena was still talking: "It gives you the out you've been asking for, too. Your problem with Mark Travers-although for the life of me, I don't know why you keep him dangling. If he looked at me the way he looks at you, I'd have him in my bed before he could get his shoes off."
"Oh, Elena," Charlotte said. "You're only kid-ding."
"like hell, I'm kidding," Elena said, and got up to freshen both their drinks. "Look-you and me we're not exactly getting any younger, right? I don't say we're old bags, not by a damned sight, but at our ages-and I'm only two years older'n you, Charlotte-at our ages, we don't have a hell of a lot of time to waste. Forty is coming up, right? Forty, baby, then forty-five, fifty. Bam! Dead before we know it, and you know what?"
Charlotte stared at her hands on the glass. Was that an age spot on the back of her left one? Did women get age spots at thirty-five? They would at forty, she was sure. "What?" she asked.
Elena wagged a finger at her. "We'll look back and kick ourselves in the ass because we didn't do a bunch of things. Not for what we did, but for what we didn't do. like buy a dress or change a hairdo or screw somebody's husband or spit in some bastard's eye. Me-I don't want to get old and wrinkled and sorry for myself on account of I screwed myself out of something I really, truly wanted to do."
Charlotte sipped on her drink. She felt good, all warm and floaty. "You're right, Elena; you're perfectly right."
"Damned right, I'm right. So what do you say we have a little fun before we curl up and turn brown?"
"Sure; here's to fun and here's to staying green and pretty."
Elena held out her glass and Charlotte took her turn at being barmaid. Charlotte said, "Mark may try to find us-me, if I just leave without telling him where I'm going."
"And my ex will try to find me, just to give me a bad time, and try to save his lousy money. You know, if Jerry and I hadn't fought so much, it would have been a pretty good thing, our marriage. That guy is a real stud, in bed. I can't remember any guy I enjoyed screwing more than Jerry. He'd do all these tricks..."
"Please," Charlotte said.
Elena stared. "There, dammit! That's what I mean, Charlotte. I know you're not all that square, down deep inside. You're a warm, passionate woman, and you've got one hell of a fine body going to waste. But you act as if your ass is made out of cake and you're afraid you're going to crack the icing. What the hell do you do, when you need a man, masturbate?"
Charlotte turned quickly to the bar, fiddled with the ice chest, feeling the flush that reddened her face and hoping that Elena couldn't see it. "Don't be silly," she murmured.
"Silly? What could be sillier than playing with yourself, when there's so much man meat around? Look, I've done it to myself, from the time I was a scared kid until I decided I didn't have to, that it was easier and far, far better, to get screwed."
Gulping a shot of bourbon straight, Charlotte flared at her friend: "Don't you think I haven't told myself that for the past five lonely years? Dammit, Elena, I've ached for sex. But there's something in me, a block, a barricade of some kind-I don't know what or why; I just know it's there and that the wall is very strong; impregnable, so far. I've never even let Mark get beyond ... fondling me, my breasts, my ... my mound. I want it; sure, I want it. But I can't make myself do it, except with ... with, well a kind of dream somebody. I think I could, with him. I know I could."
"Don't cry," Elena said. "Dammit, Charlotte, don't start crying. I have a big mouth and a loose tongue and when I'm half snockered like I am now, I'm liable to say just about anything. You know that."
The liquor was brave in Charlotte's stomach now, and there was a delicious numbness in her limbs, but her head was straight. "So, since I can't have my ... dream guy, I don't seem to be able to settle for good old Mark."
Elena stopped being sorry and went to the attack again. "How come you can't have your dream guy? He a movie star or something?"
"No," Charlotte said. "But he..."
"No damned buts," Elena cut in. "If he isn't here in town, let's drive that big old bus over and see him. That is, if he's not a childhood crush. Is he a childhood crush?"
Wordlessly, Charlotte shook her head. Maybe the trip wasn't such a good idea, after all. It would be altogether too easy to lose Elena as a friend, if she made a pass at her-son-her handsome, sensuously moving son.
"Then you can put the make on him. He's a man, isn't he? And if he's got a pecker, you can turn it stiff. Dammit, Charlotte, take an honest look at yourself. Hell, you're a beautiful woman, with those fine boobs and legs and an ass shaped like yours-any guy will be glad to take a jump at that."
Biting her Up, Charlotte said, "Please, Elena ... please!"
And Elena spilled some of her drink when she leaned forward. "Please, bullshit! You can turn him on, if you just try, and that's a whole lot better than sticking your finger into your own..."
"I can't!" Charlotte cried. "I can't, can't! He's a . . .not a man, but only a-a boy and I'm so much older and ... and ... "
Elena Chapman carefully reached over for the bar towel, found it, and mopped up the little mess she had made. She looked at Charlotte's flaming face, and after a long, terrible moment, nodded.
"How about that," Elena said softly, and all the liquor was gone from her voice. "That's a kind of crazy one, but the more I think about it, the more I can see it. Why not? I mean, why the hell not?"
"I ... I feel woozy," Charlotte said. "Maybe we'd better call this off, so I can go to bed and sleep it off. And I'll try to think over that bus travel idea, see if it fits in with ... with my plans."
"Oh come on," Elena said. "For maybe the first time in your life, you've gotten pretty close to the truth, and now you're doing your best to back way from it."
"I don't know what ... what you're talking about."
"Don't you? This dream guy-the boy, not the man, that you're so sure you could turn on with. It's Blair, right?"
Charlotte tried to slide away from the bar, to run off somewhere and hide. "Let me go, Elena. I'll be sick. I just know I'm going to throw up."
"Don't you dare! There's nothing wrong with you having big eyes for my son. I could name you a dozen girls who turn on when he just walks by."
"Girls," Charlotte said bitterly. "Girls-not a woman old enough to be his..."
"His mother? And who says there's got to be an age limit? Look, I have to admit that I've looked Duncan up and down a few times, myself-and I never felt like some lecherous old bag for doing it. In fact ... "
Elena fell quiet, and Charlotte felt all sorts of strange thoughts tumbling over inside her feverish head. Elena looking at Duncan the same waysurely not the same ideas?-the way that Charlotte looked at Elena's son. Two older women; not old, dammit; ripe, mature, but not old.
Carefully, bravely, Charlotte whispered, "In fact, what?"
Elena blinked, rolled her nearly empty glass between her palms. "Okay. In fact, I think it's a great idea-you and my son. You're my best friend and you're sweet and lovable and clean, and there won't ever be any trouble, and you're beautiful, too. You'll be good for him. In fact, you'll probably be the best thing that could ever happen to him."
Staring, Charlotte asked, "You ... he ... I mean, Blair and me, and you don't m-mind?"
"Not if he doesn't mind-and any kid of mine sure better have better sense than to turn you down. We can fix it up real easy-he's a hot-to-trot lad, and with all this young, maybe diseased stuff running around loose, it's really past time he got tied into something really good, someone safe and loving and fine. Oh, Charlotte-what a wonderful, wonderful idea!"
"I ... I think I'm going to cry," Charlotte said.
"Pour us another drink, instead," Elena suggested. "How are you going to set it up? Anything in mind on seducing him?"
"I hadn't thought about that, except kind of dreaming. It was always just going to ... to happen, somehow."
Elena laughed. "How about this, two sneaky women plotting the seduction of a kid? My own kid, at that. And who should know better how to trap him into something? A young stud like him, strong and horny. ... " She stopped talking and her eyes took on a faraway look.
Charlotte said, the words drawn from some unsuspected fount of wisdom, "How about Duncan, for you?"
Elena jumped. "I wasn't ... I mean, I really didn't ... oh hell. I sure was. He's cute and sexy and I can teach him all the things he ought to know, to be one of the world's great lovers, when he gets older. And if we're going to be together on that bus, going around the country, just the four of us..."
"My thoughts exactly," Charlotte said, and found she could laugh-really laugh. She was high and crazy, and she was able to laugh at how easy it was, how very simple and logical and terrific. Blair; she was actually going to get a chance to make love with Blair.
Elena was laughing with her, roaring and slapping the bar top and making goofy, choking sounds in between. They laughed so hard and so long that it hurt their rummies and the tears rolled achingly down their cheeks.
Then they had a couple of more drinks and considered how best to approach the proposition. Charlotte said they could hardly just walk right up to their respective sons and tell them straight out that there was a son-swap in the offering. Or mother-swap?
"How do the swingers go about it?" Charlotte asked. "The wife-swappers, I mean. Do they just say to their husbands or wives or whoever hasn't been brought up to date: hey, baby, I have this great idea; I want you to go screw good old Joe, so I can fuck his wife."
"Probably a little more subtle," Elena said. "Probably the wife has to start the whole thing, since women are so much more sensible about sex than men can ever hope to be. Let's say the wife gets the hots for good old Joe, so she kind of hints around to her own husband that he maybe ought to look into Joe's wife, who's been saying all these nice things about him. That is, if she's already talked to Joe's wife, first. Then the guys think it's all their own sneaky idea and everybody gets to fuck everybody else happily ever after."
"Fuck," Charlotte said.
Elena looked over her glass rim. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Just a minute ago, I don't think I ever said fuck within anybody else's hearing."
"What did you and your husband call it?" Elena asked.
"Doing it," Charlotte giggled. "We always said-doing it."
"Oh shit," Elena said, and they went off into another laughing jag.
After awhile, Elena said, "We have to get this settled. Smashed or not, you and I simply have to straighten out all the petty details of this here now fucking situation."
Which set them off once more, of course. This time, Charlotte came out of it first. Wiping her eyes with the damp bar rag, she said, "Blair and Duncan; or Duncan and Blair. First, we don't even know if they'll go for us; the idea might frighten them silly. Second, one or both of them could feel pretty strongly about the other boy putting it to his mother. I mean, it's not as if we were two strange ladies in their passionate thirties; but we're their mothers, Elena."
"I won't say it," Elena said. "I just won't say that the philosophy of their generation is that they love all us mothers, because it'll set us off again."
And it did.
When Charlotte stopped, it was because she had an image of Blair close to her, of Blair Chapman in her arms and between her hungry legs, of Blair's boyishly rigid prick in her hand, in her pussy.
She opened her eyes and looked into Elena's eyes, which had also suddenly turned serious.
"Yeah," Elena said. "I think I can just speak right out with my boy. I mean, he knows that I play around sometimes, because if he doesn't, he's dumb. So I may be able to put it, as the kids say, up front to him. I'll tell him that I think he ought to get his sex education from you, and be damned glad you're offering him the chance. And if that doesn't shake him up too badly, then I'll ask him to check over the same idea with Duncan, to see how Duncan feels about me, and about him sticking it to Duncan's mother."
Charlotte sighed. "They're very close friends. And I've hoped ... there are times when Blair has looked at me as if he had ideas..."
"I know what you mean. Duncan has peeped at me, every chance he gets, and I'll admit that I've given him a lot of chances. He's a very sexy lad, your son."
"Yes," Charlotte said, then swiftly, "so is Blair. He ... I look at him and dream how it would be n
. . .
"Will be, baby," Elena said, and patted her hand. "Hey, what time is it?"
"Not very late. Oh; I see what you have in mind. But ... tonight? They'll just be getting out of the movies, and if they have girls with them, it'll be later and ... "
Elena stood up, wobbled and stared owlishly at Charlotte. She said, "Don't try backin' out, now; never be a better old time, on account of you n me are both smashed and got a lot of nerve. We sober up, we both might try to forget it and that'd be a damned old shame, account of when we're sixty, like, we're gonna' be sorry as all hell we didn't ... didn't ... "
"Fuck 'em," Charlotte said, valiantly.
Elena nodded, picked up her purse. "Damn' right; fuck 'em all-startin' with Duncan 'n Blair."
"Blair and Duncan," Charlotte agreed.
"Whichever. Call me a taxi, kid; I'm too snookered to drive home, and I better get there about time they raid the fridge. Gonna' chase your kid upstairs for somethin' and talk to mine, and ... don't slop up any more juice, baby. You wanna' be wide awake when Blair gets here. Passed out won't be any fun. You leave the door unlocked and get in bed and ... however you wanna' work it."
And when Elena was gone, the night air brushed Charlotte's cheek as she stared after the tail lights of the taxi and cooled her forehead. However she wanted to work it. Hurrying, she gulped one last drink and took the bottle upstairs to put on the nightstand. She stripped and got under the covers, and left only the hall light on, so he could see his way into the bedroom; into the bed.
If he got there. If Blair didn't think his mother was crazy ...
CHAPTER THREE
She heard the door open downstairs. It was a long way from her bed, but Charlotte heard the lock click and open, click and close. Was it Blair? Or could it be her own son, disgusted and upset by what he had heard tonight?
Someone, though; something would be done at least, for right or wrong, for good or bad, the move was made and the results had to be faced-or enjoyed. Let it be Blair, she thought, oh, let it be Blair.
Steps on the stairway, and into the hall, soft footfalls, coming toward her bedroom. Charlotte couldn't look, would not dare to peer at the doorway where he would be framed in the hall light, whoever he was. Blair come to love her, or Duncan come to hate her.
Eyes clamped tight, she lay there, not daring to breathe, lay with her heart racing wildly and her pulse struggling to keep up. An eternity passed, eons crept by, and the fear struck through her that Duncan was simply standing in the doorway, staring down at her bed with disgust in his eyes, that he was gathering his horror to lash her with it.
The bed sank as weight came onto it. The covers slithered back and a breath of cool air drifted beneath them. Then they closed again, and it was warm beneath them, warm and snugly trembling.
Charlotte held her breath. Blair; it had to be Blair. His mother had told him, pushed him this way-and that also meant that Duncan was already in bed with Elena, that Duncan was warm next to Elena's nakedly yearning body, loving it, teasing her, screwing her.
His body touched hers, and Charlotte flinched mightily. His hands came over her shoulder, her hip; oh God, it was wild and crazy and wrong, but so wonderful that she was going to explode with the wonder of it.
"Mrs. Mason," he said, his breath tickling her back, stirring into the nape of her neck. "Mrs. Mason ... "
Then she felt his penis against her naked back, felt it pushing against her bare buttocks, and in reflex she hiked her ass back to press it harder. His fingers found her breast, and his slim, warm hand cupped it, caressed it slowly and with seeming awe, feeling over the erect nipple and pressing gently down upon the melon shape of the tautly packed flesh.
His other hand drifted over her shivering tummy, felt into her navel, fondled slowly down until his fingertips barely touched into the thickly matted wealth of her pubic hair.
With a broken gasp, Charlotte turned over, whirled to slam her aching body against his young, slimly muscled one. Her mouth fumbled for his, and found it: sweet mouth, clean, sharp teeth so even and slick-his tongue, oh God, his tongue honeyed and hotly shuddering.
Charlotte ate into that enchanted mouth, devoured his lips and feasted upon his tongue, sucking his liquids into the goblet of herself, moving away to kiss his cheeks, his eyelids, his throat, madly, madly.
His hands were roaming over her feverish body, feeling her tits, her belly, her hips, fondling the heavy curvings of her ass. And he ground his dear, sweet pelvis into hers, pushed his scrotum into her bushy, humid crotch. Eager; he was so demandingly eager and excited.
She arched her back when he lowered his mouth, running it over her throat, her chest-and she moaned aloud when his hot lips found her nipple. His teeth clenched it lightly, his wet tongue curled lovingly over it, and then-darling, darling-he sucked it, sucked it as if he were indeed her baby and she was providing him with sustenance.
Charlotte clutched his head, mashed his face harder, hurtingly, into her breast, bent her neck to kiss the top of his head, her tongue tasting his hair.
His hand was between her thighs. Oh lord, ohgodmercy-his hand was clenching her pubic mound, cupping her pussy as if he was weighing it, valuing it. She hunched upon his hand, wiggled her ass and slid her slickening cunt lips up and down on his adoring palm.
A finger probed into her labia, pushed thrillingly through the outer lips, fondled into the inner ones, went stirring into her vagina. Charlotte clenched her cunt upon that finger, clenched his face into her tits, rolled her belly crazily against his to feel the touch of that hard young pole.
"Blair ... Blair..." All she could say was his name, and he could not answer, because she was squirming first one nipple into his pulling mouth, then the other, rolling back and forth.
She got a leg over him, and he slipped an additional finger up into her spasming pussy, finding her clit and rubbing it with slippery affection. Groaning, Charlotte let go of his head and reached down to cup his hard, slim ass. His prick-rigid and shaped so lovely, throbbing and wet on the end of its adorable knob, slim and strong and tall, like Blair himself.
Clenching the rod, she guided the spongy head to her labia, and could wait no longer than the very first touch. Charlotte humped him, lifted and drove her crotch onto his stiff prong to take him violently within her body.
His cock penetrated, slid up and up into the hot wet grasp of her vagina, drove up into the velvet confines of her avid cunt, and Charlotte trembled from head to toe as it socked home to its full length.
Her pussy lips thrust strongly against his pubic mound, against the feathery curling of his hair, and she felt the answering lift as his balls surged up to kiss the steamy crack of her ass. Blindly then, Charlotte began to ride his staff, to churn her suctioning cunt around his cock.
She had one arm around his neck, and a cheek of his ass in the other hand. Her tits drove into his chest with every heave of her lower body, and he hung onto her waist as he slammed back at her pussy. Blair's stiff tool plunged in and out, back and forth, and she rocked savagely upon its meaty length, upon the oily peter that reached for the entrance to her womb, then pulled back to the flexing knob before making another rapturous stroke.
She felt the tidal wave coming, the depths and surgings of the powerful sea that came heaving and bucking up from the core of her being. Clamping her thighs, she tried to make it last, to hold off the final great implosion, but nothing could deny it.
"Oh, Blair!" Charlotte cried out. "Oh ... I love you, love you ... I'm coming!"
Convulsive shudders wracked her pussy, and the concentric rings of its muscle caught his prick jealously. Charlotte came, and her orgasm was mightier than any before, bigger and more moving than any climax she had found with her husband, far superior to any gadget induced with self-love.
She bit his tender flesh somewhere, and licked it in apology, quick and sincerely, she caressed him and fondled him and was surprised that his strong young cock was still driving, driving into the juiciness of her relaxed cunt.
Then Blair flexed, and she felt the knob of his prick expand, felt the sudden hot spurt of his semen splash against the mouth of her womb, and knew the loving liquid as it bathed the walls of her vagina and came seeping out and down to wet their clenched-together thighs.
"Oh ... oh, Mrs. Mason, I love you, too. I do, I do. You're so hot, so soft and tender. Ah, I have to hold it inside you, keep it there because it's so good I can't take it out."
She stroked his hair, turned wiser and giving and ageless. "Yes, my love; yes, Blair darling. I love you, and want you to love me, to screw me as much as you want, as often as you can. Wonderful; you're so very sweet and wonderful."
He was a warm young god held in her arms, held in her cunt; his skin was silken and his flesh faintly jeweled with the golden sweat of him. Charlotte rolled her ass tenderly to feel his hard thing move within her well-loved cunt, to feel the kiss of his scrotum across her dripping labia.
Blair squirmed, too, and before she realized what was about to happen, he'd rolled over on top of her body and was cramming his rigid prong deep into her vagina once more. To he fucked twice running, Charlotte thought, oh, what ecstasy. Her husband had never done that: he'd always treated her as if she was something unclean, as soon as he'd gotten his quick, weak orgasm.
Not sweet, darling Blair; not this boy so tremendously strong and lasting, this Greek/Roman/ Philistine god cast of bronze and with this treasured cock. it was encrusted with precious stones and laved with the milk of pearls, his prick could be of no less value to her.
It was hammering into her wet pussy now, making the squish-squash sounds of meat thrusting into lubricated meat, of a stiff prick seeking yet another climax while yet bathed in the nectars of its own come.
Charlotte lifted her legs and crossed them around his sweating, heaving back, locking them at the ankles, making him her prisoner. Convicted and condemned to love, Blair was a pile driver, a battering ram eagerly axing into his hotly caressing cell.
He fucked her steadily, strongly, and she came again, but he held to the lifted cheeks of her ass and kept screwing, continued to fuck her until she thought she'd faint. But she didn't, and she met his quivering second orgasm with another of her own, then and only then relaxing with the flood of love fluids that gushed and mingled so creamily hot in her pussy.
She drifted off to a soothing sleep, to a non-dreaming softness all rosy and warm. She held her arms about him, this enchanted boy/man who had loved her so well and so long, and she knew in the understanding of all women that she had never been loved before.
Not like this wondrous melting voluptuousness, not in the manner of this ardent fucking that had fired her very soul and burned away all the false idols she had set there. To truly fuck was to truly love, and there could never be a surfeit of either.
When, sometime later, Blair's weight lifted from her, she tried to hold him close, to keep him forever within the confines of her well of love. Sleepily, she could not, and his cock had softened so that it slipped from her pussy, and his body was gone from hers.
But not fled, for he pressed close and pillowed his head upon her breasts. She had no idea how long they lay this way, warmed and warming, but when they awoke, it was also together, as if their psyches were knotted together now.
Charlotte suddenly wanted a drink, for the buzz was gone, and if she had to face her new lover stone sober, she didn't think she could do it.
"Excuse me, darling," she said, and since it was dark in the room, she escaped into the bath with bottle and her ready nightgown. Quickly, thirstily, she drank from the neck of the bottle and used a paper cup to chase the long belt with tap water.
She had been terrible; she'd been wanton and abandoned, throwing her legs around Blair that way, and screwing him like she was some kind of practiced whore.
Charlotte had another long couple of swallows, and made a face at the paper cup as she chased them. There; she felt much better, more at ease. Now she could go in to talk with Blair, with this beloved son of her most beloved friend. Now she could hold a conversation with her lover, without stuttering and choking and maybe performing as a damned fool.
When she came back, he took his turn at the bath, giving her time to dab her armpits with perfume, time to be glad she'd rinsed with mouthwash so the bourbon odor wouldn't offend.
"Do you mind?" he said, and flicked on the soft golden light of the bed lamp.
Charlotte pulled the sheet over her breasts, even though she wore the nightie now. Blinking, she murmured, "I ... I suppose you think I'm a lascivious old bag."
"No, I don't," he said:
She glanced from the corners of her eyes and saw that he was still naked, that his clothing was piled neatly upon the nearby chair, and she knew he felt no shame for his body-his lovely, tanned body with the pale white strip across his loins and lower belly.
"What do you think of me?" she asked.
"That you're beautiful and sexy," Blair said, "that I've been aching to dick you for the last two years, ever since I've known you. I've been thinking what a lucky guy I am."
"Really?" Charlotte said, lifting her eyes to his, looking straight into his handsome face, glad for the calm the liquor had given her.
"Really. When my mother told me tonight, I couldn't believe it. All this time, all the peeping and touching and wanting you so damned much, and she told me that you felt the same way about me. Wow. I burned up rubber getting here. And it's great, Mrs. Mason-just great."
She smiled. "Can't you call me Charlotte now?"
"I can, but I'd rather not. Because if I called some ordinary girl, some lad. You'll always be you by your first name, that would make you like Mrs. Mason to me, Mrs. Mason darling."
Charlotte pulled down the sheet and sat up to slide the nightie over her head.
"Darling," she repeated, and reached for him.
CHAPTER FOUR
She called her cousin that morning, and made arrangements for the travel bus; in a few days, he said. It would have to be thoroughly checked out first, and would she handle the insurance? She certainly would, and gladly, happily.
For everything was happy now; the entire world had come awake in a haze of joy this morning, and it was as if the world would never dare to go dark again. Charlotte Mason was in love, and the love was returned a thousandfold.
Blair had left for awhile, but he'd promised it would not be for long. He was as eager as she to continue the sweet exploration of each other's bodies, to prolong the tender happiness they'd already known.
But he needed clothes, and thought it best if he saw his mother face to face, rather than telling her the tidings over the phone. Charlotte understood, although she wanted him by her side, wanted to touch and hold him, to kiss him openly and without any lingering shame.
Did Elena feel the same way? How had Elena gone through the magic night with Duncan? As lovingly, as powerfully, Charlotte hoped, and knew a fleeting brush of some emotion she could not quite define, when she pictured Elena's blonde body writhing in the arms of Duncan.
She moved humming into the living room and had her first tall, cold one of the day, mixing cola with the bourbon and adding a dainty slice of lemon. Not jealousy, Charlotte said to herself, and drank from her frosted glass. Not jealous of her own son for making love with Elena Chapman, because that was an impossible feeling for her to carry.
No; she was glad for Elena, and glad for Duncan. Elena would enjoy his young body so much, and with all her experience, she could most certainly teach him all he needed to know.
Sipping her drink, Charlotte wandered to the stereo and punched buttons. She frowned, trying to think of something special that Elena might be teaching Duncan. Would there be any of the deviations she'd heard about, any of the acts that could be considered perverted?
She shook her head. Of course not; Elena wasn't one of those, for all her loose and kidding talk. She was too clean and nice for perversions, and especially she'd be careful of anything abnormal that might serve to twist Duncan's forming personality and contaminate his future.
Blair and she hadn't done anything like that. They'd only made love in several positions. Charlotte rattled the ice in her emptied glass and smiled, remembering. A little devil, that Blair; he'd been the experienced one who urged her to mount him, to straddle his hard body and take his hard thing up into her tremulous vagina.
Jim had never asked her to do that; her husband did it only one way, stiffly atop her body, pumping and plunging until he'd climaxed, and then rolling hurriedly off her, not caring whether she had known orgasm or not.
That hadn't been love, and it hadn't even been good sex; Charlotte knew that now.
Secure in her expanded new knowledge, she mixed herself a congratulatory drink and danced slowly around the living room with it, bathed in music, washed by sunshine. It was good to be alive.
The phone rang, and she waltzed to it, pirouetting with stylized grace. "Hello; yes?"
"Elena, darling. I called to tell you that Blair will be over in a little while. He went with Duncan to do some dinner shopping for me, but hell come to your place just as soon as he gets back. He's very eager."
Somehow, Charlotte's face prickled and felt warm. It was difficult for her to be as casual as Elena, when each of them had been so recently screwed by the other's son. She said, "He-Duncan didn't say anything to Blair?"
Elena laughed. "Not a thing. They were just a bit standoffish with each other this morning, so I don't imagine they'll get around to comparing notes. Not yet, anyway."
"Elena, pleaser
Her friend's voice was delighted. "Still coy, dear, after that long and interesting night? If Blair gave you just half the thrill that Duncan gave me, you're still on the clouds."
"I ... I don't want to talk about it. Not yet, Elena. You know how I am. I ... I just can't make light of it."
Elena said, "I'm not putting it down, darling. I also called to tell you that Duncan doesn't want to come home today, either. Hell be with me all day, and all night. That's some boy, Charlotte-all muscle and bone and stamina. I really want to thank you, even more so because Duncan was a virgin."
Charlotte drew a long, steadying breath, then took a long, steadying jolt from her glass. "A-all right, Elena." Her friend kissed into the phone and broke the connection. For some time, Charlotte held her phone, then carefully lowered it onto the cradle.
Blair had certainly been no cherry; he was too wise, too deft. But Duncan hadn't been around like Blair; he'd been a virgin, until last night with Elena. Until a sensuous, lovely thirty-seven-year-old woman had taken his cherry.
She drank again, and wondered if boys had any pain, that first time, like girls. No, silly; boys had no membrane in their things. But the implication was the same, with women and men alike greedy to be the first to possess a virgin.
Had her son sucked Elena's nipples and played with her pussy? Had Elena climbed atop her son's stiff and thrusting prick to ride it like a jockey atop a fiery thoroughbred?
Closing her eyes, Charlotte finished the drink. She was about to go for another one when the phone rang again. "Yes?"
"Charlotte." It was Mark Travers, and the timbre of his deep voice sent a cold shock through her.
"Mark? I ... how nice of you to call."
"Nice? That's a hell of a word to use. I called because I wanted to hear your voice, to know you're all right."
"I'm fine; just fine."
And what would you say, Mark Travers, if you knew I've been fucking a sixteen-year-old boy all night?
"Then have dinner with me."
"Oh; oh, I can't, Mark. Really; not tonight. There's someone coming to visit."
A boy golden and tall; a boy slim and hard between the legs, a boy with a driving, insatiable prick to make love with.
"Get rid of them. Darn it, Charlotte, I love you."
"I can't get rid of them, Mark."
"I said I love you."
"I heard you."
And Blair last night, with his firm young organ locked into my steamy box, Charlotte thought. I heard him say he loved me, too.
"Charlotte, what the hell is the matter with you?"
Nothing; she was in love and loved, and she didn't ever have to prove herself with a man; she had a boy who enjoyed her just as she was.
"Nothing's the matter. I ... we're leaving on a trip in a few days. I have to think things over."
His voice roughened. "My proposal? And who's that?"
"Elena Chapman."
"The boy staying home? How about Jan?"
Jan. Good lord, she hadn't even remembered that Jan was spending the weekend with a little friend, that her daughter might come home early, might appear at any time.
"No, no; they're coming with us. Elena's son, too."
"Sounds crowded. Don't go, Charlotte."
"I have to."
What would Jan think; how would little Jan react to anything that remotely resembled promiscuity? How could she have forgotten Jan, even for a minute?
"I won't let you go, Charlotte. I believe you love me, too, and that you're just trying to run away from our love. For some insane reason, you seem to be afraid of me, and of yourself."
She clung to the phone and wished she had a drink. "Mark, you can't stop me from taking a vacation. You don't own me, or even have a claim on me. I said I have to think it over, think us over. After I get back, I'll tell you ... "
"No! I need you now."
"Don't threaten me, Mark. I won't be pushed."
A moment's tense silence, then: "And I won't be put off, or let you make me so damned mad I'll tell you to go to hell. Whatever's wrong with you and me, I'll correct. I'm coming over there, Charlotte-right now!"
"But..." and she was talking into an empty buzz. He couldn't come here, because Blair was coming here. Mark-if Mark saw Blair alone with her, he'd suspect; he might somehow be able to tell just by looking, just by reading the guilt that would be so obvious upon her face.
Mark was so damned bullheaded, so arrogantly male. That was something that bothered her, that made her constantly classify him against the memory of her dead husband. Jim and Mark had owned some things in common-but she wouldn't be one of their chattels.
Moving swiftly, she scribbled a note for Jan, and threw some things into an overnight bag. Elena; she had to get to Elena, to hide there. Mark was overpowering, brutish; even if Jan liked him so much, now he was a danger to Charlotte's thing with Blair, and she couldn't allow that.
Before she left the house, she took a long snort from the bottle and blinked rapidly at the jolt it gave her. Then she drove the Ford to Elena's, clear across town, and all the way there, she was berating herself for not phoning ahead, so Blair wouldn't have a chance of missing her.
But surely he'd be intelligent enough to make some excuse, if he showed at her home and found only Mark Travers there. Blair wasn't dumb.
She just didn't want to miss him, to have to wait so long for the new and shining thing she had discovered, the brightness that only he had ever been able to bring her. Was it that much different for Elena, too? Elena had slept with a number of men, besides her three husbands, and she always talked so about what a blast it was. Had Duncan been a bigger blast for her?
Charlotte pulled the car into the driveway, then moved it slowly around back of the house to the delivery entrance where it would be out of sight. She'd told Mark that Elena was going on the trip with her; he'd be certain to come here next, if he couldn't find her. A stubborn man, Mark, a determined one who meant to have his way.
Maybe, just maybe, before last night making love to Blair, she might have folded up under his pressure, his demands. It was possible she would have married Mark, for there had been many times she was on the verge of saying yes.
Now she couldn't do it. Not since Blair; never could she impose another man between herself and the beautiful body of the boy. So sweet and tender, he was; knowing but somehow innocent even in his deft lovemaking. Gentle and kind, her Blair, understanding of a woman's needs, and in love with her, her.
Impatiently, she buzzed the kitchen door until Elena came to let her in. "Charlotte, what ... "
Charlotte brushed past her. "Have the boys come back yet?"
"No, they haven't." Elena shut the door. "But what are you doing here?"
"Mark called; he was most insistent. He said he was coming right over and change my mind. I ... well, I couldn't let him find Blair there, now could I?"
Elena shrugged. "You, probably not. Me-I'd have passed it off. Come on in and have some hair of the dog."
"Thanks; I need a drink. Mark is so ... and I'm all mixed up ... . "
"Here; stiff upper Up, or whatever else it takes."
Charlotte downed the shot. "Elena, you're so coarse."
Elena grinned. She looked tousled and rumpled, but happy with herself. She said, "But you love me anyhow, right?"
"Sure, I do. Only-hide me if Mark comes here looking. And, I guess I'd better go into one of the bedrooms of somewhere..."
"Why? Mark Travers won't come busting into my house, because he knows I'd clout him with something. Unless, of course, he had rape on his mind. Not your rape, mine."
Charlotte helped herself to another shot. "You're hopeless, Elena. No ... I meant I can't face up to Duncan right now. He knows about me and ... and his buddy; and I know about him and you, and well ... I just have to take all this by easy stages. Thanks for the drinks. Now let me get upstairs, and take a shower or something."
Elena patted her shoulder and walked with her to the stairs. "When the boys come back, I'll tell Blair where you are."
Charlotte hesitated. "I ... I don't know. I mean, in the daytime and with my own son in the house, and you..."
"All in the family," Elena giggled. "Go on, get up the steps and make yourself pretty for my hand-raised Romeo. You got to give the kid credit for good taste, right?"
The liquor warmed her, and so did the water. She soaped herself lasciviously in the guest bathroom, running her slick hands over her body, sliding fingers over her breasts and feeling the rigid nipples, down over her tummy, down into her pubic hair and the lips of that sheath that Blair loved so well. She was happy that he found her beautiful, that she could be sexy for him.
She caught herself, straightened and stepped back into the shower to rinse her body. Clean water purled over her, dripped from her nipples, raced down her belly to make a waterfall over her mound, to caress her inner thighs before darting across her shins and disappearing in the puddle over her feet.
Lovely legs, Blair said; beautiful tits, smooth belly, he said; and her pubic hair-so thick and luxurious, so deep he could just about make his balls vanish into it.
Charlotte lifted her breasts, arched her back to make them stand out more, and smiled down at her legs. If Blair liked them, that was enough. Maybe a young boy could be entranced by an older woman, could be enamored of her ripeness, her maturity. What did the psych books call it-Oedipus?
Oedipus complex: a morbid sexual fixation upon the mother figure.
She climbed out of the tub, grabbed desperately for a towel. Was she a mother image to Blair? No; that was only the learned nonsense of the shrinks. Blair loved her for herself, for being Charlotte Mason, and not because she was a handy substitute for ...
Elena? His own mother?
Impossible; insane. He couldn't be that kind of perverted boy, because it was very plain to see that if it held true for him, that could mean in turn that Duncan had a thing or ...
Her!
Flinging down the towel, she clutched for the terry cloth robe behind the door, and caught a glimpse of her body, naked and wanton, in the full-length mirror the robe had hidden. Full, high breasts, good skin, the glaring V of her pussy a black banner to tempt the devil himself.
"No!" she said aloud, and covered her sinful flesh with the robe. Unlocking the door, she opened it and ran through, turned right and fled down the hall to the guest room she'd spent many a lonely night in.
Her heart was pounding so, she didn't distinguish the hammer of footsteps behind her, so when he caught her at the bedroom door, she leaped like a startled cat. He held to her waist, and the robe flared wide open and she tried to twist away, frightened silly.
He kicked the door shut. Not Mark Travers, not the man she feared, but Blair. Dear, sweet and youthful Blair. His brown eyes were glowing, his beautiful mouth shaped into a smile.
"Wow," he said, reverently, "but this is the way to come home. When mother said you were here, I had to run right up and see for myself. And to catch you coming all soapy smelling from the bath, and nothing on under that robe-wow!"
Shyly, she pulled the robe together, belted it, sat primly upon the edge of the bed and put her feet together. "Blair-we have to be sensible. Did ... where is Duncan? Is he downstairs?"
He moved toward her, sleek and new in his T-shirt, his tight worn jeans. Sneaking a quick look, she could see the soft shape of his organ outlined there, and her heart gave a mighty leap. But it couldn't be: not here and not now.
"Dune's down there," he said, "but he won't bother us. You can bet on that, Mrs. Mason."
The way he said Mrs. Mason was nicer, more sensuous, than any pet name, any term of endearment he could have used. She trembled, remembering what he'd told her about using her married title.
"But he's here," she said. "My ... my son is right here in this house, just downstairs; he knows
I'm here. So don't you see-that makes it all so very different."
He watched her for a long moment, this young/old boy who was also a man; then he said, "Mrs. Mason, if it bugs you-okay. We'll take it easy, take it slow. Dune's down there, sure-but he's not thinking about you or me right now. I mean, my mother's down there, too, and he can't take his eyes off her. Dune wouldn't hear it thunder right now, he's that hung up on her."
That strange, sharp emotion cut at her again, but so swiftly was it gone that she couldn't hold it to try for recognition. She tried again: "But Duncan is my son, and if he thinks of his own mother, and ... and..."
Blair sat down beside her on the bed. She was tense, uptight as he took her hand. His fingers were warm upon her cold ones, and he said, "It all balances out, Mrs. Mason-darling Mrs. Mason, my love. Duncan with my mother; me with his mother-and I'm sure neither of us would have it any other way right now. Four people, but four different people, and all individuals. Me, you; him, her. Only because we're related, we're even nearer than if we were just passing lovers. I'm probably mixing it all up, but maybe you can sort out what I mean."
She held his hand; she felt his thigh against hers, his dear nearness. "I ... I think I know what you mean, Blair. But you're so young and pliable; you can accept strange new things. It's difficult for me, because I'm old and I get tied up in knots, and I have to take time to adjust myself."
"Okay," he said. "Take the time, Mrs. Mason. But let me wait here with you. I can't go downstairs right now. I mean, with mother just as wrapped up in Duncan as he is with her-it might be embarrassing."
"Of course, stay here," she said quickly, and swept his cheek with a swift butterfly kiss, because he was so thoughtful, so conscious of other people. "But please, darling, don't do anything to me; not yet. It's not that I don't want you to. I do, I do. I want you so much, so very much, but I just can't force myself to ... to be so bitchy right here and right now. Duncan's here, and I ... oh hell, Blair!"
He stroked her hand. "It's all right, Mrs. Mason. I can wait. I'll wait all day and all night, if you want me to. I'll just sit here where I can touch you and look at you, and be happy enough for that."
She wanted to hold him, to press his adorable body to hers, to feel him, flesh and bone and the distended rising of his wonderful prick. Charlotte shook within herself, clenched her thighs tightly together against the surging of her passion, and screamed no! no! no! into the far and echoing reaches of her mind.
She had to say something, anything, to fight her desires. "Did ... did you and Duncan talk about last night? I mean ... did he say anything, or you say anything ... "
He shook his head. "Not us. Dune's cool, and I dig that, too. We talked about school and taking this long trip next week, and traveling in the bus; nothing about actual screwing. It was in our heads, of course. But we didn't rap about it."
Charlotte let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Yes," she said, "let's talk about the trip."
CHAPTER FIVE
She didn't really want much dinner, but since she'd skipped lunch, Charlotte thought she ought to put something on top of the drinks she'd had. Dressed in the slacks and top she'd fled from her house in, she managed to do something with her hair and made up her face.
Just before she went down to dinner with the rest of them, she took a couple of quickies to bolster her nerve. Head high, walking carefully, she descended the stairs and made her way across the deserted living room to the kitchen.
When he saw her coming, her son got swiftly up from the round table and came to her, smiling. Charlotte tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't; she looked down and away, and turned to run back upstairs.
In the living room, he caught her arm. "Mom! Hey, don't do that ... don't run away."
Swallowing, Charlotte mumbled something about feeling ill, and tried to pull away. He held her, his hand warm on her upper arm, and spun her slowly to face him. "Hey-it's okay; really it is.
I mean, it's better than just okay. I think it's great, just great. Honest, mom, it's hard to tell you how grateful I am for ... for setting me up with Elena. I never knew sex could be so wonderful. It's like I just got born."
She forced her chin up, blinked at him through tear-rimmed lashes. "And what about me, Duncan? How do you feel about me, about your m-mother sleeping with ... with your friend?"
He put his hand to her cheek, a gesture he always made when she was upset and he was trying to soothe her. "I think that's great, too. Really, I mean. Blair's my best buddy, and a good guy, and I couldn't think of anybody better to ... well, to make you happy. Mom, you and I both know that you haven't been anywhere near happy for five years, ever since dad died-maybe before that, even. If Blair can turn you on, I'm glad for you, and for him, too."
"You don't think I'm a bad woman, an evil woman?"
Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek. "No; you're a real pretty, real sexy chick-and Blair's one of the luckiest guys in the world, being with you. I'm the other lucky guy. Elena's so ... well, I'm in love with her-really and truly in love with her."
Charlotte went loose inside; the strain melted from her body, and her heart seemed to swell in her chest. Duncan didn't hate her; instead, he was grateful to her for his affair with Elena, for the carnal instruction he was receiving from a beautiful and experienced woman.
Her son didn't hate her for sleeping with his friend; he thought it was her due, a good thing for her happiness, and he was so right, so right.
Impulsively, she kissed his mouth, and thought his hands tightened upon her upper arms, thought he held the kiss just a fraction long, before he released her arms to take her hand.
"Come on, mom," he said. "We don't want din--. . ner to get cold."
Burlesquing the manners of a haughty head-waiter, Duncan seated her at the table, bowed elaborately and set them all to laughing. Elena served platters of Mexican food, and Charlotte welcomed the spicy bite of it, the pickup it gave her appetite.
There was no tension among them at the table; it was like old times for the four of them, Charlotte thought, all kidding and eating with gusto and only now and then catching a glance that spoke of more than food.
It was even better, being in their company now, she decided; the taut desires were gone, the secret peeping had vanished; since they were slaking their passions for each other, there seemed to be a greater ease among them.
Under the table, Charlotte's knee brushed Blair's, and an electric shock jolted through her entire body. A sensual undercurrent lurked just under the surface of her ease, then, probably under all their casual actions.
For there had to be the constant knowledge that last night, they had been locked voluptuously together in naked squirmings, that they'd known the intimate and secret places of each other's passionate bodies.
She saw the sultry look in Elena's green eyes, the sidelong glance she gave Duncan, and the eager look he returned. And Blair-deep brown eyes reaching across at hers, reaching into hers, asking, pleading.
Elena said abruptly, "I don't think anybody wants dessert."
Charlotte rose, but from force of habit said, "The dishes..."
"The dishes can wait," Elena said, "I'm not so sure I can."
Swiftly, Blair came around the table to take her arm. The air in the kitchen seemed to turn warmer, to thicken with suspense, and Charlotte trembled. As she turned, as Blair was leading her to the stairs, her own son's hand brushed her hip.
"Have fun, mom-have all the kinds of fun you ever wanted."
"I ... you, too," she said, and immediately felt silly. A mother just didn't say things to her son like that, like: fuck nice, dear; or have a good screw; or don't give Mrs. Chapman a bad time, darling.
Give Mrs. Chapman a good time, she thought hazily as she started up the stairs; go in there between her golden legs and put your sweet, hard thing into her golden hairs and push it thrillingly up into her hotly golden pussy.
Her own son, doing that. Her dear Duncan, with a rigid penis and a panting mouth, and his little boy hands sliding all over Elena's womanly flesh. Her own son.
"Mrs. Mason."
They were in the bedroom, and he'd shut the door, and he was very sweet, very patient. "Yes, Blair."
"I'd like to undress you."
She drew a shuddering breath. "All right. I'll sit on the bed." Her own son was downstairs, just a few feet below her now, and maybe he was getting ready to strip Elena. But not thinking about his mother; thinking of the hotly eager body of Elena.
Blair was naked. She stared at his body gleaming in the soft light from the bedside lamp, at the smooth chest, the flat belly, the feathery moss so shiny brown, his hard penis rising so tall and straight.
While she was staring, he came close and pushed his knees in between hers as she sat on the bed. That brought his beautiful organ just about within reach of a loss, and for one zigzag, crazy second, she contemplated just that, thought of brushing that delicately colored and flange-shaped head with her lips.
Of course, she didn't. She turned her head as it neared her face, and lifted her arms so Blair could slip her blouse over them.
Then she hiked her tail to allow him to peel away her slacks. He kneeled between her spread legs then, rubbing his bare chest over each kneecap in turn, reaching up to take off her bra, leaving her clad only in sheer panties.
"Beautiful tits," he murmured, cupping them both, weighing them in his hands. "Big and heavy and beautiful. Man, how I dig big tits with nearly black nipples like yours."
Blair thumbed over her nipples and Charlotte caught her lower Hp between her teeth; he mashed her breasts gently with his palms, caressed and fondled them. He said, "You know, your tits are bigger than my mother's; bigger and richer. Oh, she's got great ones, and I'm not putting them down. I've been sneaking looks at them for years now, and land of drooling over them, but I think your boobies are a shade rounder and the nipples stick out a Little more."
Charlotte's breath was ragged in her throat. He stopped playing with her titties long enough to slip off her panties, then he was right back at them. But this time, with his stiff cock pressed against her belly, the gleaming, polished head of it touched up into the valley between her breasts.
"I've always wanted to do this," he said, and squeezed her breasts together, pushed them together with both hands. Then Blair pushed the warm head of his prick between them, up and down while he held her tits to make a warmly resilient vagina of them.
"That's groovy," he said, "real far out. Oh, Mrs. Mason-big, soft titties like these, ahh ... baby."
And every few strokes, his cockhead slid too far, slid out of her fleshy trap and tapped her gently under the chin. All she had to do was to turn down her face and it would touch her lips. All she had to do was kiss it each time it came probing through the love cave he was making of her swollen tits.
But of course, she did no such thing. Her arms went around his waist, and she urged his body down, pulled it tenderly lower, until he was once more kneeling between her thighs, but now with his belly tight against her humid crotch. He didn't let go of her breasts, and moved to nuzzle them, to bury his face in them, to nibble first one aching nipple and then the other. Blissfully, he sucked on them, and kneaded them as a baby will, to bring down more milk.
He'd sneaked looks at his own mother's boobs, Charlotte remembered. Blair said that hers were rounder than Elena's, and that he had drooled over Elena's for years. Did that mean that in turn, Duncan possibly had been enamored of Charlotte's boobs? Maybe all young boys eyed their mother's tits, or cast lingering looks at their mother's asses.
They just never did anything about going farther, because that was wrong as wrong could possibly be, for both mother and son.
She found herself rubbing up on him, grinding her wet mound into his muscular belly, and clamping him with her shivering thighs. Young and hard, boyish and anxious, he was so beautiful, so captivating.
But he didn't climb up and stick his thing into her. He was kissing down from her tits, touching the tip of his hot, wet tongue to her skin. Charlotte writhed and shook, but his hands were on her hips now, and his breath was fanning over her tummy, where it tickled so crazily she thought she was going to go out of her mind.
Tantalizing, teasing, he kissed her stomach and the flesh that covered her hipbones. Her hands were on his dear head, and when he dipped still lower, when she realized with a shock that he was actually kissing into the upper curlings of her pubic hair, Charlotte tried to pull his head back up.
Blair wouldn't budge; instead, he pushed the top of his head against her belly, and Charlotte found herself being tipped backward on the bed. His hand slipped down and thrust under her buttocks, and he took a firm, insistent grip on each cheek of her ass.
She tugged at his head, hooked her fingers into his hair and pulled to make him stop what he was doing down there. He had to stop, because that of all things was perverted, was unclean-he had to stop, stop!
"Blair! No ... please don't ... oh, Blair, you can't do that! You don't want to, darling ... it might make you sick. Oh Blair, stop, please, please!" r
He wouldn't stop. He was amazingly strong, and although she fought to shut her thighs, and battled to lift his head from between them, Blair hung on, pushed her back, back and then his mouth was clamped onto her labia.
Oh lord; oh please, oh no-his mouth was fastened hungrily to the wet and quivering lips of her pussy.
Blair's tongue licked up and down her lips as Charlotte's hands fell weakly and helplessly away from his head. His hot licking tongue-up and down and tasting, lapping like a little puppy; his tongue like a dwarf penis, thrusting inside the lips of her cunt, pushing into the well of her vagina so that his teeth chewed lightly and thrillingly at the labia.
His tongue slipped out, and she made an involuntary hunch of her ass to get it back, but he was sucking, sucking on her pussy, drawing her labia into his mouth, puckering them to suck the flowing juices from her hotly flexing vagina.
Hot and sweet, hot and wild, hot and wet-oh, she couldn't stand it! Oh, she arched and bucked and twisted because the drawing, pulling sensation was too strong, too much.
He sucked her as if he was sucking the sweet honey from a ripe and juicy orange, gulping her oils, smearing his face into her pussy. And as Charlotte came, when she humped and rotated her ass crazily in his hands, he stopped sucking and rammed his tongue in upon her vibrating clitoris.
She snapped the upper part of her body off the bed, gasped and fell back again. Her thighs squeezed upon his dear, gobbling head, until she was fearful that she might bury his loving face into her cunt and he'd be unable to breathe.
He chewed her clit. Ecstasy smashed in hot, rolling waves through her pussy, washed through her belly, bored madly from the rear into her clenched ass-hole. Blair chewed her clit and licked it and sucked on it, and Charlotte moaned.
Charlotte beat on the bed with both flailing hands and rocked the bed with her hunching contractions. She fucked his face, actually fucked his mouth, grinding and heaving, churning her enraptured pussy all over his face.
And came again, the fury of the orgasm wrenching her from the world of reality. She dissolved into a warm wet cave where lovely soft things bobbed lovingly around her, where lovely hard soft things dipped up into her cunt and out again, making her drip with their pearly white semen.
Dimly, she was conscious of Blair still licking Into her pussy, sucking tenderly upon her labia and swallowing the slippery juices that spilled out.
Her head rolled from side to side, and she was limp when he lifted from her drained cunt, when he climbed from between her lifeless thighs to drag her completely upon the bed. She flickered her eyelids, but he was only an outline above her, and she knew his body was lowering to hers.
Fiercely, he crammed his prick into her. Savagely, he thrust it deep, burying it to the balls. Her thighs flinched, and there was a stirring of new life deep in her pussy. His cock moved strongly in and out and she felt the tender slap of his balls against the wet crack of her ass.
A tremor ran through her. She drew a deep breath, and another, and as her head cleared, Charlotte caught her lover close, held him to her responding body as that gorgeous young staff pounded into her cunt, as it drew back for other lunges.
Her hands dropped and she caught the cheeks of his firm ass, drew him to her, pulled him back, slammed him to her pussy again. Charlotte fucked him steadily, hiking her ass and rolling it, grinding her belly and pumping on his slick, pistoning cock.
Blair let it go deep inside her, shot off his hot, sticky load into the cup of her pussy, and she clamped hard on the head of it to reach her own orgasm. Wet and wild, it came pouring through her, came pouring over his prick.
So insane; so impossible. Her head swam again, and she thought she'd pass out. But she fought the weakness, because she wanted to tell him how she loved him.
CHAPTER SIX
Charlotte felt odd, ill at ease, and she tried to cover her emotions as she talked with her daughter. If Jan only knew, she thought; her fourteen-year-old girl would run screaming from the house. Just a baby, Jan would be terribly shocked, be disgusted and so upset. And Charlotte couldn't blame her.
"I-it's better that we stay over here for awhile," she said, and tried to be casual about it. "Mark is, well, he's determined that I marry him, while I'm not so sure, yet. So Elena offered us her home as a refuge, and we can plan our trip."
"Groovy," Jan said, leaning back upon the arm of the couch with one leg tucked into her hands and one foot on the floor. A slim and lovely girl, Charlotte thought proudly, trim and neat in her jeans and snug blouse. The inverted vee of her leg showed the sleek curve of thigh and hip, and Charlotte looked away guiltily. She was much too preoccupied with sexual things and saw sensuousness everywhere.
Her daughter had the same coloring as her son, the same richly dark blonde hair and hazel eyes; Jan's hair was long, drawn back and held with a barrette; her skin was suntanned, and her elfin face without a trace of makeup. So small, Charlotte thought, but with the hint of approaching womanhood about her body; little Jan, not yet five feet tall and weighing no more than eighty pounds. She was sweet and so innocent.
Jan said, "Hey; it's okay with Dune and me if you marry Mark. Mark's an up front guy, and we dig him."
"Thank you," Charlotte said, "but that's not what's holding me back. I'm just not sure."
"Okay." Jan shrugged it off and put both feet on the floor, straddling the couch arm and rocking slightly upon it, back and forth.
As Charlotte had rocked on Blair Chapman's arching body, as she had held his beautiful prong trapped within the hot, wet grasp of her vagina. Shivering at the recent memory, Charlotte forced her thoughts away from lovemaking, afraid that somehow they would reach out and contaminate her young daughter.
Jan said, "Where are we going on this trip? Just us, or are the Chapmans coming, too?"
"All of us together, dear. Won't that be nice?"
"Far out; that Blair is beautiful, in case you haven't noticed."
"Oh," Charlotte said, "I've noticed," and a warning bell rang in the far recesses of her mind. The situation would be impossible, if Jan had some sort of childish crush on Blair. The girl would be hanging around him, making a nuisance of herself, and getting in the way when he'd want to be with Charlotte.
She felt a twinge of jealousy and said something banal about the journey to clear the unreasonable jealousy away, for it was more than silly; it was completely ridiculous. Jan was only an immature child, a girl just budding into the nubile stage, while Blair had already made love to a ripe woman more than twice his age.
She'd have to come up with a reason to leave Jan behind, maybe send her off to a summer camp. The girl couldn't be getting in the way of what Charlotte and Blair had going, and the romance between Jan's brother and Elena Chapman. The travel bus would be confining, and the girl's presence inhibiting. Charlotte had no desire to lose the matchless intimacy she'd found.
But the problem of what to do with Jan could be solved later; now she had to be circumspect around the Chapman house, so her little daughter wouldn't suspect what was going on under her very nose. Elena and Duncan would have to be careful, too. It wouldn't be for long; the travel bus would soon be ready, and they could take to the open road.
"I'll go see Mrs. Chapman," Jan said, "and scrounge some food."
"Fine, dear," Charlotte answered, and watched her daughter's neatly modeled tail swing itself saucily in the tight jeans as Jan strolled across the living room and into the kitchen.
Charlotte sighed then, and wondered how she'd go about telling Jan she couldn't go along. It would have to be done, but for now, the girl could be happy with the rest of them. Sighing again, Charlotte went to the bar across the room and poured herself a drink.
The boys came bouncing into the house, wrestling and laughing, their healthy young faces shining, their eyes bright. They saw her at the bar and stopped their horseplay. Blair walked over to her, and Duncan grinned before making his way into the kitchen.
"Oh-please don't," Charlotte whispered as Blah-came up behind her and cupped both cheeks of her ass lightly in his hands. "Blair, don't let Jan see you doing anything like that to her mother, please. It would scare her silly."
He leaned against her, and she could feel his pelvis, feel the softness that was his penis and testicles; a shudder raced through her suddenly taut body. Blair kissed the back of her neck, softly, blowing gently into her hair.
Charlotte jerked away from him, her hands trembling and her breasts rising. "Jan's in the kitchen, Blair-if she should come out and see us-"
"Okay," he said, stepping around in front of her. "But she has to come down the hall and we can hear her, so kiss me, Mrs. Mason."
His mouth was young; it was soft and mobile and flavored with excitement, and she recalled how it had felt, along her labia and tonguing into her inflamed pussy, only the night before. His tongue-the same teasing, stimulating tongue that had sent her into blind raptures-it pushed insistently into her mouth now, and his slim, hard body came tightly to hers.
Swelling, lifting against the confinement of his jeans, his penis moved against her belly, and Charlotte went weak in the knees as he pulled her tongue into his own mouth to suck tenderly upon it, as his hands caressed the trembling cheeks of her ass, as he moved his crotch into hers.
When he pulled away, she almost collapsed. Catching herself, she leaned back against the bar and tried to regain her balance, both physical and mental. Her head was swimming and her flesh palpitating, but all her morals were screaming that this was so wrong, so wrong, and she was frightened that Jan might catch her at this-this sinful, insane debauchery.
"Wow," Blair said softly. "I don't think I can ever get enough of just touching you, Mrs. Mason darling. You turn me on when I just see you, and when I touch you, loss you ... "
"I know," she said uncertainly, "oh, how I know that. But I do have responsibilities, dear; Jan is-Jan...."
"A good kid," Blair finished for her. Then he said, "Jan's bright, too, and up front. She might understand what you're doing. Just as your son understands and digs it."
Charlotte shook her head. "No, no! I can't accept that. The girl is much too young, too immature. I couldn't possibly expose her to-oh, Blair; I love you so much, and I should have the strength to just run away from you. For Jan's sake, and for-for my own. But I just can't."
Eyes warm, bronzed and beautiful, he moved toward her, but she waved him back. She'd heard voices, and people coming from the kitchen. Jan and Duncan, kidding and giggling, and the sharp edge of her own guilt struck deeply into Charlotte then. Her children were so close, seldom fighting the way other kids did, getting along wonderfully, liking each other as friends as well as siblings. And here she was, lost in a maze of her own selfish sexual desires, allowing her own twisted needs to threaten the existence of that brotherly-sisterly bond. It was more than foolish, Charlotte thought; her actions were completely irresponsible and even dangerous.
Blair said to her, "We're just learning about each other, Mrs. Mason; wait until we feel it all, know it all, before you even think about running away."
She stared at him, her fingers clenched whitely about the glass she was still holding. "Blair, it almost seems as if you're older and wiser, and I'm only a girl."
"You are," he said, "only my girl."
So sweet, she thought, and felt about fifteen years slip off her shoulders; she was Blair's girl, his steady. And it was true that he was wiser in the ways of sex, as a boy ought to be. He had given her one orgasm after another, and brought her that deliciously forbidden oral love. At his tender age, Blair Chapman knew far more about doing it-no, about fucking-than her husband had even thought of; and even if her husband had dreamed of such abandonment, he'd never had the courage to try it
"Hey, mom!" Jan slapped up to her, that long, deep blonde hair flying. "Dune says our trip is going to be a blast, that we're all set to drive around and camp anywhere we like."
"Yes, dear," Charlotte said, and her heart sank. How could Duncan build up his sister's anticipation, knowing as he did that his own lovemaking might be slowed by her presence? She saw how Jan smiled at Blair, how easy and comfortable she was with both the boys, and wondered if she could ever loosen up and be that casual. But Jan didn't have the sexual inhibitions, nor the sexual pleasures, as yet, and Charlotte thought how changed her little girl's life would become, after she gave up her virginity.
Duncan found the stereo and got some music going, then turned and began to dance with his sister. They moved sensuously, rolling their hips and thrusting with the lower parts of their bodies, pumping their hands and turning slowly, slowly.
"Want to try it, Mrs. Mason?"
"What? Oh no, no-I'm sure I couldn't do that, Blair. I'm too-"
He slid close. "Don't say too old; you're just the right age. Let yourself ride with the beat, go with the music and your body will do the rest."
Charlotte stood there rocking with him, trying to do the things he did, and Blair said no, no-relax, hang loose, go with the beat. So she tried to, closing her eyes and feeling the music, the primitive throbbing of it entering her body and making bubbles in her bloodstream. She wasn't touching Blair with her body, but she knew he was there, and her thighs whispered together as she moved her hips; her breasts lifted and their nipples stiffened.
"Go," Blair whispered, and she relaxed more, swayed and rocked. Her titties told him how much she enjoyed his mouth on them; her belly rolled and she felt a quick moistness gathering in her mound as it said to the boy-man how wondrous to take him into it. She felt the cheeks of her ass loosen, jiggle, make little bumping motions.
Her dance was the remembering of sensations, the recreating of fucking, the reliving of hotly twisting ecstasy; her flesh tingled and her skin grew warm. Charlotte knew a kind of fluidness, a liquid flowing that strengthened her pulse and made her feel good, good.
"Wow, mom!" Jan's young voice cut sharply into her new dream world. "You can really go."
Charlotte's eyes flew open, and she looked down to see her body moving lasciviously in its own rhythm. She backed quickly to the bar and braced herself against its solidity, the realness of wood and chrome.
They were all staring at her-Jan and Duncan, Blair. There was something like awe in Jan's eyes, as if she had discovered that her mother wasn't an antique. Duncan's face wore a half smile, an interested look that made her curl within herself. Blair was frankly approving.
"Didn't I tell you, Mrs. Mason? You were really getting with it."
"Yeah, mom," Jan murmured. 'You and Blair were going great. You maybe ought to dance more often. You sure look different."
Incongruously, Charlotte thought: you should see me going great with Blair in bed, my dear. You should watch your mother lay it up to him, all naked and squirming, while he uses his darling mouth on your mother's aching, fervent box. You ought to take a look at your staid old mother riding this boy's prick as if it was the joy stick of heaven, which of course it is.
But if Jan ever really saw her naked and screwing and bitchy, Charlotte would just die.
"Come on, kids," Charlotte said through stiff lips. "Elena must have lunch ready by now, and we'd better all wash up."
Jan and Duncan dashed for the downstairs bathroom, while Blair hung back just long enough to dip his hand between Charlotte's thighs for a quick caress of her pussy. Grinning back at her, he was gone then, and her eyes followed his slim legs and tight bottom up the stairs as he loped easily up them.
She yearned for the chance to run up after him, to grab him and roll with him to the bed. Charlotte wanted him, craved him, as she'd never needed the weak and selfish man she'd been married to. This bright and brave new way of living had opened for her, and she didn't want to waste a single joyous moment of it. She was thirty-five years old, and it was as if she was a newly awakened virgin, just learning to fuck.
"Yes," she whispered, "fuck. Not doing it, because that can't describe fucking. It's a cop out, as the kids say."
"Talking to yourself?" Elena asked, as Charlotte entered the kitchen. "You might listen to the answers you get, you know; I peeped out there while you were dancing, and-like you put some of those nightclub strippers to shame. The kids were staring at you like they were getting ready to applaud; or something. Orgy in the living room, right?"
Charlotte drew a glass of water and drank it; her tummy felt no cooler, but she was a little more settled now. "Elena-what about Jan? I mean, we can't be-playing around with the boys when she's here. Not unless we're very, very careful. And I've been thinking about the trip, about five of us in that bus. It won't work out, I'm afraid. Sooner or later, shell sense something, or even worse, see something, and ... "
"No good," Elena said. "You got any answers?"
"It'll just break her heart to be left back," Charlotte said. "I don't know what to do."
"Then let it ride, baby. Things have a way of working themselves out; they've done pretty good so far, haven't they? Boy-I've never balled so much with any one guy in my life. That son of yours..."
Blushing, Charlotte busied herself setting the kitchen table, making a great rattle of silverware. Elena said, over the noise, "Okay, okay-it's daylight and I'm not supposed to talk about sex in the afternoon. Only it's not all that far from matinee time, and you'll have to keep Jan and Blair busy down here pretty soon, because that Duncan has been playing grab-ass with me all morning, and I'm just about that far from running upstairs with him."
"I know," Charlotte said, "I know-and isn't it wonderful, to have them so interested in us? Day and night, I mean-making sex the nicest, the most important thing in the world. More important than school or the office or business or anything."
"Yeah," Elena smiled, "and ain't that terrific? This is the greatest idea we ever had, girl. And look, about Jan-after lunch, can't you send her home for some things you need?"
"Someone will have to drive her."
Elena shrugged, and her breasts bobbled cutely beneath the clinging material of the blouse she wore. Charlotte wondered if her son kissed Elena's titties, if he sucked and nibbled on them, and the hot blood rushed into her face again. Elena said, "Duncan and me, then. We'll take first dibs on the bedrooms, like he has to help me with something, you know? While you and Blair keep Jan down here until he gets all done helping me. And I get done helping him."
There was no time for talking then, as the three youngsters came pelting into the kitchen, full of life and energy. Just being with them, Charlotte felt her own energy climb, an aliveness that brightened her spirits and added to her anticipation. After lunch; after Duncan made quick and frantic love to Elena upstairs, only Blair would be left in the house with her. So nice; it would be thrilling and eager to do it-to screw-in in the afternoon, maybe down here in the living room, maybe even on the floor, as if she was the most shameless bitch anywhere.
Charlotte didn't remember what she ate, only that her body absorbed its replenishing, and that she had never been more conscious of her flesh, her skin, her pores. She had to struggle to keep her hands from trembling, and her thighs kept rubbing themselves together in eagerness.
And in time, all the sham was over, and the house belonged to her, and to Blair Chapman.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The car was barely out of the driveway when she and Blair met in the middle of the living room, their bodies coming hard against each other and their hands anxious to fondle, to feel and cup and caress. Their mouths crushed, their teeth raked, and Charlotte was surprised to find herself the aggressor, a little shocked to discover her tongue thrusting in upon his, and that her fingers were tearing at his jeans.
They helped each other out of clothing, and threw the pieces away. She sank to the carpet with him, her nipples hard, her belly flexing, and with a moist impatience gathering in her pussy. Blair played with her tits as they sat facing each other, flattening their round globes so that they could spring full once more, rolling the aching nipples between thumbs and forefingers.
Charlotte found herself kissing his tanned throat, kissing his shoulders and the firm chest where only bronze wisps of hair were beginning to curl. Blair's hands stroked her head, her neck, and she tasted his young slime with the darting tip of her tongue. It was flavored with passion, spiced by warmth and just the faintest salting of sweat.
"Do it, Mrs. Mason," he murmured, pressing her face more tightly into his lower chest. "Love it, love me-do it."
Not all the way, she thought raggedly; just his ribs and his tummy, because it seems to excite him so much. Love me, he said; love it. But she couldn't possibly do that, not ever commit a deviate act upon Blair, even though she wanted very much to make him happy, to please him any way she could.
Charlotte kneeled beside Blair's outstretched body as he spread his slim legs apart, her head at his rib cage, her hair hanging spread over him. He was such a beautiful boy, she thought, so smooth and unblemished, and she licked gently over his ribs, teasing him, making him wiggle.
Her fingers strayed into his crotch and played with his testicles, adoring the sac they throbbed within, feeling beneath the scrotum and tickling into the downy cleft of his anus. His penis stood up so lovely, the staff of it handsomely rounded, veined by delicate blues, and its glans was a dark pink, flanged artistically and centered by a tender slit in its blunted point.
Blair's tummy was quivering, so she slid her face adoringly down over its boyish flatness and kissed his navel, dipping her tongue into it. She was immediately rewarded by the arching of his back and a gasp; his penis throbbed strongly in her fingers.
Maybe a simple caress, Charlotte thought. It couldn't be bad to touch her cheek to that gorgeous knob or possibly brush her lips across it ever so lightly and briefly. Blair seemed to want it so, and after all he had gone the oral limit with her. It was only fair that she return a small part of the favor.
Snuggling down into the fresh crispness of his pubic hair, she kissed the base of his rod, and probed her tongue into the sweet bush of his mounded pubis. Her cheek pressed against his staff, and the hot trembling of it was wondrous. Turning her chin slightly, Charlotte kissed the meaty pole, enthralled by its velveted rigidity and the intimate longing it was expressing mutely to her.
This far and no farther, she thought dazedly, because to do more would be to be a pervert, to be deviate, queer-all the nasty things that could be called anyone who did sexual tricks with their mouth. But was Blair nasty, perverted, queer? He'd done it to her, and the thrill was beyond rapture, past bliss to a far kind of wild ecstasy that had melted all the metallic places in the core of her.
Charlotte kissed up the shaft of his cock, holding tenderly to his balls, playing into the hair at the base of it. The head loomed close, and she touched it exploringly with a quick tongue tip; it tasted only of Blair's youth and strength, it was flavored only by love. She licked it again, and told herself that he would have to make do with this, I be content with these limits beyond which she
I couldn't force herself to go.
He sat up, and his belly came against her cheek. Sighing, she started to lift her head, an impetuous yearning racing throughout her flesh.
' His hands were on her head, his fingers digging into her hair, and she meant to turn her face to look up at him, to tell dear Blair how sorry she was that she could not possibly go through with the rest of it.
Blair forced her face down, pressing with his hands upon her head. His hips gave a roll, and suddenly his cock was against her startled lips. The head of it was spongy and slickened by a droplet her stunned mind recognized as pre-seminal fluid.
"N-no!" she moaned, and the head of it pushed inside.
She had a penis in her mouth! Shock paralyzed her, and Charlotte drew breath with a gasp. A penis, a man's organ-the thing he peed through; a prick, a cock, a pole-all the obscenities and the dirty jokes. It was in her mouth!
Struggling, she tried to spit it out, to shove that pulsing head back out of her mouth with her tongue, but it would not leave. Blair clung to her head, forced her to take that stroking thing into her mouth, stuck it in so that the head rode over the roof of her mouth, so that the swollen rod lay ; against her shuddering tongue and came scraping across her teeth.
"Take it, Mrs. Mason-eat it, love it-let it all the way in, Mrs. Mason darling!" Blair's voice poured honey down over her, and as he rolled his pelvis, when he hunched his tail to lift his prick more, she felt herself going helpless, dissolving into a limp acquiescence. She couldn't fight it any longer; she could struggle no more, and it was with a sense of relief that she gave up.
The head of his cock reached up and rolled against the velvet back of her throat. She thought she would gag, but didn't, and he was so sweet, so eager for sensation. Charlotte fingered the root of his penis, and her tongue of its own volition laved his rod until he drew it back far enough. Then she curled it around the glans, licked it into the little wet slit, and Blair rocked his hips, groaning and panting as he did so.
She was thrilling him, she thought; she was driving him halfway mad with a building rapture, This beautiful boy was being brought to a peak of exquisite pleasure by something she was doing to him, and had never done to anyone before. Charlotte Mason, the prudish, scared housewife, was fiery enough to make a lover insanely happy.
So she sucked on it. She massaged the base and the root and she pulled lovingly upon the head of his lovely cock, sucked blissfully on the pulsing head and Blair responded by pumping it in and out, in and out. Lovely and sexy, and she was almost as excited as he was, without a thought of what was going to happen when he climaxed.
But he did reach orgasm, with a churning of his pelvis and a lashing of his outspread legs. The head of his lunging prick bulged, and Charlotte knew the sudden spurting of his semen, the hot, thick explosion of his come. It hosed far back into her throat, nearly choking her, so that she had to swallow in order to breathe.
It was like drowning, but not; it was like gagging on something that went down the wrong way. Mind spinning, mouth still sucking wildly upon the delicious, savory cock, Charlotte gulped down the creamy liquid of Blair's manhood, the very essence of his body, and therefore of his soul. It was really like nothing whatsoever that she had known before; the intimacy was matchless, the closeness incomparable, and she kept sucking, continued to chew on the boy's hard prick, holding to it because now she never wanted to let it go-
And she didn't have to release it. Gently, Blair was rolling her over onto her back, keeping his marvelous thing socked to the hilt in her mouth. Tenderly, he was wheeling himself slowly about on top of her, and Charlotte puzzled as to what he was attempting to do. In a moment, she knew, because his darling face was lowered to her belly, his hot breath was stirring into her pubic hair, into that needful crotch so stimulated by the loving she'd just given him-was still giving him.
His tongue found her slit, and she knew the delight of his nose as it reached down into one end of her labia. Licking, tantalizing, Blair teased his mouth along her pussy lips, hesitating every now and then to suck lightly of her juices.
Charlotte reached up and held to his cheeks; Blair rolled his ass slightly, and his cock slid around inside her eager mouth. Blair dipped his tongue into the tremulous lips of her cunt, and nuzzled deeply into the aching void of her vagina. Her clitoris ached, pained in the intensity of its anxious pulsing, but the boy's tongue found it, licked teasingly over it-then clamped hard against it, ringing the vibrating clit with sharp teeth.
She arched against him, bucked her pelvis up at his face as he drew the clitoris into his teeth and sucked daintily upon it. Moaning, gasping around the slippery cock between her own teeth, Charlotte stroked her cunt into the boy's hotly seeking mouth; she screwed his face as she would screw his pelvis, for the fury of the blissful response.
Grinding it, shaking her ass and crushing the nipples of her tits against his lower belly, Charlotte realized that this crazy tangle must be the sixty-nine position she'd heard whispered about. She knew only that Blair was sucking her pussy, eating her cunt, while she was pulling voraciously upon his prick and reveling in the caress of his balls upon her cheeks.
She was so hot, so hot! Inside her vagina, near-painful little starbursts were going off, and her love juices were turning everything buttery, greasy. She knew that she was flooding Blair's chin and face, knew that he was lapping into her fiery gash and trying to suck her dry, but she didn't care. Fuck, fuck-suck, suck!
Charlotte felt her orgasm coming, and sped up her head-sliding suction upon Blair's stiff cock, trying to bring the boy to another climax at the same moment, so that they could share the rapture together.
Hurrying, hurrying-and her cunt muscles contracted violently, her entire vagina rippled and the enchanted sensation gathered forces into her clit. It tore itself apart in the crazy violence of coming, and Charlotte clamped her thighs around the head of her lover as she hit it, as she made it in wonder and marvel and a wet, hot churning.
Pulling, pulling, as the waves thundered and receded inside her pussy, she felt Blair's cock-head swell, felt it grow bigger and tremble in that magic moment just prior to ejaculation. Snatching his belly hard against her chin, she sucked and sucked. He came with a rush of fluids, with a driving hammer of his balls into her nose, her forehead, her cheek. She loved it, loved his prick, loved his come, worshiped his crotch and ass and balls, adored his frothing semen.
They rolled onto their sides, drawn by a mutual imbalance, by muscles contracting and loosening, and a sublime lassitude. But Blair didn't take his mouth from her convulsive pussy, nor did she allow his softening prick to slide out from between the jealous confines of her lips. How long they lay like that, her thighs close about his head, his thighs locked tenderly around her head, Charlotte didn't know.
She was drifting, drifting, and the warmth, the goodness was so rich and sultry that she wanted to float forever in this lotus land. But they wiggled, and they made tiny, squirming movements, and at last, some lights, some sounds of the outside world penetrated.
A rattling of a doorknob.
The scuff of feet on the concrete porch.
"They're back!" Charlotte cried out, and slid quickly from him, to roll up on shaky knees as she peered blindly at the door. It was opening. Her daughter, her son-they'd be coming in with Elena, and she couldn't allow them to see her like this, all naked and sweaty and disheveled, with the juices of illicit sex still dripping from her exposed pussy.
Snatching desperately at her dress, Charlotte came to her feet like a startled doe and fled bounding for the stairs. Up them she leaped, running nude and running scared, her heart hammering within her shrinking body, and her lungs sucking for air.
Sucking. Oh lord, she thought, sucking! A few seconds ago, her son and her daughter could have come into the house and seen their own mother lying there sucking a boy's prick. They would have seen the boy with his face buried into the hairy lips of their mother's cunt, while dear, revered mommy rolled her lascivious ass.
The top landing ... the hallway ... and a cringing look backward and down to the living room below ... had they seen her? ... could they know ... disgust, hate, despair ...
Shaking, she reached the bathroom and whipped inside, shutting the door and panting as she leaned against it, her rumpled dress clutched to her belly. They hadn't seen her; she wanted to be sure of that, was sure of that, or she couldn't stand it. But how about Blair? Had he gotten away before anyone caught a glimpse of his naked flesh, of his softening penis? She hoped so; oh, how Charlotte hoped so.
Terrible; it would be shocking and horrible, to be seen by her own children, while she was engaging not only in sexual relations with their friend, with this lovely boy less than half her age. But it would be even worse to be caught performing a deviate act on him.
Duncan; even though he was doing it to Elena, it was only a few days ago that he'd been a virgin. How could he absorb the shock of his mother doing something awful, something ugly?
Jan; pure, sweet little Jan-so much younger than any of them: certainly she would collapse at the sight of her mother entwined nakedly with a young boy Jan thought was groovy. Poor girl; poor kid; how could Charlotte possibly consider endangering the child's psyche by being so selfish, so careless in her immorality?
Someone rapped on the bathroom door, and Charlotte leaped in guilt, in fear. "Y-yes?"
"Just me," Elena said. "Come on, open up."
Charlotte slid back the bolt and moved quickly to the sink, shrugging into her wrinkled dress just as the door opened
Elena said, "Hey, what the hell? You running one way, Blair the other? Couldn't wait to make it, eh? But come to think of it, I've scuffled around on the rug a few times myself. Get it where you can, I say."
"Did-did they see me? Duncan and J-Jan?"
"I don't think so, Charlotte. I was in front, and I kind of blocked their view until your little round ass vanished in the hall. My boy scooted for the kitchen, but he wasn't all that fast. He's hung pretty good, isn't he? Not giant, but nice."
Charlotte gripped the sink with both hands and stared into the mirror. She thought she could make out a faint glistening of wet on her chin, and another at the corner of her mouth; Blair's semen. Lifting one hand, she wiped it roughly over her mouth.
"I-I'm sorry we were so careless. That's what I mean about getting Jan away. The shock of seeing me, of finding us-well, it could be traumatic."
"I don't know," Elena said. "Kids grow up pretty fast these days, and Jan's only a year younger than Duncan."
Charlotte swung around. "Are you saying that Jan-little Jan-is having sex relations already?"
"Not me. Only, she probably knows all the words and scenes by now; those sex education classes, remember?"
Relaxing, Charlotte said, "Oh. But I know it would just tear her to pieces, if she saw me doingwhat I was doing, and with a boy she thinks the world of, herself."
"Maybe. But I just wanted you to cool down, to fix yourself up a little. We brought the clothes and things you wanted from your place. There was an envelope pinned to the door, and I'd make book it's from your boyfriend. The one you're scared to lay."
Charlotte took the note and saw it was indeed Mark's heavy scrawl on it. She dropped the toilet lid and sat down on it, thumbing open the envelope and unfolding the paper. It read: Charlotte, running away from me won't end it. You have to face me and do that yourself.
She looked up at Elena's green eyes, at her small and petitely modeled friend. "Mark won't give up. He-well, there's no point at all in him chasing after me now. I can't possibly marry him after ... "
"After making it with Blair? Oh come on, Charlotte; is your vagina contaminated, or something? You act like you have a tape deck planted in it now, that when big, handsome Mark sticks his rod in there, your guilty little cunt is going to start playing confession music."
Charlotte shook her head. "You can make fun of anything, but since I've been making it with Blair, things have changed for me; a lot of things have changed. I-I'm not the same woman, inside. My morals seem to have gotten all jumbled up."
Elena grinned. "Or gotten themselves liberated, maybe. Up, girl-I'll help you wash your hair before dinner; you've got carpet lint all through it."
CHAPTER EIGHT
She was tired; not too sleepy, just pleasantly lazy, and she lay on the chaise lounge behind the decorative hedge in Elena's backyard, letting her hair dry in the late afternoon sun. Charlotte was quiet, stretching from time to time like a well fed cat, and she thought the simile was apt. She was a pussy, and she had sipped cream.
The sunshine was warm, and the scent of mown lawn sweet. In shorts and halter, she baked luxuriously, and thought that in the desert states, she'd take all the time she needed to bake into a deep tan. A suntan went well with her black hair and the surprise of her blue eyes. Black Irish, they said, and she always remembered the legend of the sailors shipwrecked when the Spanish Armada went down, those swarthy and lusty men who were supposed to have interbred with the fair-haired, blue eyed Gaelic women to produce the Black Irish.
She was dozing when she heard the low rumble of voices on the other side of the hedge. Her eyelids fluttered against her cheek, but she was sun-warmed and drowsy, and just lay comfortably on the lounge chair, not eavesdropping, but unable not to hear the talk.
Blair's voice; she'd know it anywhere, and it said, "Yeah, I guess we can talk about it. I mean, we're good friends and all, and we're intelligent enough not to get uptight about anything, right?"
Duncan's voice, then; her son said, "Right, man. We have to be cool, you and I. Everything has to stay cool for everybody. Man-if one of us screwed up this party, he'd have to be out of his tree. We never had it so good."
Blair agreed. 'You know it. But it's going to get better all the time, soon as we loosen up. It has to be done easy, one thing at a time, but when we're really grooving together, it has to be the greatest."
They were quiet for a few seconds, and Charlotte came more alert, wondering if she should make her presence known.
Then Duncan said, "Blair-how is it with her?"
"You mean is she good? Man, yes; your mother is fine. She's beautiful when she's all naked, and when she gets going, it's like she's on fire. You've been kind of thinking about her, yourself?"
"Yeah; since I was maybe thirteen years old. You know how it is, how you catch a peep of her coming out of the bathroom, with the robe open just a little, and you can see just a flash of soft thigh. Or when she leans over and brushes your arm with one of those great tits; or when you can see the fine her panties make across her tail as she walks. Man, oh man; I've been going crazy over her for a long time. I bet you know what I mean."
Blair said, "I sure do. My mother is a doll, too. Small and cute and sexy all the time. I mean day in and day out, she's sexy. She's always been careless about her robes, too, and I used to get a good peep at her tits, nipples and all. Once when I was about fourteen, I saw her whole snatch, and the sight of that almost ran me ape. But in a way, it was rougher on me than on you."
"How do you mean?" Duncan asked, and Charlotte stiffened on the couch at the vibration, the husky eagerness in her son's voice.
"Well-your mother never balled around. But Elena, man! She went out with this guy and that one, and sometimes she'd even go out with my stepfather-her last husband. In between her other lovers, I mean. He knew she was making it with these other dates, but he was always hot for her, anyway. Then they'd have a fight and mother would be out with a new guy."
Duncan said, "What's so tough about that?"
"Look, Dune-you were hot to get into your mom's pants, right? Only you were still cherry and scared shitless to even touch her tit. And as long as she was all holy-like, all upright and not doing anything wrong, she was untouchable-not only for you, but for everybody else, so that wasn't bad. But me, man-me; look, I came in the back door one night because I had to push my bike home when I had a flat. I guess I came in quiet, because when I got to the end of the hall there by the living room, I saw them. I saw my mother and this tall guy, and he had her bare-assed on the couch, putting the prick to her."
"Wow," Duncan breathed. "That must have shaken you up, man."
"Believe it. I stood there not able to move, and I watched this guy lay it in and out of her cunt. I got a real good view of the action, and he had her rolled up on her shoulders, feeding this long rod into her while she wiggled her tail and threw her legs around him, and moaned and all that shit. I was losing my mind, Dune; I was going right out of my head. I stood there and stared bug-eyed at my mother fucking this guy I never saw before. I stared right into that pussy I'd been craving, and saw this thick cock juicing around in it. And you know what?"
"What, man?" Duncan asked.
"I didn't hate her, man. I didn't even hate him. But I was jealous of the son of a bitch. I wanted to run out there and pull him out from between her smooth legs and jump in there myself, so I could get some of that fabulous golden cunt. Of course, all I did was get a big hard-on, and wait until they were folded over on each other after they came. Then I sneaked up to my room and jacked off."
"That was rough," Duncan agreed, and Charlotte could hear the understanding in his voice. Now she had waited too long, and couldn't let them know she was there, listening. She slid down lower on the couch and tried to make herself very small.
Duncan went on, "I don't know how you took it, man. I'd have cut out, run away from home or something. I mean, it's bad enough to have a thing for your own mother, but to see somebody else put it to her ... "
"Tell me," Blair said. "How do you think Elena is, as a lay? I know she's the only chick you ever balled, but you ought to know by now if she's really a hot screw or not."
"Far out," Duncan said. "I'm glad I never laid some kid first. I mean, your mother goes all out, and she's so pretty, all that golden hair and skin, and she does all those things..."
"What things?" Blair cut in.
"Man, I don't know if I ought to talk about . .
"Nothing between us, remember? Everything up front, Dune?"
"Okay; all right. Well, she showed me how to make it straight, on top of her. Then she mounted me, and then she took it dog fashion. I-she's been talking about me putting it up her-her ass, but we haven't gotten around to that yet."
Blair's voice was shaky. "Does she-go down on you, man?"
"Well, yeah. But it's okay, Blair-I swear, I think it's fine, not dirty or anything. And I do it to her, too. She showed me where the clit is and how to eat her, and-I like it fine."
Blair was silent, and Charlotte's heart beat madly to keep time with the frantic pulsing in het throat. Would Blair-could he-tell her son all the things they had done together? She wanted to vanish, to somehow melt and run down between the cracks in the flagstone walk that curved across the lawn of Elena's backyard.
"How about mom? My mother? Does she do everything?"
"So far, Dune. She's not like Elena, you know. I think my old lady was born fucking, but your mother is kind of uptight about sex. Your dad was the only guy she ever screwed, before me. And he must have been a real square, because she acts as if she never really made it. I know she never had anybody go down on her, and let me tell you, man-that fluffy black pussy is sweet as honey. When she stopped fighting it, I thought she was going to shove my whole head up her cunt."
Charlotte shrank within herself, and the sun had suddenly turned chill. She was ashamed and afraid, and now she wanted a drink very badly.
There was a catch in her son's voice as he asked, "How about her blowing you? Did she-does she do that, man?"
"Today, for the first time," Blair said. "I had to cram it in her mouth at the start, but then she began to swing and gave some real fine head. We swung over into the sixty-nine and got with it good. We were just lying there, getting our breath back when you guys came home."
"Yeah; I caught a glimpse of her flying up the stairs, but I pretended I hadn't seen anything. I got a good look at her naked ass, though. She's beautiful."
"Lush and full," Blair said. "Ripe like a pretty peach gets, all juicy and sweet. I have an idea, Dune."
"Anything you say, man."
Charlotte held her breath, waiting to hear what they had in mind, but they must have moved away across the patio. All she could hear was the buzz of their voices, and she was afraid to sit up and stare after them.
It was terrible. Practically everything she had feared from the beginning of this-this illicit relationship, this son-swapping affair, was coming to pass. Duncan knew; he knew that she had allowed his friend to-to go down on her, to give her oral gratification. Her son knew that his mother had gone down on his best friend, that his mother hadn't balked at taking Blair's penis into her mouth and sucking it until the boy came. Not only that, but she hadn't even tried to spit out the hot, sticky semen that ejaculated into her throat. Instead, she had devoured it like the immoral bitch that she was turning into.
After awhile, she sat up, her skin cold and the shadows falling across her soul as well as the garden. There wasn't much she could salvage from this sordid chain of events, but she was certainly going to try. All day, she'd been so peaceful that she hadn't needed the prop of alcohol, but she needed it now. And they needn't try to great her into some other strange, twisted liaison. She was going to tie one on, and then Charlotte Mason was going to take herself to bed-alone.
Walking slowly through the patio, she thought over the dialog she had overheard. Blair didn't even try to keep a secret, and Duncan-her son, by his own admission, had gone into the sensual life with an utter abandon. Really, she thought; Elena should have at least held off from all the deviations, instead of plunging Duncan right into them.
And Duncan himself; the boy had admitted other things-like peeping into her robe, like feeling her breast when she so accidentally brushed it against him, like eyeing the line of her panties and-and seriously thinking about doing it to his own mother. That was so insane that it might be laughable, if she didn't remember the hungry catch in his young voice when he talked about her.
The poor boy, in so much of a strain for so long-almost as much pressure on him as there had been on her, over the years. At least, he had been a virgin, and didn't actually know the magnificent release of sex. Charlotte was certain that she hadn't thought of her son in anything like the way he had been thinking about her. Oh, she had admired his youthful slimness, the blooming maleness of him, and she'd been proud of his good looks, as any mother would be.
Charlotte climbed the steps to the back porch of the house and hesitated, with her hand upon the door knob. She had noticed Duncan's flat belly and the way his jeans snugged his crotch, too. But she had never, never carried a look, a word, or even a thought beyond that. Incest was a shocking word. It implied everything dark and evil, and it frightened her merely to form the word in her head.
Adultery, living in sin, even statutory rape-these words didn't have the sharp edge to them that incest carried. If she had ever thought of that before now, it was as something a drunken father might do to his daughter, if the father was stoned, smashed, and the girl was a sexy little bitch who had probably brought the act upon herself.
But a mother and her own, natural son? Charlotte shuddered, and pushed back the heat that swept cunningly across her breasts. Duncan said he had caught a glimpse of her as she ran up the stairs earlier that day; he said her naked ass was beautiful.
She had been a quiet, faithful mother to her sod and daughter. There was money enough, and she hadn't denied them anything they could afford, Was it denial, to unconsciously tantalize her sexually awakening son, by flaunting her body before him, by considering him only a child, when in reality he had been a male animal?
No; Charlotte shook her head to clear it, and went into the kitchen. Nobody there; the boys had gone somewhere else to talk over all the details of their mother's seductions, to exchange notes on who did what to whom. Jan and Elena? Gone shopping for groceries, she remembered.
Going through to the bar, Charlotte poured herself a big one on the rocks. She drank it down and poured another double jolt of bourbon. Aimlessly, she wandered about the room, sidestepping the particular spot on the rug where she and Blair Chapman had exchanged oral love. She touched buttons on the stereo, and that sexy music came thumping out to fill the room.
Harassed, Charlotte sipped her drink, sipped some more and frowned at the empty rattle of ice cubes. Blair should have been a gentleman, and not said anything. She hadn't gone to his mother with a description of the way he screwed, or how he licked into her vagina. Splashing more liquor over the ice, Charlotte considered that Elena had acted as if she was curious to know exactly that; curious, but only hinting around and not being up front about it.
Up front. She was even getting to talk and think like a juvenile. Although lord knows those boys couldn't truly to considered juveniles, or even kids in the usual sense. They could screw mature women into frenzies, turn them on so that they went out of their heads with the tremendous release of sex.
Was that any more than a man could do? Less, Charlotte thought, recalling the timid, hurried efforts of her husband. It was a good thing that her genes were dominant in her children, else Duncan and Jan would have turned out to be the same kind of bloodless, guilty loser their father was.
She was surprised that her glass was empty, and she swayed a little to the beat of the sensuous music. They'd been surprised, too-all shook up that a middle-aged lady type could grind and shake it with the best of them. She could dance their own land of dances, and as well as they could; better, maybe, since she had more equipment.
Moving around the room, she bumped it some, and wiggled it some, and giggled at the way her tits bounced in the shaky confinement of the halter. For a minute, she considered taking it off and letting her nipples jiggle in the wind, but she was still too sober for that.
But Duncan said she had a beautiful ass, and that the touch of her tit drove him crazy. And Blair said he'd always had a hard-on for his mother, and it was getting so screwed up that Charlotte didn't know which goddamn end was up.
"Bottoms up," she announced to the empty room, to the primitive music. "Bottoms up, and if you've got a beautiful bottom, up it."
She took a full glass up the stairs with her, not caring if Elena ever got back and cooked dinner. Charlotte wasn't hungry now; she was woozy and mixed up and a little sleepy. But she paused at the head of the stairs and blinked owlishly at the wall while deciding that she wouldn't punish Blair after all. Not right away, that is. When he came slipping into her bed that night, after little Jan was asleep and Duncan was doing whatever the hell Elena was leading him into, then she'd wake up and give Blair some loving.
CHAPTER NINE
Drowsily, she moved her head on the pillow, only partially awake as he slid under the covers with her. The house was quiet, still in the darkness, and Charlotte was glad of that. Blair had waited until little Jan was asleep, before he drifted from his own room into hers. Now they could be together, all warm and cozy in the night.
Charlotte pushed her tail back into him, squirming beneath the blanket, grinding the plump cheeks of her ass into his belly, feeling his stiff prick and the pubic hair of his crotch. He was so smooth, so warm and slim. He was also as eager as ever to get into her, to put that thrillingly rigid young penis into her receptive body. Ah, how she loved him, and how she adored this magic of sex he had brought to her, after so much of her life had been barren.
His hands came searching over her willing flesh, stroking her shoulders, reaching for her right breast. His fingers cupped it gently, wandering over its heavy roundness, finding the erectile nipple and exploring its shape. His breath was hot and tickly into the back of her neck, along her cheek and ear. Charlotte wiggled her ass, making the crack of it caress his balls, using the softly modeled cheeks to rub across his cock.
Kissing her neck, he panted hard into her flesh, and she was happy to think Blair could get so excited over her body, each time he was ready to screw her. Just as she was immediately awakened by his touch, her pussy turning damp and ready for the fucking. They would always be like this, Charlotte thought.
They would always excite each other, by touch and kiss, or by simply the look of love, that glance that plainly said I know the feel of your body, of your sex organ, and I want you.
His wonderful young penis nudged into the valley between her cheeks, and now his hand was sliding down over her belly to finger inspiringly into the mossy depths of her humid pubic hair. Now he was kissing her earlobe, and putting his tongue into the ear itself. Charlotte quivered and arched, and lifted her upper body so Blair could slip his other hand under her ribs and bring it around to squeeze her tit. One hand on her breast, one hand feeling into her pussy, his stiff prick nestled into her ass, her youthful lover was more than ready to fuck her.
And she was more than ready to take his eager hardness into her anticipating cunt, but Charlotte also enjoyed the foreplay, reveled in the obvious adoration he had for her body, the ardent attention he was paying to her skin, her tits, her pubic mound and the dampening hair that curled so thickly and springily upon it.
"Darling," she sighed into the night, into the honeyed dark of the bedroom. "Oh, my darling, my sweet boy."
Blair didn't answer, just nuzzled deeper into her neck, licked more hotly into her ear, and a responsive thrill shot through her, turning her vagina juicy, making her nipples hard and aching. Reaching around, she caressed his downy, firm ass with one hand; the other covered the hand Blair had on her pussy, and she pushed his fingertips right on into the already slippery labia there, taking the first part of his flesh inside her own.
He moaned into her ear, and his fingers were frantic inside the lips of her cunt, feeling the hot, wet satin there, discovering the oily silken walls and the shuddering softnesses deep in her vagina.
Hunching backward, she felt down between his cheeks to his balls, and caressed them for a moment before grasping his shaft and bending down his iron-hard cock so that the throbbing head of it nestled into her dewy labia from behind.
Charlotte leaned forward, so that her ass lifted, I and she hiked a leg wide so he could work his ! prick into her ready cunt. Blair humped, and the head of it slipped inside the clinging grip of her pussy lips. He had both hands locked onto the cheeks of her ass now, and his rod jammed itself solidly up her cunt, his balls coming to rest against j her wetly stretched labia.
Then she stiffened. Charlotte went immobile, turned rigid as a shock raced through her consciousness. The boy stroked his prick lovingly into her pussy, pulled back almost to the head, then lunged forward to bury his throbbing pole up to its full length inside her stilled vagina.
It wasn't Blair's cock!
She knew that, felt it, sensed that the shape and feel of this penis was strange. She had never felt it up her pussy before, and this knowledge turned her cold with shock.
In sudden reflex, Charlotte jerked forward, the movement snatching his prick from within het cunt, popping it out into the air. She rolled over onto her back, then to one side, throwing herself to the far edge of the bed, frightened and angry at the same time.
"Please-" the stranger panted, and Charlotte's frantic hand found the bed lamp. A scream was building in her throat, but she did not dare loose it for fear of waking little Jan.
Her head swiveled around, and she was staring full into the face of the man in bed with her, the man who had but a moment before had his cock plunged hilt deep into her. But it wasn't a man.
"Duncan?"
Blinking into the light, his hazel eyes stunned and his mouth open, her son Duncan Mason sat up, naked, the light gleaming on his tanned skin-the light gleaming upon his erect penis, oiled by the juices from his few strokes into his mother's cunt. His own mothers cunt!
"Duncan-wh-what-how did you-Duncan!"
"Mom-please-" Her son's face was stricken, his eyes hurt. "Oh mom-they'll hear you..."
Grabbing for the sheet, Charlotte pulled it desperately to her breasts, trying belatedly to cover herself, to hide her body from the stare of her son. "Duncan-how dare you! Why are you in here-trying to do that to your mother? I can't-I won't
He reached for her. They were close on the bed and they were naked. A few seconds back, this fifteen-year-old boy with the lovely bronzed body so slim and so smoothly muscled-this boy had been tucked closely to her ass, but now Charlotte's eyes were wide in horror as she drew back from his outstretched hands.
"No! Get out-get out of here right now! I'll call-you can't ... "
Then she didn't know his face at all. It was no longer a boy's beardless face, but one turned intent and hard in the pattern of a frustrated male. Duncan's eyes narrowed and his mouth firmed.
"Mom-look; I know all about you and Blair. I know you've been laying him, and-and doing other things to him. We went into this thing together, didn't we? I mean-you and Blair and Elena and me; everybody digging it, everybody ball-fag."
She shrank from him, from the determined look of him. "No; it-I never meant it to turn into incest! You're my son, my son-and I can't-won't!
His hand caught her wrist, and she was surprised at its strength. Duncan said, "Blair and I talked it over, and we both wanted to dig our own mothers. He says it's a natural, powerful thing, and why shouldn't we? I mean-since that's why you lay him in the first place; he's a son substitute, and you'd really rather be screwing me."
"Duncan! Don't you dare talk like that to your mother. How can you..."
His hand tightened, pulled her leaning toward him. "I'd rather screw you" he said. "Elena is beautiful and hot and she's taught me a lot of things, but I want to fuck you. I had it in you just a minute ago, and you were moaning darling, darling. You're so juicy and hot inside, and I have to fuck your beautiful cunt, mom-I have to!"
This time, her voice did break on the edge of a ragged scream. "No! not your own mother-I won't allow..."
Roughly, he jerked her toward him, and her breasts went flat against his hard young chest, her naked tits digging their now flaccid points into his warm skin. She lifted her hands to slap at him, but his mouth slammed into hers and she was struggling to breathe, fighting for air as his tongue filled her mouth and her startled breath mixed with her son's.
Charlotte groaned and beat at the back of his head, at his shoulders, but his arms were tightly around her, and all she could do was batter ineffectually upon him. She tried to flail her legs in order to break free, but Duncan pinned them down with one of his.
Slowly, terrifyingly, she was being forced back down upon the bed. She fought him, doing her best to scream against his teeth, but her son was pressing her down. She was on the bed, beneath him, and his panting body was tented over her, poised above her. His mouth was away from hers and she choked out, "No, Duncan. Oh, please, please don't. I'm your mother, Duncan. You can't do this to me; you can't rape your own mother!"
"Oh yes," he said, and the rigid pole of his sex was out there long and slim. "Oh yes, mom-I'm going to fuck you. Right here and right now, I'm going to cram my prick into your beautiful pussy, and I'm going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you!"
Oh lord, she thought, her head spinning; oh please don't let him; if he puts his penis into me, it's incest, incest. Charlotte writhed and bucked, but somehow he held her down with one hand on her tits, and somehow one of his knees was forcing her legs apart.
"Elena!" she screamed. "Jan-Elena-Blair! Help me-oh help me!"
Duncan's body came down, and he had his stiff cock clenched in one hand, burrowing it down there between her thighs, probing into her deep pubic hair to find the slot he meant to pack it in.
"Please, son! No; don't do this to your mother-oh, no-no-no!"
The head of his fierce young cock was against her labia. Charlotte fought him, rolled her hips to make his glans slip off her pussy, bounced her pelvis to keep him from that forbidden nest he must not open.
His prick slid away, came back, pushing, pushing. Duncan pressed his weight upon her tits, and she had to try and move from under that burden, It only took a moment, a split second, and the pulsing knob of his penis was forcefully at her hairy gates once more. Charlotte gasped for air, for strength, and hiked her ass to buck him off.
Duncan forced it into her. She felt the end of his cock penetrate into her labia, felt the traitor lips of her cunt go even more fevered and looser so that the length of his hard prick could slide on into the trembling depths of his mother's vagina.
"Ahh!" Her son sighed, and gave a hitch of his ass to bury his loving cock to the roots inside her flexing cunt. She felt his strong balls come against the crack of her ass, and knew she was through, that she could not possibly restrain him any longer.
Charlotte Mason was being raped by her own son. Her son's prick was full length inside his mother's lubricated pussy, and she couldn't hold him back any more. He was fucking her, fucking his mother, putting the prick to his mom, and there was nothing at all that she could do to stop him.
"Mom-mom-oh, what a lovely hot cunt! Oh mom-your sweet pussy-ahh, mom, mom! Oh, I love you, mother-at last, at last, I've got my prick where I always dreamed some day I'd put it-I have it all the way up inside your mother's cunt, deep in your hot pussy, fucking, fucking..."
His mouth closed on hers once more, and Duncan moaned as he fed her his darting wet tongue, as he raked her teeth with his and licked behind her teeth, up along the roof of her mouth. His cock worked delicately back, withdrawing until she could feel the hard knob of it barely contained by the slippery grip of her cunt lips. Then her son eased his tool forward again, and she knew the sensation of its rounded, polished staff caressing her distended clitoris as it passed. Once more, it was full length into her vagina, this fresh, stiff cock going to its balls inside her clinging velvet sheathe.
In and out of her supine, lax body, Duncan thrust his impatient prong, and behind Charlotte's squeezed-shut eyelids, she saw the image of it, slim and steely and driving. She could picture his testicles, swinging in that tight, somewhat swollen sac feathered with bronzed hairs. Charlotte's breath rattled in her throat, and when her son lowered his face to catch one of her nipples in his teeth, her ass twitched in a reflex action that made her vagina muscles ripple over his stroking cock.
She didn't mean to do that. She wasn't that bad, that debauched, that she could actually enjoy being screwed by her boy. By this now sweating body so sleek and strong, by this long, powerful penis that worked so exquisitely inside her quivering box.
But tremendous forces stirred within her vagina, and inexorable waves rose and fell tidally within her bloodstream, within her flesh itself. Charlotte's head swung tick tock from side to side, matching the growing arcs her ass was making, and no matter how bitterly she resisted the movement, she could not hold it back.
His cock plunged deep, withdrew thrillingly, hammered back home with a pounding that was impossible to deny. Her cunt shuddered, and a wild, keening moan broke from Charlotte's parted lips. Madly, insanely, her arms lifted and enfolded the slim, sweating form of her son; her sharp nails raked his back, and her pelvis heaved erratically as her lascivious body fought to get his swiftly moving pole deeper into itself.
"Oh lord, oh God, oh please-" Charlotte moaned into his hair while her son sucked blissfully upon her nipple, while his strong young prick drilled so deeply into her flexing pussy. "Oh Duncan-my love-my son-my darling-ahh, you sweet boy-oh screw me-do it deep-oh screw me, screw me-fuck me!"
He let go her tit and slid his face up so he could pant into her open mouth. "Yes, mother; oh yes, mom-I'm fucking you, and now you're fucking me back! Ah, mom-lay that hot cunt to me-put that juicy pussy to your son's prick!"
Charlotte rolled with the rhythm, bounced and rocked with his pile-driving beat, and the good things swept her up, the good-dirty loving things surrounded her and made her adored, and the universe went wild.
Hunching at him, rolling his thrusting cock around inside the clenching hotness of her cunt, she tried to devour him; her pussy gobbled at his cock; her mouth pulled his tongue inside, and her belly rolled convulsively against his. Charlotte fucked her son; she screwed him and copulated with him and fucked him until the room went smoky, and the ceiling dipped over them.
She came; she came in spasms of raw, searing ecstasy as her heels beat him in the ass and her fingernails tried to lance him into her breasts. Her cunt writhed around his still pistoning cock, and she went liquid inside, turned more slippery and melting as he continued to lay the meat to her.
He shivered against her, and his body went rigid. She felt the geyser of his come as it struck against her womb, knew the hot flooding of his semen as Duncan pumped and pumped his ejaculation into his mother's willingly receptive pussy. He packed her already juicy nest with his sticky gism, and she had never known a more gratifying sensation.
"I love you, mom," he murmured into her mouth, into her gasping lips. "Oh, how I love you-my mother and my girl and my hot piece of ass."
"Really?" Charlotte whispered. "Do you really, really love me, Duncan."
"Oh yes, darling," he said, his boyish cock still I'll rigid within her grasping cunt, his hairy young balls still pressed adoringly into the wet crack of her ass. "I love your cunt and your ass and your tits-and it's just great, mom-to be able to lie here between your beautiful legs, with my prick up your pussy, and tell you I love you. Not just like a kid loves his mom, but in every way there is."
She smiled against his eager lips, tasting the tip of his tongue, knowing many of his young male flavors and anxious to know even more. "It's wonderful for me, too, dear. I-I can at last love you as a man, as my-my husband, my lover, my special boyfriend. I can take your-your sweet organ into me and lavish all my love on it, feeling your thing-no, your prick-loving my cunt. I can shake my ass and kiss you and tongue you, and make you come in the greatest joy I, or any woman, can give to a man. Oh, Duncan, my son, my lover..."
They lay warmly together, until he thought that the sweet weight of him might trouble her, he said; then he rolled off her, his rod at last going soft. Charlotte was completely spent, totally drained, and if his orgasm had been mighty as her own, Duncan was just as relaxed. But her son could not he quietly with her; he was too high, too stimulated by what they had just done. Charlotte knew exactly how he felt; it wasn't every night that a mother fucked her manly young son for the first time, no more than it was a common occurrence for a boy to put the prick to his mother's eager cunt for the first time.
For she had been eager; she knew that now, accepted the fact that she had long desired to commit incest with Duncan, that she had wanted, craved her son as a lover. Now it was accomplished; the thing done; the act completed-and never, never had Charlotte known such a wild and moving orgasm. When she came, it had been a tremendous, soul-tearing thing that was marvelous, sensational, great.
His hands roamed gently over her now, as she lay resting, flat upon her back, just as he had left her when his melting cock slid out of her pulsating cunt. Duncan was feeling over her body, his fingers exploring the texture of her skin, the resiliency of her heated flesh, and she felt warm, loved, needed as any woman must be needed.
"Gee, mom," he breathed, "You've got the greatest tits in the world. They're so soft and nice; good and big, and the nipples are long and stiff. Did I nurse you when I was a baby, or did you feed me from a bottle?"
Charlotte's voice was shaky as she answered, "You nursed. I-I wanted to feed you from my breasts."
Duncan caressed her tits, propped up on one elbow so he could use both hands. "Did I bite?"
"S-sometimes-when you cut some teeth. Oh, Duncan-don't you hate your mother for being so bitchy?"
His hands tightened on her breasts. "Hate you? Oh no-I love you, and I'll always love you, but more than just any guy loves his mother. I mean, we dig each other now; we make love. Now I don't have to go out of my head dreaming about how it'll be, getting in here between your fine long legs, or wondering what the hairs on your beautiful pussy will feel like, or if you'll roll and shake your ass when I put the meat to you. Now I know, and it's so far out I'm scared I'm just dreamingand if that's so, I never want to wake up."
Charlotte's hands covered his, pressed them down into the soft mounds of her tits. "Did you dream of me so much, dear?"
"All the time," he said. "Oh, I'd see some young chick in a mini and think about screwing her, but then I'd picture you, and I knew I wanted to screw you more than anyone else. I was glad to fuck Elena, I mean-especially since she taught me so many ways to make a woman come, and since you and me might never have made it if Blair didn't get into you first. But me fucking you-that's the best there is, the best there can ever be."
"Darling," Charlotte said, and caressed his arms, his wrists. His palms rotated slowly upon her tits, and her nipples came to life under the gentle fondling, springing high and rigid. "It's been the best for me, too."
He said, "Better than my father's? I mean-do I screw you better than dad did?"
"Much better," she said. "Your father was-too quick and shamed; I never had much enjoyment out of him."
Duncan leaned over, his face nuzzling into the sweaty valley of her tits; his hands passed on down her rib cage to rest warmly upon her hips.
Murmuring into her skin, he asked, "Did you ever screw anyone else besides dad?"
"N-no; I was a virgin when we got married, and, well, I was brought up too strictly to-to run around, and I just didn't know any better. Until Blair, and now you, my darling. You're my lover, my wonderful, wonderful lover."
Her son licked at her nipples, and his hands fondled her belly. "How did dad put it to you? On top, around the back?"
Charlotte shivered. "I-why do you want to know, Duncan?"
He began playing with her pubic hair, tickling his fingertips into the still damp forest of feathery curls that covered her mound. "I want to know everything about you, mom-how you fucked and how you felt, and what his prick was like inside you. I have to know every little thing about you and your beautiful body, so I can give you more and more pleasure. Tell me-did my father make you come?"
"Sometimes," she said. "But it was always quick and land of embarrassing. I never enjoyed doing it really until ... "
"Until Blair," he said, feeling her mound, cupping her humid pussy, kissing her tits. "Blair told me how he fucked you, and the way you act when you're riding his cock. He told me about you eating him and letting it go in your mouth, and I made him tell me how you dug it when he went down on you. I'm not jealous of Blair, mom-in fact, well all get it on together one of these days, and I can really watch him fuck you."
"I-I don't know," Charlotte said. "That sounds like an orgy, and I'm still too ashamed, too afraid ... . "
"Don't be afraid," he said softly, and began to lick her ribs. "Just he back and take it easy, mom-because I'm going to do something that my father never did to you. I'm going to go down on your sweet pussy. I'm going to eat my mother's cunt until you go right out of your head."
Quickly, Charlotte said, "Oh Duncan-no, no, dear. It's-you and I-mother and son..."
His face was sliding down her belly, his tongue licking hotly and hungrily at her skin, his teeth nipping her flesh. Charlotte's hips rolled, and she stroked his dear head as her thighs spread themselves wide. Once the barrier of incest had been broken, there was no reason she should not go the limit. She couldn't un-fuck her son, couldn't drain his darling come from her vagina and pretend that his cock had never exploded deep within her. So she would admit that she adored his fucking, and go on to taste all the flavors of him, in all the ways there were.
He was whispering against her mound, his tongue touching softly into the hair that covered her damp labia, "My pussy-my cunt-my box..."
"Yes, dear," she said down to his head. 'Your pussy, my darling; your cunt, to do with as you like-whatever you like. Duncan-my darling, sweet son."
"Mmmmm," he said, and now he was between her thighs, his hands under her ass, lifting her crotch to tilt it upward for the thrill of his hungry mouth.
Charlotte gave herself up completely to him, her knees far apart and the cheeks of her ass flexing in his hands, her pelvis hunching for the caress of his adoring mouth. His tongue felt along her sticky cunt lips, the labia still containing the residue of their recent fucking, his own semen blended with the lubricating oils of her pussy.
"Love me," Charlotte whispered. "Oh my son, eat me and devour me and drink my juices. Be happy with me. Let my cunt give you pleasure."
Duncan moaned into her cunt lips, his tongue slipping in and out of the hot, greasy folds. She could feel the touch of his teeth and the prodding of his nose, his chin. Writhing, Charlotte hiked her ass and stroked her pussy up and out, settling her clitoris to the flicking of his tongue. Truly then, her son began to devour her.
His fingers dug into the cheeks of her ass as he buried his mouth into her raging pussy. Groaning and licking, he nibbled into her lips, caught her aching, trembling clit between his teeth and chewed there as Charlotte came swiftly, not once but twice.
He burrowed deeper into her flaming cunt, nosed in as she raked it over his chin and nose. His hands left her ass and came around, one on her belly and one in her crack, so that he could use them to squeeze her pussy like an orange, pushing it together so that the lips would spread open in the center for him. Then he sucked her, sucked her, pulling her flow of juices into his mouth and swallowing them, gulping her oils down in an ecstasy of ravenous intimacy.
"Ahh!" Charlotte cried, pressing down on his head to force his loving face deeper into her thrusting pelvis. "Oh my baby, my son, my boy-eat your mother's pussy-eat your loving mother's cunt-eat me."
Duncan land of growled into her shivering box, and she fucked savagely at his face, banging her clit into his teeth and grinding her wet cunt into his mouth. She came again-and this time with a spinning, whirling fury that lifted her ass a foot from the bed. She screamed out some mindless, wordless shout of exultant completion, and passed out.
CHAPTER TEN
She moved languorously down the stairs, bathed and scented, combed and powdered, her body tingling at the kiss of chiffon, aware of every square inch of her skin. It was as if she had never been completely awake, Charlotte thought; not until last night. Even the crazy release she'd known with Blair had not brought her to this peak of sensation.
Her body-lovely, beloved body-was a guitar string, and any touch upon it brought forth melodies, the notes cascading throughout her flesh and echoing in her mind. Sex was a wonder piled upon wonders, each newly opened gate beckoning her on to fresh nirvanas and the discovery of strangely exotic hedonism.
And she felt sorry for any woman, for all women, who had never known such ecstasy. But beyond such a sweet, knowing sorrow, Charlotte had only love for the world, for she was at peace, even walking as she was, so balanced upon the edge of tactile anticipation.
Elena was alone in the kitchen; the others weren't down yet-sweet Duncan, dear Blair and innocent little Jan. Charlotte swept into the kitchen and said, "Lovely, lovely morning, isn't it?"
The green eyes came around to find hers, and Elena smiled back, softer, more open, happier than she had ever been, it seemed to Charlotte. Elena said, "You bet it's a beautiful day. I didn't even let the phone call bug me too much. Wow; if your night was anything like mine, you're still itchy all over, but not like you'd need to scratch. Those kids! Who would have thought they were going to switch beds in the middle of the night?"
Charlotte's eyes fell, and her cheeks grew warm. "I-I thought Blair was making out with you at the same time. When I could think, that is.
Elena laughed, eyes shining and her even teeth sparkling. "I know what you mean, dear. I was so shook up I didn't know what the hell was happening-at first."
"Didn't you hear me scream?" Charlotte asked.
Lifting one eyebrow, Elena said, "Scream? Whatever for?"
"Help. I thought I was screaming for help, Elena. I-well, I resisted Duncan, fought him. I made him rape me."
Elena handed Charlotte a steaming cup of coffee, and they sat at the table, sipping, their faces reflective. Charlotte thought that her friend had never looked more lovely. Elena said, "Blair sure as hell didn't have to rape me. I mean-right there at the first, when I realized that it wasn't
Duncan in bed with me, I jumped damned near out of my skin. But all that did was bury his tool that much more solid into me. Oooh! Right up to the sac, it was, and even when I had this wild idea that the tool belonged to some burglar or somebody like that, I also figured it was too late to do anything but screw it back.
"And then, when Blair said: mother, right into my throat, I-I went cold inside, then turned hot-hotter than I've ever been in my entire life, and that's going some. I mean, having your own son's shaft crammed long and hard up inside your pussy-that's a crazy feeling. But you'd know that feeling, too."
"Yes," Charlotte said, still languid inside, not uptight about anything, and not having to force herself to discuss such intimate matters. In fact, it was nice, having Elena to talk with-especially since this close and wonderful woman could so utterly share the experience. For Elena also had screwed both boys-Duncan and her own son.
Elena swallowed some coffee. "But I didn't fight Blair, once I knew it was him in between my legs. Fight-hell! I wrapped my legs around him so he couldn't get away, and I fucked that boy so hot and so heavy that he came right away-bingo!-like that. Only I never let him ease off; I hung right onto him, grinding and hunching, and by the time I was ready to blast off, Blair was staying right with me. That boy can really screw, can't he?"
It didn't seem all that odd, to be discussing a boy's sexual prowess with his mother. "Yes he can," Charlotte. "But-there's something so thrilling, so stimulating, about doing it with your own son, isn't there?"
"You better believe it," Elena agreed. "I thought my spine was melting and running out through my box. I mean, I've laid a lot of guys in my time, but never anything like Blair. He turns me on heavier than any man who ever touched me. Wow; we had an orgy that lasted most of the night."
"So did we," Charlotte said. "And what makes it all even so much nicer is the fact that none of us is jealous of the other. I'll have to admit that I was, for a little while, thinking of you doing it with Duncan. But that was mostly in my subconscious, and even that was going away. Now it's all gone; every bit of it. I-when Duncan and I have explored each other's bodies all the way, I'll be happy to share him with you again."
Elena's eyes gleamed. "And you can switch over on my son. It'll keep us all that much more interesting. But we're so wrapped up in what went on last night that I'm forgetting to clue you in on this morning. I mentioned a phone call. Well, it was from my husband, that louse-he keeps bugging me, and I think that the sooner we get out of this town, the better. Jerry can be a real bastard when he tries, and he's trying."
Charlotte finished her coffee, tilted her head to listen to the shower going in the upstairs bath. "I'll see if the house car's ready. It should be.
Well have to stock it with food and bedclothes, and pack our own things..."
"Have you decided about Jan?"
Sighing, Charlotte shook her head. "I guess she'll just have to stay. I can either send her to camp or hire a housekeeper to care for her until we get back. She won't quite understand why she can't vacation with us, and I can't explain it to her."
"That's going to be tough on the lad," Elena said.
"Any ideas? Or should we all stay away from each other for the next month or so? To be certain Jan doesn't see or even suspect any of the action?"
"No way for that," Elena admitted. "Well-you want to wait on the kids, or shall we grab a quick bite and start getting things all together?"
"I'd rather not face Jan just yet," Charlotte said. "Let's leave a note."
So they drove by Charlotte's cousin's place, and the big house car was ready. They'd pick it up after shopping, she said; they just couldn't wheel that long, wide monster around the supermarket parking lots. Not until they had plenty of practice.
They filled the back of the station wagon with food, mostly canned stuff that could be easily stored. The meats and perishables, they'd buy along the road, for the refrigerator was small. Excitement filled both Charlotte and her friend, and an anticipation of the journey ahead, when they'd both be completely free to savor every intimacy of what had before now been forbidden sex. They could travel far and revel at every road stop.
Hurrying, laughing and kidding, they drove back to the cousin's home, and more or less listened as he filled them in on details of the big house car's operation.
"I'll drive it to my house," Elena volunteered. "I used to handle a camper when Jerry and I were still married. This isn't much different, just bigger."
So Charlotte reached Elena's home first, pulling the station wagon far up into the driveway and off into the patio area, to give Elena plenty of room to bring in the bus. With a bag of groceries in each arm, she fumbled with the knob of the kitchen door and managed to get it open without spilling anything. Propping the bags on the table, she turned to make another trip, but then she heard the sounds.
They were small, almost sobbing noises, but not quite that. They were puzzling sounds, and could be someone in pain. Charlotte moved through the kitchen and along the hallway, listening as her feet crossed the thick carpet. The noises died away, but Charlotte kept walking, and when she looked around the corner of the wall and into the spacious living room, she saw where the sounds had been coming from.
There on the big couch was Jan Mason, her daughter. There poised over her with his penis in hand was Blair Chapman. They were both naked, stripped to the skins, and somehow Jan didn't look so innocent now; she was still small, yet child-like in body, but that tiny, slim body was wiggling sensuously, and it was Jan who had been making the noises. She made more of them now-a moan mixed with panting, and she held up her arms to Blair as he kneeled between her delicate legs.
"Come on, man!" Jan was saying huskily. "Come on and screw me, before I flip out."
Charlotte stood transfixed, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at her daughter, at fourteen-year-old Jan. The girl's delicate body twisted in yearning, and her pubic mound was only fluffed with black down. So young; so very young and tender, Charlotte thought. Just a baby, really-but at that, only a year younger than her brother, and certainly Duncan had done a man's job at lovemaking.
"I missed you," Jan panted. "I missed you so much, Blair. Don't make me wait any longer, please. Lay me, lover; screw me long and hard to make up for the lost time."
Unable to move, Charlotte hung onto the dividing wall, clung desperately to its stucco edge. Only fourteen years old; only a child. She wanted to scream at Blair, to shriek denial at him, at them both. But she could not; her throat was clogged with her own guilt, stopped tightly by her own sexual trespasses. How could she deny her daughter the same lover she herself had possessed? By reason of age? If that made any real difference, Jan Mason was much nearer Blair's age than Charlotte Mason. The girl had more right to the boy than an older woman could claim.
Blair lowered himself, moved forward with his strong, slim penis aiming down at the glistening little mound lifted so eagerly up to it. Charlotte watched, her breath caught in her throat, as Blair worked the shiny head of his cock gently into the red lips of Jan's childish pussy, the labia stretching to fit around it.
Her daughter-her baby, baby daughter-fragile thighs so wide, tiny breasts heaving, not yet nubile breasts, but with erectile little nipples; Jan, so sweet and lovely, young, untarnished body so sleekly beautiful. Her daughter was being fucked by a boy equally as beautiful.
Blair's penis slid into the tight sheath inch by slow inch, and Charlotte could see that the fit was close, that Jan's little vagina was narrow. But the girl was no virgin; her mother could also see that. Jan was too anxious, too passionate, and there couldn't have been pain in the way she received Blair's thrusting cock. In it slid, probing through the feathery little hairs that barely concealed the lovely, elegantly shaped labia. Then it was driven home, buried to the balls inside Jan, the boy's prick shoved hilt deep inside her daughter's cunt.
"That's good, man," Jan was hissing, her slim legs lifting, still spread wide, veed wide so that the toes aimed themselves at the ceiling above Blair's naked back. "Oh baby, it's so good to ride your cock again. Stick it to me, Blair baby!"
Charlotte saw her daughter rock back upon her shoulders, saw her trim, slight ass pointing high and Blair on his knees still, humping and stroking his rod into the girl as he hung onto her knees. Jan screwed with violence, twisting and grinding her flat belly, rolling and pounding her ass. With surprise, Charlotte saw that the girl was playing with her own tit with one hand, and that the other was down and around her active ass, cupping Blair's swinging sac.
"Sweet," Blair grunted, hammering his cock home, ramming it into that. tight and narrow cunt, "oh Jan, you're so very sweet."
Jealous; Charlotte was immediately and foolishly jealous. She'd thought that emotion over and done with, but here it was back again, and clawing at her with sharpened talons. But as she continued to observe her daughter and their lover move together, move with the primitive and loving rhythm of two compellingly lovely people joined in the basic loveliness, she realized that she was not jealous of Blair making love to her daughter. Nor was she envious of her daughter taking the hard young prick that she herself had shared not long ago. Rather, she was covetous of their beauty, for they were so beautiful together.
"Oh-oh man-oh man, oh man-I'm making it!" Jan cried out, and her slim little body launched itself into a frenzy of motion, her cunt corkscrewing around Blair's stroking cock, her tight ass churning in a series of convulsions that told Charlotte that the girl was coming.
She felt a rise of bliss in her own vagina as Jan flailed her thin legs in the air and humped madly, wildly up to Blair's steady fucking. When she reached her orgasm, Jan bit her lips and clutched both small tits, and her head swung from side to side, her hair flowing as in a strong wind.
For a few more seconds, Blair continued to feed his glistening rod into Jan's stilled cunt, driving it in and out, the sound of it wet and suctioning now. Then he buried it balls-deep into the childish pussy and shook from head to foot as he came into her hotly clenching cup.
Charlotte caught her breath again, and was conscious of the thrust of her nipples against her bra, conscious of the steamy condition of her own cunt. She knew the feel of that ejaculation, knew exactly how Blair was jetting his boiling semen into the juicy sleeve of flesh and muscle that was her daughter's well fucked vagina. She could respond to each spurt of his come as it hurled itself sticky and loving against the womb, and to the successive throbbing of the head of his prick as it loosed diminishing spits of his male fluid.
Hands cupping her own mound, tits rising and falling in excitement, Charlotte turned to flee, before either of them came alert and saw her. To be caught peeping at them would be too much, too embarrassing for all.
She bumped into someone, and only the glimpse of a familiar face stifled the startled yell that rose from her lungs. They tiptoed quickly down the hallway and back into the kitchen, she and Elena Chapman. There they let out their breaths in a collective gasp of relief, and Elena said softly, "How about that?"
Charlotte whispered, "That was the-the first time I ever watched anyone do it. And to see my own daughter like that, to see her twist and pump and act so bitchy ... "
"Kind of stirs you up, doesn't it?" Elena said. "Here-we both earned a drink. I damned near went off in my panties, catching that act. You'd think that kid had enough last night, and the night before. But a young stud like him ain't satisfied with just clicking his mother and his mother's best friend. Oh no-he's got to put it to another kid, too. Did a hell of a job, didn't he?"
Charlotte gulped the drink of bourbon that Elena handed her. It only warmed the fire that was burning in the pit of her stomach. She said, "That wasn't their first time to do it. Jan said she'd missed him."
Elena grunted. "I'll bet. Those two have probably been screwing for quite awhile, and here neither of us even had a suspicion. Jan is a sweet and beautiful girl, though; and hot as the proverbial Chinese firecracker. I don't blame Blair one bit. That's one fine piece of tail-but you could see that for yourself, I guess."
"She must be on the Pill," Charlotte said.
"Sure," Elena agreed. "Have another drink on the house. Well, our little voyeurism scene fixed one problem up pretty good, didn't it?"
"What do you mean?" Charlotte asked.
"No problem at all now about what to do with little Jan, is there? We can take her with us."
Drinking more bourbon, Charlotte swallowed and said, "I-I suppose so. But do you think she knows about us? About you and me and-what we've been doing?"
Elena grinned. "I'd make book on it. She was probably in on it from the very start, if I know anything at all about my Blair. He's as sneaky as his mother, but maybe a Little smarter. Me-I'd never have had the guts to go after him the way he came after you and me. But I'm glad he did; I'm sure as all hell glad he did."
"Me, too," Charlotte said, and downed the rest of her drink. There was still an unrest in her, an uneasy feeling that nagged at whatever was left of her conscience. Everything was happening too swiftly, and she was having considerable difficulty absorbing the passage of events.
There had been the bright flame of her love with Blair; the passing from straight and restricted sex into a freedom that she had not known could exist. And before the glittering wonder of that had even begun to dim, she had been loved by her own son-screwed and eaten by an adoring Duncan. Then, while the magic glow of that was still surrounding her, still keeping her warm and titillated, she had seen her daughter being laid by her lover, the same lover who had turned on Charlotte Mason.
Somewhere, somehow, there had to be a guilty, shameful thing in all this. Oh, she knew the laws and the must-nots; if anything, she was more than familiar with all the no-nos of society. But they just did not seem to apply here.
"Here's to us," Elena said, "and one hell of a vacation."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Charlotte sat up front on the big jump seat, close to Elena as the other woman tooled the big house car out of the city limits and along the freeway. Their children were in back at the folding table, playing cards and laughing over the music that swirled from a tape deck.
Leaning near to her friend, Charlotte said, "Do you think Jerry suspected anything, that he might try to have us followed?"
"My husband is a nut," Elena said, "and I wouldn't put a damned thing past him. But what can he prove? Nobody is going to come bustin' in on us in the middle of the night, so we're just good ol' buddies taking our lads on a trip. And with that kind of trip, who needs to be high on pills?"
"I'm kind of worried about Mark Travers," Charlotte said. "He knows my cousin, and he might get to thinking about the house car."
"So what again, at the risk of ruining a good line? I mean, he has no legal hold on you, and if you tell him to cut out, he can't grab you or anything like that. But I bet he's a fine grabber, and any time you want me to run interference for you..."
Charlotte had to laugh. "Elena-I swear you must be a nymphomaniac. You act as if you never get enough."
"We left too soon today; maybe we should have waited until tomorrow, so I could take the edge off young Blair. Hell of a thing, watching him and Jan screw, then not get any for myself. And yeah-I'd take a pop at Mark Travers, or any other attractive male who has a hard-on and no place to put it. I've got enough stuff to spread it around."
Charlotte smiled. "You goof. But I love you, anyway. I might even feel different about Mark Travers just now, but I'm not sure. He-there's something about a relationship with a man-a lasting relationship, that is-that frightens me. I'm still a very uncertain woman, Elena. I don't think I could screw Mark, not even after-after the things I've done with Blair and Duncan."
"That beats me," Elena said. "But I'll guarantee one thing: if you make it through this here now vacation trip and come back with the same hung-up thoughts in mind about Mark Travers, I'll take the pledge and enter a monastery."
Giggling, Charlotte said, "A nunnery, dear. A monastery only has men in it."
'You take your pledge and let me take mine," Elena said, and they both giggled like schoolgirls on a laughing jag.
Their laughter was echoed from the back of the bus, and Charlotte leaned away to look out of the window at the lessening houses, at the green of hills and the marching past of trees. She thought of the man who claimed he wanted to marry her, and knew that any such commitment to Mark was impossible now, if ever it had been possible at all.
She could not go to him, nor to any man, and hide the burden of what she had done lately. Not "that she regretted any of it; oh no, she would not exchange a slippery, gasping minute with her son's stiff cock inside her suctioning cunt for any of the hearts and orange blossoms promises of a restrictive society. But there were laws and mores, and society wasn't ready for them to be toppled as yet. Maybe some day, but that was far into a dim future, beyond the time when it would matter to Charlotte Mason.
There could be no marriage for her, no more than she was already wedded flesh and soul and heart to Duncan, and to Blair. Her pulse fluttered as she thought of the coming night, of her son's sleek young body easing between the covers and pressing closely to her own aching flesh. His penis would be hard, and his sac swollen, and he would need her with a passion that was part lust and part devotion. She would take him once more into her vibrant pussy, welcome his rigid cock back into the slick vagina from where he had entered the world.
Duncan, she thought, oh Duncan. Then she remembered that Jan was with them, that Duncan's sister still might not know of the strange liaison between herself and the two boys, between Elena and the two boys. Because Jan had been screwing Blair for some time now, that didn't mean he had filled her in on everything concerning his life. It might be that he would be afraid to tell Jan, that he wouldn't want to shock her.
Staring out the window, Charlotte smiled to herself. It was far better that her daughter had inherited her own raging genes, rather than the weak and sickly ones from the man who had sired her. like mother, like daughter; only the new morality had made it so much easier for Jan. At age fourteen, she was an accomplished fucker who knew what she wanted and went after it.
Charlotte suddenly blinked. Had Jan done it with Duncan yet? With her own brother? No, she thought; no, because Duncan said he had been a cherry until Elena laid him, and then he had been with his mother. And Charlotte wondered why she had said yet in her mind, why she had phrased the question of Duncan screwing his sister yet.
Because in this close kind of traveling, in this luxurious house car that could sleep six people, sex could not be hidden from the five that would be bedding down so near to each other. Some sort of sleeping arrangements would have to be decided upon, and of course Jan couldn't be ignored. Sometime this evening. Charlotte would have to gear up her courage and have a talk with her daughter.
"How far you want to drive today?" Elena asked. "Check the map and figure out where we're going to spend the night."
"Okay. Elena, I was just thinking about the sleeping plan."
Elena cocked an eyebrow at her. "About Jan, you mean. We're one male short, it looks like. After what we watched today, I don't think that your daughter will go beddy-bye alone, either. You going to talk to her?"
"I guess so. If she takes things the way her brother does-if he and I can accept it all-I mean, this mix-up with everybody..."
"Don't let it bother you," Elena advised. "Everything will work out, because you and me, we've got ourselves a couple of horny little studs that can keep a hard all night. We can share them with the girl, I'm sure. And look-you're not going into that incest bag again, are you?"
"No. It's no worse for a brother and sister to do it, than for a boy to lay his mother."
"No better, you mean-only different, right?"
Charlotte glanced back over her shoulder at the lads, at the shining heads so close together at the card table, their knees touching beneath the wood. She looked back down at the map and picked a campground more than a hundred miles away.
"That far?" Elena asked. "Look-I'm getting hungry, too."
"It's only a couple of more hours," Charlotte answered. "It'll be dark by then, and if Jerry and
Mark come after us, we'll be far away and hidden."
"Check; I don't want to be disturbed by any goof hammering on the door tonight. I have a lot of plans for my young man, and if he can last through them, little Jan is welcome to him."
Charlotte said, "Duncan mentioned wanting to see me with-with Blair. But not tonight. I-I don't have that kind of nerve. I haven't even done it with him in the light yet; Duncan, I mean. Maybe I can get crocked and reach the point where I don't give a damn if anyone watches, but not yet."
"That is land of far out," Elena said. "Putting on a show is a stud of a different action, I guess. Still, it might not be a bad idea, sometime. I mean, I dug peeping at Blair and Jan this afternoon-and you did, too. It turned me on so much that it was all I could do to keep from running out there and ripping off my clothes and piling on with them. Alley, alley-all in free!"
Charlotte was still poring over the map when warm breath tickled the back of her neck, and Blair said softly into her ear: "We've been talking-Dune and Jan and me. If it's all right with you and mother, Dune and I will kind of rotate tonight, move from one bed to the other, taking turns around. Mother told me that you and she watched Jan and me today, and that's what Jan had in mind; we set it up for you to see, so you wouldn't try and leave her home. Jan and I have been making it for about three months now, and when she found out about you-well, it just about blew her mind."
Shivering at his touch, Charlotte could find nothing to say. She could only look up the highway, and think of the coming night.
Dinner that evening was tense, also, even though Elena made jokes and poured a great deal of wine. Charlotte found trouble in meeting anyone's eyes, but she knew that sooner or later, she would have to face her daughter and try to explain the bizarre situation they were all in. That job would be so complicated, she thought, and helped herself to another tumbler of red table wine.
Elena drifted from the table followed by Duncan; in a moment, Blair was gone, too. The house car was theirs, Charlotte's and Jan's; Charlotte began to clear the table, to stack paper plates and cups for disposal.
Jan broke the ice. "Mom-there's no need to feel uptight about anything. I mean, you already know about Blair and me making it, and I can sure see what you dig with him, too. So if we can all swing happily on this vacation ... "
"Then you also know about your brother sleeping with Elena, with Mrs. Chapman?"
Jan used a wet paper towel to clean the table top, then folded it away into the side of the bus. "Why not? She's a lovely woman, and he could do a lot worse."
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte asked, "like me, perhaps?"
Jan stared. "You and Dune, too? Oh wow. I mean, wow! And I thought that people your age were out of it, kind of blah. But my own mom, swinging with her son and another guy..."
"As you said," Charlotte went on, "why not? Duncan and Blair have been enjoying themselves, since both of them have two lovers. But Blair has three; he also has you."
"It's so far out," Jan breathed. "I would have never believed it, but wow-how I'm goin' to dig it. An orgy on wheels, man. And all our own!"
Charlotte sighed. She was still mixed up, a kaleidoscope of emotions changing within her. On the one hand, it was a great relief for her daughter to accept the new sexual mores of her family in such an eagerly light-hearted manner; on the other hand, Charlotte wondered just what kind of situation she was helping to place her daughter in. Would her mother's permissiveness make Jan a totally bad girl, involve her in a life composed of nothing but orgies?
"This is something else," Jan said, moving restlessly about the car as Charlotte washed up the few dishes at the sink. "I mean, the three of us-you and me and Elena; and the two guys-Blair and Dune. You won't mind if Dune and I make it?"
The wine was heady in Charlotte's body now, stimulating her, making her not care too much about intangibles. "If he can do it with his mother, he can do it with his sister."
"Wow," Jan murmured, and Charlotte turned to see the eagerness shining hotly in her daughter's eyes. like mother, like daughter, she thought; Jan was just as sensuous, just as hot to trot; Charlotte wasn't sure if such genes were creative or destructive. There was no question but that they were powerful, boiling the blood and making the flesh hungry for contact.
"Tonight," Jan said. "Well all ball tonight. How-I mean-which way is it set up? There are only three beds in this bus, and I know it's supposed to sleep six. But how about that? You know, I thought I'd be sleeping alone, that the guys would be together, and you and Mrs. Chapman. Now, who knows?"
Charlotte was saved an answer because Jan bounded out of the house car and went skipping off across the campgrounds, looking like the child she still was. Except in bed, Charlotte corrected herself, except when little Jan was fucking; then she was no child, but fully a woman, fiery and passionate.
Somehow uneasy, yet not certain of the right or wrong of what she was doing, Charlotte drank more wine from the bottle to still her qualms. When she looked at things one way, she really had little or no control over upcoming events; not if she wanted to continue her relationship with her son, and with Blair. Once she had succumbed to her intense desires for Blair Chapman, she had crossed the bounds of propriety; when she had responded to the thrusting of her own son's sex organ, she had cut herself off from all the recognized blueprints of society, and would have to find her own path from here on out.
Someone opened the car door and ducked inside. She flinched in guilt, but it was Duncan. He said, "We drew for the beds. You and I get dibs on the front one. Are you ready to go to bed now, mother?"
She looked away from his handsome, intent face. "I-I've been ready all day. Just give me a minute to get set and draw the curtains." And heart thumping, she readied the bed and made it a private nest by drawing the curtains.
Slipping out of her clothing, she wriggled down between the sheets and thought that everyone would be able to hear everyone else-the sounds of meat sliding into the grasp of hot wet cavities, the noises of heavy breathing, the creak of springs, the gasped words of lust and love. It would be strange, but exciting, embarrassing but provoking.
The curtains parted, and Duncan came into the bunk. He'd left only one small light burning in the house car, and he was a shadowy figure. Charlotte felt her heart thunder in her chest, felt the blood leap along her veins, for she was about to know the penetration of her own son's cock, to revel in the forbidden carnality of incest. And she was trembling with the urgency of her needs.
"Oh, mom," he said, low in his throat, and she lifted her arms to him. But he did not come directly into them, didn't he down atop her aching body.
Instead, Duncan straddled her hips, one knee upon each side of her body. His hands came down and pulled away the sheet, so that his crotch was hot and hairy against her belly. He fondled her breasts, played sensually with the nipples of her tits, and Charlotte wondered hazily why he didn't just plunge his cock into her, why he didn't crawl in between her legs and drive his young, hard prick into the tremulous vulva that needed it so.
But her son wasn't ready to fuck her just yet. She felt him slide forward, felt his balls ease over her fevered skin, and knew the sensation of her breasts being pushed together, the hot shoving of his cock in between them.
"You have such great tits, mother," he said down to her. "Oh man, I really dig titty-fucking you like this. It's far out!"
His ass ground, and his cock moved back and forth between the mounds of her tits, the head of it dampened by his pre-seminal fluid and turning her breasts slippery.
Farther and farther the glans of his lovely young prick came, the blunt tip of it sometimes touching her throat. Charlotte adored it, and her fingers strayed in between Duncan's thighs to discover and to fondle the swollen sac that contained his testicles. His pubic hair was soft, but springy, and she loved that, too. Her lips pursed, and she touched them to the shining head of that marvelous rod.
Duncan gasped and hunched just a little more up her chest. Her tits were against his balls, then, and Charlotte suddenly realized that he wanted very much for her to suck him off, to take his darling cock into her mouth and draw the ejaculating love fluids from it
Of course she would, she thought, and without hesitation, opened her lips to allow her son's prick to enter her mouth. Duncan shoved it slowly and thrillingly into her lips, and Charlotte for only the second time in her life, tasted a man's cock. It was faintly salty, warm, good-and her tongue leaped to pay homage to the head, to lick around the spongy point and taste the flavor of his early oils.
One of her arms slipped around his ass, and her fingers caressed a cheek; the other hand cupped his balls, and Charlotte curled her tongue around the shivering head of Duncan's prick, then licked the veined and throbbing staff of it. Slowly, sensuously, her son began to stroke his cock into the cavity of his mother's mouth, rubbing the glans along the roof of her mouth, the shaft along her tongue. Charlotte sucked delicately upon the head, allowed it to slide back from her suctioning grasp, then pulled it back as Duncan shoved his prick back into her throat.
Lightly, Charlotte gnawed upon the delectable pole; sweetly, she licked its head, teased the slit there, allowed her saliva to flow over the slowly pistoning shaft.
Above her, his hands gripping her head now, Duncan said, "Oh-oh mom! Oh suck me, eat me, eat my prick!"
And she did, pumping her head back and forth upon the meaty thrusts he was making. She ate his cock, drew it into the velvety confines of her throat, caressed his balls and sucked, sucked.
"I-I'm coming!" he gasped, speeding up his strokes, grinding his hairy pelvis into her face, shudders rippling the length of his writhing body. His hands jerked, drawing her face strongly into his crotch.
Charlotte felt the hot spurting of his ejaculation, the geysering of the semen that splashed along the roof of her mouth and back into her throat. It was thick and slick, hotly sweet but faintly salty; it came in jets, each one diminished, each spurt bursting out through the head of his prick as it flexed, spat, flexed once more.
She swallowed it all, sucked feverishly upon his cock for more, and drained him dry, licking blissfully over the head of his throbbing penis until no more liquid came from it.
Only then did she allow him to slip his cock from between her lips, and she kissed his pelvis, kissed his hairy balls, before she would let him roll over to he beside her. How lovely, she thought; his sweet young prick was still rigidly erect as he lay panting upon his back, with his eyes closed and those long bronze lashes sweeping his cheek.
She felt warm, relaxed, almost content. She had just given her son the ultimate in gratification, the ultimate in intimacy, and in love. In love.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Because she had taken so much of his energy, Duncan lay resting, and Charlotte watched him fall asleep, watched his penis slowly fold over upon itself and shrink as he dreamed of something that made him smile. Tenderly, she touched his cheek, then leaned to kiss him ever so lightly upon the lips. He was such a handsome boy, and so sensuous; how lucky she was to have him-not only in the conventional mother-son relationship, but in this far better way, that of lovers.
And she would not waken him now to satisfy her own urges, but she'd let him sleep. Finding her shortie gown beneath her pillow, Charlotte sat up and slipped it on. The filmy, lacy thing didn't hide much, but she felt better with it on. She wasn't yet ready to parade around naked, not before other people.
Parting the bunk curtains, Charlotte slipped out, her bare feet probing into the deep carpeting. There was a double bunk to her right, where the dining table and benches formed a sleeper; another one was to her left. The latter one was occupied by Elena and her own son, Blair. In the curtained alcoves, nobody was asleep; Charlotte could hear light sounds in the left-hand bunk, and stirrings in the righthand one that told her that her daughter was fully awake and eager for one of the boys to come to her.
She was probably most eager for her brother, Charlotte thought; he would be a new and moving experience for Jan, since she was quite familiar with the way Blair Chapman fucked. Somehow, just thinking of little sexy Jan making it with Duncan turned Charlotte on even more. Moving to the occupied bunk, she drew the curtains a bit and peered inside.
A gasp escaped her, although she had partly expected to see Elena and Blair in copulation, but the reality, the stunning power of the scene before her, caused a shock to tingle throughout Charlotte's taut body.
Drifting a step back, she let the curtains fall apart, and when her calves struck a chair, she sat down suddenly in it, staring at the scene before her. Only once before had Charlotte Mason ever watched anyone else having intercourse; that had been Blair and her daughter Jan. But this was very different, because Charlotte could not ignore the fact that she was witnessing a boy while he was slowly and very sensually fucking his mother.
Squeezing her own thighs tightly together, feeling the lifting of her nipples against her nightie as they turned rigid, Charlotte watched Blair Chapman screw Elena Chapman. Blonde hair hanging down, tits swinging, Elena was on her hands and knees, with her sleekly rounded ass up-thrust. Blair had his hands lightly upon his mother's waist, thumbs along her spine, fingers curling down over her hips to he over her groin.
His prick was sliding between the cheeks of her ass, into his mother's uptilted cunt. As Charlotte stared entranced, she saw his balls swing into the vee made by Elena's spread thighs, and he was buried to the hilt inside her pussy.
"Oh," Charlotte groaned, "oh baby, that's so wonderful. Fuck me deep, darling-screw me until I just can't breathe. I want to feel your gorgeous prick all the way up inside my cunt; I want to feel it pushing against my womb. Oh baby, fuck me, fuck me!"
Blair wiggled his hips, drew back his ass, and Charlotte saw the wet and gleaming length of his cock come back out of the pussy that was clinging so eagerly to it. Almost to the head, he drew it out, then shoved it balls-deep again with a single, mighty thrust that caused his mother's tits to jiggle and her head to bounce.
"Ooh," Elena murmured, "ooh-that's it; that's it! Jam it to me, Blair."
Out came his glistening prick; in it went, and the sloshing noise it made as it penetrated into her juicy cunt, made Charlotte's head spin. She realized that her hand was covering her own damp mound, that one of her fingers was tickling along her labia and the fleshy hood that acted as shield for her clitoris.
"You have such a beautiful, slim ass," Blair said. "And your pussy-oh, mother, it's so tight and hot, so good. I could just fuck it forever, just grind my prick in there where it's so slippery, where I can feel the walls of your cunt pulling me in. And my balls coming up against your thighs-ah, yes, mother-oh yes; reach through your legs and take them in your hand. Play with my balls, darling-tickle my balls while I fuck your sweet cunt."
"Yes!" Elena gasped. "Oh yes-yes-yes!"
It was so thrilling to Charlotte that her pulses were hammering wildly, and her breath was hanging in her throat. The position they were in was so primitive, so animalistic, that all her base instincts were stirred. She wanted to join them, to leap up on the bed beside Elena and point her own ass into the air so she too could be mounted from behind, as a male dog mounts a bitch, pumping his red prick so furiously into the bitch's hole.
Slosh...!in and out ... slosh ... up and down ... slosh ... in and out ... with his balls being held in his mother's hand, with his rigid cock working steadily, strongly, into his mother's steamy cunt. Blair stepped up his rhythm, grinding his prick into her, now leaning forward with his chest against her trembling back, and his knees inside her spread ones. He reached around and caught her pendulum breasts, one in each hand, and clung to them as he pounded his rod feverishly up into her dripping pussy.
"Fuck me-fuck me!" Elena cried out. "Oh, Blair-oh, my darling-my sweet baby-oh, I'm coming, coming!"
"Me, too!" he groaned. "I'm coming, too, mother! Oh, my darling mother, I'm pumping it into your cunt!"
They shuddered together as Charlotte stared wide-eyed at them; they hunched and humped and gave little voluptuous squirmings of their asses, and she knew they were blinded in a combined orgasm, that Blair was hosing the liquid of his semen into his mother's pussy.
Slowly, Elena folded beneath him, and slowly, Blair lowered his weight until he was lying upon Elena, his crotch tightly to the crack of her shapely ass. Elena's arms were outthrust now, and her face turned to the wall. Blair kissed the back of her neck and she wiggled her ass. He stroked her shoulders and her neck, and her hair, and Charlotte could see the modeled cheeks of Elena's ass flex as she tightened her vagina upon the cock still buried deeply with it.
Quivering, Charlotte realized that she had buried a finger into the lips of her own pussy, that she was feeling into the vagina and up to tease the vibrating tenseness of her clitoris. Oh, she was hot; she wanted to be fucked.
He was looking into her eyes. Blair was staring back at her, his eyes gentle and understanding in the soft light from the dome. Charlotte blushed, but she barely felt it, what with the fever already blazing beneath her skin. Biting her lips, she fought her legs to make them support her body, and stood wobblingly erect.
Then Blair lifted himself from his mother's quiet body; his penis went plop! as it pulled from the suction of her pussy, and stood out in front of his belly as if it had never released a drop of semen. The purplish glans seemed polished by the fondling it had just received from Elena's cunt; there was a drop of bubbly white juice still seeping from the slit in its tip.
Sensing movement behind her, Charlotte turned in confusion, and there stood Duncan, awakened and refreshed. His penis was erect, also. Charlotte felt trapped, felt as if she had been pinned to a slide under the merciless eyes of a microscope. She was between her lovers now, embarrassed and afraid as she stood uncertainly between her son and the other boy. Both of them seemed ready to go, anxious to screw-and she did not know what to do, could not decide which way to turn.
They moved toward her in concert, and all Charlotte could do was stand there helplessly, her hands protectively over her mound, but her erectile nipples giving her away. Duncan neared her; Blair came close. Then Blair took her hand, and Duncan took the other hand. Charlotte was a robot; she had no volition of her own, but moved as she was directed to move, and no farther.
Blair lifted her nerveless hand to place it upon his prick. In reflex, her fingers closed around the pliable staff. Duncan wrapped her fingers around his cock, and she clung also to that lovely rod. Charlotte stood trembling, each hand holding to a young and swollen prick. She wondered if any woman had ever been placed into such a quandary, and her knees went weak, threatening to unhinge and drop her limp body to the floor.
Jan saved her from making any land of decision, and perhaps from becoming the centerpiece in a sandwich composed of both Blair and her son. Jan came naked from her own bunk and plastered her squirming body to her brothers. Charlotte's hand slipped from its hold on Duncan's penis, and she felt Blair turn her, felt his stiff cock against her belly as her tits mashed delightfully against his chest.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jan tugging Duncan into the bunk, and knew that her daughter and her son were just about to fuck, that brother and sister were on the verge of discovering the forbidden pleasures of each other's body. But even if she had wanted to, Charlotte could not cry out to them, could not shout at them to stop, stop. She was too caught up in her own passions, too eager for her own loving by the impetuous boy pressing against her.
She tried to tell Blair that they should go to her bed, that they shouldn't be seen by the others, but all she could manage was to gasp a few broken and meaningless words into his mouth. They sank together to the warm carpet, mouths locked, tongues racing, their teeth clashing wetly and patiently as their hands felt over flesh and hair.
Her skin seemed to kiss his skin, to suck hungrily at his pores, and Charlotte rode the knee that slipped in between her thighs and snugged so warmly against her crotch.
Blair; she was going to be fucked by her first lover, this slim and sexy boy who had taught her the full meaning of screwing, who had instructed her in oral gratification and freed her from so many of her silly inhibitions. Not all of them, but most, so that she could now drift to the floor with him in her arms, knowing that there were others in the room, but able to shut them off and concentrate upon this adorable boy who craved her body so much.
She wanted him; she wanted, wanted. He was on top of her, wriggling, rubbing his belly over hers, his mouth moving from one nipple to the other, his hands stroking her hips, her thighs, sliding under her ass. Charlotte threw back her head and arched her back, her own hands fondling Blair's shoulders, the back of his head. Her hips rolled, her pelvis lifted, and she felt the thrust of the head of his prick against her vulva.
It slid inside her labia, pushed quickly and hungrily through the damply ready lips of her aching pussy, and Blair's sweet cock was centered fully within her vagina, his balls snugged into the crack of her ass. His belly was tight to hers, his pelvis ground into her hairy one, and Blair began to stroke his darling prick inside her cunt.
Her eyes closed, and Charlotte panted with each thrust, seeing the same cock fed into his mother's pussy from behind, feeling the same length and roundness and slippery titillation that his mother had so recently known. It was good, good-and Charlotte squirmed upon it, squeezed her cunt upon his reaching, hammering cock.
Spreading her legs even wider, Charlotte lifted her knees so that Blair would be able to fuck her deeper, so he would be permitted to burrow his loving staff still farther up inside her hot cunt.
Her legs went up, up, and crossed at the ankles over Blair's sweaty back, riding upon the upper cheeks of his ass, upon the small of his back. She rolled farther up on her shoulders, and Blair grabbed her ass with both hands, to plunge his stiff rod steadily and eagerly into her convulsive pussy. Charlotte rocked back and forth, up and down, sometimes lifting him up, sometimes being driven down by him.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she had some difficulty in focusing them, but from her upside-down position, she could make out a pair of faces in the bunk. A boy and a girl-her son and her daughter, and they were staring entranced at their mother being fucked by her young and energetic lover!
But it was so slick inside her cunt, and her clitoris was being teased by every thrust of Blair's deep-burying prick, and she could not keep her ass from humping and wiggling to make it even better. So Charlotte closed her eyes again and concentrated upon screwing young Blair as best she could, fucking him with all the opulent riches of her mature body, pulling upon his cock and rolling it around the lascivious gripping of her sultry pussy.
"Fuck me!" she cried out, uncaring that others could see and hear. "Oh Blair, my love, my darling-fuck me-fuck-me-fuck me fuck me!"
His mouth found hers; their teeth raked, and their gasping breaths blended; their tongues slid wetly around each other, and Charlotte sucked his halfway down her throat as the wondrous feeling gathered in her belly, her groin, to race crazily and marvelously around in her vagina. Blair moaned with her, on her, in her-and their orgasms shook them in a simultaneous sharing that was all beauty and all ecstasy.
Drifting in a languid dream, Charlotte allowed her legs to slide from Blair's back, but her feet moved to caress the backs of his knees, and to slide down along the calves of his legs before they relaxed upon the carpeting. Deep within her vagina, she felt the slow pulsing of his prick, and knew the absorbing ripple of her cunt walls as the semen flooded slick and heavy against them.
He kissed her ear, and dipped the end of his tongue into it. Shuddering, Charlotte rolled her tits against his hairless chest, and her pelvis made slow sweet motions against his. She ran her fingertips over his shoulders, his back, down to the sleek and modeled cheeks of his boyish ass. Stroking into his crack, she felt the springy hairs around his anus, the little ridge that ran on down and into his testicles. So sweet, she thought; so completely wonderful. She felt sorry for any woman who had never been so thoroughly, so utterly, fucked.
Reality came back around her; she knew the splash of light upon her eyelids, and the withdrawal of Blair's cock, the lifting of his dear weight from her reluctant body. She felt the wetness of her vulva, the little sticky trail that Blair's penis left across the inside of her thigh.
And Charlotte realized that she was lying nude upon the floor of the house car, that her son and her daughter had been watching every ardent detail of the screwing she had just had, and that very probably her lover's mother had also been an interested spectator of the action.
Drawing her legs together, Charlotte sat up, one hand instinctively going to cover her breasts, the other dropped to her lap, so that her pubic mound might be hidden. She knew it was silly, that everything had already been seen, but she couldn't help herself.
Blushing, she chanced a quick look at the bunk where Jan and Duncan had been, but the curtains were drawn. She could hear the rapid and sliding sounds of flesh in flesh, a gasping and panting that rose from the hidden bed. Charlotte bit her lips and knew that her son and her daughter were behind those curtains, just an arm's length away, and that they were screwing each other.
"Hey," Elena Chapman said from the other bunk as Blair went into the bathroom. "Hey, girl-that was some performance you put on. I can see why Blair digs you so much. You are some fine piece of ass, and so beautiful, too. You and my boy really fuck up a storm, as they say."
Charlotte swallowed. Elena was sitting on the edge of the bed, nakedly unconcerned, her lovely blonde body exposed from the pointed tips of her breasts to the curly fleece of her crotch. "I-I guess that's a compliment. I just got kind of carried away, after watching Blair do it to you from behind like that. It turned me on so much that I-I just didn't care who was around; I had to have him, right then and right there."
Elena fingered her nipples and smiled. "Yeah-ain't that dog fashion screwing a blast? I don't mean for a steady thing, but for a lowdown change. Haven't you tried it yet?"
Shaking her head, Charlotte said, "N-no, I haven't." She got off the floor and found the shortie nightgown on her own bunk. Before she could slip it over her head, Elena was there beside her, taking it from her hand.
"Don't hide all that," Elena said. "Relax, dear-there's a lot still ahead of us; the night is young, and so are our lovers."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
That morning, when someone hammered upon the door, Charlotte struggled out of bed to answer it. She wrapped herself into a decent robe and made her way to the door, still only half awake. "Yes?"
He was a tall man, darkly saturnine and well, though casually dressed. He said, "Mrs. Mason, I presume? I'm Jerry Chapman."
Charlotte stood blocking the doorway. "Oh? What can I do for you?"
His eyes touched her here, there, and Charlotte felt as if she had been undressed. He said, "I'd like to talk to my wife."
From behind Charlotte, Elena said, "I'll be right there, Charlotte. Don't invite that son of a bitch inside."
But Jerry Chapman pushed open the door and brushed by Charlotte. "Elena, goddammit ... "
Charlotte saw that his eyes were darting from side to side, checking out the interior of the house car, glancing quickly at the bunks and their arrangement. Jan Mason sat sleepily up in her bed, and Charlotte saw with a glad rush of relief that the boys were both up and gone somewhere-probably out exploring the creek that ran beside the campsite.
Not that he could have proven anything by their presence, she thought; her son and Elena's son had a perfect right to travel with their mothers, and nobody would see the group as anything but family. Unless someone knew what had been going on, Charlotte admitted, and felt her face turn warm.
Elena swung her legs out of her bunk, pulling on a see-through robe that did very little to hide the naked loveliness of her body. Charlotte realized that this man had made love to Elena's body many, many times, and that he was most certainly familiar with every warm inch of it. Uncertainly, Charlotte stood there, feeling awkwardly out of place, but not sure of what she ought to do.
"Stay put, Charlotte," Elena said. "Jerry, what the hell do you mean, pushing in here? I'll call a state cop and have you locked up, dammit. This is private property, and it isn't mine. You force your way in here..."
He lifted both hands. "Easy, baby. I just wanted to ... "
Elena flared at him: "I know what you wanted to do! You wanted to find some guy in the sack with me, so you could pressure me about the kid and cut down on your alimony, right?"
Jerry Chapman grinned. "Something like that. Where is the boy?"
"Out," Elena snapped. "Jan, dear-maybe you'd better go out, too. It might get rough in here. But you stay, Charlotte-I'll need a witness."
Hurrying, Jan ducked behind her curtains and came out moments later in a thin blouse and tight jeans; barefoot, she skipped out of the trailer, and Jerry Chapman's eyes followed her with frank admiration.
"Jerry," Elena said, "she's only fourteen."
He shrugged and Charlotte remembered that chronological age didn't really count for very much any more. Jan could just as well screw this man, as she'd done it with Blair-this man's son; as she'd done it with her own brother.
"Don't I get offered a drink, after coming this far?"
"Go to hell," Elena said. "You start by taking that door."
He smiled at Charlotte, and she saw that he was a handsome man. "Elena carries grudges, but she picks beautiful friends."
"One beer," Elena said, "and no more, then out. And stop hustling Charlotte; she already knows what a louse you are."
They sat at the little table, coffee perking on the small stove behind them, but having a beer while the women waited to begin breakfast. Charlotte thought that if she hadn't been forewarned, she might easily have fallen victim to Jerry Chapman's charm. Then she flushed, and remembered that she had already fallen for his son, that she had screwed his boy, and would do so again. The idea pushed him farther from her, and she concentrated upon finishing her beer, then upon busying herself at the stove, allowing them to talk.
"Elena," he said, "I had a hell of a time tracing you down. It wasn't like you to leave so abruptly, and one of your neighbors mentioned a red and white house car, so I. . . "
"Got suspicious as usual, and checked some more, to find the bus was Charlotte's-or her cousin's, really; I got a bunch of big-mouthed neighbors. Drink up, Jerry-time for you to haul ass."
He sighed. "I don't suppose there'd be any chance of Charlotte here going to see what became of her daughter?"
"No way" Elena said emphatically. "I know what you've got in mind, and forget it already."
Jerry clinked down his empty beer can. "You're usually pretty eager. When you're not, it means you're getting plenty. Maybe some guys are traveling with you two..."
"And maybe they're not. Out, Jerry-and right goddamned now, or I start hollering for the cops. There is that peace bond, you know."
"Okay," he said, "okay. For right now, that is. But you keep your nose clean, baby-because I'll be checking up on you from time to time."
"From a distance," Elena said. "Good-bye and good luck."
He smiled at Charlotte, and she could see the rakish look about him, the sexy look he had passed on to Blair. "Thanks, Charlotte. I'd like to see more of you."
Elena put her hands against his back. "Fat chance. Are you going?"
He shrugged and let her urge him through the doorway. Charlotte watched him stand there for a moment, then walk slowly across the large campground toward a car. "I feel kind of sorry for him."
"Don't," Elena advised, "because the next step is you're on your back with your legs spread, wondering how the hell he got into you so fast. Not that I'd give a damn, you understand; Jerry might even be good for you, because he's a horny and imaginative bastard. But I know he just wants to get out from under the alimony, and like I told him-no way. Until I decide, that is-which may be like ten or twelve eons from now. Whatever the hell an eon is."
Charlotte bit her lower lip. "Do you think he would have suspected anything, if he'd seen the boys here?"
Elena finished her can of beer and dropped the can in the plastic trash bag. "If he'd been a little earlier, he wouldn't have had to suspect; he'd have damned well known. Good thing they crawled out of the sacks and took off."
Charlotte put bread in the toaster. "Maybe we ought to leave right away."
"I'll buy that. And from now on, we don't stop in public campgrounds, only off on side roads; just in case my own private albatross tries to follow us again. He's a persistent bastard, if nothing else."
Scrambling eggs, Charlotte said, "Want to find the kids?"
"Sure-soon's I make a visit to the bathroom. Jerry and his beer for breakfast bit."
They ate well, and Charlotte could not help but think of the energy they'd all burned the night before, energy they were replacing now with food And she felt a lifting of her nipples as she thought how more activity would take place later in the day, whenever and wherever they stopped to camp. Charlotte also knew that she would be happy when they could stop squirming away, when they could camp in some peaceful glen, away from the eyes of strangers, for days on end.
It would be an idyll of pure sensuousness, she thought; a perfect sharing of bodies and minds, with each of them doing everything for the others, blending flesh and juices, sex and love. Closing her eyes, Charlotte could picture all the suntanned bodies, bronzed and golden, see the vees of Jan's pubis, Elena's vulva, the boys' hairy sacs and their beguiling cocks, erect or limp. She opened her eyes and shook her head, knowing that at the moment, she was only tempting herself, that there could be no sex at the moment; they had to be off down the highway.
"My turn to drive," Elena said. "You kids can hang out in back-or whatever you have in mind for openers. I need Charlotte for my navigator right now." .
Then they were on the road, rock music blaring from the radio in back, light and frequent laughter echoing from the two boys and the girl who were closer than anyone had thought they could ever be.
"What about Mark? If my ex-husband found us, Mark Travers probably can, too. If you didn't chase him off forever with your shy act. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea if he did catch up with the group; he'd kind of round out the numbers. like three guys and three gals-all exceedingly interchangeable, of course."
Charlotte frowned out of the windshield, and her hands clenched upon the roadmap on her knees. She had never thought of Mark Travers and Jan together; it was difficult to picture her little daughter and a mature man, in sexual embrace. Yet, she had to admit there was nothing stopping Jan from screwing any man or boy she wanted; nothing beyond the bounds of good taste, that was.
And Mark with Elena? Her friend had always kidded about sleeping with Mark, and only of late had Charlotte known that Elena wasn't kidding, and never had been. Still, Charlotte had never quite seen Mark Travers as a-a swinger, a man moving from one willing encounter to the next. Handsome, yes; attractive, yes; and seemingly very much the male animal. But was he male enough, animal enough, to understand and appreciate the things that were unfolding within this group?
It was entirely possible that Mark Travers would recoil in shock and indignation, were he ever to learn of the incest, the exchanging of lovers that had already taken place among the people on this far out vacation. And Charlotte could not blame him if he did. Only a few days ago, her reaction would have been the same.
Now she was far past the point of no return. She could not undo the events that had come off in most cases with her consent, in a few, without it. Even if she wanted to change the immediate past, Charlotte could not, and she knew in her heart that she never wanted to return to that drab, hidebound and frustrated past.
"Hey," Elena said. "You plan to keep sexy Mark to yourself? Well holler foul."
"I-I was thinking about him," Charlotte answered. "Maybe I'm not so afraid of him now, and I might be able to-to do it with him. But how do I know he wouldn't be disgusted or call the police, or something, if he ever found out about us, about everything?"
Elena honked the horn at a VW that cut too close in front of the bus. Then she said, "Well just have to pull off a little entrapment, I'd say. like me screwing him, and you catching him at it. Or sucking Little Jan-that would be the goodie! Kind of casually walk in on them while they're banging away, and see if he can explain having his rod up your juvenile type daughter. After that, how can he act horrified because you and me are getting some on the side? I mean, one kid is the equal of another kid, right?"
"Suppose he won't-won't make it with Jan? I mean, she's just a baby, and maybe everyone isn't as-well-as passionate."
Elena tooled the house bus around a slow truck and guided it back into the right lane. "If Mark doesn't take Jan up on it when she makes a pass, he's too square to live. That's the prettiest, sweetest, and I might say, hottest little doll anywhere, and if he misses the chance to stick that-well, he's some kind of nut, and who needs him."
Charlotte didn't want to keep thinking about Mark, or about Mark making love to Jan. It was one thing, to lay a young girl; it was something else altogether, to screw your own son. Mark might not understand that, at all.
"Who needs either one of them-Mark or Jerry? We have our own lovers, and we couldn't ask for more attentive ones. We have the whole country ahead of us, and-and all the things we haven't done yet."
"Yeah," Elena agreed. "And since I'm driving, you can go on back there and have a tall, cold one for yourself. I'll hold off until we park for the day."
"Okay," Charlotte said, feeling the need for a drink, made to feel unsure and on edge by the surprise visit of Elena's husband. "I'll be back in a little while. Remember, we have to pick a snug, safe little place to park tonight-away from the camp sites."
Swaying a bit with the motion of the bus, Charlotte went into the back, to find the bottle of bourbon and a glass. She took a long drink straight, then mixed a healthy one with coke from the little ice chest. Only then did she look up at the end bunk, the one that was nominally hers.. "
"Mom-if this is going to bug you in any way, then we'll draw the curtains," smiled Jan.
Swallowing a big gulp of her drink, Charlotte put out one hand to brace herself and shook her head. "N-no, that's all right. I mean-we're all supposed to be honest with each other, right?"
"Up front, mom," her daughter said. "Come on, guys; let's get it on."
"You can join in, mom," her son said from the big bunk, "or just watch for now and make it later."
"Yes, Mrs. Mason darling," Blair said. "Any way you want it."
Again, Charlotte shook her head and backed up a step or two. "N-not just yet," she said. "You kids enjoy yourselves."
Quickly, she finished her drink and turned to pour another, because that had been a hell of a thing for a mother to say to her son and daughter and to her lover. For all three of them were together on the bunk, and all three of them were gleamingly, exquisitely naked.
Enjoy yourselves, kids, she'd said; just as if they were going swimming, or about to start a card game, or something simple as that. When in reality, they were about to fuck each other, when they were getting ready to join in a group sexual party, these three beautiful young people whom she had known so well-and really had not known at all.
Until now, she thought; oh yes, for now, and the times that had immediately preceded this exotic and stimulating scene, Charlotte was truly coming to know her own children, and the boy she had adored from afar. For there was no secrecy in sex, nothing hidden when the sensual gratifications were practiced out in the open this way. So she could see her son, her daughter, her lover, as they all bared their innermost desires and slaked them.
Tossing down her third drink, Charlotte got a grip on herself, and sank down onto the padded breakfast bench to watch. She had to force herself to stay put, because all her old inhibitions rose to the surface and tried to choke back this newfound freedom. But the whiskey helped, and Charlotte held to her glass as the three youngsters moved toward each other.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They were so different, her son and her daughter. Jan had her mother's coloring, while Duncan had inherited his father's. Ivory girl, black hair and blue eyes, she kneeled upon the bed, locked in her brother's arms, her fine young tits pressed to his chest, Duncan's golden body moving slowly in erotic delight as he raked his stiff penis back and forth across his sister's belly.
Blair kneeled behind Jan, his hands resting lightly upon the girl's small, slim hips, his own erection probing the air-long, hard and beautiful. He leaned to kiss her shoulders, to lick sensuously across the back of her neck. Edging forward, he touched the head of his cock to the satiny skin of her lovely back, and watching, Charlotte sighed at the spongy brush of the glans, just as if she had felt the kiss of it herself.
What were they going to do, Charlotte wondered; her son and daughter were kissing, and running their hands over each other's eagerly squirming body, feeling of flesh and warmth and the keen anticipation of the upcoming sexual union between brother and sister. And the other boy, bronzed and wonderfully modeled Blair-surely, he wasn't going to come at her from the rear? Jan was too small for anything like that, altogether too tiny to accept Blair's thing in her rear.
Jan was kissing Duncan's throat now, and his chest, her hands gripping his thighs. He leaned back, fondling her head, and she began to touch the tip of her roving tongue to the flesh of his upper stomach. She was going to go down on her brother, Charlotte saw, and with a shudder, pressed her own legs together to contain the passion that was dampening her vulva.
As Jan slid down her brother's body, her trim little ass lifted into the air, pushed its twin curves and exciting cleft back against Blair Chapman's swollen rod. Now she was kissing Duncan's lower belly, dipping her tongue in and out of his navel, as her brother rolled his lower body in keen anticipation of what was to come. Charlotte sat entranced, forgetting even to drink from her glass, held motionless by the tableau that was taking place before her eyes.
Bent back, Duncan caressed his sister's head, propped upon his elbows and moving his ass ever so slightly, for now Jan's small fingers were fondling his penis, cupping his balls, stroking the staff that her face was approaching.
And behind her, Blair kneeled still, his thighs apart, his one hand stroking Jan's ass, the other holding his prick down and aimed into the crack of her tick-tocking butt. Charlotte leaned forward, her breath hanging in her throat, as Blair pushed the gleaming head of his adorable cock into her daughter's sweet, tight pussy from behind. Only last night, she had watched Blair fuck his mother in this fashion, and now he was sliding his probing cock into little Jan.
Charlotte's eyes moved back and forth, from one end of her young daughter's body to the other-seeing Jan take Duncan's stiff prick into her lips, seeing Jan absorb the slow, gentle pushing of Blair's prick into her narrow cunt from behind.
So much, she thought dazedly; there was just so much to see and realize and do. Sex wasn't simple; it was lascivious and filled with raptures that had too long been forbidden. Tiny Jan Mason now had two cocks in her body-her brother's in her mouth where she was evidently sucking upon it with great relish, and Blair's in her pussy, where she was pumping upon its hardness with an abiding passion.
Jan's head moved up and down on Duncan's cock, and when it lifted, Charlotte could see the glisten of dampness upon the veined shaft. Jan's ass ground and humped slowly, and whenever Blair backed his prick nearly out of the tightly grasping confines of her cunt, Charlotte watched the liquid polish of Jan's love juices upon that rod, too.
How wonderful, she thought, to possess two such beautiful lovers at one and the same time, to move voluptuously upon a pair of marvelous young pricks, eating them both with mouth and vagina, devouring them both with hungry and fevered attention. So few girls could ever claim so much devotion, such ardent fucking by a pair of such lovely boys.
Blair thrust his cock into Jan's pussy, bringing his balls up to swing softly against the delicate skin of her upper thighs, as the length of his tool buried itself all the way inside the moaning girl. She moaned around her brother's stroking prick, for now Duncan was feeding it into her mouth with increasingly rapid pushes, reaching into her throat itself, and Charlotte knew exactly what Jan was doing to that slippery penis-pulling upon the bulging head, sticking her tongue down into the little slit, gnawing at the staff, but above all, sucking, sucking.
The boys looked up from the girl connected between them, and looked into each other's eyes. Charlotte saw them smile, saw the open joy and intimate friendship upon their handsome faces as they fed their pulsing cocks into Jan, speeding up their rhythm, fucking her at both ends, and building to ejaculations that would wash her with the hot spurting of love in orgasm.
With a last, grinding stroke, he thrust his prick deeply into Jan's writhing, squirming body, and Charlotte stared to see his balls jump, to watch them flex as they hosed their semen up through the vibrating length of his prick and out from the spitting head of it. Little Jan's suctioning pussy was filling with the geysering of Blair's come, Charlotte knew, and envied her daughter the grand and slidy sensations.
"Me, too!" Duncan groaned, hiking his pelvis to cram his cock to the hilt inside his sister's mouth, feeding the head of it back into the velvet cavity of her gasping throat. "I'm coming, Jan-oh baby, oh sis-eat my prick! Suck me off, darling-yeah-like that, like that!"
Giving a hunch, he clung to Jan's head with both hands, and his testicles almost leaped from her hands when they contracted, then let go their built-up load of semen. Jan sucked and pulled, and never even hesitated in the slow grinding of her ass, in the eager gnawing of her brother's rigid cock. Charlotte thought that her daughter had gone off at the same time the prick exploded in her tight cunt, and just kept sucking on the one in her mouth, enjoying the release of both boys, timed as they were with her own orgasm.
Beautiful, Charlotte thought, and knew that her own mound was wet with desire, with an urgent need to take in those hard young pricks she had seen in action. Yes, she admitted-she would eat one and be fucked by one at the same time; she would ride a cock and suck a cock, and be ecstatic that she was given the opportunity.
The trio before her sort of melted to each other, clinging, resting, collapsed softly together, flesh on flesh and within flesh, bound by their mixed juices more than by their overlapping limbs. Sighing, Charlotte forced herself to rise, to go to the cabinet and measure another fortifying glass of bourbon. It went down like water, but there was already a warmth spread throughout her body, a heat generated less by alcohol than by what she had just witnessed.
All those chill years, she thought; all those fumbling, shamed and cold years being bedded only sometimes by her husband; all the waste. For she had never been truly fucked by him, only used by him. Waste, all waste, hurried semen wiped away and hurried sex abandoned in relief instead of with regret.
But she could be so thankful that her eyes had been opened at last, that the locked gates of her sensuality had been penetrated, and the bars forever shattered. Charlotte Mason was the only person in the entire world who could make herself a prisoner again, the only jailer who could raise the walls of convention and inhibition, cutting herself off from the enchantment of carnal raptures.
Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw that the youngsters were untangling themselves, that they were coming apart with sighs and soft, liquid noises. Jan laughed, and there was affectionate tenderness in her laughter. Charlotte turned with another filled glass in her hand, wondering when it had gotten there.
Jan stood before her, elfin, gamin in her lovely nudity, the dark brown nipples of her budding breasts still proudly erect, and with a dewy dropleting of semen fresh upon the cunning vee of her pubic mound with its whisping of black, curly hairs.
"Mom-that was so great, so far out. Don't you want to make it with us, be with us like that? Dune and Blair-"
Seeing her daughter's slim, young beauty exposed and somehow enhanced rather than shamed, Charlotte felt overdressed in her slacks and blouse. Under them were the panties and bra, and all these restrictive bindings made her feel trapped, tied, chained. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and knew a numbness there. She realized then that she was more than just a shade crocked.
"I-I think I'd like that, dear. Very much. That is-if you wouldn't be ashamed of your old mother.
Jan's hand caught hers, and the slim, pixie body pressed close to Charlotte. "Oh no, dear. Honest-you're not old. You're beautiful; both the boys say so. They're just in love with your great body, and they say if I can grow up to be built just like you, that I'll be lucky. And you're so-so passionate, they say. You really turn on. We really want you to join in, to ball right along with us."
Charlotte was hesitating, caught on her desires, ready to strip off her clothes, when the house car slowed, and from beyond the divider curtain, Elena called back: "Hey, you guys? Time for lunch. There's a place up ahead I'm going to turn into-just a pullout, but there's shade and a creek down the bank."
Lightly, hotly, Jan's lips brushed her mother's, and the girl said: "Later, mom. That's a promise."
"Okay," Charlotte called out. "I'll start lunch." She watched the three kids dress without hurry, pulling on jeans and tee shirts, covering those lusciously symmetrical bodies, hiding those beguiling sex organs.
Elena strode into the van, grinning. "Hey now-better let me put chow together. You look somewhat smashed, Charlotte."
Shrugging, Charlotte moved from the kitchen area. "Guess you're right." She looked after the kids as they plunged through the doorway and went yelling down to the creek bed below the road.
Elena said, "They get it on? Is that why you kept belting the juice, trying to shake the old hang-ups?"
"They got it on," Charlotte agreed. "Only that doesn't sound strong enough. They really got with it. Jan-little, tiny Jan-took them both on at the same time. Blair did it to her from behind, the way he made it with you last night, and all the while, Duncan was kneeling before her and she was-orally satisfying him."
"Going down on him, you mean," Elena said, opening cans and getting a loaf of bread down from the cabinet. "Eating her brother, you mean."
"All right," Charlotte said. "Sucking him off, I mean. Is that graphic enough for you?"
"Not for me," Elena corrected, "for you. I like booze fine, myself, but I don't use it to take off the edge of my guilt. Hell-I got no guilt about anything I do."
"Maybe I have," Charlotte said. "I haven't been at this long, so if I get snookered to make it not bother me, so what the hell, huh?"
"Oh boy, now I get the belligerent bit. Just as long as you turn it off before you start the drooling, sorry for yourself part. Look, baby, you're my friend; we got something going here that we're damned lucky to find. I'm not sorry for me; I'm happy for me, and for you, too."
"Okay, so I'm happy for me and you and just every goddamned body, too. How's 'at?"
Elena stopped and went over to plant a lass on Charlotte's cheek. "That's fine, buddy. I'll holler for the kids now, and you can decide whether or not you want to dull that glow with food."
"Just a little," Charlotte smiled. "Got somethin' to do, pretty soon after lunch. like ballin' with the kids."
Sticking her head out of the van, Elena yelled for them to come and get it, or else. She turned back to Charlotte and said, "Tomorrow, you drive."
"If I can."
Lifting an eyebrow, Elena said, "They were doing all that, hey?"
"And then some. Said I'm a-a lovely mommy; they want to do it to me together, only I wonder what the hell little Jan's goin' to think."
They bounced into the house car and Jan said, "Me? Think about what? Wow-look at those sandwiches!"
Charlotte put down her empty glass and took a sandwich. It at least helped to fill the emptiness that was within her body. She watched them eat ravenously-Jan and Blair and Duncan, and heard the light bantering as Elena kidded them. Someday, she thought; maybe sometime she could be so free and easy, too. She saw Elena arch one breast for the slow, gentle caress of her son's hand, then slide it away from him with a laugh and a promise to take care of him that night
And somehow too quickly, Elena was gone back to the steering wheel. Jan came to touch her mother's cheek with butterfly fingers and say, "Look-if I bug you, I'll go up front with Elena; at least, until you get started good, okay?"
"I-I'd appreciate that," Charlotte answered, then as Jan turned from her, "No, baby. Come back. I didn't really mean that. I guess I want you to stay here and-and watch. You have to help me a little, dear-I'm still kind of uptight about all of this."
Swiftly, her daughter was back at her side, fingers plucking at her own tee shirt, dropping to do things to the front of her boy's jeans. And Jan stood nude before her again, poised and so vibrantly alive in the softly glowing silks and satins of her beautiful young skin.
"Here, mom," Jan breathed, leaning close, leaning naked and scented with the fine oils of her golden child's sweat, so that Charlotte stared at the lovely breast very near, at its ivory mounding and dainty shapings, focusing upon the lifted nipple tipping it. A bizarre urge shook her; Charlotte wanted very much to kiss that sweet, small breast. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn't be tempted, and allowed her daughter to undress her.
Jan tugged her mother's blouse up over her head, up over the languidly lifted arms. Reaching around behind Charlotte, she unsnapped the hooks that held the bra in place, and drew the twin cups down over her mother's shoulders, then out and off.
"Wow," she said softly, "those are beautiful tits. So full and round, and with those big, stiff nipples up there like that-no wonder the guys go ape over them. I hope my tits fill out that way."
Jan's small fingers trailed over Charlotte's globes, hefting them in her palms and thumbing delicately across the tips. A shudder raced over Charlotte's body, stiffening her legs and curling her toes.
"Hike your butt," Jan breathed, her cheek close to her mother's, "while I pull these pants down over your hips-"
It brushed her cheek, that delightful little breast with its arrogant nipple. Charlotte kissed it, kissed the nipple, and Jan shivered in response, then continued to pull off the pants. Charlotte sat in her panties, but only for a moment before her daughter worked those quick, slim fingers into the elastic band and yanked the nylon briefs down over Charlotte's limp legs.
"There," Jan said, "isn't she a doll? Wow-look at all that pubic hair. It's deep and rich as-as a handful of black moss. Hey, you guys-you think I'll ever grow pussy hair like that?"
Charlotte's face was flushed, and her stomach shivered, but she held her eyes open and watched them come toward her, the young men she loved and wanted so much. Jan stepped back, drifted away from them, and the boys were upon Charlotte, kissing her, feeling her ready and pliant body.
"Come on up here," Blair said, kissing her mouth, her throat, while her own son nuzzled along her shoulder and down to fasten his lips upon one of her aching nipples. "We'd like you to do something completely different for us, Mrs. Mason darling. We want you to see if you can get us into your beautiful cunt together-Dune and me. Both our pricks in there side by side, Mrs. Mason. Do you think you can manage that, if we lie down and sort of fit our tails together so that they stick up?"
Rising from her chair, fondled and stroked by quick soft hands, Charlotte didn't know if such a thing was possible. But she knew that she was going to try it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Robot-like, powered by forces beyond her conscious control, Charlotte Mason stood balanced on stiff legs as the boys got themselves ready for this weird thing they wanted to do to her. The movement of the house car, the sway and roll of it around them, only seemed to heighten the impression that she was in some strange place, that they were all perhaps hurtling along in space, contained in a shell of their own making.
Blair lay down with his feet spread wide apart. His penis poked straight up, the slim length of it gleaming, the flanged head bluntly pointed and already oiled with a drop of pre-seminal fluid. Grinning, Duncan positioned himself carefully, lying so that his thighs overlapped Blair's, wriggling until his buttocks were tightly up against Blair's ass. This placed his balls to Blair's, and Charlotte, staring down, saw that their pubic hair was almost identical in coloring, that their rigidly erect cocks had been fitted one to the other until they seemed to be a single penis, with twin heads.
Duncan stretched a hand down and held his prick with Blair's, his fingers around the bases, blending cocks and balls and pubic mounds. Expectantly, he looked up at his mother, his eyes shining and his lips damp. Her knees shaking in anticipation, a tremble moving deep inside her vagina, Charlotte took a step toward the interlocked boys, then another, not certain that her legs would hold her up, wanting to just collapse and blot it all out with the salve of darkness.
But she couldn't back away now; there was no retreat for her, no way out. She had to go through with this bizarre act, because she had somehow become simply an extension of the youngsters, her desires being entangled with theirs. And little Jan was seated in the chair, staring avidly at them all, her blue eyes gleaming, her Little nipples rigid and her hand cupping her own humid mound.
Charlotte stepped across the end-to-end bodies of her son and Blair Chapman, her left foot beside Duncan's hip, her right foot touching Blair's hip. She lowered herself slowly, hands pushed down and out to balance herself, to take part of the body weight from her knees as she dropped her crotch upon them.
She was leaking already, her vulva hot to the touch and soggy with escaping juices that had her pussy primed for screwing. Squatting, she touched her hand to the snuggled cocks, moved her ass just so to correct the aim, and placed her fingers over her son's fingers, to guide the heads of those slim, lovely pricks to the lips of her steamy cunt.
They touched her labia, pressed up against those humid outer lips, and Charlotte allowed more of her weight to come down upon them. Her labia stretched, pushed, eased farther apart, and the combined heads of the pricks passed the inner labia, feeling as if they were one huge prick, as if they were one giant cock. Hungrily, Charlotte came down some more, an inch, and another inch, and knew the wondrous sensation of having her vagina completely filled with prick.
Elastically, the lips of her aching pussy spread wide to receive the twin cocks, and they shoved up into her wet cunt side by side as she brought her crotch down, down, until she had them locked into her. Thick, long, they stuffed her vagina, pressing against her clitoris until she moaned with delight.
The cheeks of her ass veed to take their balls between them, to press them up against her stretched labia. Charlotte quivered from head to toe, and stared glassy-eyed down at her hands as they spread their fingers upon Blair's belly; behind her, she was conscious of her son's hands lifted to caress her hips, and to fondle the cheeks of her ass.
She moved; she moved again, delicately and carefully, and the meaty poles slid tightly inside her cunt; her clit thrilled to the pressure. Looking up into her flushed face, Blair said, "Fine, fine. I can feel Dune's cock sliding on mine, the head of it slipping over my head. Both of us buried deep into your pussy-tight and hot-juicy and hot ... "
Charlotte worked her ass gently, back and forth, grinding it a little, and behind her, Duncan said, "Go, mother-what an ass, what an ass!"
Now both of them were squirming some, but not too much; they were afraid to work it out of her pussy, so they let her do most of the action, and Charlotte kept moving, sliding her crotch up and down, rubbing their pubic mounds with it, rubbing, rubbing.
She came before either of them did, but she couldn't hold off the orgasm, for every move of their welded cocks caressed her clitoris, and there was no stopping the sudden rush of bliss that centered there and spread through her vagina.
Then one of them let go; Charlotte didn't know which, but she felt the gushing of semen, the sudden flooding of the walls of her cunt with hot juices. One boy stiffened out, and the other pumped just twice more, then he also came, squirting the powerful jet of his semen high up, to bathe the very entrance to her womb.
She was washed with the combined creams, filled by the surges of come that packed her vagina from one end to the other. Panting, swaying as she sat upon their pricks, Charlotte felt the seepage from her distended labia. The slippery stuff wet the insides of her thighs, her pubic hair, and puddled over the jammed-together bases of their joined cocks.
"Man, oh man," one of the boys groaned, and the other gasped: "Yeah."
Charlotte's head bobbed loosely upon her neck, and she turned dizzy. It was the accumulative effect of the bourbon, she thought, and the powerful orgasm that had swept her, shaken her to the very core of her fevered being. She was weak, drained, loose in every joint, and yet she had never been more alive, more real, than she was at this moment.
"Mom?" It was Jan, standing naked beside them, her eyes worried. "Mom-are you okay?"
"I-Fll be all right, dear." Weakly, Charlotte lifted herself, and was glad for the assistance of her daughter. Jan caught an arm and helped Charlotte up, helped her to the bunk, where Charlotte sank gratefully upon the mattress. "Thank you, Jan. I-I was just all used up, there for a moment."
"You were great," Jan breathed, leaning over her, kissing her cheek, "just great, mom. I mean-I wish I could take both of them in me like that. I'm just not big enough, but you were wonderful."
Smiling, Charlotte leaned back on the bed and watched the two boys climbing off the floor, their penises at half mast, their lovely young bodies gleaming with the sweat of their recent exertions. They were beautiful as Olympian gods cast in bronze.
But she didn't feel like mistress to Zeus, nor instructor in the arts of love to junior gods; Charlotte felt more like some ancient mortal, drained and spent. She was weary, but it was a good sort of tiredness, a relaxing land of lassitude that filled her body now, as the combined semen of her son and Blair Chapman filled her warmed vagina.
Duncan came to stand beside the bed, his cock gone limp now, but with still a drip of come glistening upon its shrunken head. He leaned over to kiss her mouth, to lightly and lovingly kiss her nipples. He said, "Gee, mom, that was great. It couldn't have been any better for both of us. I mean, when we let go, and our come poured down over both our pricks at the same time-wow. I thought I'd never stop pumping it out. Your pussy was so tight on us, so hot and kind of biting down whenever you shook your ass-well, I just want to say thanks, mother."
She smiled at him, at her daughter standing close by with Jan's naked hip brushing that of her brother's, and daringly, reached out her cupped fingers and caressed the softened sexual organ between his slightly spread legs. "It was magnificent for me, too," she said. "I never realized how-inventive and completely wonderful sex could be. I thank you and Blair for showing me."
He closed his hand over hers, trapping his prick in her palm. "You're just the greatest. I mean, I really dig screwing Elena and Jan, too-but for me, your cunt is the best in the world. I love it, Just like I love you-and I can't say how great it is, to be able to love my mother and to love fucking her, too. I guess I'm the luckiest guy in the whole world."
"No more than Blair," Jan said. "He's got the same thing going for him, and both of you have me thrown in. I'm just as excited as either of you, belonging to a swinging family like this one."
Smiling softly, Charlotte rested her head upon the pillows and allowed her eyes to close. Her hand slipped away from her son's warm and sticky crotch, and she heard them moving around the house car, going into the little reefer, laughing easily together. Soon they would be at it again, Charlotte thought; soon they would be screwing and giving oral love and all the things three people could do to each other.
For they were people, and not children. They were individuals setting forth on the road to adulthood, and for them at least, the sexual paths would be more direct and far more honest than they had been for Charlotte's generation. Jan and Duncan and Blair were really using their bodies for enjoyment, for the utmost in pleasures, and they were also able to utilize the nearness of their blood relationships in order to further heighten their orgiastic raptures.
Such freedom, Charlotte thought; such opportunities to unleash each and every one of the desires that had gnawed secretly at her since her childhood. It was all open to her now, everything possible, nothing denied. There was no ogre figure looming over her to darkly threaten doom and destruction if she so much as stepped out of line an inch.
Free; she was free; she could accept or deny any chance of sensual variation offered to her, and who or what was there to tell her she could not? Not society, not neighbors or teachers or anyone else. She was Charlotte Mason, and she was free.
Dreaming, she rocked In the embrace of the bunk as the van moved over the highways. She relived the bad days of puberty, the frightened, unsure times when she wanted so very much to love and be loved, when her body was a hotbed of needs and urges that Charlotte didn't understand.
She was in love with every good-looking man, old or young, and she sweated through many a sleepless night, trying to deny the sexual desires that throbbed through her body. It was bad, bad, to caress her mound like that, and the guilt of such fondling almost drove her mad.
It was evil, to look at a boy and wonder how his slim body would feel, in between her legs. She knew this was evil, that somehow she had been infected with a virus which was sent from the devil himself, and Charlotte struggled valiantly to cast it out.
Still, she allowed a boy to feel her breasts, and the ache that raged in her distended nipples cried out to be assuaged. Of course, she could not permit him to put his lips to them; that would be going altogether too far, and she was still a good girl.
And the time at the school dance, when Pinky got his hand up under her sldrt. The shock of his boldness had stunned her, because no other boy had ever, ever tried to do that to her. She sat stiffly, too shaken to resist, while Pinky fingered up under her tight panties and stroked up and down and around over her suddenly hot and pulsating mound.
Then she slapped him-twice, both hands winging out and around with full force that knocked him off the bench and told him she wasn't kidding at all
They called her frigid, before she was even certain what the term meant; Miss Loser, they called her, and stuckup, icebox, and other things. And it wasn't that she didn't want to; oh how she wanted to do it, to seek out and find that peak of ecstasy that the love stories said was so magnificently moving.
But she just couldn't. There was mama and papa, and the terrifying figure of the minister standing tall in the wooden pulpit. So afraid, so cheated-especially when she heard the giggling whispers in the girl's bathroom, the boasts of conquest. Especially when she could actually see the glow a girl had about herself, after she'd found physical love with her steady.
And since Charlotte couldn't bring herself to do it with a boy, because she was so terribly frightened of becoming pregnant or catching some horrible disease, and because the urges were driving her out of her mind, she learned to masturbate.
There had been whispers of that, too, heard mostly in girl's gym class, but nobody had told Charlotte exactly how to go about it, and the only time she had heard the subject mentioned at home, was only to be informed that she would go crazy if she did such a nasty thing.
She was going crazy if she didn't find some kind of relief, so one night in her bed, Charlotte tried it. She cuddled her pubic mound and stroked it, wriggling sinfully in the thrills she got, the tickling. Searching with a fingertip, exploring carefully and with her entire body drawn taut and shaking, Charlotte discovered the little hood that shielded her clitoris, discovered that the lips of her virgin's pussy were turning damp in eagerness.
She played into the tight lips with her fingertip, rolling her sleekly trim hips in the most lascivious movements she could imagine. And of course, she touched the clit. An electric shock burst within her vagina, and she shuddered madly in the wake of it, as a young tree shivers in the wind.
Gently, fearfully, Charlotte explored the clitoris, dipping her finger into her untried cunt, wetting it in the unfamiliar hot oils that were seeping from within that quivering well cavity. She learned to caress the clit, to tickle it tenderly, and her entire body gave keen responses as each succeeding thrill lanced through it.
Stroking, playing, hunching her damply-haired pussy forward and back, Charlotte masturbated with a passionate intentness, her head beneath the covers, excitement roaring in her ears. Panting, arching her back and feeling the swollen, about-to-burst aliveness in her tits, she ground and humped upon her finger, the other spread fingers fondling mound and anus.
When she came, she bit into the crumpled pillow, to stop herself from screaming out in rapture. The bed vibrated and rattled beneath the spasmed throes of her body, and she was afraid that her parents would hear and come prying, come shouting and punishing.
Gasping, Charlotte burrowed even farther under the covers, and felt the ripples of wild joy die slowly inside her vagina. So that was orgasm, she thought; so that had been coming. It would be many times more wondrous, with a boy, with a man. Stretched out then, she began to know the guilt, to feel the weight of the secret she had to forever hide.
Then, as in the present, Charlotte turned and sighed often in her sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Wait," he said, "please wait. Don't run away, Charlotte. I've come too far, and had too much trouble finding you."
Charlotte pulled the robe closer about her body and looked to Elena for help. Elena only lifted a quizzical eyebrow and grinned; then she slipped out of the house car and followed the youngsters down to the creek.
"I-I don't see how you found us."
"I kept looking," Mark Travers said. "I thought perhaps you'd get off the freeways after Jerry found you in that campsite, and I had the description of the bus. I kept looking, working up one side road and down another, but staying in a westerly direction. It worked out; I found you."
"Why, Maik-whyF'
His handsome face was intent, and a vagrant shaft of sunlight filtered through the house car window and touched his greying hair. "I know why you ran away from me-at least, I have a pretty good idea. But I can't let you go, Charlotte. I won't let you just run out of my life. I love you, and I want you."
"But I-I'm not sure I love you," Charlotte said. "And I've always been just a little afraid of you." She got up from the little table and brought out the bourbon bottle, surprised to see that it only contained a few drinks. Pouring one for them both, she downed hers quickly and refilled the glass before Mark did much more than taste his drink.
"I don't think you've been afraid of me, but of yourself. Charlotte-there's nothing wrong in wanting a man, in needing his physical love."
She drank again and flared at him. "I know that! It's just that I've been alone for so long, and-and-" Even though he was frowning slightly, Charlotte defied his disapproval and poured herself one more drink. The liquor made her feel easier, gave her more courage than she could ever have summoned on her own.
"You think I'm frigid, or-or something, don't you, Mark? Well, I'm not. I'm sure as hell not, and you'd better believe it. I'm a-a-well, I'm a passionate woman, and there's nothing wrong with me in that department, nothing at all."
His frown went away, and he leaned forward in his chair to watch her more closely. "I never thought otherwise, Charlotte, and it's a step forward, to hear you at least discuss this point with me."
She tossed off her drink and blinked quick tears away. 'You're so-so damned logical, and who needs it? I mean, you don't have to humor me, Mark Travers. I'm doing okay on my own now, and I don't need a whole bunch of logic, you hear?"
Mark smiled, and her heart bobbled at the sight of it. "Maybe I have been too calm, too reasoning. Maybe I should have forced you into a relationship, so you'd shake all those hidebound old ideas that are evidently causing you so much anguish."
"Hidebound? Hidebound?" Charlotte gulped the last of the bourbon and glared at the man who'd trailed her this far, this man who would not take no for an answer. "Old-fashioned ideas? Boy, if you only knew..."
"Then tell me, Charlotte" His eyes held hers firmly. "That is, if you're not putting me on again?"
The liquor burned warmly in her belly, and her head was light, fuzzy. She said, "I'm not frigid and I'm not hidebound or whatever the hell. I'm a real swinger, Mark Travers. I-I've made it with both of them and you'd better ... "
He stared. Boozy as she was, Charlotte realized she had made a mistake, that she had gone too far, and as Mark's eyes widened, she wondered what she could do to take it all back.
"Both of them? The boys, you mean-Blair Chapman and Duncan."
She shook her head violently, and the motion made her dizzy. "N-no. No, I didn't say that. Whatever could make you think that I-I would be a p-party to incest? Mark ... "
"You don't lie worth a damn," he said.
"All right!" she snapped at him. "All right, goddammit-if it's any of your business, I got good and goddamned tired of bein' a-a widow with nobody of her own, and if it makes any sense to you, I never had anybody of my own, not even my little bastard husband. So whatever the hell I do or don't do, with whoever or whatever-that's none of your goddamned business, right?"
Mark stared silently at her, his big hands fisted upon the table, and she thought he was on the verge of getting up and stalking out, on the ragged edge of leaving her life forever. That wasn't really what she wanted, she realized. But she wasn't about to tell him that.
"I didn't start it with Duncan on purpose," she said, "but with Blair, and I'm not sorry. I won't say I'm sorry because I-I laid my son, either, because I'm not. It-it's a fine and lovely thing, and excites me so much that I faint sometimes, and if that's bad and evil and all that bullshit, then so am I. So you don't want me now, and I don't care. You can't want me now, because I'm an incestuous mother and I screw other boys and-and I've gone down on them both and had them both up me at the same time-so you can get up and get the hell out of my life right now, Mark Travers."
He stood up, and Charlotte slumped back in her seat, wishing she hadn't downed all the bourbon, remembering that there was another bottle in the cabinet. She stared at her hands, at the fingers clenched around the empty glass. When she looked up, Mark was still standing before her, but now he had his shirt off, and the gray shone in the forest of his black chest hair.
"I locked the door, and I won't open it, even if you scream your head off. I've been wanting to lay you for so long that it's been driving me wild. Well, no more waiting. Take off that robe, Charlotte, and he down on the bunk."
"N-no," she said. "I'm not some kind of whore, that you can tell to do this or that. And you don't have to f-feel sorry for me, because..."
He stepped out of his pants, and she saw the great bulge in his shorts. Surely, she thought, that couldn't all be Mark's penis; it was too big. He said slowly, reaching for his shorts, "When I was fourteen years old, I screwed my mother. She was passed out drunk and my stepfather had just put the prick to her before going off to work that night. I saw her lying there bare-assed on their bed and couldn't stand it one damned aching minute longer. I wanted to screw my mother ever since I knew what a hard-on was for; ever since I saw another man sticking it to her when my stepfather wasn't home."
Wide-eyed, stunned limp, Charlotte sat unmoving while Mark stepped out of his shorts. His I penis was erect and swollen, tall and thick, and all his. It was the biggest cock she had ever seen, or even imagined, all heavy and blunt and with a pod of testicles hanging low beneath its root, the sac furry and flexing.
"I sneaked onto the bed and she was spread out halfway on her belly, with her ass toward me and the wet hair of her cunt shining. I'd never had a piece of ass in my young life, but I knew damned well what to do. I snuggled up close to her beautiful ass and eased the head of this prick in between the cheeks, and when I pushed, it found the slit, wet as it was from her recent fucking. So I shoved it on home, and it was so hot, so slick and wet in there, that I came right away."
He advanced toward Charlotte, and she lifted from her chair, hypnotized by the sight of that distended cock moving at her. "But I didn't stop fucking her. I fucked until I came again, and once more. I screwed my mother's forbidden pussy until I couldn't keep a hard-on any more, and when that happened, I slid down on the bed and pushed my tongue into it. I sucked and licked, and kept right on swallowing her juices. She stirred a few times, and hunched once or twice, but she was too crocked to know what was happening, that her one and only son was fucking her."
The purple head of his great cock touched Charlotte's belly high up on her dressing gown, just under her rib cage. Obediently, she slipped out of the robe and drifted back to he upon the bunk. Mark came after her, a gleaming droplet growing upon the slit in his glans. So big, she thought; so impossibly big.
He said, looking down at her, "You're put together a lot like my mother was-black cunt hair, deep and rich, those big, high tits and their stiff nipples. I only got to fuck her that one time, because I had to go live with an uncle, and she was killed in a car wreck before I got back."
"I-I'm sorry," Charlotte breathed, her lips numb.
"Me, too," Mark said, holding his rigid and monstrous cock in one hand. "I should have screwed her before. It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Now you know, that I'm no different than you, Charlotte-only you had the guts and opportunity to do your fucking before it was too late. I don't love you any less for that; I love you more!"
She held up her arms to him. "Oh, Mark-oh, wonderful, wonderful Mark! How lucky I am-how very lucky-oh, darling, I've wanted you, too, but I was so mixed up, so stupid-oh, Mark..."
His mouth found hers, and his tongue fed slickly into her lips. Her tongue answered it, slid lovingly over and around his, and when his tongue stilled, she began to suck lightly upon it.
Mark's hands caressed her tits, the big, knowing thumbs moving over her taut nipples, the palms crushing and cupping her mounds. She could feel his belly against hers, and spread her legs wide so that he might fit himself between her thighs.
"Ah, you spicy hot bitch. At last, I've got you pinned down."
One of his hands darted between her legs and held her crotch, squeezing tenderly upon her pubic mound. A finger worked at her ready cunt lips, slipped damply into them, and felt its way up inside her vagina. Charlotte's entire vulva quivered, and she realized that she wanted to fuck this man as much as she had ever craved to fuck anyone in her life-with the possible exception of Duncan Mason.
"Going to fuck you good," Mark panted. "Going to cram this big prick up you and fuck you until we've both had it."
"Yes," she breathed, "oh yes, yes-fuck me, Mark."
The great, throbbing head of his cock pushed against her humid labia, spongy, yet strong. She wriggled her ass and lifted her pelvis to take it in, to fit its heavy thickness inside her fevered pussy. Eyes closed, she could picture Mark Travers as he had been when a frustrated young boy, his cock hard for his own mother. As the head of that prick began to slide forcefully up into her cunt lips, Charlotte pictured Mark's mother taking it into her pussy from behind as her eager son snuggled tightly to her limp ass and fed the meat to her.
"Baby," she said raggedly, "oh, Mark, Baby-fuck me, fuck me!"
With one great hunch, the head of his prick popped inside her vagina, and the rest of his thick muscle followed after, stretching the lips of her pussy and filling her vagina with the good hot meat of him. Big, big-the shaft veined and thick as a club, his hairy balls now swinging down to nestle in the crack of her uptilted ass.
She'd taken it to the hilt, just as she was able to take the combined slim cocks of Blair and
Duncan; just as Mark's mother had absorbed the young boy-cock slipped to her on that long ago and so far away night. Charlotte was grateful to that faceless woman with the deep and black cunt hair, but she would have liked her even more had that unknown Mrs. Travers joyfully opened her thighs to the rigid pecker of that youngster when it would have meant so much to him.
As Charlotte had opened her own flaming cunt to her son's stiff rod, and to the rod of his best friend. Duncan loved her, and adored her pussy; it was a wild and wondrous thing, to be loved by her son and to be fucked by him. She was so happy that it had worked out that way, that Duncan and she could revel in the bliss of possessing each other physically.
Mark stroked his huge thing into her, pulled back and laid it deep once more, reaching all the way to the mouth of her womb. The breadth of his prick packed her cunt, and the sensation was much like the twin cock fulfillment she had enjoyed with the boys; each little movement drew the heavy pulsing meat across her clitoris. Charlotte twisted her belly to make it feel even better; she rolled her hips and bucked her crotch, and felt around and down to catch hold of Mark's swollen balls, so she could fondle them in their wrinkled, hairy sac.
In and out of her writhing body, Mark drove that slippery cock, cramming it balls-deep inside her shuddering pussy, pulling it back all the way to the flanged head, only to shove it corkscrewing into her cunt again.
"Just like her cunt," Mark grunted, his hands sliding down to take a grip on the spread cheeks of her pistoning ass. "She loved to fuck, and would do it every chance she got, with just about any guy who'd get a hard-on. But she never gave it to me; she never offered me her hot cunt. I had to sneak it for myself-but oh man, oh man-it was good when I got my prick in there-all wet and sloppy and hairy, and I loved it, loved it-ahhahh-oh, baby, I'm coming!"
Charlotte hurried her thrusts, ground her belly against his and heaved beneath the lunging of his cock. Mark let it go, and she felt the great flexing of his head as his prick spurted the first of his semen into her pussy. Another hunch of his ass, and another thick, hot fountain of come hosed into her; yet another, and one more-the splashes growing weaker as her cunt turned liquid with the steaming juice.
Raking his back with her fingernails, Charlotte bit into the hair of his sweaty chest as she rotated her pelvis furiously, and gave that final thrust that caused the magic to vibrate in her clitoris. She came, moaning and gasping, flailing her feet so that his prick bounced inside her vagina. Such a magnificent cock, she thought, such a beautiful, captivating cock. Now it was hers to take any way she wanted it, and she would ride it until Mark quit, until he was fucked out.
He rolled off her, his huge penis plopping out of her cunt and trailing a line of semen after it, across her lower belly. Charlotte looked down to see a string of the pearly stuff across the humid hairs of her pussy. His broad, hairy chest heaved, and his face turned to hers. "Charlotte-it was great, just as I dreamed it would be."
"For me, too," she said after awhile. "I didn't mind being a substitute for your mother."
"No," he said, "not a substitute; you just look Like her and I guess you fuck like her; that's all. I never said anything to anyone before, and I'm glad you're the one I told, Charlotte. When you admitted that you've been screwing your son-it broke some barrier inside me, and I could confess. And you made me so horny that I just couldn't stand it. I had to screw you, to get in there inside that tight, hot pussy that your boy has been fucking. I thought that I wanted you before, but now-you're too much. I'll never get enough of your beautiful cunt."
Charlotte lay a hand on his belly. "The others have probably tried the door two or three times by now, but we were too wrapped up to hear it. Mark-they'll all have to accept you, as I have. You know I've been laying Duncan and Blair, and I can't cut them off."
He closed his big hand over hers, and she felt his belly rise and fall with his breathing. "Of course not. They turned you on, and I'm not jealous of them. I'm damned glad they turned you on, and remember-I'm the last guy to think about depriving a boy of his mother's cunt."
"Elena has been screwing both of them, too," Charlotte said. "It-we kind of got started on each other's sons, and then the boys themselves changed beds one night, so they could get into their own mothers. Elena practically raped Blair, but I-I fought Duncan until he forced his penis into me. Then I screwed him back, I guess; it's all pretty hazy, about that first time."
"I figured as much-about Elena Chapman, I mean. You couldn't be making it with the boys unless she was in on it, too. Well; this is really great. I always knew that Elena was a hot piece, but who can think that any sexy woman will screw her own son? I kept hoping to run into one some day, but then you came along, and somehow I was drawn to you long before you got into this thing with Duncan. Oh-how about your daughter? How can you bring her along on a trip like this, where you're changing beds all the time?"
Charlotte smiled and rolled over to nudge the points of her breasts into his arm. "Jan is with it, dear. She'd been making it with Blair for months, and leaped at the chance to try her brother. They get together in a trio, and it's something to see."
"Jan," he said, 'little pixie Jan. Wow; I've thought of her for so long as a daughter, but I'll have to admit I used to stare at the way her sweet little tail wiggled in those tight jeans. Jan screwing both boys-wow."
Sitting up, Charlotte said softly, "Well have to talk it all out. Jan and the boys like you a lot, and Elena has been after me to marry you for ages.
I'm sure they'll vote to have you join us on this trip, and little Jan-I'll just bet she goes after you tooth and nail."
"You won't mind?" Mark sat up, too. "I mean, my screwing your daughter?"
"Why should I mind?" Charlotte said, and meant it. "There'll be three couples of us now, and you can screw Jan or me or Elena any time you wish."
He was sitting there, shaking his head, when she went to the door to let the others in, to tell them the news and ask their .opinions.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Charlotte had slipped on her robe, but she allowed it to hang open, not being hypocritical about nudity any more, glad to expose her body for the eyes of any who wanted to see it. Moreover, she was both proud and happy that she had a lovely body to show.
Outside, Elena said, "Well?"
Charlotte looked beyond her best friend, down to the creek where their children were playing in the water. Jan's laughter floated up and she saw the boys splash through the water after her daughter. She said to Elena, "I got smashed and told him everything about Blair and Duncan and me; about you and Jan, too."
Grinning, Elena said, "I haven't made that scene yet-me and Jan. How did he take it?"
"like cold water to a thirsty man," Charlotte answered. "Mark has been trying to find someone like me-like us-all his life." Then she told Elena about Mark's experience with his mother.
"Hey now," Elena said, "then he can swing with us. That what he has in mind?"
"I think so. That is, if you and the others agree."
"Oh sure. Try and keep me from agreeing; I've been anxious to try that man on for size for a long time now. And I'm betting that Jan will get weak at the knees when she finds out. The boys-yes, I'm sure they'll go along with it, too. They're not jealous of each other, and I don't think they'll be jealous of Mark. You said that Duncan always liked him."
"That was before I was laying Duncan," Charlotte said quietly, "and I certainly won't upset Blair in any way. Mark says he loves me, and even though he hasn't asked me to marry him this time, I think he will. But that has to be with an understanding on both our parts. I already told him that I wouldn't stop screwing the boys, and that it was perfectly all right with me for him to spread himself with you and Jan."
Elena's eyebrows climbed. "You did! You said all that to Mark Travers-our shy, uptight widow said all that? How did he go for it?"
"Fine, I guess. He was very excited about getting into little Jan, and said he'd always considered you a hot piece of ass."
"How right he is," Elena grinned, and turning, cupped her hands to yell through them. "Hey, kids! Come on back up!"
Giggling, playful, they loped up the bank and joined their mothers, eyes shining and bared bellies gleaming with sun and diamonded by creek water. "What's up?" Duncan asked.
Charlotte said, "Mark Travers hunted us down because he wanted me, and-and he had me."
"Groovy," Jan said, "he's a real nice guy. Is he a crazy lay?"
Charlotte looked at Duncan, at Blair. Duncan said, "I always dug Mark. Did you tell him about Blair and me?"
"Yes," she said, "do you mind? Blair, will you be jealous of Mark, if he travels with us for awhile? H-He-lays me and your mother?"
"And me" Jan said definitely.
Blair shook his head. "No way. I like Mark, too. It'll be great having him along; it sort of balances us off, so no girl is left out when the screwing starts."
"Good," Charlotte said. "Suppose we all go in and tell Mark how we feel about him joining us. We'll have something to eat and..
"And who gets first dibs on Mark?" Jan asked Elena.
"Togetherness, baby," Elena said. "Soon as he's ready, okay?"
Mark Travers had on his pants, and Charlotte saw his face go just the slightest red when everyone came to shake hands with him, to tell him they were happy to have him with them. She also saw his eyes dip quickly down to her mound, exposed as her robe swung open, but she didn't pull the robe together.
"Anybody hungry?" she asked.
"I'll fix things," Elena said. "Looks like we're camping right here for the night, anyhow. Jan-pour Mark a drink, and one for your mother too."
"I don't really need one," Charlotte said. I may never need another drink."
"Good," Elena said, and to Mark: "A hot piece, hey?"
Mark grinned back at her, but gulped his drink when Jan handed him the glass. The boys were on the far bunk, fiddling with a radio, but Jan didn't move away. Instead, she sat down on Mark's knee. "I'm very glad you're one of us, Mark. Are you going to marry mother?"
"I hope so," Mark said.
"Good; then I won't be left out. I can call you daddy and you can pretend you're my real father, especially while we make it, okay?"
His hand was on her hip, helping her to balance upon his knee. In some confusion, Mark darted a glance at Charlotte, and she smiled. "like mother, like daughter, Mark."
"And like neighbor," Elena said from the stove. "Jan, you little witch-you're working on him already, and if you keep it up, nobody's going to get anything to eat around here."
"Oh, I don't know," Jan said, and the boys convulsed with laughter. Jan wriggled down into Mark's lap, and her small, trim ass pressed down into his crotch. Charlotte could see the reaction in Mark, and she was happy to discover that he didn't have some sort of mother-fixation hang-up so he couldn't include other women in his sexual escapades.
Pulling his hands around her waist, Jan pushed one of them between her thighs and made lascivious little hunches upon it when she trapped it there. Mark's face was red, and he licked his lips. "Jan-I don't think that right here and now is the..."
"Sure it's the place," she said. "Right, mother? Right, you guys? Mark, you'd just as well get used to being up front with it all. None of us hide anything from the others, and pretty soon, you'll dig being watched. But if it really bugs you, if you're ashamed, or something..."
"No," Mark said, "I'll play by the rules, whatever they are. You-it's that you steam me up, Jan; you always have, but I thought you were too young, too small ... "
"Jan," Elena said, "you're putting off dinner; you know that."
"Who needs food," Jan said, and turned her small face to kiss Mark full on the mouth. "Do you need food-daddy?"
"Just you," Mark mumbled into her suntanned throat, "just you, little girl. I'll eat you up, swallow you."
"After," Jan said. "After you screw me, Daddy. Then eat me all up."
"Just turned off the stove and turned on myself," Elena announced. "Mark Travers-we'll show you what a pair of hot pieces can be."
He looked at Charlotte again, and she nodded, delighted at his confusion, but knowing that he would soon get over any embarrassment, that he would shake the ridiculous old ideas after his first indulgence in group sex.
"Have fun, Mark. Just let yourself go and have fun."
Jan was pulling down his pants, and suddenly it seemed as if everyone in the house car was busily getting undressed. Charlotte saw Jan jump up and shake free of jeans and blouse; her lovely little daughter wore nothing underneath, and the tiny patch of pubic hair gleamed shiny black, the miniature nipples were erect and darkly swollen. Such a beautiful child, Charlotte thought, and such a handsome man lifting his distended cock toward her now.
"Hold it," Elena said, hurrying her golden blonde nudity to them. "Fair's fair, you little wench, and we said together, right?"
"Lie down, daddy," Jan said, fondling Mark's rigid cock. "Just he back there on the bunk, and we'll do the rest. My-what a big, big one. I'll have some trouble taking it, but I'm sure I'll dig it all the way."
"Then you'll have to be satisfied dining on me," Elena said, and leaned over to kiss him.
Charlotte relaxed on the side bunk, her legs outstretched, watching benignly as her daughter and Elena prepared to make love to the man who would soon be Charlotte's husband. She was conscious of the boys, registering their nearness and their nakedness, their bronzed handsomeness and the ready positions of their young pricks, but she wanted to see what was going to happen to Mark.
She wanted to watch and absorb every minute detail of the action between her daughter and her best friend and the man they all loved.
Jan had him stretch out upon his back, and even the boys pulled in their breaths at the sight of that great pole standing so round and tall with its knobby head glistening. Charlotte felt a flash of worry that little Jan would hurt her tiny pussy, trying to get all that stiff meat inside it, that she would somehow rip the tender walls of her cunt.
Mark was visibly trembling, looking up at the delicious naked bodies of the two who stood above him, one at his hips, the other at his shoulders. Jan and Elena were facing each other, swaying in an intense and wordless unison, their hands straying from their tits down over their bellies and to their mounds, tarrying there for a few ardent strokes, then rising so their fingers could tantalize their nipples once more.
Jan moved to lower herself, squatting gracefully, slowly, down as she straddled Mark's supine body. She was on her knees then, with the delicate vee of her pussy poised just at the throbbing tip of his huge cock. With tiny thumb and forefinger, she spread his pre-seminal fluid over the head of his prick, and Charlotte could see by the gleam in her daughter's mound that Jan's juices were already flowing, already lubricating her young and eager pussy for the entrance of that big staff.
Using both hands, Jan settled that head into her slit, working her sleekly lovely ass back and forth and around in exquisitely teasing circles as she urged the tip of Mark's penis into her labia. The blunt end of it disappeared into the grip of her tight, hot notch as Mark groaned; then half the head was forced into her vulva; then the entire head slipped from view in the fragile little lips of Jan's cunt.
Charlotte sighed in relief, knowing that where that expanded head could fit, the rod itself would have no trouble following. And she watched carefully, her heart beating madly, as Mark's great long cock was taken inch by thick and pulsing inch up into her daughter's hungry pussy. Jan was seated upon his pelvis then, the finely modeled cheeks of her lovely ass pressed into his mound.
"Wow," she breathed in wonder. "Wow-I feel like I'm sitting on a fence post. It's terrific-oh, daddy, daddy-fuck your little baby now."
Rising slightly, she allowed part of his oily tool to slide out of the grip of her suctioning cunt, then slid immediately back down upon it, burying the length of it again. Then Charlotte saw what Elena had in mind, saw what the woman was going for; she was kneeling down, too, one knee on each side of Mark's heaving chest. Her golden pussy was just over Mark's face, and Charlotte wondered if he had ever eaten a woman before.
Reaching up, he took Elena by the waist and pulled her crotch down upon his face. Charlotte saw just the flash of his tongue as it licked up into Elena's labia, and knew that it was working wet and hot inside there, while his teeth nibbled and sought the prize of the clitoris.
Her own mound throbbed in anticipation, and a sigh escaped her open lips. Elena was seated upon Mark's face now, and Jan was seated upon his crotch with the penis locked into her vagina. The girl and the woman were sharing him, and Mark was doing his best to satisfy them both. Jan rocked her ass, and Elena rocked hers. Somehow, their hands went out and met, went out and interlocked one with the other. Charlotte watched as her daughter leaned forward and fastened her mouth to one of Elena's tits.
"Mom-look how they're all tied together." Duncan's voice was soft in her ear, his breath warm and tickling. "Jan and Elena are kissing now-oh wow; they're all three really making it."
His hand passed under her arm and cupped her tit. Staring at the busy trio on the other bed, Charlotte also felt the caress of Blair's hands on her thighs, creeping over to finger into her pubic hair. Turning her head slightly, still keeping her eyes fastened to the tableau of screwers, Charlotte kissed her son, opening her lips to let his tongue slide inside and feel along the roof of her mouth.
Aching and tender, her tits were fondled; shivery and steamy, her mound was teased. She felt kisses on her hip, on her belly, on her nipples. She knew kisses on her throat, and the licking of hot tongues over her breasts. A vast shudder rippled through her body, and she saw Mark heave his buttocks from the floor to hammer his prick up into Jan's stretched pussy.
Together, she thought in a daze, so very close together, each of them sharing everything they had, each of them giving unselfishly to all the others. Blair was kissing her lower belly now, tapping his tongue into her hair, tantalizing her mound into turning more dewy. Her son drew her down, and she knew she was also about to be shared, that she too was going to give sensuous love to both young men, and that she would not balk at anything they desired.
On the other bed, Jan and Elena were kissing hungrily, their hands playing with each other's tits; Jan was pumping up and down on Mark's cock while Elena was pumping up and down on his face. Somehow, it was as if Charlotte was tied in with them, too, as if the boys and their avid lovemaking had linked them all into one writhing cord.
She went over on Duncan's lap, and Blair was licking now at the inside of her thighs. She was lying on her back, and arched suddenly when Blair clamped his darling mouth hotly upon her labia, sucking them together like the skin of an orange while he played fingering into the far end where her clit thumped wildly.
His teeth chewed lightly and loving along her pussy, and his tongue licked in and out. His hands now worked around under the cheeks of her ass, and he buried his face into her cunt, eating heartily of it. His little finger felt around, circled, then pushed insistently at her anus until the ring loosened and allowed it to slip inside.
Charlotte knew a new and crazy sensation then, and the realization swept over her that she still had a place to accept the slim cocks, that she could also let herself be sandwiched between these two darling boys, with one prick up her vagina and another up her ass. Maybe with Mark in front, she thought, and Duncan behind, or Blair. Maybe she could even take the three of them on at one time, reveling in the power to give them all orgasms.
Duncan was stroking her hair, and she felt the rigid shaft of his penis along her cheek. The dear boy, she thought; the lovely, darling boy. He was so patient with her, but there was no doubt that he always needed her. She reached up and bent down his beautiful cock so she could kiss the head of it, so her tongue could lick over it, as Blair's was moving inside her sheath down below.
Duncan sidled around, eased into a more comfortable position so that she could take his cock into her mouth, and yet not have her view of the other people cut off. She chewed gently upon her son's rod, pulling delicately at it while he fondled her head, and she watched her daughter quiver and jerk in the convulsive crest of her orgasm upon Mark's prick. She watched Jan seek Elena's lips again, and heard Elena's moans as she also came to completion, upon Mark's mouth. Elena and Jan, she thought, and somehow the idea didn't bother her at all. In fact, it intrigued her, and she imagined other blendings of women and men, or women and women. It would be no different going down on Jan than eating Duncan, as she was doing now.
He stroked it faster into her mouth, reaching for the back of her throat and the soft velvet that thrilled him so. Charlotte began to suck, to pull in her cheeks, and to lave the thrusting head with her tongue.
Within her vagina, a marvelous sensation was building, and she started to hurry her sucking, of Duncan, hoping to bring him to a climax at the same moment she got hers from Blair. Grinding her crotch upon the boy's face, riding upon the finger pinioned by the clutch of her anus, Charlotte drew her head back and forth, too.
Things burst within her like white-hot stars, and she was rewarded by the geyser of gushing semen in her throat. Dutifully, she swallowed and pulled for more, more, while her clitoris leaped against Blair's teeth and she came in a series of blinding explosions.
She couldn't see Mark and Jan and Elena, be-I cause her eyes wouldn't focus and her head was spinning. But nothing worried Charlotte now. There was plenty of time to look and plenty of time to experiment. They had their own world on wheels, and they could close it off against all intruders. Inside, they could love and be loved all night long, and all day tomorrow. They had forever.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A man in each bed was the way to go, Charlotte thought, curled closely to Mark Travers, feeling snug and wanted and protected. The house car was a haven for her, for them all. Here society's rules did not count, and the only regulations to be obeyed were the constantly shifting blueprints of their sensual needs for each other.
If there were ever to be any thou-shalt-nots, she thought, they would be basic and simple: don't hurt anyone else; don't force or embarrass or demand. Love; accept; give. And always there would be the taking which was really a part of giving, and blessed were both.
Because he was deeply asleep and she did not want to awaken him, Charlotte moved her hand very softly across Mark's hairy chest while her nipples touched his shoulder blades from behind, and her furry mound pressed itself gently into his ass.
Ah, he had screwed her daughter until they could both screw no more. For the first time, Charlotte had seen little Jan fucked out, drained and spent and too tired to continue. Much of that had been due to the size of Mark's cock, she thought. It was so huge that every loving stroke of it disturbed a woman's clit and set her up for a series of multiple orgasms. They had reveled in each other's bodies, Mark and Jan, writhing and moaning and fucking as if neither had, ever experienced such rapture.
And perhaps neither had, Charlotte decided, remembering her first sex with her own son. That had been the wildest sensation she'd known, and probably something of the same had happened both to her lover and her daughter. Jan had stimulated herself by calling Mark daddy, by pretending she was being fucked by her true father, and Mark had responded in land, rising to new heights as he laid his new daughter.
The entire tableau had been something out of the original Arabian nights-the tiny girl riding that big cock, the golden woman seated upon the man's face, and the woman, the girl, leaning toward each other and kissing, caressing. They had tied each other into the wet-wild blending of a triangle such as Charlotte hadn't imagined.
Squirming delicately to Mark, Charlotte imagined something of the same now. Did a woman do it to another woman the same way as a man might give oral gratification to a woman? There must be some kind of different excitement to it, some sort of bizarre thrill that caused a woman to even want to have it done, or to do it herself.
Charlotte eased forward just enough so that she could kiss the edge of Mark's hair. Strange to be even considering such a thing, a homosexual liaison with Elena, or-or Jan. Only a few days ago, she would have run screaming from even the merest hint of such depravity. Now she had no idea as to what act might be depraved. If any kind of sexual joining was pleasurable to both parties-or however many were involved-how could that be wrong? Whose standards set the norm?
If she were to make love to Elena Chapman, or if little Jan crawled into her bed, no member of their brave new world would criticize; more-likely, if one of them was moved to join in, that one would, and be accepted by the others.
No jealousy, Charlotte thought; that was the key to the entire thing, the fact that nobody here was possessive of anyone else, and nobody tried to stop another person from doing anything wanted. If all loved and all were loved, how could there be jealousy?
Sighing, she rolled away from Mark Travers. It was difficult for her to sleep for more than an hour or so at the time, but she realized she hadn't had a drink since early in the evening, and that she no longer seemed to need liquor, in order to function within her new and non-inhibited society. All she had to do was let herself go,, allow her id to roll free, and that was a fine high in itself.
Gingerly, Charlotte moved away from Mark and eased her feet off the bunk. She found robe and slippers, and drifted silently down through the house car, careful not to bump anything. She heard a stirring in another bed, but it was dark, and she didn't remember who was sleeping with whom-Blair and Jan, or Duncan and Jan; Blair and his mother, or Duncan and Elena. It didn't really matter, since everyone was so happy.
Outside, she drew deep breaths of the cool night air, and looked at the stars. She caught a vagrant lass of perfume from some hidden flower, and the world seemed soft around her. Charlotte walked over to sit beneath a tree, to look back at the ungainly bulk of the van.
After awhile, she saw a small shadow detach itself from the larger one, and move directly toward her where she sat nearly hidden beneath the low sweeping branches of the fir tree. Jan? It had to be; the boys were much taller.
"Mom?"
"Right here, darling. Couldn't you sleep? Is anything wrong?"
The girl came closer. "Nothing wrong; just too stirred up for sleep, I guess. Wow; that was the craziest ever-screwing Mark and sharing him with Elena. Isn't he the most?"
"The most," Charlotte agreed. "And to think, if he hadn't cared enough to chase after us, we'd never have really gotten to know him, to have him in the family."
Jan sat down beside her mother. "Yeah, and how many guys have a prick that size? I mean, it's like screwing a post, only nicer and far more lov-mg.
Charlotte took her daughter's hand; it was so small, so warm and child-like. She was proud of her lovely, passionate child. "Then you approve of Mark being your new daddy?"
"Far out," Jan said, squeezing Charlotte's hand. "I dig that daddy thing; it must be kind of like the charge you and Dune get, screwing each other."
"I hope so, dear. I want you and Mark to get the most from your love."
Jan stroked her mother's arms. "It is love, isn't it? I mean, sex is groovy by itself, but when it's really love with it-it's something else, a real blast bigger than just fucking could be."
"I know what you mean," Charlotte said, and caressed her daughter's hair.
Jan sighed and moved closer. She had on a light robe, Charlotte saw, and in the faint moonlight that was just then beginning to penetrate through the trees, she could also see a flash of young, smooth body that made her realize again just how lovely Jan was. Both boys and Mark were very lucky, to enjoy a girl so sweet and warm. They were all lucky, being basically so highly charged, having such powerful sexual quotients. If Jan had inherited her father's characteristics, she'd be back in the city, left out of all this pleasure, this growing.
"It's so wonderful," Jan said, "that I just can't let go of it. I guess that's why I can't sleep."
"It's the same with me," Charlotte murmured, feeling her daughter's head come to rest upon her shoulder.
Jan's soft lips brushed her cheek, trailed along the cheekbone, tingled over her chin, then closed upon Charlotte's own lips. It didn't seem at all strange to be holding Jan, to be kissed on the mouth by her; it was a little different for Jan to hold a kiss so long, and to be moving her lips that way.
An electric jolt struck through Charlotte as the tip of Jan's tongue probed her lips, and as Charlotte opened her mouth to gasp in shock, her daughter's tongue slipped inside. Tiny, sweet; hot and wet and tantalizingly avid, Jan's tongue explored Charlotte's mouth, fondling her mother's tongue, touching the roof of the mouth and feeling along the ridges of the teeth, knowing the slippery caress of Charlotte's inner cheeks.
Their breaths mingled, blended, and Jan's was spiced with a new wild excitement, an oddly burning flavor. Charlotte found herself stroking her daughter's back, running her hands down to the slim, lovely hips and back up along the curve of the spine again.
Another shock hit her, for Jan had slipped her hands beneath the robe and was cupping the heavy mounds of Charlotte's firm breasts. The nipples immediately leaped erect, and a shiver vibrated through her as the girl fondled and teased them with softly knowing fingertips. "B-baby," Charlotte managed, tearing her mouth away. "Oh Jan-please don't-n-no, dear-it's-it's just not-"
"Not what, mother?" Jan's fingers were strongly upon Charlotte's breasts, holding fiercely to them. "Not being done-not right? It's right for us, if we want it-and we want it, darling; we really want it."
Shuddering, Charlotte could say no more, and soon her hands were also lifting and slipping over the satiny warm skin of the girl, rising to find the delicious little budding tits that were almost all nipple. Charlotte had never fondled another woman's breasts before, and she was startled to discover the tactile thrills they gave her.
Jan's small breasts felt wondrously shaped, and the large nipples gave hint to the mounds that would grow ripely beneath them in time. She was so sleek, so velvety, and Charlotte caressed the entire upper body, relearning her daughter's torso by touch, teasing herself as well as the girl.
Jan responded in kind, sliding those tiny hands to embrace the hips, to fondle slowly and finger-trailing over her mother's belly, to reach around so that she could teach herself the shapings of the upper buttocks, the indentation of the muscled flesh along the spine.
Then Jan was kissing Charlotte's throat, nipping the trembling flesh lightly between her teeth, darting the end of that tongue along the collarbone, touching it thrillingly into the hollow at the base of the throat. When the girl's eager face worked down into the valley between Charlotte's aching tits, Charlotte moaned aloud, and pressed her daughter's head tightly to her breasts.
Hotly, damply, Jan's lips closed over a nipple, and the girl licked daintily, exquisitely, upon it. Slowly then, her lips opened wider and wider, until she tried to pull her mother's entire breast into her mouth. What would not be sucked inside that delicate mouth was worried with small, sharp teeth. Lingeringly, the girl worked first upon one breast, then changed to the other one, dividing her devotions while Charlotte's hips writhed and she was coming to know that steamy dampness within her labia.
But when Jan lowered her head to lass down the rib cage and to lick across Charlotte's upper belly, Charlotte urged the girl back up, and stilled Jan's murmured protests with a long, deep kiss.
"Let me," she whispered to her lovely, squirming daughter, "let me be the first."
And as Jan fell slowly back, her chin lifting and her throat shining silver in the moonlight, Charlotte began her own languid caresses with a mouth that threatened to go dry any moment Jan's skin was fresh tasting, faintly perfumed with the flavors of the girl herself, so young and provoking.
Charlotte licked the tip of her tongue into the shallow valley between the girl's nubile breasts, moving it from side to side to sample the small hillocks before shifting to tease a rigid nipple. Kissing, licking, she fondled breasts and belly and flesh and hips, and when she started to stuck lusciously upon Jan's titty tip, the girl panted and wiggled in a sensuous rhythm of legs and arms and sweet, tight ass.
Jan arched her back, and her taut belly lifted when Charlotte kissed it, when she drew the length of her tongue across it, to then find the dimple of the navel and tease it with the end of her loving tongue.
"Oh-oh, mom!" Jan hissed, and it was almost as If she was in pain, but Charlotte understood the sharpness of rapture that could border upon agony, and thrust her tongue deeper, bottoming the belly button and biting gently upon the ring of scented flesh around it.
She could smell the spicy odor of the pubic mound, that lightly-haired mount of Venus fleeced so attractively with soft, curly hair. It was only a shadow now, the furry vee spangled by starlight, the lax thighs opened for the ultimate caress, and the flawless skin was lustrous, heightened by the brushing of moon-silver.
Charlotte eased her face farther down, and her hands worked over to cup the svelte cheeks of the girl's diminutive ass. Then the delights of the young cunt were open to her, and she went longingly into them with her lips. Jan's labia were narrow, but pulsing with life and an eagerness that could be felt, and Charlotte licked blissfully up and down them, feeling the flexing and rolling of the girl's ass in her palms, knowing the uptilting of the pelvis that lifted and opened the darling little pussy.
Kissing its vibrant slit, Charlotte inserted her tongue, then swelled and thickened it as she thrust it deeply into the wet, hot sheathing. Jan's tight pussy seemed to expand, to develop a sudden suction, and when the girl rolled her ass, the lips of her cunt slid moist and searing across Charlotte's mouth and chin.
Turning her head, Charlotte rubbed her cheek into that sweet and appetizing pussy, enjoying the slippery caress of hairs and lips, of crotch and inner thighs. Then she turned back to mouth that dainty cave, to lick into it and nibble it, to bring her thumbs around beneath the girl's shuddering ass so that she could push up the labia and open the center gate for withdrawal of the perfumed juices that were cooking below.
Dipping into the puckered lips, Charlotte began to suck, to alternate long thrusts of her tongue with a pulling, chewing movement that had Jan fondling her mother's head and moaning as she twisted and bucked gently.
"Ooohh! Ah, do it to me, darling-oh yes, like this and like that. So good-so very good. Uh-uh-uh!"
And Charlotte had the clitoris, that small but opulent bit of sensitivity that was the center of Jan's responses, and she sucked it against her teeth, burrowed her chin deeper into the shivering cunt lips so that she could at last take hold of the little nubbin with her teeth. Holding it fast, rolling it tenderly, she sucked in and relaxed, pulled in and pushed it out, and Jan was going insane with the ecstasy of the motions.
"Do it to me, mother! Oh-eat me, eat me. Oooh! I'm on fire, and my cunt's going to explode ... ah-uh-uh-uh-do it-suck me-oooo! I'm-I'm coming, c-coming!"
Jan hunched to Charlotte's face and ground her steaming cunt into the mouth and teeth that were making the magic; her belly bucked and the sleek little ass leaped in Charlotte's hands. She could feel the ripple of muscles within her daughter's flexing pussy, and knew the additional softening, the extra release of oils that told her that Jan was experiencing an orgasm. Jan's fingers were clawed into her mother's hair, and she rotated her belly, ground and pumped her crotch, into Charlotte's ardent face, screwing it with a vital fury that was almost overwhelming.
Then she groaned and went limp, her ass relaxing, her belly falling back and away from Charlotte's mouth. Planting a final series of kisses over the lathered mound, over the heaving belly, Charlotte worked her way back up the supine body, bestowing each caress with adoration. The small but shapely tits were licked and loved, the satin column of throat, the perfect curve of a cheek, and then the accolade of the mouth.
Jan stirred then, sighed and returned the fondling of the tongue, breathing deeply and slowly into her mother's mouth, and at last she drew back to murmur, "Out of sight. I never knew it could be that crazy, that wild. It was like I was being swallowed up, but like I was also drifting out there in space somewhere. I wasn't me, but somebody who was just a part of somebody else-a piece of you, mom. But that wasn't bad, because you were a part of me, too-I mean, your mouth was an extension of my pussy, and your face was more of my belly, and-oh, I don't know. It's so difficult to put into words."
Charlotte cuddled the fairy-like body to her own, and realized that her own thighs were as wet as Jan's, that her love juices had come flooding out when the girl reached a climax. She felt closer to her daughter than she had ever imagined was possible.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was morning and at Mark Travers' suggestion, Charlotte steered the house car off the ma' highway and took to the side roads, making a great, slow circle that would eventually bring them all back home.
She guided the van down a gently curving tw lane road, seeing how the trees made quickly passing shadows, and wondered if it would all be the same when they returned to the city, if this present free lifestyle would be forced back into a conforming pattern.
Only if they allowed it to happen, she thought; only if they all let themselves be squeezed back into the tight, straight mold that when at last emptied, would spit out identical copies, all staring ahead with blinded eyes that had once held the opportunity to see the stars.
Mark came to sit on the jump seat, to pass her a cup of coffee fixed her way, one sugar. She said thanks and took little sips from it as she watched the road ahead. After awhile, he said, "I'm having some difficulty adjusting to all this, Charlotte. It's not that I want to resist, but all the old ideas, the ancient and threatening taboos-"
"Yes," she said, "I know. It took awhile for me, too."
"How-how did you get involved in this exchanging?" Mark asked, and smiled, so that she would know he was only curious, not condemning.
"I was lonely, and I had never really been sexually fulfilled. My husband was-nothing, and I'd been raised to believe that even the weak, selfish sex he gave me was sinful. But my emotions grew stronger than my programming. I had eyes for young Blair Chapman, and his mother had been my best friend for a long time, so this afternoon we got to drinking and kidding around, and before I knew it, I was in on a plot to exchange sons. Elena would get to lay my boy, and I would seduce hers."
She gave the empty coffee cup back to Mark, and he nodded in understanding. "From that first wild release with Blair, I learned that what I'd always thought of as deviate behavior wasn't, that perversion was someone else's term for something they didn't care to do, and therefore didn't want anyone else to do."
Charlotte told it all to Mark, how she had been taught oral love, how her own son had changed places with Blair one night after the boys had planned to lay their own mothers that way. Jan had been indulging with Blair even before then, she said, and after the boy and her daughter had staged a screwing scene, Jan couldn't be left home as the deprived innocent, but had to be brought along on the trip.
"And that," she said, "is about it. Except that last night after the rest of you were fast asleep, Jan and I-well, we shared our love and our bodies with each other."
Mark Travers shook his head as Charlotte tooled the bus around a bend in the highway. 'I'll be damned," he said. "For a woman who acted as if she was frigid and scared to death of sex, you've certainly blossomed out. Maybe I always felt that you had something very special for me, if only I could get between your legs."
"Perhaps you should have raped me."
"I was tempted, but then everything could have been different. Then it would have probably been just you and I, in the conventional marriage relationship. I'd have gone on sweating out Jan's trim little ass every time she switched by in her tight jeans, and pretending that I only cared for her in a fatherly fashion. And you-you'd have never enjoyed the forbidden thrills of laying your son, much less gotten into the multiple sex scenes with Blair Chapman. Two uptight, two-faced people, we'd have become, you and I; both of us would have been always afraid to let go, to swing the way we always wanted to."
Charlotte steered the house car into a turnout and stopped it under the cooling shade of massed trees; a soft breeze ruffled the curtains when she opened the door. "Break," she said, and in the back behind the curtain, there was the sound of scuffling.
Unrumpled, looking bright and appealing in hot pants and a narrow halter, Elena Chapman came out first. "Hey; it's not lunchtime. You were supposed to drive all day, because of that action you got into yesterday, while I was chained to that wheel."
Mark said, "I'll drive."
"No way, baby," Elena said. "I have plans for you today. Seems I started working them out the first time I saw you, big man, but you only had eyes for my buddy there. And since she had you most of the night-"
Charlotte laughed. 'If it's all right with the object under discussion, it's fine by me. I see a creek down there in the trees, and there's no house in sight either up or down the road. If the kids want to take a dip, and you want me to take a walk?"
Elena shook her golden head. "So who's got a hang-up on privacy? We're all over that kind of thing, aren't we?"
"I guess," Charlotte said, enjoying Mark's discomfiture, seeing the faint reddening of his face and the dropping of his eyes. "Then I'll stick around-okay, Mark?"
"Sure," he said bravely, "why not?"
Jan bounced out of the back, followed by Blair and her brother. "Will we miss anything? I heard that about the creek, and I'm really sticky."
"I don't think you have to hurry," Charlotte said.
Blair stopped beside his mother, drew her to him and gave her a lingering kiss while his hands played over her rounded body, cupping each cheek of her ass outlined by the hot pants and rubbing his groin into hers. When he released her, he said, "Have fun," and grinned at Mark Travers.
Duncan leaned to lass Charlotte as she sat turned around in the driver's seat. "I'll be back pretty soon; you old folks behave yourself, and save some for me."
They went yelling down to the creek, and Elena said, "Best we get behind the curtains; we don't want Farmer Jones getting all shook when he takes his cows to town-or wherever it is they take cows."
"They take them to bulls," Mark said, following Elena into the back compartment.
"No bull?" Elena giggled, and Charlotte stretched out her legs, then stood up and stepped to the door to look down at the kids playing in the water like young, healthy animals.
Slowly then, she turned and ducked through the divider curtain, partly reticent to play the voyeur to them, thinking that perhaps she should leave Mark wholly to Elena for the first time, at least. But Elena had seemed to want her nearby, for participation, maybe. Charlotte's pulse quickened, and she stood at the table, watching the two of them get undressed.
That was only the work of moments for Elena Chapman; two wiggles and she was out of her hot pants; one shrug, and the halter was gone. She was lovely, Charlotte thought, roses and peaches and golden tones in her skin, neatly put together and now with passion trembling her body. The pubic hair gleamed between her legs, and Charlotte recalled that Mark had eaten into its depths last night, that he had licked and sucked into the lips when they were lowered to his face.
Charlotte shivered, too, and Elena moved forward to wrap the fingers of one hand around Mark's lifting penis. It looked so impossibly huge in daylight to Charlotte, but she had cavorted upon its length and thickness, and so had her little daughter. Elena would absorb that great shaft with glad and willing deftness, her experienced cunt playing with it and imparting thrills to them both.
"This is something else," Elena said, fondling his cock. "I've never had one this size, but I'm about to make up for that oversight Kiss me, Mark."
They stood together, Elena's breasts mashed against his hairy chest, and she rubbed the head of his swollen prick against her belly, rubbed her mound into his testicles. Kissing, his hands stroked her, cupped her, and Charlotte checked her emotions for any telltale sign of jealousy. Thankfully, she found none. All she wished was that both of them would have a tremendously gratifying lay, that they would find each other beautiful and hot and voluptuous.
Elena stepped back from him and turned her face to Charlotte. "Hey-you're still dressed. Take it off, baby. Take it all off."
"But I thought-I mean, this is the first time for you two, and I thought you'd appreciate just making it alone. If you want, I'll watch and-"
Elena came to her, naked hips rolling sexily, mouth damp. She began to unbutton Charlotte's blouse, and when it was pulled away, also un-snapped the bra. Charlotte's heavy breasts sprang free, and Elena caught them in her palms. "Always wanted to play with these, you know."
Skin prickling, Charlotte stood there while Elena caressed her tits, thumbing the nipples and bending her face to plant kisses on them. Elena's fingers found the skirt zipper, and Charlotte lifted her feet so it could fall away. Still wearing panties, she was led to the bunk where Mark waited, and sank numbly down beside him.
"We're such good friends," Elena said, "and I have this idea of being even closer. Mark-if I he down beside her, can you fuck both of us? I mean, give me a few strokes, then cross over and do the same to her?"
"Yes," Mark said, and Charlotte saw that his face was intent, his breath coming fast. He got up on his knees as Elena lay down, and his hand was clenched firmly upon his distended cock.
"Take your time, sweet man," Elena breathed, "and do whatever you want." She lay back and took Charlotte's hand; her thigh brushed Charlotte's, and an answering quiver raced through them both.
Mark kneeled above them, his hard cock standing erect, the early droplet of clear fluid glistening upon its tip. Leaning forward, he put his left hand upon Charlotte's mound, his right hand upon Elena's. He fondled them, rubbed gently upon their softnesses, then slid down to probe fingers into the dewy labia that parted like veils of satin for the entrance.
He thrust into their vaginas, and Charlotte felt as if she was connected to Elena, as if there was a bond of flesh joining them like Siamese twins. She was knowing the same strokes that Elena knew; she felt the identical thrust of the finger in her pussy that Elena felt in hers. The sensation was utterly different than anything she had experienced, even in her wild sharing of the boys.
Then Mark moved to his right, and Charlotte stared at the penis he held aimed downward at her friend's mound, at the flanged head shining purple and dripping fluid. Mark kept his finger in Charlotte's cunt, but lowered his body to insert his cock into Elena's waiting cleft. It went in smoothly, neatly, as if Elena's cunt had been adjusted to its size, and Charlotte saw it disappear full length, saw the shaft get taken in until only his balls were up against the golden pubic hairs.
He stroked his cock into Elena, pulled it back, fed it to her grinding body again. Tenderly, he cupped Charlotte's mound, and with ardent fingerings, stimulated her clitoris. Mark was doing it to and with two women at the same time, pleasing them both, and loving every moment of this conqueror's mastery.
His prick slid wetly, corkscrewed strongly, into Elena's clenching vagina. She trembled and hiked her ass to meet his driving staff, but suddenly Mark drew back, plopping his big prick out of her and moving crabwise as he also withdrew his finger from Charlotte's convulsing pussy.
Mark changed over, slipping fingers into Elena's hotly churning sheath, corning down to stick his already lubricated rod into Charlotte. She took it happily, lifting her ass to aid it home, to pull its hard presence into her vagina. A stroke, another stroke-and she moaned, clenching her hand upon Elena's, shaking her ass to feel the hammering power of Mark's cock as it shook her. She was surprised when he took it out, when he substituted two fingers for his penis and transferred that to Elena as she writhed and murmured endearments.
He was strong, she realized, and now he was very much in control of himself, else he would have reached orgasm long before. But he meant to fuck them well, to screw them both until they climaxed before letting himself go. And he was taking a little more time between changeovers, using his fingers more energetically upon their clits.
Elena came first. She rode his cock and cried out that she was making it, making it-and before her ass stopped rolling, Mark was out of her dripping cunt and back into Charlotte's, shoving the meat home again and again as she met his pounding, met his pile driver with hikes of her tail and bumps of her pelvis. She realized that he was going to come in her, and screwed furiously to bring it about.
"Oh, baby-" he gave a great lunge that shoved the head of his slippery cock all the way to the entrance of her womb, and Charlotte felt the gusher of his semen, the hot spurting of his come. It filled her vagina, washed the walls of her quivering pussy, and she rocked crazily in the magic swirling of the suns that went nova inside her. It seemed as if she would never stop coming, as if her blood was boiling and the oils of her flesh were rushing in a frenzy to lave the enchanted wand that nestled so foamy within her pussy.
"Love you," she panted, "I-love you, Mark. Oh darling, oh, baby, what a fucking!"
"Yeah," Elena breathed, and slid around to lay her face upon Charlotte's heaving breasts. "We got ourselves a real lover here, Charlotte-a man and a half."
In awhile, Mark drew back, taking his penis from her grip, drawing its little sticky path behind it. He sat up, and his voice was shaky. "That was different than last night. Every time we make it, it's a change."
"Never boring," Elena said, and kissed the nipple of Charlotte's left breast. "There are plenty of things we haven't done yet, and I don't mean just a lot of gymnastics, either, I'm talking about mixing, about fucking three or four together, maybe about all six of us balling at the same time, and the men switching off in a round robin."
Charlotte stroked her friend's hair. "Anything, darling; everything. So long as we love each other."
"But we're going to need strength," Elena said, coming off the bed with a little last tap of her fingertips upon Charlotte's moist mound. "Bet the kids have worked up another kind of appetite out there in the creek, so we'd better get with it and feed them something besides soul food, to make a funny."
Mark climbed off the bunk and into his shorts, but the young people came carousing in, and he didn't get to put on his pants. Charlotte got up slowly, stretching, and she was conscious of the stares of both boys as her breasts swelled and lifted with the movement. Then they hadn't laid Jan, she thought; they were both ready for excitement-but first, lunch. She drew her filmy robe around her, not as a concession to what she now knew were the outdated mores of society, but as a covering in case some curious stranger peeped into the house car.
Elena had knotted her bandanna halter around her hips, leaving her top naked and giving interesting flashes of her mound as she moved busily about, preparing a quick lunch.
Duncan sat down on a chair beside Charlotte.
"Was it good, mom? Real good for Elena and Mark, too?"
"It was wild," she said. "Well have to try something like it."
Jan asked, "What did you do? I mean, who screwed who-or whom?"
Smiling, Charlotte explained the positions to them, and saw Blair look more hungrily at his mother than at the food she was fixing. Duncan grinned and pinched his sister's tit; she slapped his hand and moved over to sit on Mark's lap, with her slim arms around his neck.
"Hi, daddy," she said.
Mark's hand roamed tenderly over her finely crafted body. "Hi, daughter."
"You didn't wear yourself out, daddy?" It was a delicious game she was playing, and Jan played it to the hilt.
"Not yet," Mark said, fondling the cheek of her ass. "We'll see what you can do to your old man."
"A lot, daddy," the girl promised. "I'll be your good little girl, and give you all the loving any daddy can use."
Duncan shrugged and lifted an eyebrow at his mother; Charlotte said, "She wants something that you and Blair already have, dear. This is her way of making it."
"I dig, mom. Elena-can I have the first sandwich?"
She laughed and handed it to him. "Sure; you were my first lover, weren't you?"
Blair said to Charlotte, "You're very happy, aren't you, Mrs. Mason?"
"Very happy. And I have you to thank, Duncan to thank-"
"Don't pass me up," Elena said, and they all chuckled. Bare breasted, her tapered thighs gleaming as she served the sandwiches, Elena went into an imitation of a topless waitress trying for a bigger tip, and they were laughing freely, openly, over their food and drink.
It was sometime later that Elena walked down to the creek with Mark, and Charlotte volunteered to clean up, with Jan's help. The girl was quick and pretty as a butterfly, darting here and resting there but for a moment, seldom still. She chattered about the kicks she and the boys had in the water, about maybe trying to cook dinner that night, but she didn't get around to what she really wanted to say until the boys drifted off, full of meat and bread and cold drinks, to nap before the bus moved on later.
Then Jan put her elfin hand upon her mother's arm and murmured, "Last night was terrific. It was so great that I fell asleep before I could do it back to you. I want to do that, darling. Please let me.
"Of course," Charlotte said, "of course, my dear."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Mark drove the rest of the afternoon, and Jan sat up front to keep him company. The countryside was changing, mellowing into softer hills, easier distances that seemed to welcome the house car with offerings of flowers and green canopies, with gentle winds and cooling sips of air.
Maybe it was because everything seemed beautiful now, Charlotte thought, because they carried their world with them, this population of six happy people. But the day was lovely, and the skies clear, but for designs of fluffy clouds.
"I never thought I'd say this," Elena said from the converted table seat, "but I have to rest up every once in awhile, between bouts with the boys-or the girls, as the case may be. And I see the boys getting that gleam in their eyes, so if you all will excuse me, I think I'll go join Jan and Mark up front. But I'll be hot to trot again, after dinner tonight, so that's fair warning, kids."
Charlotte smiled after her friend as Elena ducked through the curtain. The bus rocked around a curve, and she looked over at the boys sitting on the bed across the way. They were cast from the same mold, she thought-tanned and bronze and treasures to behold; handsome and slim and youthfully sensuous, climbing toward the very peak of their sexual prowess.
She thought she knew what they were building up to: another weird experiment. "Something new, boys?" she asked.
"Yeah, mom," Duncan answered. "Blair and I thought-since you swung so well with us last time when we all got together-we thought you might take us on again."
Blair came over and touched her cheek. She caught his hand and planted a kiss in the palm. "Something a little different, Mrs. Mason, darling. You're such a sexpot, we thought we'd try it on you first, then my mother. It might be awhile before Jan can pitch into this bag, but I'm sure she'll try, later on."
"I'm sure she will," Charlotte said, unable to Imagine what could be new, other than changes of positions. There was, she thought, a switch on what she and Elena had done with Mark earlier in the day. The boys could take turns on her, one taking a few strokes into her willing sheath, then the other, until they had both come. That would be a new twist, and definitely exciting.
Rising, she slipped out of her robe, more than happy to show her body to the boys, to Blair Chapman and her son. They hurried out of their jeans and tee shirts, and their nude bodies were things of great beauty, the focal points for both, their long, slim pricks. They were like statues of early Roman gods, but with their greatest truths exposed, their beautiful cocks so firmly modeled and shapely.
"I'll he down," Duncan said, and stretched himself on the bunk bed, legs open and his penis standing straight up. "You come over and climb on top of me, mom. Every time I even see your great pussy, I almost come all over myself. Just let me get this prick into it again, and we'll fuck slow and easy, so Blair can join in."
"Anything you say, dear." Charlotte strolled over to the bunk and accepted a quick lass from Blair before she climbed onto the mattress and kneeled there.
Positioning herself with one knee on each side of her son's lovely body, Charlotte reached down to take his prick in one hand, to fondle it while her other hand caressed his balls. The head of his slim cock was turning slippery with pre-seminal fluid, and felt both rigid and pliable, with that peculiar consistency of the penis.
Duncan lifted both hands and took her breasts in them, felt the mounds and fingered the nipples. "Wow, mom-you've got the greatest tits in the world. I really dig them. And your cunt; those shiny black hairs and the red lips-it's really beautiful."
Charlotte lowered her ass and guided the head of her son's cock into her mound, set the blunt, sticky end into the depths of her pubic hair, fitted it to the kiss of her labia. Tenderly, lovingly, she gave a slow twist that settled her pussy onto his penis, and as she let her lower body down, Duncan's prick slid up into her hotly welcoming slit, spreading the lips and penetrating deeply up into her vagina.
The cheeks of her ass came down upon his thighs, his crotch; she felt the fleecy sac of his testicles against her puffy labia, and the sweet, thin length of his adorable cock was buried in her, locked into her slick cavity as it always should be.
Concentrating upon giving her son all the sensuous thrills that were possible to her, Charlotte had practically forgotten Blair. But when she looked up, he was standing close to the bed, fondling his stiff cock and rolling his hips in a lascivious motion.
He would take Blair's place soon, she thought, grinding her own pelvis against that of her son's, hiking the cheeks of her ass while Duncan played with her tits and slipped his hard rod up and down inside the clenching grip of her cunt.
She lay flat upon Duncan then, kissing his open mouth, taking his tongue into her mouth to suck upon it, feeling the raking of his teeth across hers, the delicious crushing of her tits against his muscled chest. Duncan stroked it up into her pussy, whispering into her throat what a hot, tight, beautiful pussy she had, telling her over and over how he loved her cunt, how he worshiped her lush body. And all the while, he was feeding that young, stiff prick into her vagina, sliding it over her vibrant clitoris, and it was all so wonderful.
From far off, Charlotte felt the bed sag with Blair's added weight, but her entire body was dedicated to fucking her lovely son, to riding sex-ily up and down upon the up-thrust pole of his organ, and she did not think any more of it. Blair would wait his turn, but first she had to milk the ejaculation from Duncan.
It wasn't to be, yet. Charlotte felt Blair's hands upon her slowly grinding ass, the caress of his knowing hands over her cheeks and up along her back, and even down under her belly as he also felt of Duncan's oily rod.
Then she knew another touch, a gently, probing touch of warm meat that inched into the cleft between her buttocks. It prodded tenderly against her anus, and suddenly she knew what her lovers had in mind for her, and for their own enjoyment. For just the shocked fragment of a second, Charlotte stiffened, jolted to the straight-laced core of her being at the idea.
Then the new knowledge, the new morality, came to her rescue, and she relaxed. This was only another form of loving, she realized, only one more offering of love, and she remained quietly docile as Blair Chapman pushed the head of his greased cock against her hole. Because she was relaxed, because she wasn't afraid, the head of that young prick slowly penetrated into her ass.
She was a virgin there; nothing had ever slid up into that narrow sleeve, and she was happy that her first young lover was enjoying her in this fashion. There was only a slight twinge of pain, then an easy stretching of the flesh, and a sensation like no other as the slim prick worked delicately up into her ass to its root. His balls came up against her lower cheeks, came against the sac upon which her labia rested, Blair's balls snugging to Duncan's balls.
Charlotte had one cock buried in her ass, and one cock clamped into her pussy. She was filled with the lovely meat, packed with beautiful pricks, and she loved them, loved them. Slowly and with care, she moved her lower body; her son's prick slid around in her pussy; Blair's prick backed partly out of her ass.
Experimenting, she found the motion then, discovered the stroke that would thrill herself and both of them. They helped by shortening their thrusts, by working their cocks gently in response. In and out, up and down, and the sensation that was building within Charlotte Mason was something enchanted, a feeling purely hedonistic, for now she was only herself, grinding and humping to get all she could from the rigid staffs all slidy within her cavities.
"Oooh!" she groaned, and both boys responded by shoving their pricks full length in her fevered flesh. "Ahh," she said, and they drew back for another lunge.
Twisting, hunching, she rode the marvelous rods that teased her ass, her clitoris. She backed and rotated, rose and fell, and when Duncan let go his load into the steaming confines of her cunt, Charlotte accepted the showering of his semen as an offering, but she kept moving upon his prick.
"Great, great," Blair gasped behind her, his hands around to cup her dripping pussy, to caress Duncan's stilled balls. "Oh, darling, you're so tight in there, just like a hot, long hole that keeps sucking on my prick. Ahh, sweet Mrs. Mason-ah, my lovely bitch woman-I'm coming, I'm coming..."
His geyser of hot juices made her anus more slippery, filled it with a soapy liquid that made his cock slip back and forth easier. She felt his balls flex against the cheeks of her ass as he pumped the spurts of his love into her bowels.
It was much too much for any woman to withstand. Quivering and moaning, she rolled her ass, ground her pelvis, and felt the terrific thunder of her orgasms unleash itself. Because of the cock buried in her ass, the cock stuffed into her vagina felt even better, larger, rounder, and her clitoris expanded violently, vibrated in the glorious ecstasy of complete release, overwhelming gratification. Charlotte came, and came, and came-wave after wave of rapture flooding outward from her cunt, outward from her ass, racing over her body, and turning every fevered inch of her skin into a receiver of happiness.
"Ummm," she murmured, and her son's tongue slid into her open lips to comfort her. Inside her body, the twin pricks moved, but very slowly, very gently, disengaging themselves from their wet and trembling holes.
Limply, used up for the moment, her flaccid body was moved by many hands, and she was turned onto her back to allow Duncan to move from beneath her. Charlotte fought the idea of fainting, although the fucking she'd just had was threatening to drift her far off into that never-never land of sweetly sensual perfection.
'That was far out," her son said. "Man-I could feel your cock meet mine, with that little piece of meat in between them. And when she shook it, it was like I was fucking her in the pussy and up her ass at the same time."
Blair said, as she listened with closed eyes, "It's really different in there-tighter than Jan's cunt, and deeper. Those cheeks up against my belly-and wow! You ready to change over now?"
"Sure," Duncan said. "Now you screw my mother's good pussy while I climb on her ass. We'll make it a good one, man."
Blinking, Charlotte felt herself being handled again, being used as only a body, but a body that could give these wonderful boys a tremendous amount of sexual gratification, a cunt and tits and ass and legs-yes, and a mouth, if they desired it. It was hot for them and bubbly inside for them, and now they would be stroking into each other's semen, sliding through each others boiling releases in different places.
Head lolling, Charlotte took up the same position she'd poised in before, her wet crotch against the uplifted head of Blair's cock, her tilted ass the target for Duncan's prick. Blair shoved in first, his still swollen cock going right up into her cunt without hesitation, because it was so sudsy inside, because his staff was oiled with the juices he'd let go earlier.
And her son's penetration was much easier than his friend's had been, for the same reasons. Charlotte gave a little groan as he worked his staff up into her anus, because there was soreness there.
"Am I hurting you, mom?" he asked anxiously.
"N-no," she whispered, "I'll be all right."
And she would, in time; she would stretch back there, so that a cock shoved into her ass would not pain in any fashion, but would only be another way of receiving, and giving, love.
"Fuck me, boys," she said. "Fuck me a long time, strong and deep. I love you both so much. I love your young pricks in me, in my ass, in my cunt. I want you to screw me to your heart's content, this way, and any other way you may want to try. I'll eat you, and fuck you, and take both those sweet cocks into me at once-like this, or the other way we tried."
Duncan pushed it all the way home, and his sac pressed to her crotch from behind. She was strong again, recovered once more, and now ready to screw the rest of the day. "You're so great, so beautiful. I'd rather fuck you than do anything else in the world, mom. And I'll do it all for you, too-anything, everything. You just tell me what, and I'll do it."
And from beneath her body, with his strong penis crammed all the way up into her lathered pussy, Blair Chapman said, "That goes for me, too. I love you, Mrs. Mason, darling. I love my mother, and it's like Dune says-fucking your own mother is the greatest, but you're my second mother, so you're wonderful, too. And Jan-she's both girl and sister to us both, so we've got it made."
Screwing them with a languorous motion, fucking slowly and with passionate dedication, Charlotte digested that knowledge as her body was devouring their pricks. They had it made, all of them-she and Elena and Jan, Duncan and Blair and Mark.
They were three females and three males, and with that number of truly unselfish, highly sensuous people, not one of them jealous of another, they had it made. There were so many variations they could use, so many changes they could make among themselves-man and boy and woman; woman and woman and boy; girl and man and woman-on and on, until the possibilities were exhausted. Then they could simply start all over again.
Charlotte knew with a sudden clarity that these boys fucking her now would grow up, that they would marry other women. She realized that her baby girl would also discover love with another man, as yet unknown.
But that was only as it should be. And with the hold they had upon each other, nobody would go away; they would only bring home their wives and husband, to become a part of the family.
Until then, she and Elena and Mark could screw each other, and indulge in so-called forbidden sex with their offspring, giving all and sharing all.
When the circle expanded, they would all be more prepared for it, more ready to accept others into the nirvana they had built for themselves, so rich, so sultry, so developed.
For now, they had each other. For now, Jan and Elena were out there with Mark, while Blair and Duncan were in here with Charlotte. She rolled her ass, did Charlotte Mason, and drew tightly with her vagina.
