"Oh God, honey." Betty Felton panted into her lover's mouth around his deeply probing tongue. "Don't play with me like that, I-I-c-can't stand it. Take your hand away, pleeeese, you're setting me on fire, and you know we can't do anything now."
"Why can't we?" Brock Morrison stopped kissing her long enough to ask. "The girls wont be home for hours yet."
Betty forcefully jerked Brock's right hand from between her thighs and clamped her dimpled knees together. "I told you," she reminded him petulantly. "I told you when you came in that Carl would be calling soon-he might call any minute now."
"Fuck Carl," Brock argued, trying vainly to force her thighs apart, "he's halfway across the country, in Chicago. He sure as hell can't see what we're doing over the telephone. Come on, baby, please, I've been dying for your sweet snatch all day. You told me to wait until the girls went back to school from lunch, and we'd fuck for the rest of the afternoon. Come on, I promise to stop when the telephone rings."
"No, darling. I'm just as hot as you are; my pussy is on fire. But we can't-we can't-you know how crazy you make me. You know how fast and hard you make me come. There's no way I could pull myself together to answer the telephone. It's 3:00 p.m., Chicago time, and Carl said they would wind up the reading of the will shortly after noon. He's going to call me immediately when they leave the lawyers' office. That money is too important to both of us to blow it just because you can't wait a few minutes to get your nuts off."
Whatever Brock might have answered was cut off by the shrilling jangling telephone.
"See there," Betty cried, jumping up and running to the phone on the corner bar, "that's him now-I told you."
"Carl, honey, how did things go?" Betty asked into the mouthpiece without any preliminary greeting.
"Good, if we can get the girls pregnant," her husband's voice came back to her, "otherwise, zilch-zero-nothing."
"This connection must be bad, Carl," she shouted into the mouthpiece, "I can't understand you. I would have sworn that you said 'get one of the girls pregnant!'"
"That's exactly what I said," Carl shouted back. "Pregnant-big-with child-knocked up! Not just one of them, all three of them. We've got to be sure it's a boy, and we've got to beat Chet and Scott out. We've got the best chance, because we've got three girls-all old enough. Chet's got two, but Thea's only-how old-twelve, thirteen?
Scott hasn't got any, and he's out of the running, because Sylvia can't even have kids."
"What on earth are you talking about, Carl Felton?" Betty cried. "Are you drunk? You're supposed to be in Chicago for the reading of your father's will. I thought you were going to call to tell me how much he left us, but what you're saying doesn't make sense. Start at the beginning and tell me exactly what you're trying to say."
"Not just the girls, you're in this, tool" Carl shouted, confusing his dumbfounded wife even more. "That puts us way ahead of the others-that money is as good as ours. Just one of you has to get pregnant and come up with a boy-that's the terms of the will-the oldest Felton male, every second generation, comes into the Felton estate in Scotland-100,000 acres with a forty-eight-room castle on it. That's the only thing inheritable in the old man's will. He'd made so many bad investments that he didn't leave enough for the lawyers' fees-he was wiped out-had nothing but debts. That estate in Scotland has been in the Felton family for centuries, and that's all that's left.
"Every other generation it is passed down to the oldest son. Neither Chet, Scott, nor I are eligible, because Dad inherited it, and it has to skip us. If none of us has a son, the estate reverts back to the Crown. If we had sons, the land would automatically go to the oldest, but we haven't, so we've got to produce a natural-born Felton son. Since none of our girls is married, their kids will be Feltons, and that's okay, because Dad was illegitimate himself. Grandma Felton never married, but she was a Felton, in fact, the last Felton, and Dad got her name and the property. Do you understand now what we've got to do? We can't take any chances-everybody has got to get into the act."
"But Carl, Jan is only fifteen, and a virgin. Pat is sixteen, but I'm sure she's a virgin, too. Liz is seventeen and has been dating for over a year, so I can't swear to her virginity-but-but even so, I wouldn't know how to begin going about. . ."
"You don't have to go about a goddamned thing," Carl interrupted. "Just be sure to have all three of them there when I get home tonight, and I'll make it crystal clear to them what they've got to do. You be ready to start fucking as soon as I get there, and don't plan to stop until morning sickness sets in. I can't talk anymore-gotta catch a plane-see you in a few hours."
Betty stood looking at the receiver as though she were holding a loaded gun in her hand. Long after Carl had hung up, she stood staring at it, shaking her head from side to side.
Brock Morrison, Carl's employee, and Betty's lover for the past two years, sat on the couch looking as puzzled as his mistress. From hearing Betty's side of the conversation he had no idea what was going on. What could the girls' virginity-or lack of same-have to do with the inheritance that they all had been waiting for for so long? Since Betty still hadn't hung up, he was afraid to speak for fear Carl was still on the line.
He looked at the woman he loved, and groaned aloud at her ungodly sexiness. She was leaning on the bar with her magnificent ass jutted out against the thin material of the light, summer dress that she wore. Brock was an ass man, and Betty possessed the most voluptuous, perfectly shaped ass that Brock had seen in all of his thirty-four years.
The thirty-eight-year-old woman was pretty, what with her golden blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and cupid's bow lips. At five feet, nine inches, she was only two inches shorter than her handsome, dark-haired lover. Her long legs were superb in their heavy-thighed, fat-calved curvaceousness, and her huge, big-nippled breasts sagged only as much as such giant orbs were supposed to sag. Still it was her ass that set Brock's teeth on edge, kept his cock achingly hard, and kept him coming back for more.
"38-26-40," Brock whispered her , measurements softly to himself. "All that fantastic sex wasted on a slob like Carl Felton. What's going on? What's he saying to her? When he left here he was bragging about inheriting upwards of $1,-000,000, but now she looks like he's been cut off without a cent."
Betty finally hung up and turned to Brock with a look of perplexity and despair clouding her clear blue eyes.
"What happened, Betty? What went wrong?"
"Everything,'' Betty said, holding her head in both hands. "Carl's father was broke-had nothing but debts-didn't leave any of the boys a nickel."
"Oh my God," Brock moaned, "there goes all of our plans out the window-everything that we've waited for. What are we going to do now?"
"Do you think you can get me pregnant?" Betty asked with a wry smile, coming back to flop down on the couch beside Brock.
"With pleasure!" Brock cried happily. "Does that mean you'll divorce him anyway, and marry me?"
"Maybe we can marry with money, after all," Betty said, in Brock's arms now, "He didn't explain it completely, and I'm still trying to get it straight in my own mind. Anyway, it seems that the first son born to any Felton woman is in line for about 100,000 acres of land and lots of other stuff in Scotland. The estate has been in the Felton family for centuries, and it goes to the eldest Felton son every two generations. Carl said that we all will have to get pregnant to make sure we get it instead of Chet or Scott."
"We all, who?"
"Me and the girls-Janette, Patricia, and Elizabeth."
"Wait-wait," Brock said. "Let's get this straight; tell me everything he said to you."
Betty repeated the telephone conversation.
"Do you mean to tell me that that greedy, unscrupulous sonofabitch is going through with that?" Brock roared when Betty was finished. "How could he let his daughters-force his daughters to get pregnant for any amount of money? What kind of monster are you married to, Betty?"
"He's no worse than the rest of us," Betty replied tiredly. "I married him for his money-I never loved him. I had three babies for him that I didn't want, just waiting for his dad to die so I could divorce him and hit him for a big settlement. How was I to know the tough old sonofabitch would live to be almost ninety?
"Let's face it, Brock, had you not thought that I could get enough money from Carl to support us in luxury for the rest of our lives, you would have been long gone, and you know it. You came here courting Liz-I got the hots for you-you got the hots for me-and the fire that we started just got out of control. Sure we click like all get-out sexually, but you know you wouldn't have considered marrying me without the money."
"That-that's just not true, Betty-I love you-I don't give a damn about the money-I'd marry you tomorrow-but-but I can see your point. No use giving up all that property if we can get it. So all I've got to do is get you pregnant-right?"
"That's not all. It's got to be a boy, and I seem to be a girl getter. We've got to beat Chet's wife, Marsha, and their daughter, Susan, out. Thea is only about fourteen, so she doesn't count, but I'll bet Susan and Marsha are fucking right this minute, and praying for Bingo.
"I simply refuse to get pregnant by Carl anymore, and I'll still use my diaphragm when he fucks me. But I want you to start right now, and I want you to get not only me, but Liz, too, knocked up higher than a late."
"Do you mean you're asking me to fuck Liz?"
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," Betty snapped, irritated at the elation in Brock's voice. "I know that you were fucking Liz before I made her stop seeing you, in spite of your lies to the contrary. You were too old for Liz; she hadn't even turned sixteen then. I know she still likes you, and I know she'd fuck you in a minute, so go ahead, but don't get any ideas, Buster. This is strictly business, and it ends the moment we are sure she's pregnant. If I catch you sniffing around her ass after then, you're out of the ball game."
"It's not Liz I want, it's you," Brock insisted, pulling Betty closer and slipping his hand up to her steamy wet crotch again. "Come on, baby, let's go to bed, I've had a hard-on for you all day."
"Oh shit, yes-yes, let's go," Betty gasped as his practiced fingers began titillating her sensitive clit. "I want your wonderful cock in me so bad-so badly."
Springing up from the couch and preceding Brock into the master bedroom, Betty shrugged out of her mini-dress and hopped naked into bed. Fondling her already oozing, constantly burning cunt impatiently, she stared hungrily at her virile young lover as he ripped off his clothes.
In contrast to Carl's short, dumpy, pale white figure, Brock was tall, broad-shouldered, flat-bellied, and blessed with a smooth, even tan. Carl's sandy-colored hair was thinning almost to the point of baldness, while Brock possessed a thick, wavy mop of dark brown hair. A darker, curlier patch graced his muscular chest, and a matching mass of almost black curls tangled at the base of his belly.
The biggest physical difference between the two men who shared her sexual favors, however, was the symbol of manhood that hung between their thighs. Carl's cock size was normal, Betty assumed, since it was not appreciably larger or smaller than the dozen or so other pricks that she had sampled before latching on to this big-spending, big-talking, potential millionaire.
Betty was already twenty years old when she allowed Carl to pick her up in a bar one night, and an hour or so later, coyly allowed him to seduce her in his apartment. She had been impressed by his expensive clothes and jewelry, his thick wad of hundred-dollar bills, his Alfa Romeo and luxurious apartment. She had not been impressed by his fucking, but she had faked several orgasms that first night. Over the years she had faked more and more, and when she met Brock some sixteen years later, and he had fucked her into a state of delirium, she realized almost in shock that she hadn't had one single orgasm in all the years of copulating with Carl.
Brock was hung like the proverbial stud horse. He had a nine-inch cock with a head on it as large as Betty's closed fist. On the night that she had called him to the house to explain to him why she didn't want him to go on seeing her daughter, his masculine virility had reminded her of her own inadequate sex life. She had flirted with him brazenly, even going so far as to go into the bedroom to "slip into something more comfortable." When she came back out into the living room dressed in a see-through peignoir with nothing on underneath, he was holding the biggest cock in his hand that she had ever seen.
She had not even been sure she could take the huge meat club, but take it again and again and again, she did, loving every inch of it, dying and coming back to life with every orgasm that he plowed out of her. Now two years and several hundred fucks later, she was still as hot for Brock and his cock as she had been that first night.
"Oh God, darling, hurry," she moaned, lifting and spreading the smooth columns of her creamy thighs, "it's going to be so good without a diaphragm or rubber. I want to feel your naked cockhead pounding against my womb-I want your come in me-all of it-deep inside me. I want to feel it hot and gushing. Ohhhhh, it's going to be heavenly making a baby with you."
Brock tore off his last stitch of clothing and fairly leaped into bed on top of her. Normally, he never mounted her, never sought to enter the portals of her honey-dripping love grotto without elaborate foreplay. Sometimes they would kiss for minutes and minutes on end, sucking each other's tongue, savoring each other's sweet saliva.
From her wet, hungry mouth he would drop his lips to the rigid, rubbery nipples of her heaving breasts, sucking them voraciously, licking and kissing them tenderly as he fondled and squeezed the heavy orbs in his hot, horny hands. From there he would progress downward, leaving a silvery, wet trail as he licked over her mere hint of a belly, down through the tangled, golden jungle of her cunt hair until he found the prize that he sought.
He loved her cunt, and never tired of telling her how much he loved to look at it, touch it, smell it, taste it. He would make her come again and again by fanning her thick, blood-engorged clit with his busy, wet tongue tip. He would drive her wild by letting his tireless tongue race and dance up and down her slimy slit, into her cunt hole and out, up the crack of her ass and down, into her asshole, out and in again.
By the time he would lift his head, slide up her body and clamp his mouth to hers, giving her a taste of her own sweet juices, she would already be practically out of her mind with ecstasy, and he had but to plunge his fleshy meat pole into her yearning, burning love hole for her orgasms to begin exploding again like cherry bombs.
Now, however, he had no time for foreplay. He had never fucked her before without some kind of contraceptive. Usually she wore a diaphragm, and though he had hit her womb on every pounding in-stroke, the mere knowledge that his cockhead was hitting jelly-smeared rubber instead of the bottom of her hot, juicy cunt took some of the thrill away.
Had he had to explain the difference in words now, Brock couldn't have done so, but he felt the difference, and she felt the difference, and never had either of them enjoyed the coupling of their genitals so thoroughly.
"Oh darling, fuck me-FUCK MEEEl" Betty shrieked. "I'm about to come already-it's never been this good before-OHHHH GOD-I'm COM-MMMMINNNNG!
Brock had only made a dozen or so deep, driving thrusts. Her pussy was wet, slick, clinging, better than he could remember it ever having been. Bracing his feet against the foot of the bed, he hooked his hands over her shoulders, and as he slugged his throbbing cock into her split-to-bursting love sleeve, he jerked her down to meet him, adding double force to his pile-driving plunges.
Her long, strong legs were wrapped tightly around his back, her arms locked around his neck, hardly any of her one hundred and forty pounds resting on the bed. She was hanging suspended under his dancing, hammering body, rolling, twisting, grinding her loins up to meet and engulf him as though her very life depended upon it
Their bellies smacked together with a squishy, resounding SPLAT! His egg-sized nuts swung like a bell clapper, bouncing like rubber balls off the resilient hillocks of her wildly gyrating ass. Sweat poured into their eyes, down their faces and bodies, drenching the sheets under them.
"Oh God-oh God," she moaned over and over again, "if I come one more time I'll go crazy-oh God-ohh God-AGAAAIINNNNNI"
"Me, tooooo!" Brock gasped sharply, feeling her slick vaginal muscles already milking the juice from him. "Jeeezus, this one is coming all the way up from my toes!"
"On the bottom, darling! The very bottom!" Betty cried, bucking up to trap the head of his cock firmly against the mouth of her womb. "Shoot it into my womb-all of your hot, sweet, potent cream-knock me up, Brock-make me a babyyyyyyyy!"
CHAPTER TWO
Marsha Felton was cute rather than pretty. She had a childishly fresh, pug-nosed vivacity that belied her thirty-four years. At five feet two inches, one hundred and ten pounds, and measurements of 36-24-34, she was exactly the same size as her seventeen-year-old daughter, Susan, and was often mistaken' for the girl's twin sister.
She wore her reddish-brown hair cropped short, just as her daughter did, and they wore each other's mini-skirts and hot pants interchangeably. Most of the time both of them had big, easygoing grins on their lush-mouthed, freckled faces. As their tall, handsome husband and father paced the floor before them now, however, neither Marsha nor Susan was grinning, nor even smiling.
"And that's the story in a nutshell," Chester Felton said, slapping both of his thighs heavily to punctuate the hopelessness of the situation. "I had depended upon Dad's leaving us enough that we could get out of this rat race, take it easy for the rest of our lives, but as you can see, he didn't leave us a cent.
"Our only chance to get anything of the fabled, practically nonexistent Felton fortune would be for either you or Susan to get pregnant, and deliver a live, healthy son before one of the chicks in Carl's coop pulls the trick. That's out of the question, of course, and we won't even discuss it."
"Well, I can certainly see why you waited for Thea to go to bed before breaking the news to us," Susan said, "and since you did wait, I can only assume that you do want to discuss it."
"No, I don't," Chet replied much too hastily. "I only waited for Thea to go to bed because I knew that we would be talking about Carl's family and the fact that they would be fucking like rabbits, and I don't think that Thea should be exposed to such talk yet. Since you were sixteen, Marsha and I have had no secrets from you. You know that we swing, we know that you have a quite active sex life, so we can say anything in your presence, but I want to keep Thea out of this. She's only fourteen."
"Tomorrow's Thea's birthday," Marsha reminded him. "She'll be fifteen."
"So what," Chet snapped almost in anger, "she's still just a child. I don't want her even thinking of sex before she is sixteen."
"Oh crap, Daddy, this is 1976, not 1880. I lost my cherry when I was fourteen and so did Mommy. She told me."
"What the hell is this?" Chet cried, staring from his wife's face to his daughter's. "You two act like you want Thea in on this-like-like-you're both considering getting pregnant, and on top of that-like-like you actually want Thea in on it. I won't hear of it-case closed."
"Get serious, Chet," Marsha said flatly, "we have all been waiting for that money too long and too hard to try to pretend now that it doesn't mean that much to us now. I want another baby about as much as I want TB, but damnit, I'm game. You know I haven't been on the pill for about six months now, because the doctor told me to take a break. Just forget using rubbers for awhile, and let's get started."
Chet's entire face lit up. "All right, all right," he said, running his hands through his long, dark hair, "uhh, how about you, Susy? I mean-uh-you don't have to if you don't want to, but. . ."
"You know I will, Daddy. I'm going to have babies one of these days, anyhow, so why not now. Only problem is the dude I'm going with now is a great lay, but a loser just about every other way, and I don't want a baby by him."
"As pretty and as popular as you are, darling," Marsha said, "I'm sure you won't have any problem finding the man to do it. Just get started soon, I'm sure that Betty and all three of her girls are flat on their asses right now with men standing in line to fuck them.
"Get on the phone and call somebody right now. Thea sleeps like a log. You can fuck right out here in the living room, or take him to the family room in the basement."
"Oh Mom, I don't want to be difficult, I swear it," Susan wailed, "but I can't think of a single boy. Give me some time to think-don't rush me."
"Take all the time you want," Marsha said, getting up from the couch, and reaching for Chet's hand, "just get a man over here tonight. I'm going into the bedroom now with Chet for my first injection. Let's me and you have a race-the last one pregnant is ah old douche bag."
All Marsha had been wearing was a loose mini-dress, and as she preceded her husband into the master bedroom, she shucked the tiny garment over her head.
Chet never tired of looking at the sexy, compact little bodies of his wife and older daughter, and his massive cock sprang so hard as he gazed at her firm, bold, succulent-looking ass cheeks that he hastily unzipped his pants to give it breathing room.
As he hurried out of his clothes, he wondered who the lucky stud was who would soon be doing to Susan out on the couch the same thing that he was about to do to Marsha in bed. "Ill bet her little pussy is as hot and tight as all shit," he mused to himself as he pulled off his shorts and T-shirt and fell into bed between Marsha's spread thighs.
"This has really got me hot, honey," Marsha whispered as she reached down between them to guide Chet's long, thick, beloved cock into her moist, burning cunt. "I feel like I felt when we were trying for the girls. Remember how hot I stayed, couldn't get enough?"
"God yes," Chet groaned, marveling at Marsha's tightness, her slickness as he shoved his cock deep into her steamy love channel, "me, too. Your pussy seems to get better when you're in heat like this-Jeezz, I love to fuck you anytime, but shooting for a baby is pure heaven."
"How is this going to affect our swinging?" Marsha asked, swiveling her ass up to meet his thrusts, loving the impact of his cockhead bouncing off her womb. "I mean, what if I get pregnant by somebody else?"
"Don't sweat it," Chet grunted, really slugging cock into her receptive body now for all he was worth, "we need all the help we can get. In fact, we should increase the swinging action, invite more men, accept more invitations. We've got to make it, baby."
"Well, I hope Susy will get off of her ass and get into the act," Marsha said. "These kids today pretend to be so sexually free and sophisticated, but put them to the test, and they're just as square and hung-up as we were."
"Don't worry about her," Chet grinned. "I left the bedroom door open on purpose. If seeing us in action doesn't get her ready to fuck anything with a cock, her case is hopeless anyway."
"You sneaky bastard," Marsha giggled, peeking over Chet's shoulder into the lighted living room. "Oh my gosh, your strategy is backfiring."
"What do you mean?"
"She's sitting on the couch, staring right in here at us, and frigging her clit as though there were no tomorrow."
"Oh shit, this I've got to see," Chet whispered hoarsely, ducking his head as though he were about to begin sucking her nipple.
Looking back under his own armpit, Chet's breath caught sharply as his bugged eyes fell on the most exciting scene that he could remember ever having witnessed.
Susan was sitting with one of her legs draped over the arm of the couch and the other lying flat out on the couch cushion. Her red bikini panties hung in a wrinkled ring around her left ankle, and she held the hem of her mini up to her breasts with her left hand as she frantically fanned her turgid clit with three stiffened fingers of her right.
"Oh God, darling, fuck me-fuck me harder-I'm coming!" Marsha shrieked suddenly, triggering Chet's orgasm, which had begun to rise as soon as he saw what his daughter was doing.
"Arrgghhhh!" Chet groaned wrenchingly, humping like a rabbit before stiffening and allowing his thick, hot come to spurt achingly into Marsha's womb.
Susan leaped to her feet and, with her panties still dangling from her ankle, dashed hurriedly into her and Thea's bedroom. As she closed the door softly behind her, her eyes sprang wide and her breath caught sharply.
Thea was naked on her bed, lying-or almost lying, since only her head, shoulders, and feet touched the sheet-in a tense, spraddle-legged arch. Her big green eyes were clamped tightly shut, her thick, coral pink bottom lip was being chewed by her big white teeth, and her left hand was balled into a fist, tangled in her long, red hair.
Three fingers of her right hand were twirling so fast over her swollen, pulsating clitoris that they were only a vibrating blur. A gurgling, choking moan was tearing its way out of her throat as her impending orgasm lifted her higher and higher.
Susan grew weak in the knees and had to lean heavily against the door as she stared at her younger sister doing the same thing that she had been doing only seconds earlier. Thea was the prettier of the two. She had her father's devilish good looks, was already two inches taller than either Susan or Marsha, and though her breasts were still firm little grapefruit-sized hillocks, it was obvious that they were going to be the largest in the family. Her waist-length red hair was matched by a fiery pubic bush that was already as thick as Susan's.
"My God," Susan whispered to herself, reaching between her thighs to stroke her still wet and burning cunt, "I want to fuck so bad-why can't I think of somebody-I've got to be fucked tonight, or I'll go crazy."
Only Thea's shaded bedside lamp was on in the room, but Susan could still clearly see her thick-lipped, slimy pink cunt spread open and oozing from having just pulled no less than three fingers out of the pulsing, enflamed hole.
"Ohhhh my goodness-goodness-GOOOOOD-NESSSSSl" Thea cried, flopping down weakly on her back, and letting her breath escape with a loud whoosh. "Jeezus, it gets better every time."
Opening her eyes and seeing her sister standing, watching her, Thea gasped, flung her splayed thighs together, and sat up blushing.
"S-Susan-I-I-thought you were-uhhh, out on a date-how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," Susan said, still leaning against the door, still fingering her burning cunt.
"Oh well, you knew I do it to myself-I've told you-so I guess it doesn't matter if you caught me in the act. You do it, too; you're playing with your pussy now. Did watching me make you hot?"
"No," Susan answered, stroking her clit in earnest now, reaching for that orgasm that had been interrupted. "Watching Mom and Dad fuck was what drove me out of my gourd."
"You mean they let you watch?" Thea cried excitedly. "My gosh, Mom talks to you about screwing, even Dad talks to you about it. Now you say they let you watch them. I wish they didn't treat me like a baby. I've never seen anybody do it. Are they still doing it?"
"No, they're through, and they didn't let me watch; they were fucking in bed and forgot to close the door. I watched them from the couch."
"Ohhh, sis, you're driving me crazy doing that," Thea whispered, staring bug-eyed at her older sister's fingers twirling like miniature propellers over her fat, red clit. "Come on, lie down beside me, get comfortable. My clit is too sore to do it again so soon, but it turns me on to watch you. Remember what I told you Janney and I used to do to each other? Do you want me to do that to you?"
"N-nooo," Susan gasped, feeling her orgasm rising, clutching, clawing, digging at her clit, "I-Id-don't want your tongue, I-want a c-cock-I w-want t-to-f-f-fuck-arrghhhhhhl"
The orgasm lifted Susan up on her toes. She leaned against the door for a moment getting her breath, then walked over to flop down on her own bed.
"Why aren't you out with Arthur? You told me that you two screw almost every night. Mom and Dad don't care. Gosh, if they'd let me, I'd be letting some boy do it to me day and night."
"I'm sick of Arthur. He's just a cock with no brains, and every other dude I can think of is just the opposite, brains with no cock."
"Tell me about Mom and Dad. I've never seen his cock hard. Is it much bigger than it it soft? If it is, I don't know how Mom can take it;"
"It is the biggest, most gorgeous hunk of meat imaginable," Susan replied wistfully. "God, it's monstrous. It looks like it's at least ten inches long, and can he ever use it. Mom takes every inch and loves it. God, watching those two fuck is something else. If I could find a man like Dad, they sure wouldn't have to tell me to get fucked by him."
"Do you mean they actually tell you to fuck?"
"They did tonight. They told me to get Arthur over here, that he could fuck me right here in the house."
"You gotta be kidding, sis. I don't believe you. Why would they tell you that, when they try to keep sex away from me like I'm somebody's baby?"
"Listen, I'm going to tell you what's going on around here, but you better not breathe a word. You're not supposed to be in this."
Susan told Thea about the baby contest, and the part that she and Marsha were playing in it. When she finished Thea stared at her in wide-eyed, unbelieving excitement.
"Damnit," the younger girl said, "it just isn't fair for you and Mom to have all the fun. Hell, I'm fourteen, I'll be fifteen tomorrow-it's after 10:00, I'll be fifteen in less than two hours. Why can't I get in it?"
"Don't ask me, ask Dad-those were his orders. Keep you out of it, because you're too young. But you'd better not say anything to either of them, because they'd know that I told you about this, and I promised I wouldn't."
"I've been wanting to fuck for years," Thea wailed, "and now I'm so horny I could fuck a stray dog. Please, Sue, you can talk to Mom and Dad-tell them I'm ready-tell them I'm already fucking on the sly. I'll fuck anybody they tell me to. The man I'd really love to fuck is Daddy. Every time I see his dick I want it inside me."
"Me, too," Susan sighed, "and after seeing that big thing slamming in and out of Mom's cunt tonight, I want it so bad I can almost taste it."
"Tell him," Thea said.
"Tell him what?"
"That you want to fuck him. What have you got to lose. They talk to you about fucking, anyway. The worst he can do is say no."
"You know I think I'll do just that," Susan said, standing up and slipping out of her mini-dress. "Ill give it a try right now-wish me luck."
CHAPTER THREE
Susan opened the bedroom door and peeped out. The light was still on in her parents' room, and she could see that it was empty. The living room was also empty. After listening for a moment, she whispered back over her shoulder, "They're out in the kitchen having a late snack. I'm going to join them."
"Naked?" Thea whispered back with a giggle. "Do you mean you're going to ask him in front of Mom?"
"HI play it by ear," Susan said. "Ill get the message across to him some way."
Chet was fully clothed, Marsha was stark naked. Chet sat at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee, and Marsha was at the sink washing a few dishes. Susan stood in the doorway until they both looked at her, then she managed to blush prettily and attempted to cover her breasts and cunt in mock dismay.
"Ohh," she gasped, letting her nubile right tit pop up above her concealing arm, and snatching her left hand from her cunt to cover it, "I didn't know that you were up. I wanted a sandwich-uhh--I--should get dressed."
"Don't bother, dear," Marsha smiled, "your father has seen you naked before. Sit down, I'll fix you something."
Susan sat down opposite Chet. From under coyly downcast eyes, she observed her father's unabashed interest in her firm, upstanding tits.
"Uhh-have you decided on-uhh-a fellow?" Marsha asked as she began preparing Susan a thick beef sandwich.
"I'm sorry, Mom, but I just can't think of a single guy. If I'm going to get pregnant, I want to enjoy getting that way, and all I can think of is losers."
"You've got to do it, Susan," Chet said. "I know how you feel, but damnit, you've agreed. I know Carl's family is way out front already; they don't have any scruples. Ill bet that house is full of men right this minute, and all four of those bitches are getting fucked to a fare-the-well. Don't you understand our situation?"
"Ill do it, Daddy, just let me think."
"How do you like Ted Collins, dear?" Marsha asked, as she sat the sandwich and a glass of milk before Susan.
"Oh, Mama, not him. I know I'm being childish, he's good-looking and all that, but he just doesn't turn me on sexually."
"Yes, you are being childish," Marsha said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. "This would be a perfect opportunity. Ted will be here in a few minutes and Sahra is having her period, so she's not coming. We have a sort of mutual agreement that we won't fuck unless all four of us are together, so we are pretending that Chet is out of town. Chet is going to leave for a couple of hours, and I've already called Ted to make an excuse to get over here, and he said hell be here shortly.
"Be reasonable. Ted is very good; he has a nice cock and I know you'll love it."
Susan's mouth was full, and she couldn't answer immediately. Before she could swallow, the front doorbell rang.
"Oh my God, he's here already," Marsha cried. "Get out of here, Chet."
"I can't sneak out of the back door," Chet hissed. "Thea might see me from her window. I had no idea he'd get here this quick. Ill duck into the girls' room; you get him in the guest room, and close the door, then I'll sneak out the front door."
"All right," Marsha said. "Now what's your answer, Susy. Are you going to let Ted fuck you after he finishes with me?"
"Oh Mom, n-no," Susan stammered. "I'll-I'll--uhhh-get dressed and go with Daddy; he can walk me over to Arthur's."
Marsha waited until Chet and Susan had disappeared into the girls' room before hurrying to the front door to let Ted in.
Chet stood peering through the crack that he had left in the door, listening to his wife and best friend. Susan, pretending just as much interest, pressed her naked body against her father's back and slid her arms around his waist as she listened with him.
"Hi, doll," Ted said, pulling Marsha to him, and fondly stroking her lovely ass as he kissed her in greeting. "I got here as quick as I could. Sahra was already in bed. I told her the call was from my boss, that he said he wanted me to come over to his place and go over some things with him because he has to leave town early in the morning. Where's Chet and the girls?"
"Chet's out of town and won't be back until early in the morning. Thea's asleep and Susan is--uhh, out on a date. We've got a couple of hours before she gets back."
"Right on. I haven't had a shot of ass since I sneaked over here at noon day before yesterday. I've been dreaming of your hot, tight asshole ever since. Come on, where'll we get it on, your room or the guest room?"
"The guest room," Marsha said, leading him in that direction, "and you can forget the asshole bit tonight; it's sore, and my pussy has been smoking for you all day."
"Why that lousy sonofabitch," Chet hissed sibilantly, "he's been fucking Marsha behind my back-those two have got some explaining to do."
"What difference does it make, Daddy?" Susan whispered, rubbing her tits suggestively against his back. "As long as Mommy is there for you when you want her, what's it to you what she does with her body in her free time?"
It's just the principle of the thing," Chet whispered back "If they can do it, so can Sahra and L"
"So can we," Susan breathed on his neck. "What?'
"So can we," Susan repeated. "You want me pregnant, you get me pregnant."
"Get serious, girl-I'm your father, for Christ's sake."
"So what? Do the terms of the will state that incest negates all claims?"
"Uhhh-uhhh-well, uhh-nooo, it's not that, it's just-oh God, Susy, don't tempt me. When I saw you naked in there my cock got so hard I thought it would break-Jeeezus, baby, don't play with me-come on, come on-get dressed-well go to a motel."
"Go to a motel? What for, isn't my bed good enough?"
"But-but-Thea might wake up, we can't do anything here."
"What if she does? I told her what's happening, and she wants to get into the act herself. She wants you to fuck her as bad as I do, so she certainly won't tell anybody."
"Oh my God," Chet moaned, closing her door completely and ripping his clothes off, "I must be out of my mind-I must be crazy-but I can't help it, it's not just the will-I want you, baby, I've wanted you since you were thirteen, you're so goddamned sexy, just like your mother was when she was your age, only more so."
Susan lay across her bed with her thighs raised and spread as Marsha's had been earlier. Her bed was separated from Thea's only by a nightstand, and she knew that her sister was staring right into her wide-open cunt. She knew that Thea would have a perfect, close-up view of Chet's giant cock pounding in and out of her, and she also knew that her horny, virgin sister wasn't going to let Chet out of the room without getting her own cunt split by the cock that both of them had longed for since puberty.
Chet surprised and puzzled his daughter by dropping to his knees on the carpeted floor and lifting and spreading her luscious thighs higher and wider.
"Teeezus, is your cunt ever lovely," Chet moaned, staring at the wet, pink, hair-fringed slit, sniffing and snuffing great lungs full of her fresh, young cunt odor.
"Oh God, oh God," he croaked over and over again, "I can't stand it. If I start sucking this sweet thing, I'll never be able to stop-I'd-I'd eat you alive, girl."
Susan had never had her cunt sucked, and just feeling Chet's face close to her there, feeling his hot, panting breath fanning her clit, thrilled her to her fingertips. Hooking her arms under her knees and rolling almost into a ball as she doubled her legs back over her shoulders, she panted, "Oh, Daddy, kiss it-lick it-please, I want you to."
She sucked in a hissing lungful of air and held it as Chet's experienced tongue began flicking and fluttering over her blood-engorged clit "When she had to breathe again, her lungs emptied themselves with an explosive whoosh. She began grinding her steaming loins into her father's greedily sucking mouth. A keening whimper rose in her throat, stars danced before her eyes; never had anything made her pussy, her entire being feel so giddily, drunkenly good.
His tongue curled and lashed up and down her slime-leaking gash like a snake with its head cut off, coiling and convulsing in the throes of death.
"Ohhhhh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy-Daddy-Daddy," she chanted in a singsong litany of ecstasy, "it's so good, sooooo goooood-do it to me, Daddy -lick my pussy-suck it, Daddy, suck it."
Chet stabbed his long, wet tongue into the puckered, brown ring of her asshole, and she almost screamed, almost fainted, but he was out again before either reaction could be carried out. Like a blind mouse seeking its home, Chet's tongue darted from hole to hole. With his tongue jammed in to the limit, he sucked the softly corrugated, sweet, pulpy flesh of her love channel as though he were sucking juice from an orange.
Finally he let his tongue dance back up to her quivering clit and let it light there, linger there, licking like he had never licked a clit before. Susan suddenly released her hold on her legs and clamped both hands over her mouth to muffle the scream that the most thundering orgasm she had ever experienced knocked out of her throat.
"Fuck me now, Daddy," she pleaded as soon as she could speak again, "ohh, pleeease f-fuck me-I want your cock."
With an animal-like snarling growl, completely out of his mind with lust, Chet rose to his knees on the bed and fell between Susan's flailing, flashing thighs. She reached down and held her cunt lips open wide for him, and had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming again as the fist-like head of his outsized cock slammed against her womb on the first savage, pile-driving thrust.
She jerked her bottom back in anguish and fear, but he followed her on his knees, slugging cock into her splitting, spitting cunt like a maniac. She saw stars; she thought her heart was going to jump out of her mouth, but there was no escaping, she had to take the punishment that he was meting out. Her head was jammed against the wall, her knees hooked over his shoulders, and she could feel his meaty long dong plowing up into her belly.
As suddenly as the pain started, though, it was gone. Only the fullness, the thrill, the ecstasy remained. His cock was hitting spots, massaging sensitive depths of her gripping, squeezing love sheath that had never been touched before. She squealed her boundless pleasure and began fucking him back with all of her vital, horny, young strength.
By now Chet was sweating profusely, and his breath wheezed in and out of his lungs in searing gasps. He found himself not so much fucking his daughter as being fucked by her. Her ass was a bucking, dancing blur under him; she rode his cock like a surfboard. Grabbing him by the hair and smashing his drooling lips down on hers, she shrieked into his mouth, "Ohhhh, D-D-Dad-Dad-dyyyyyy, I-I-I'm c-commmmminnnng!"
The words were music to Chet's ears. He had shot a gushing load into Marsha's hot, slick cunt less than an hour ago, and though he was not about to come again so soon, he was pussy whipped and more than glad to pry himself from between her clamping thighs and roll heavily over on his back in the three-quarter-sized bed.
His eyes were closed, his mouth was open as he gulped in great tired breaths of air; his cock was standing between his thighs, still as stiff as a board. He was trying to think when he had a cunt that was so tight, so hot, so slickly, suckingly, bitingly good. He couldn't remember. His mind was blown completely out of kilter. Even when the soft hot hand clamped itself around his throbbing cock, it didn't register on his teeming brain.
Chet had completely forgotten about Thea, asleep-or supposedly asleep-in the adjoining bed, and when he felt the hot, moist breath tickling his cockhead, he assumed that Susan was down there playing with him. The mouth that engulfed the thick swollen glans was as soft as silk, as hot as could be, as gentle as a spring breeze. This he could deal with, not having to move, only having to lie still and enjoy-enjoy.
"My God, Susy," he groaned huskily, reaching down to grasp both hands full of hair on the head that was now busily bobbing between his thighs, "girl, where did you learn to suck cock like this? Jeezus, your mouth is pure magic."
Susan giggled into Chet's ear, then clamped her own mouth on her thoroughly shocked father's. Chet realized that the hair he was holding was long and silky, not short-cropped and curly like Susan's. He realized that Susan couldn't possibly be kissing his lips and sucking his cock at the same time, and he actually sprang up to a sitting position, dragging Susan with him, and stared wide-eyed down at Thea, as she dragged his cock almost all the way into her gulping throat.
Before Chet could speak, Susan had regained possession of his lips, was twisting and grinding her soft, rubbery-nippled breasts against his hairy chest, forcing him back down on his back. Thea sucked his cock as though she had been practicing for years. Her lips, tongue, jaws all were working in perfect synchronization with her tightly gripping, frantically stroking fist.
Thea stopped moments before his orgasm began to tingle in his balls. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her slender young body slide up his. He could feel her long, slim thighs drape themselves on either side of his hips. He held his breath as the fist that had never let go of the stalk of his manhood angled the long shaft upward, pressed the head to an opening that was so small it was not an opening. Then he almost screamed as the tiny orifice spread around his cockhead with a trembling, pulsating suction that was frightening, it was so electrifyingly good. The heat from her loins seemed to be all concentrated in that burning, tightly stretched hole. The juices that oozed out of her cunt, lubricating the bulbous head, seemed to be on the verge of boiling.
Chet lunged his hips up from the bed, and Thea gave a tiny, whimpering shriek as she jerked up higher on her knees to keep the bludgeon of his cock from ripping her asunder. She had almost all of the head inside her now. She was taking it as she knew she could take it, slow and easy, a little bit at a time, and she wasn't about to let him ruin this glorious, first-time sensation by hurting her too badly.
With both of them holding him down, already tired himself, Chet had no choice but to lie still and let the young girl have her way. He inadvertently bit down on the wet, darting tongue probing deeply in his mouth when his cockhead slipped all the way into the flaming cauldron of Thea's mini-cunt. From that point on it was just a matter of concentrating to keep from blasting his nuts before she got it all the way in.
With a cry of pure, boundless ecstasy, Thea threw all caution to the wind, and sat down, slid down the long, greased pole in one endless motion. The pain caused her to rise up again sharply, and when she eased down again, she took only half-up again, down again-and three-fourths of the gigantic stalk disappeared into her split to bursting love hole-up, up, up, then down, down, down, and she was home free. She had it in her to the hairs, and all she felt was pride in her ability to take it all and pleasure in feeling it quivering against her womb.
As her orgasm started, Chet's orgasm started, and they both went wild. Susan was knocked almost completely out of the bed in the ensuing love scuffle, and now it was Thea lying full-length on her father's heaving, hairy chest, grunting and groaning into his mouth as the first cock-induced orgasm of her life shook her to the very roots of her being.
Long after his breathing was back down to normal, and the sweat had begun to dry on his body, Chet lay staring at his two lovely daughters hovering over him, posing and posturing for him. He wondered if any other man in the world could ever be so ungodly lucky to have such a sex bomb of an insatiable wife to please him in any way he wanted, and two teenaged daughters, indescribably pretty, indescribably sexy, giving themselves to him, forcing him to fuck them.
He had forgotten the original purpose of getting at least one of them fucked until he rolled tiredly out of bed and began searching for his clothes.
"Where are you going, Daddy?" Susan asked. "To bed," Chet answered. "I could sleep for a week."
"Aren't you forgetting something."
"Forgetting something? What."
"Vou didn't come in me. How do you expect me to get pregnant if you didn't come in me?"
"Oh my God," Chet groaned, "not tonight, baby. I'm not up to it-later."
"Later my ass," Susan smiled pleasantly. "You're not leaving this room until you shoot a load into my womb, Daddy, so drop that shirt and get your gorgeous hunk of meat back in this bed."
CHAPTER FOUR
At thirty-two, Scott was the youngest and handsomest of the three Felton brothers. He was six feet tall, and weighed a constant one hundred and eighty pounds. Though his hair was almost black, and his skin was tanned a deep brown, his eyes were the brightest of blue. His mouth was big, sensuous, constantly smiling over white, even teeth. His nose was large, masculine, with a Romanesque arch that caused women to almost invariably drop their eyes from his nose to his crotch to compare those two extremities.
Since Scott usually wore tight-fitting slacks or jeans, and since he had yet to see a cock as large as his own, he had come to take it as no more than natural when both men and women did a wide-eyed, unbelieving double take every time their eyes fell on the protruding bulge of curled cock and egg-sized balls bunched at the apex of his muscular thighs.
Scott's wife, Sylvia, was twenty-eight, and looked enough like him to be his younger sister. She was five feet ten, 40-26-40, and her jet-black hair hung in a wavy, glossy cascade down to the middle of her back. Her eyes were a darker blue than her husband's, and fringed by thick, sooty lashes that curled up almost to her eyebrows. Her lips were full, voluptuous, usually parted to reveal snow-white teeth in a smile that matched her mate's.
Sylvia was not a nymphomaniac (she kept telling herself), she just loved to fuck. Here again she was perfectly matched with Scott, because he unabashedly proclaimed himself to be the happiest, horniest satyr in all creation. It wasn't merely the fact that they couldn't get enough of each other that kept them joyously humping away morning, noon, and night with each other or any likely sex partner that they could find; it was more the fact that neither of them could get enough sex-period.
"You're just wasting your time trying to tell me all this w-with-y-your c-cock in my ass, babeeeee," Sylvia wailed as Scott kneeled behind her on the carpeted living room floor, driving all of his ten-inch cock smoothly, savagely into her bowels as he related to her the terms of the will.
"I c-can't lis-listen-and-and c-come at the s-same time, and-ohhh, damn, damn, damnit, I'm c-com-c-commmin agaaainnnn!"
"Shit," Scott growled into her ear. "If I waited to catch you without a cock in your cunt, mouth, or asshole, Betty and Marsha would be grandmothers, not to mention mothers, and we'd be on the outside looking in."
"Oh God, darling, I'm trying to understand...trying to lis-listen t-to what you're s-saying, b-but your-c-cock is too g-good-it's driving me crazy! Pl--pleeease-w-wait until you c-come t-to tell me all this."
Scott gave up, and concentrated on blasting his nuts. He had met an old friend while in Chicago who had arranged an impromptu party for his long lost buddy. Though Scott had only dropped by for a quick threesome with the guy and his wife, the couple's eighteen-year-old daughter had come in from a date and caught them in the act. Rather than screaming in outrage and shock, the lovely girl had blithely joined the orgy, and what started out to be a quickie lasted until the wee hours of the morning.
As he had gotten out of the cab in front of his suburban home at 8:00 a.m. Pacific Standard Time, a handsome young man stuck his head out the front door and called, "Hey, Scott-hold that taxi!"
Sylvia was lying naked on the couch, one long leg thrown over the back rest, using a bath towel to sop the slimy gism from her wildly tangled crotch hair.
"Hi, doll baby," she greeted her husband happily, "I waited up for you practically all night. What happened, how did things turn out?"
She was up off the couch and in his arms, already reaching down between them to unzip his fly.
"Nothing like we expected," Scott replied, stepping away from her to shuck off his own trousers. "Dad was flat broke-didn't leave us a cent. Unless we can perform a miracle and get you pregnant with a male child, the only possibility of salvaging anything goes right down the drain."
"Run that past me again," Sylvia said, a puzzled frown on her face.
"My God, your cunt is as wide open as a barn door," Scott exclaimed as he ran his hand up between Sylvia's hairy thighs and stuck one-two-three-four fingers into her soupy love cave, "and it feels like a quart of come in there-what kind of stud was that who just left here?"
"Oh, that was just Greg Malone, you remember him from our party last week. I called George and Dotty Weems to come over and keep me company while I waited for you last night, and they brought Greg and another dude with them. I knocked them all off by three or four o'clock this morning, and Greg was the only one left when we woke up about an hour ago, so we had a farewell quickie. Try my asshole; it's still in good shape."
Scott had pushed her gently down to her knees on the spot, aimed his massive cockhead at the hair-fringed ring of her cherry pink anus, and socked it to her for all he was worth. Now, going all out for that orgasm, he leaned back and away, watching as the thick, ropey-veined snake of his endlessly long cock pummeled in and out of the tiny back hole that looked too small to take his little finger, but stretched amazingly, hotly, tightly around his hammering tool. With both hands he spread the billowy soft cheeks of her ass as wide apart as he could pull them, and gave himself over completely to the thrill that he knew he would never be able to get enough of.
"Oh God-here it comes I" he croaked as a surprise orgasm thundered up out of his balls.
In the last fraction of a moment, he jerked out of the convulsively contracted anal ring and slammed his already spurting cock into her still widely gaping cunt, shooting his own come in to mix with the slimy goo already trapped there.
"Why did you do that?" Sylvia cried, looking back over her shoulder. "I wanted you to come in my asshole-it would have made me come again."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past half-hour," Scott said, pulling his still hard cock out of her oozing cunt, and rolling over on his back. "You can't get pregnant in your asshole."
"Shit, I can't get pregnant in my cunt, either, and well do you know it. What's with all this pregnancy jazz?"
Scott patiently reiterated all he had been trying to tell her while they were fucking.
"Oh well," Sylvia sighed when he was finished, "you can't have everything, and we certainly can't miss what we never had, so to hell with it, let the others compete for it."
"It's just funny how tricky fate is," Scott mused; "Ve've wanted kids from the first and couldn't have them. Neither Marsha nor Betty wanted any-at least Marsha didn't want but two, and she's had a half dozen abortions since. Betty didn't want any, and almost died of anger and frustration when her girls slipped past her contraceptive methods.
"We dig sex-any kind of sex-openly and frankly, and don't give a shit who knows it. Those phony bastards-especially Carl and Betty-pretend that sex is a necessary evil, and would swear on a stack of Bibles that all of their little girls are as pure as the driven snow. Still I'd bet you dollars to donuts that by the end of this month every Felton female with the exception of you will have an immaculate conception, and come up as pregnant as a freshly bred bitch dog."
"Let them," Sylvia grinned, gently stroking her husband's indomitable cock; "it's no skin off our asses. We've got a good life, we really don't need that money. You were the only Felton who wisely invested the annuity that Grandma Felton left you guys. The rest of them were so busy living up to the filthy rich image that they've borrowed more against their shares than they've got coming. They have got to produce a son, or they're up the well-known shit creek without a boat-forget the paddle."
"If they weren't so phony-so greedy," Scott said, "we could work something out. Why should they put the girls in it? Marsha and Betty could get pregnant, and the one who comes up with the first boy could-and should-get the lion's share. But since that land is a gift-more or less-to the Felton family, why shouldn't it be shared? There's enough there for everybody."
"But hey," Sylvia cried, "you said every other generation, and your brothers are it. The girls are another generation-they shouldn't be in this anyway, it won't count."
"Yes, it will count," Scott corrected her. "Carl saw to that. He argued a clause had stated within every other generation and got a positive legal opinion that as long as we three are alive, our daughters' son can collect. The only way they would be disqualified is if we three were dead, and then they came up with a son. But I still want the girls out of this. I'd gladly take care of my brothers' bills and expenses until one or both of their wives came up with a son."
"Why don't you call your brothers and put the proposition to them, dear? They'll have to go for it because they are both in hock over their heads, and no bank would lend them money on the possibility of their wives getting pregnant with a son."
"Good idea," Scott said, getting up and going to the telephone to call Carl.
"Hiya, Scotty, what's on your mind?" Carl said as soon as he discovered who was on the phone. "Make it short and sweet, I'm busy."
"I'll just bet you are," Scott chuckled; "that's why I called. I want to take the pressure off you cats. Instead of fucking yourself into a state of bad health trying to get Betty knocked up before Chet clicks with Marsha, both of you guys can cool it. Stop competing, relax, and enjoy your baby making. There's no real hurry, because I will support both of you financially until one of you hits the jackpot. Then when one of your wives comes up with a boy, we all share the take, the lucky winner getting the biggest part, of course."
Carl's derisive bark of laughter was like a slap in the face. "You goddamned phony jerk," he snarled, "who do you think you're kidding? You know that that nymphomaniac slut that you're married to couldn't get pregnant with a baby making machine, and now you want us to do the job for you and split the take-fuck you.
"Do you think I'm a goddamned fool? That money is as good as mine, and I do mean all mine. We haven't done any splitting before, why the fuck should we start now?"
"Forget it, Carl," Scott said sadly, "forget I called. I don't particularly dig you calling Sylvia names, but I'll let that slide, too. See you in church."
"Wait-wait, don't hang up," Carl ordered, "let's get everything straight here and now, once and for all. Do you know why we haven't spoken to you two perverts for years? It's because you used to come over here bragging about your stinking sex orgies, not even bothering to see if one of my daughters might be within hearing range. If you don't respect the women in my family, why should I respect that slut of yours?"
"You were the one who pumped us about our swinging, Carl. You were the one sneaking over here trying to fuck Sylvia behind my back until she laughed in your face. It's not our fault that Betty doesn't dig group sex. And I hope you'll continue to protect the virtue of your daughters--they shouldn't be forced into this thing, Carl."
"I didn't have to force them," Carl retorted without thinking, "my girls saw-uhh--that is--uhh--shit, I don't have to even discuss it with you, Scott. I'm just telling you, don't call my house anymore."
Scott hung up and dialed Chet's number. "Hello," Marsha's voice came over the wire. "Hello, Marsha, this is Scott-let me speak to Chet."
"Well uhhh-he-he's uhhh-busy-uhhh-he's in the bathroom-in the tub-can I-uhh-give him a message?"
"No, that's all right, tell him to call me when he gets a minute-it's very important."
"Ohhh fuck me, Daddy, fuck meee!" Scott heard a girlish voice shriek clearly in the background. "I'm used to you now-I can take as much as Susy can-as much as mommy can-sock that sweet dick to meee-make me come-make meeee commmme!"
"Oh my God," Scott cried, actually shocked, "don't tell me you people want that money that bad. How could you two do this, Marsha?"
"Damnit, Scott, do you think I like this-that this was my idea? This thing has just gotten out of hand. I went along with Susan getting pregnant, but not by Chet, and I certainly didn't want Thea in on it, but they seduced their father; he didn't seduce them.
"Chet justifies it by the fact that Carl and Betty have Jan and Liz fucking around the clock; he's even pulled them out of school. Pat, the middle one, is the only one they can't force into the act. She is in love with a boy and refuses to participate in their marathon orgy. She called me this morning, crying her heart out, because Carl and Betty are giving her such a hard time. I'm trying to be broad-minded about this-look toward the end result, rather than the means, but it ain't easy."
"Drop by here later and let's talk about this," Scott said earnestly; "maybe we can work something out. Bring Chet with you if you can, but even if he won't come, you try to make it anyway. What you people are doing is insane; the whole thing can be handled better than this."
"Well, Chet can't seem to get enough of the girls, and vice versa, so I'm left out in the cold here, anyway" Sylvia said, "so I might do just that. Wait, here's Chet; he can talk to you now."
"Who's that?" Scott heard Chet ask Marsha.
"It's Scott-he wants to talk to you."
"What about? You didn't tell him what I was doing, did you?"
"I didn't have to; he heard Thea."
"Oh fuck-Hey, bro, what's up?"
I've got a proposition for you, Chet. I tried to talk to Carl, but he wouldn't listen. It looks like I'm already too late with both of you, though, because you seem to have gone completely out of your minds-neither of you seem to realize what you're doing to yourselves and your daughters. Anyway, Sylvia and I thought. . ."
"Wait a minute-wait a minute," Chet broke in; "just what are you trying to say, Scott? Isn't it a bit late to pull the morals act-you of all people? You had no scruples about fucking Marsha and watching me shag Sylvia. Don't come on preaching to me now, especially when I know exactly what's behind it."
"What's behind it, Chet?"
"Hell, it's obvious. You want a slice of the pie, and haven't got an oven to bake it in. And speaking of what we're doing to our daughters, why do you think Carl and I keep them away from you two? Because we both know that you wouldn't hesitate to seduce them, that's why. Incest upsets you only when you're not doing the incestingright?"
"Wrong. Susan has begged me to fuck her, and I told her to come back when she's eighteen. I wouldn't touch a minor, related to me or not. And I'm not condemning you morally, I could care less if you fuck your daughter, sister, or even mother, as long as it is done out of love and mutual desire. The thing that upsets me here is the air of hysterical greed and hypocrisy, Chet, the pure dishonesty and the damage that it can do to your family emotionally. And that brings me to my proposition-why don't you.. . ?"
"Save it, Scott," Chet interrupted; "I'm not interested. If Carl wouldn't listen to you, what makes you think that I would?"
Scott hung up and turned to Sylvia. "You followed that, didn't you?"
"Yep. Fuck 'em all-we tried, anyway. Now why don't we go to bed and have a nice, long, sweet loving fuck for the fun of fucking, not for a baby-then let's get some sleep."
CHAPTER FIVE
Patricia Felton took a deep breath, causing her firm, conical, hard-nippled young titties to punch out defiantly against the thin material of her middy blouse. The white blouse was see-through, making it obvious that she was not wearing a bra. When she stood like this, head high, chest out, the fact of her nakedness was even more visible. The tiny garment ended abruptly below her breasts, and one could clearly see the softly rounded bottoms of the melon-like orbs.
Patricia licked her full, coral pink lips and winked at her reflection in the mirror. Standing as tall as her five feet two inches would allow, she gazed at her face and body with open, frank approval. She knew that she was pretty and that her body was just about perfect; too many people had told her that too many times for her not to be aware of the fact. Her hair was long, silky, and as red as could be. She had huge green eyes, a saucy, delicate, turned-up nose, and a dazzling, heart-warming smile.
Her 36-22-36 was emphasized by her tiny stature, accentuated by her habit of wearing the tiniest of micro-skirts, the hottest of hot pants, and no bra or panties at all. Now, standing before her bedroom mirror, she giggled at her brazenly sexy attire. The faded blue jean cut-offs she wore were so tight that the succulent, shell pink half moons of her rosy round ass cheeks showed nakedly below the frazzled material. They rode so low on her hips that wisps of her curly, coppery pubic hairs peeked over the top.
The shorts were already so tight in the crotch that the fat-lipped V of her cunt was etched in mouth-watering prominence. She giggled again as she gave the shorts an extra tug upwards, pulling the rough material so snugly against her naked, open cunt that she knew every move she made would result in masturbation of her blood-engorged, hypersensitive clit.
Downstairs in the living room and the bedrooms, her mother, Betty, and her sisters, Jan and Liz, had been fucking practically around the clock for a week now. Pat had stealthily observed them from the top of the stairs, listened to their moans, groans, and shrieks of ecstasy. She had stayed so hot from watching and listening that her clit was swollen and sore from her frantically, frustratingly masturbating as many as a dozen times a day.
Pat loved to fuck. She stayed horny, even when there was no visual stimulation on hand. Still, she refused to be fucked by any of the men that Carl had imported to get her and the rest of them pregnant. She was head over heels in love with eighteen-year-old Tom Hayden, high school senior and basketball star. The red-headed, freckled-faced, handsome young man was from a strict, strait-laced family, however, and he would have been mortified, sickened by what was going on in the Felton household.
Carl had barred Tom from the house while the forced breeding was going on, had forbade Pat to try to see him, and dared her to leave her room until she was ready to follow his orders and get herself pregnant by one of the men that he had especially selected for the chore. To keep down gossip and protect the family name, Carl had taken the girls out of school and recruited six men from his out-of-town business contacts to get the girls and his wife with child.
Betty had gone along with Carl's plan, because she had no choice in the matter. He had her over a barrel and she knew it. Liz and especially Jan had participated with happily horny enthusiasm. But Pat had pleaded sickness, forcing herself to faint and vomit as an excuse to keep from joining the orgy.
This Friday morning, however, her whole attitude seemed to have miraculously changed. She danced happily about her room, green eyes sparkling, fat tits bouncing, lips parted over pearly white teeth in a joyful, irrepressible grin.
"Today is the day that I'm going to make up for lost time," she said aloud to her reflection in the mirror. "I'm going to get fucked until I can't see straight-I'm going to come until I go come crazy."
Stepping out of her room and closing the door softly behind her, she tiptoed to the head of the circular staircase and peeked down into the living room. She sighed achingly, and her knees grew weak with desire at the scene that met her eyes. The men that Carl had chosen were all good looking. They ranged in ages from about twenty-two to thirty-five, and there was not a small cock in the bunch. They started at about seven inches and went steadily upward from there.
Jan, the roly-poly fifteen-year-old, was the youngest and the horniest of the Felton sisters. She had short, curly, Afro-like blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and a thin-lipped, pug-nosed, freckled face. She was not especially pretty, but she made up for her lack of beauty with her always hot and willing sexual availability.
She stood five feet five inches, weighed one hundred and fifty pounds, and her measurements were 34-32-38. Even before her wanton, abandoned cock craze was forced out into the open, and Carl and Betty discovered what a nymphomaniac they had on their hands, Jan had been known around the school as "Gang-Bang Janey," and her motto had been, "the more, the merrier."
Now Jan was on her knees on the deeply piled living room carpet. Her fat, white ass was poked high in the air, and her frizzy-haired head was bobbing up and down as she greedily gobbled one of the largest cocks in the house. Her head was moving in time with the staccato hunches and bumps of her quivering, jiggling ass, as another man kneeled behind her, pounding cock into her back-thrust cunt like a demented rabbit.
Lifting her face away from the cock in her mouth, Jan twisted her head around and cried, "Harder-harder-fuck me harder, you sonofabitch-that's the way I love it-straight in and straight out, just as hard as you can sock it. Ahhh-ummmphhh-argghhhh-y-yes-yesss-fuck me harder-fuck the shit out of meeeee-make me commmmeel"
Staring as though mesmerized, holding on to the banister for support, Pat involuntarily began bumping and grinding her own ass in time with her sister's. She moaned softly as she seemed to actually feel the pile-driving cock tearing into her own burning, soppy wet, long-unprobed pussy.
"I can't stand it. Oh God, I can't stand it," she whispered to herself. "If I don't get a cock into me soon, I'll go crazy."
"Listen you," Jan said to the man sitting on the floor under her face, "don't you come in my mouth, you hear? I love it-I love the taste of hot, thick come, but you know what Daddy said. Tell me when you get ready, so you can shoot it in my pussy."
Before the man could answer, Jan had his throbbing, bobbing cock once more engulfed in her sucking jaws. Without touching it with her hands, she deep throated the fleshy, thick-headed organ, rubbing her wet, slobbery lips in his hairs, rolling her head from side to side before beginning to suck upward. Squeezing it with her lips, licking it with her tongue, pulling away until the widely flanged head was captured behind her compressed lips, she sucked lustily, noisily.
Up and down-up and down-went her bobbing head; in and out-round and round-went the wiggling white blur of her wildly gyrating ass. The rapid fire sound of the man's belly smacking against her fat ass cheeks was like applause. The squishy, slurping noise the two cocks made as they swiveled in and out of her drooling mouth and juicy cunt was like running footsteps in a swamp. The moans, groans, and panting sighs were a chorus of fuck-crazed ecstasy.
Tearing her eyes away from Jan and her two men, who were swinging around the living room, Pat gasped aloud at what Liz was doing on one of the couches along the far wall. Liz was the prettiest of the three sisters. Tall, willowy, auburn-haired, she possessed 34-21-34 measurements on a five-foot-eight-inch frame. She had huge, smoldering, dark brown eyes and sulky, pouting, heavy red lips. Her manner was cool, haughty, almost queenly, making her seemingly too untouchable to fuck.
Now, though, lying stark naked with her long, slender legs spread to the winds, her thin-lipped, hairy come-squirting cunt was being filled to bursting, not with one, but two slowly but forcefully pounding cocks. She was lying on her back on the belly of one man, while a second man lay belly to belly on top of her. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, one cock slid in to the balls, while the other slid out to the head, and Liz's steaming, swinging loins coiled suckingly between them, keeping them rhythmically embedded.
Pat was not aware that a woman could take two cocks into her cunt at the same time, especially cocks the length and thickness of these two. Tom had eight thick-headed inches; before seeing the ungodly sizes of the peckers in the house all week, Pat had thought that there couldn't possibly be a cock in the world longer, thicker, and more thrillingly cunt-filling than Tom's. Tom often told her that she had the tiniest, hottest, most incredibly muscled pussy imaginable. Now, however, as she stared bug-eyed at the punishment that her two sisters were so joyously, enthusiastically taking, she wondered if she were not somehow lacking and inadequate.
Looking at her wristwatch and reminding herself that she had to get moving, Pat held on to the banister to support her lust-weakened legs as she slowly descended the stairs. The nearer she got to the sex-tangled, temporary lovers, the more difficult it became for her to refrain from ripping off her skimpy clothing and flinging herself into the middle of the action. The suck and fuck sounds grew louder and more intense. The cunt smells, cock smells, fuck smells assailed her thin, flaring nostrils, causing her head to swim, her own cunt to leak faster, and her knees to grow so weak she could hardly keep moving.
I can't stand it-I can't stand it-oh God, I can't stand it," she whispered over and over to herself.
As she entered the living room, she wondered where Betty and the other two men were. Those present were so engrossed in what they were doing that they didn't even notice that Pat was in the room. Looking into the master bedroom and the downstairs guest room, Pat found them both empty. Moving in that direction and craning her neck, she saw that Betty and the other two men were in the kitchen. All three of them were naked, and Betty leaned with her hands braced on the table as a tall, handsome, young man stood behind her holding on to her big, soft tits with both hands..
The man was bent in the knees, sweat was pouring from his face, and he was strained up on his toes as he socked cock into Betty's cunt from behind in violent, erratic hunches that indicated imminent orgasm. As Pat entered the kitchen with a lively smile on her fresh, pretty face, the man fucking Betty stiffened, rose higher on his toes, and let out with a gut-wrenching groan.
"Gawwwwddamn, but you've got a fabulous pussy, Betty," he croaked hoarsely. "Your daughters don't hold a candle to you. Shee-it, let's go to bed and really have us a good fuck."
The other man was sitting at the table finishing eating breakfast. He looked at Pat with avid interest, unmasked lust burning in his eyes.
"Heyyy," the eating man drawled, "where have you been hiding, little girl? Carl said there was another one of you. but he didn't say that you were such a knockout."
"Thank you," Pat responded to the compliment with a charming smile and an involuntary blush, "but I haven't been hiding, I've been sick."
"How do you feel now, hon?" Betty asked, turning to face Pat after the man had pulled his softening cock from her cunt and stepped away.
"I feel much better, Mom. I was really sick--believe me-but I'm fine now."
"Good," the seated man said, rising and reaching for Pat, "come on, let's fuck."
"Go on out into the living room, I'll be there in a minute," Pat said, stepping out of reach. "I want to talk to Mom for a couple of minutes."
"Both of you get out of here and give the others a chance to eat," Betty said. "Pat and I will be right out. Sit down, dear."
Pat and Betty sat down as the two men left the room.
"I'm sorry I've been so difficult, Mom," Pat said, as soon as they were alone, "but I've really been sick-I was miserable."
"I know, dear," Betty said, "your father was the one accusing you of play-acting. He would have forced you to do it, sick or well, if I hadn't stopped him. Uhhh-are you-uhhh ready now?"
"Oh yes, Mom, I've been ready from the start-it's just that I didn't feel like it. Now I can hardly wait-I'm so hot I'm about to die."
"Good, you won't be disappointed. These fellows are terrific, they never get enough. Sometimes I don't even miss Brock so badly."
"Miss Brock? Where is he?"
"Carl found out about us-caught us in the act. He and Brock had a big fight, and Carl fired him-dared him to ever try to see me again. Of course he gave me hell, too. I don't think there'll be much left of our marriage when this is over, so I figure that I might as well enjoy myself now."
Sneaking a peek at her watch, and feigning more interest than she felt, Pat asked excitedly, "Which one of them is the best-which one should I start with?"
"Oh they're all good," Betty replied. "Chuck, the one who asked you in here, has the biggest cock and is the most long-winded. He's got about ten inches, and can fuck for a solid hour without coming. I'd advise you to take on a couple of the others to get you loose and juicy before you let Chuck at you."
"How about the one who was fucking you when I came in," Pat asked, feeling uncomfortable talking to her mother like this. "He's cute."
"You mean Robert. He's good for lots of times-one right after the other-but each time only lasts about five minutes. He's got a big dick, though, and he comes like a fountain. After he shoots a couple of his eruptions into you, you can take on a stud horse and never notice it."
"Oh wow, I can hardly wait. Look how wet my crotch is, just from thinking about it," Pat grinned, standing to show her mother the widening, dark stain at her clearly defined cunt.
"Well, get out of those clothes and let's join the party," Betty said, getting up from the table. "The other two girls and I have a week's head start on you. Ill bet that we are all already pregnant."
"Sure, Mom, I'm ready to play catch up," Pat said cheerfully, "but I've got to go to the bathroom-I'm about to wet in my pants. Ill undress in there, take a quick shower, and join you all in about ten minutes. You go ahead, and tell those studs to save some energy and a whole lot of come for me."
Turning and hurrying into the bathroom off the back bedroom, Pat looked back over her shoulder to see Betty's big, soft, roundly sloping ass disappear into the living room. Hesitating for only a moment, she dashed quietly back out through the kitchen, eased the back door open, and sneaked out, closing the door softly behind her.
Breathing a whooshing sigh of relief, Pat ran as fast as she could across the Felton's huge, well-manicured backyard. She let herself out the back gate, ran across two more well-kept suburban lawns, and let out a whoop of joyous laughter as she saw Tom Hayden sitting behind the wheel of his Plymouth Fury, waiting right where she had told him to meet her.
After a breathless, tongue-probing, long-held kiss of greeting, she pulled her mouth reluctantly away.
"Get. the hell out of here," she commanded briskly, happily. "I've got the cabin keys in my pocket. Darling, we are going up into the mountains, and fuck ourselves to death."
CHAPTER SIX
Late Friday afternoon, Scott flung his front door open in answer to frantic ringing of the bell Marsha stood leaning against the wall, still pressing the bell button. She looked like she had been in a barroom brawl. Her left tit stood surre-alistically bobbing through a gaping hole in her blouse. Her mini-skirt was torn up the side from waist to hem. She wore only one shoe, and her hair was a disheveled mess.
"My God, Marsha-come in-what happened to you? You look like heU!B
Marsha fell into his arms, and buried her face in his neck. "Oh Scott, Scott, just hold me for a moment," she pleaded. "Ill be all right-I-I just want to be close to real, laughing, loving people again. Let me stay here for awhile-please."
Scott led her gently to the couch and sat down with her. She held on to him like a drowning swimmer holding on to a life preserver. Her teeth chattered, her whole body trembled.
Sylvia came out of the kitchen and cried, "Marsha, darling, what's the matter?"
Marsha was sobbing now, her body convulsing wildly as she let it all come out. Scott motioned for Sylvia to sit down and leave their sister-in-law alone until she had gotten herself together. After five minutes, Marsha lurched to her feet, stumbled drunkenly into the bathroom, and they heard her vomiting into the stool. When she came out fifteen minutes later, she had combed and brushed her hair, washed and freshly made up her face, and except for her ruined clothing and red, swollen eyes, she looked as cute and sassy as ever.
"God, I needed that," she grinned crookedly. "I had to let it all out, the bawling, the barfing-I felt like-like a waking cesspool."
"Ill fix you a drink," Sylvia volunteered. "Ill fix us all one, and you can tell us about it-if you want to."
"Oh, it's all so horrible," Marsha said with a shudder. "I thought that nobody in the world enjoyed sex more than I do-not even you two-but if this keeps up, I'll be turned against it for life. I got fucked today by eighteen different men-a whole crew of a highway department work gang."
"What? You were gang raped?" Scott questioned in alarm. "Well do something about this, let's. . ."
"No-no, I wasn't exactly raped," Marsha cut in; "it was all my fault-I have only myself to blame."
"Just take it easy and tell us what happened," Sylvia said, bringing the drinks and sitting in an easy chair opposite her pretty sister-in-law and her handsome husband.
"You know that strip of road they are blacktop-ping out toward Cedar Creek?" Marsha began.
"Yes, between here and Copton," Scott answered.
"Well, I was headed for Copton to try to get picked up by some man-or men. I couldn't go prowling here, because of the Felton name-everybody knows us. And if I had waited for Chet to get enough of Sue and Thea to get around to me, I wouldn't even have gotten a good fuck yet, let alone been knocked up. But well go into that later; let me tell you what happened today.
"Only one lane is open to traffic on that Cedar Creek stretch of road, and when the flag man stopped me, he stepped over to my car to say something to me. I'll never know what he wanted to say, because when he looked in the window, my skirt was up past my crotch, I wasn't wearing panties, and he suddenly lost his power of speech."
Sylvia giggled in spite of herself.
"He was a young, handsome stud," Marsha went on, "and I was on fire-my pussy was smoking. So I asked him if he didn't know of a cool, shady place where a lady could relax for awhile. He pointed out the side road leading to their crew trailer a couple of hundred yards up in the woods, and told me that he would be there just as soon as he could get somebody to relieve him. He came in about ten minutes, and that's the time it took for him to come-period-about ten minutes. I forgot that I was out for business, not pleasure, and I told him to send me up a couple more guys, because I wanted to come, too. And that was my first mistake.
"Instead of two, four guys came, and by the time they were finished, there was a long line at the door. I couldn't enjoy it, I couldn't come-not with a single one of them. They were filthy, sweaty. They took me like-like animals-like a pack of male dogs taking a bitch in heat. I thought I would vomit, faint, just from the stink in that trailer. I pleaded, I cried, I begged them to let me go. But they kept coming back, for seconds, thirds. They fucked me in the ass, made me suck their cocks-took me two and three at the time.''
"Oh my God," Sylvia said sympathetically, "you poor thing."
For a moment Scott and Sylvia thought that Marsha was going to break down again, but she managed to pull herself together.
"When they finally let me go, I started home, but I just couldn't go back there," Marsha said pathetically. "I had to come and talk to you two; you two seem to be the only sane ones left in the family. Sure that money is important to us, there's no sense in denying that, and having a baby is no big thing, but no amount of money is going to make up for what is happening to us."
"That's what Sylvia and I were worried about," Scott said; "that's why I tried to talk to both Chet and Carl, but neither of them would listen to me. Both of them thought I wanted to cut them out of some of the money."
"I know, I was right there when you talked to Chet, remember? He's my husband, and I love him dearly, but I'm losing my ability to understand him. We're not swingers like you and Syl, we'd only done it with you two, and you know how much we loved it. But Chet stopped the action because he was worried about the purity and morality of his precious daughters. He was afraid they would find out. That's why he insisted that we stop seeing you two altogether; he just knew that neither of you would hesitate to seduce Thea and Sue."
"He couldn't have been more wrong," Chet and Sylvia said at the same time.
"I know, I know. The day that you called, as you well know, he was fucking Thea when the phone rang. When he got through talking to you, he went into a long spiel about how phony, hypocritical, and perverted you were-especially the perverted bit. By now, though, Thea was on her knees before the couch, sucking Susy's cunt. Chet looked at them, and his cock jumped stone hard.
"Still cutting you to pieces, he calmly walked over, dropped to his own knees, and fucked Thea from behind. He knows that both of our girls love you two dearly. They've begged to be allowed to visit, or at least talk to you on the phone, and he has steadfastly refused. Since he was already on your case, he took that particular opportunity, while he was fucking his fifteen-year-old daughter into a shivering fit, to remind them both that he would kill them if they ever mentioned your name in his presence again. What am I going to do, Scott, what are we going to do?"
"There isn't much that we can do, as long as Chet and Carl feel the way they do," Scott replied. "Our door is always open, we love you all, and we'll always be here for any of you when we are needed, but we can't perform miracles. I only hope that after this is all over, the damage won't be irreparable. I know you grownups can handle it, but what about the girls? That's what worries me.
"Me, too," Marsha concurred. "My girls were normal, healthy, happy teenagers. Susan was fucking with my and Chefs approval, and we knew that Thea was hot to trot. The way Chet and I love sex, we were both in agreement that they have a happy, free, permissive sex life once they were old enough. But not like this-not like this."
"I wonder how Betty is managing," Sylvia put in. "Carl is even more hung-up than Chet is, and he's also more greedy and neurotic. Liz and Janey both have sex on the brain, and in spite of Carl's forbidding them to see us, both of them are often over here bragging about their sexual conquests and abilities. They have both point-blank propositioned us, and we have both point-blank refused them. Maybe those two can handle it, but I don't think Pat can. She is too sensitive, too intelligent, free, and loving to be put on the block like this."
"She's holding out," Marsha said. "She's talked to Susan and me. Carl has several out-of-town men in the house, there for the express purpose of getting Betty and the girls pregnant. I haven't heard from her in a couple of days, but the last time she called, she was in hysterics, begging me to help her-tell her what to do."
"If she calls again, tell her to come over here," Scott said without hesitation. "Carl will play hell getting her away from us. I won't go over there and get her, I have no right, but goddamn it, if she can manage to make it this far, she's home free."
"I feel so much better now that I've talked to you beautiful people," Marsha sighed, relaxed from her drink, smiling for the first time since she had arrived. "Oh God, what I'd give to have it like it was a few years ago, when you two horny, insatiable nuts were teaching me what real fun, crazy, loving sex was all about I haven't eaten pussy since you, Syl, and now every time I see Thea and Susy going at it, my tongue actually itches."
"If you can't lick 'em, join 'em," Scott chuckled, "or I guess in this case it would be, if you can join em, lick 'em."
"Believe me, I've thought about it," Marsha said, "and I've wanted to so badly that I ached. Both of them have got the prettiest, juiciest, most succulent-looking little pussies imaginable. I don't blame Chet for getting hooked on them. But-but I just can't. It's not the morality-the incest-that bothers me, it's just the unnaturalness of this entire situation. There's no real giving of one's self-no real love involved."
Sylvia never wore panties or a bra. Even before they were married, she had burned all she owned when Scott told her that he never wanted to catch her wearing either. Now she was dressed in a simple, sleeveless, light blue mini-dress. The sides and the deep cleft of her gigantic, miraculously unsagging tits were clearly visible.
She had been sitting opposite Scott and Marsha on the circular, sectional couch with her long, lovely legs crossed high, revealing the smooth, curving lines of one ass cheek. Casually she uncrossed her legs and lifted one up and over the arm of the couch. She was incredibly hairy. A thick, silky, black bush nestled in either armpit, and a veritable jungle of tangled black curls all but obscured her long-lipped, thick-lipped cunt.
Sitting like this, though, with the pull of her leg forcing the lips apart, nothing was left to the imagination. The hairs that started in the deep, slitted pool of her navel and ran in ever increasing abundance down the insides of her thighs, and up the crack of her ass, acted only as a frame for the lust-enflaming picture of raw, naked womanhood that met Chet and Marsha's desire-bugged eyes.
"Oh God, Sylvia, don't-I-I c-can't stand it," Marsha stammered weakly, licking her lips, involuntarily straining forward, as though being drawn by an irresistible magnet.
"I'm not trying to upset you, darling," Sylvia said in her deep, musical, contralto voice; "this is for my baby. He loves to look at my cunt, and I love for him to look at it; it turns us both on."
"Then let's give him two to look at," Marsha said, leaping up and simply ripping her already torn clothing the rest of the way from her body. "If one turns him on, two should double his pleasure."
Hopping blithely on the couch beside her sister-in-law, Marsha sat with her feet up on the cushion, her knees spread as wide apart as she could get them. Turning their torsos to face each other, looping one arm around the other's neck, the two oddly matched, physically contrasting women dropped the other hand to each other's crotch.
Scott did not seem to be overly interested in the scene before him. Looking at the two lovelies with a warm, casual smile on his sensual lips, he calmly stood and shucked the only garment he was wearing, a pair of beltless slacks, down his long, hairy legs, and sat back down. His breathing was normal; he sipped his drink as though he were fully clothed at a cocktail party. Only the up-curving, left-leaning ten-inch stalk of his mushroom-headed cock bore testimony to his almost uncontainable excitement.
Sylvia oozed sex from every pore. She looked like a million-dollar-a-trick call girl, uncannily beautiful, depraved, jaded, ultra-ultra-sophisticated. In comparison, the tiny, almost impishly childish-looking Marsha had the appearance of a
Bottecelli angel. She looked pure, virginal, untouched by human tongue, cock, or hands.
The inner lips of Sylvia's cunt poked out from between the outer lips like a fat, wrinkled, impertinent tongue. They were almost black in their purplish, blood-engorged readiness. Her thick, meaty clit looked like a miniature cock, standing fat and sassy above her long, pink, slimy gash. Marsha's pussy looked like a little girl's, heart shaped, fat lipped, almost closed, with only her clit's tip peeking shyly out. Her reddish hairs were thick at her crotch, but her pussy lips were almost bare.
The two women kissed like long-lost lovers reunited. Their tongues danced, darted, tangled in and out of each other's wet, drooling mouth. They licked each other's face, stuck their tongue tips up each other's nose, stuck them out as far as they would go, and let them wrestle, duel, entwine for the pleasure and titillation of their one-man audience.
Sylvia's practiced, experienced fingers were twirling about Marsha's now prominently swollen clit, sliding up and down her streaming slit, dancing in and out of her tiny, swollen love hole. Marsha seesawed three stiffened fingers in and out of Sylvia's hot, juicy cunt. They paused now and then to lift their wet and dripping fingers to their mouths, to have them licked clean of the sweet, slimy love juice by both tongues.
Now Marsha shoved all four fingers in to the hilt, with only her thumb outside, whirling like a propeller over the knob of Sylvia's palpitating, pulsating love bud. On an impulse, she pulled her fingers out to the tips, folded her thumb into the middle of her palm, and smoothly shoved her entire hand into the tightly, wetly stretching woman channel.
Scott's breathing was no longer regular and normal; he no longer calmly sipped his drink. He sat straining forward, bug-eyed, breathing in gulping, panting gasps as Marsha began fist-fucking his panting, moaning wife. Slowly at first, shoving her tiny fist in only to the wrist, and halfway out, then speeding up the tempo and increasing the depth on every stroke, Marsha was driving in halfway to her elbow.
"Oh God-oh God-oh God!" Sylvia screamed. "Harder-deeper-shove it in my cunt to your elbow, darling. Fuck me-fuck meee-harder HARDER!"
With a roar of boundless lust, Scott leaped up from the couch, lifted his tiny sister-in-law bodily into the air, and sliding both arms under her thighs to clamp his hands over her back, smashed her entire bottom into his face.
Marsha was hanging upside down now, her fist and forearm still buried and stroking in the very depths of Sylvia's sexual soul, her trembling thighs spread flat out to either side of Chet's face, as the big man sucked and licked her from clit to asshole-from asshole to clit.
Both women were now screaming wildly, hysterically, out of their minds with ecstasy and lust.
Pitching, tossing, slamming her magnificent ass up off the couch to suck in more of Marsha's jack-hammering fist, Sylvia somehow managed to twist around, lean forward, crane her neck, and engulf Chet's bobbing, throbbing, bone-hard cock in her voraciously hungry jaws.
Hunching forward to help her in her efforts to eat the whole thing, Scott shoved it down her gulping throat, pulled back, and socked it to her again, cock-fucking her in the mouth as viciously, mercilessly, thrillingly as Marsha was fist-fucking her cunt.
Time stood still as the oddly positioned menage d trois gave to and received from each other pleasure that none of them had ever known. Opening her hand inside Sylvia's slick, clinging cavern, Marsha fanned her fingers, tickled her womb, hit, fondled, massaged spots that had never been touched before. Sucking and licking as though his very life depended upon draining her of all of her juices, Chet tongue-fucked, lip-fucked, face-fucked Marsha's entire genital area, and then some. He licked the insides of her thighs, up and down the crack of her ass, drove his tongue into her asshole like a fleshy dagger, sucked her cunt hole almost wrong side out.
Sylvia suckingly massaged every centimeter of Chet's driving, pounding cock with tongue, lips, and jaws. Even her tonsils seemed to come into play, flicking across the invading shaft on each powerful, thundering plunge into and out of her gullet.
Their multiple, simultaneous orgasm could have only been measured in megatons; their triple-tongued screams of completion and heart-stopping ecstasy were deafening. Chet dropped Marsha to the floor and sank weakly to his knees. Sylvia flopped backward on the couch and held onto her heart with both hands to keep it from pounding through her rib cage.
Looking up at her relatives with love and adoration in her eyes, and a crooked, impetuous grin on her doll-like face, Marsha cooed softly, "Thanks, I needed that"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"How the fuck could you have been stupid enough to let her get away in the first place?" Carl roared at Betty. "Goddamn you, you simple-minded, bird-brained whore, we can't afford to let Patty off the hook any more than we can afford to lose any of the rest of you!"
"I didn't let her get away, she sneaked away!" Betty screamed just as loudly. "She came downstairs this morning raring to fuck-said she was ready-flirted with the men-said all she wanted to do was take a quick shower-how was I to know she'd sneak out of the house?"
"If you weren't sitting on your fat ass mooning over that lousy, back-stabbing sonofabitch, Brock Morrison, you could have kept an eye on her. All you're interested in is Brock's cock!"
"You miserable bastard, I haven't seen Brock since you threw him out of here, and you know itl But I'm going back to him once this is over, and you can't stop me! I've been fucking around the clock, for Christ's sake, and so have Liz and Jan. What more do you expect, what more do you want me to do?"
"How about that trick you pulled on me-a goddamned diaphragm stuffed up your cunt-how am I supposed to know that you aren't pulling that same stunt with the other men I?"
"I just finished fucking when you called me up here. Stick your finger in my cunt, you sonofabitch, and feel the come oozing out-see if you feel a diaphragm. I only used it with you, because I'd die before I'd have another of your goddamned babies. You make me sick-sick to my stomach!"
"No sicker than you make me, you filthy slut Just remember, I still got the name you need-I'm the Felton, and I'm the one who's gonna set the divorce terms after that land is mine! After that Brock is welcome to your brainless ass. Now, just try to think for once in your miserable life. Exactly how long has she been gone? Where could she possibly be?"
"I told you she left at around 10:30-11:00. How the hell would I know where she went without even a change of clothes, not even a toothbrush, or a penny to her name. She hasn't got any relatives or even friends outside of this town that I know of, and she's not at Marsha's or Sylvia's. I called them both. You're so goddamned smart, you figure it out. You find her!"
"How about that boy she's so crazy about-the Hayden kid-Tommy-you call there?"
"Of course I did, and he's not even in town. He left town yesterday to spend the weekend with relatives in Oregon."
"Yesterday, my ass!" Carl cried. "He left this morning, and he took Patty with him-where in Oregon!?"
"His mother didn't say-she wouldn't tell me--you know she doesn't like us anyway. The Hay-dens are crazy about Pat, but they can't stand us."
"Goddamn her, goddamn her to hell," Carl swore, pacing the floor, and fumbling with a ring of keys that he had absently picked up from the dresser top. "I could kill her-if I get my hands on her, I'll break her goddamned neck"
"Well, if you're through chewing my ass out, I'll go back downstairs and join the party," Betty said sarcastically.
"Go on, get the fuck out of my sight," Carl snarled, tossing the keys into the air. Catching them, he seemed to really look at them for the first time since he had picked them up. He wheeled on his naked wife as she started out the door.
"Who's been up here in my room?" he asked. "Who's been fucking around up here?"
"Nobody," Betty replied tiredly. "Why would anybody come in here but you? I thought you kept the door locked."
"Any key that fits one door up here fits the rest, and you know it. Somebody's been in here. I keep this extra set of keys-my safe deposit box key, post office box key, and cabin keys-in my top dresser drawer, and they were lying on top of the dresser."
"You probably left them there yourself," Betty said; "nobody's been in here but you. You're the one who insisted on us sleeping in separate rooms. Well, I hope you're satisfied, jerking off like a teenager, while I'm getting the best fucking that I've ever had in my life."
Carl hadn't got his nuts off since he had moved out of the master bedroom five days earlier, and Betty's cuttingly sarcastic reminder caused him to wince visibly, and his cock to spring hard in his pants.
"I don't have to jerk off," he growled; "you're still my wife, and I can fuck you any time I want to-but I don't want to, I wouldn't fuck you with somebody else's cock."
"I'd spit in your face," Betty jeered, "you no-fucking mother-fucker; you can't even make me hot, let alone make me come." Then, twisting the knife, she bent way over and spread her voluptuous ass cheeks as far apart as they would go, allowing him to look not only into her gaping, come-filled cunt, but also into the tiny, puckered ring of her asshole.
"Take a good look," she hissed, "and eat your heart out while your buddies do your fucking for you."
Ripping his zipper down, and jerking his cock but, Carl lunged at Betty before she could straighten up. Snaking an arm under her elbow, and clamping his hand behind her neck, he locked her in her bent position with a painful half-nelson.
Her asshole was moist, sweaty, but unlubricated. His cock was already oozing stringy, droplets of stick, crystalline fluid. She had only allowed him to fuck her in the ass before after elaborate preparation, tonguing her there until she was relaxed, smearing it and his cock with thick globs of Vaseline or KY-Jelly.
Now, he was determined to hurt and humiliate her, to take advantage of this opportunity to really show her who was boss. Pressing his cockhead to the puckered, closed orifice, he pushed steadily and forcefully, putting pressure on her neck when she tried to jerk away, lunging inward with all his might. He almost screamed as her fear caused the pain-tightened sphincter to clamp down on the ring around his cockhead, squeezing so tightly that he could neither pull out nor push in farther.
His long overdue orgasm was already bubbling in his balls when he gritted his teeth, rose up on his toes, and slammed his cock into her unbearably hot, excruciatingly tight shit chute. Pulling out to the head, he drove his loins forward again, slithering in her bowels to the hairs, again almost screaming, but now from the pleasure rather than pain. He knew he wouldn't last-couldn't last-more than a minute or two, so he tried to make the most of it, pounding as hard as he possibly could, causing her to scream and fart loudly as he did his damndest to tear her a new asshole. All the way out to the head, and all the way in to the balls, he hammered away, in rapid fire, erratic frenzy.
Only for a moment did he consider jerking his cock out of her asshole and shooting his load into her cunt. Pressing into her anal alley to the limit, he pumped spurt after spurt of thick, slimy gism into her bowels, before pulling out and pushing her roughly out of the door.
Long after Betty was gone, and he had stuffed his pecker back into his pants, Carl stood staring absent-mindedly at the ring of keys that he still held in his hand.
"The cabin keys," he cried softly aloud, "the cabin keys are gone. Ahhhh, so that's the little girl's game-all right Miss smart-ass, you've got a big-assed surprise in store for you."
Carl ran out of the room, down the back stairs, and out of the house. Leaping into his Chrysler New Yorker, he tore out of the drive as though a posse were after him. He didn't slow down until he was cruising down the dirty, cobblestoned streets of the city's harbor. Drunks, prostitutes, college boys, and tourists were going in and out of the garnish, scrubby-looking adult book stores, restaurants, and clip joints.
Carl parked at the curb on a fairly busy side street, and closely observed the men who passed along the sidewalk. He nodded and smiled to himself as a talk broad-shouldered young man wearing cowboy boots and a crumpled ten-gallon hat, approached passersby, asking for a handout.
When the young man came abreast of the big Chrysler, Carl let the passenger window glide down, leaned over, and said, "Hey, sport, you got a light? My goddamn dash lighter seems to be on the blink."
"I'll give you a light for a cigarette," the man said, leaning in the window, the cheap wine on his breath causing Carl to turn his head away.
"Sure thing," Carl grinned, handing him the pack, "keep 'em-I've got more."
"Gee, thanks-uhhh-I ain't had a bite to eat all day-uhh-could you slip me a buck or two for a sandwich and a cup of coffee, buddy?"
"I can do a whole hell of a lot better than that for you," Carl said. "I've got a proposition that'll net you all you can eat, and then some-get in."
The fellow got in, and Carl pulled away from the curb.
"Where're you takin' me?" the man asked.
"To a drive-in restaurant. You can sit in the car and eat while you listen to my proposition."
"Hey, wait a minute. I'm hungry, pal, and Yd do just about anything for a square meal, but--uhhh-you-uhhh--ain't queer, are you? I just can't go that route."
"No, I'm not queer," Carl laughed, "and I'm glad you're not, because all I want you to do is fuck a beautiful, sexy girl, and get paid for it."
"You serious?"
"As serious as cancer. What's your name?"
"Uhh-you can call me Slim."
"Okay, and you call me Pete. Names aren't important. You live around here, Slim?"
"Nawww, I'm from Texas. I landed here on a tanker from the Orient about ten days ago, and my bread was gone the first damn night-goddamn whore clipped me. I got a chance to ship out again next Friday, but I got to keep myself together till then."
"You're just what the doctor ordered," Carl chuckled, pulling into a drive-in restaurant. "Order what you want; don't worry about the price. You eat while I talk, and if you don't go for the deal, just get out of the car and forget it."
Carl waited for the waitress to take Slim's order before continuing.
"You got any buddies-say four or five guys in about the same shape you're in, who'll be leaving the country with you?"
"Hell, yeah, there's about ten or twelve of us waiting for that ship."
"Good-good. I'll need five men besides .you, and what I want you guys to do for me is pull a nice, safe, marathon rape."
"Rape? Are you outta your fuckin' mind, cat? There ain't no such thing as a safe rape."
"This one is. Ill guarantee that nothing can possibly happen to you-there's no way for you to get caught. I don't know you, and you don't know me, and I don't want to even see the other guys that'll be in on it. You'll be raping my wife, and she's in a secluded cabin on private property way up in the mountains. It's safe, I tell you."
"Your wife? You some kind a nut? What's your game, fella?"
"Slim, like a goddamned fool, I went and married a teenaged nymphomaniac. I'm crazy about her, but I can't satisfy her-I'm getting old-too much other stuff on my mind-and Patty is hot as a fresh-fucked fox in a forest fire; she never gets enough cock. What she did was run off up to my cabin with one of her young studs, and I want her back. But while she's up there, I want you guys to go up there and give her so much cock that she'll be glad to wait until I can get around to her from now on-you dig?"
"You got a picture of her?" Slim asked skeptically.
"Sure, right here," Carl said, pulling out his wallet, and showing Slim a full-length, color photo of Pat wearing a bikini
"Gaawwwddamn," Slim drawled. "Man, she's prettier than a speckled pup, and Tsout as sexy as a wide open pussy. Sheeit, if I had the green, I'd pay you for a shot of that. When do we get started, how much is in this gig?"
"Six hundred dollars-two hundred apiece for you dudes. Three hundred tonight, in advance, and three hundred more when the job is done. The cabin is stocked with all the booze you can drink and all the food you can eat. All you guys got to do is put the guy with her out of commission-I don't give a fuck what you do to him-and fuck my wife around the clock. I want a dick in her, even when she's asleep."
"She on me pill?"
"Naw, she had an operation-can't have babies, so shoot her as full of come as you want to. No rough stuff, I don't want her hurt-no ass-fucking or slapping her around. You say your ship sails Friday. Well, stay up there with her till next Wednesday night You can leave first thing in the morning."
"How do we get up there?"
"Here's an extra hundred-rent a car. I've got a map up to my cabin here in the glove compartment. Tie her securely before you leave next Wednesday, meet me right where I picked you up tonight Wednesday night at 9:00, I'll pay you the rest of the money, and then I'll go up and rescue her. Deal?"
Slim was now cramming food into his mouth just as fast as he could stuff it. He stopped long enough to swallow and say, "You got yourself a deal, but if you put us in a trick-you cross us in any shape, form, or fashion, and your ass is grass, and my switchblade is the lawn mower-I'll clean your goddamn plow, fella."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pat ran running down the hill from the pool at the foot of the waterfall, seventy-five yards up the hill from the Felton cabin. She was still wet from her morning swim, and her naked, beautiful little body glistened like a jewel in the morning sun. Her fat, firmly soft, hard-nippled tits bounced up and down, her wet, coppery hair reflecting the son in shooting sparks. She ran exultantly, exuberantly free, as the cool mountain breeze fanned her body dry, soothingly caressed her moist, burning cunt.
They had almost gone too far under the icy waterfall; she had almost let him fuck her too long. Tom was about to come, he was almost beyond control when she jerked away from him, pushing him under the water, and dashed out of the natural, rock-bottomed pool, to head for the cabin and bed, or the blanket in the grass behind the cabin.
Tom caught her before she was twenty-five yards down the hill.
"You bitch," he laughed, tackling her, tumbling with her in the high, sweet-scented grass, "you'll pay for that. I was about to come!"
"I know you were, you bastard," she giggled, wiggling and twisting under him, keeping her thighs clamped tightly together so he couldn't get his cock into her cunt again. "I want you to give me a baby, not a fish. You had my pussy pumped so full of water that if you had come in me your cream would have been too diluted to find under a microscope."
"Well, we're out of the water now," Tom panted. "Come on, honey, open your legs, let me get my aching boner back into your hot, sweet snatch. Your pussy is so good-soooo good."
"Not here, darling," Pat pleaded. "I'm just as hot as you are. I want to fuck as bad as you do, but this grass stings-itches. Let me up, please; well finish on the blanket down in the backyard."
Tom helped her to her feet, and they stood sharing a long, wet, tongue-sucking kiss before continuing toward the cabin, arms around each other s waist.
"Oh darling, I'm so terribly, terribly happy," Pat burbled, reaching farther around his skinny waist to grab and squeeze his bone-hard, out-thrust cock; "your cock is scrumptious, delicious, absolutely perfect-I'll never get enough of it."
"Your little cunt isn't so bad, either," Tom chuckled, sliding a long stiffened finger down the deep, hot crack of her fat, round ass, to wedge it up into her twitching, quivering cunt hole.
"My cunt isn't so little," Pat giggled; "it takes all of your eight inches and begs for more. You haven't hurt me yet"
"I distinctly remember hearing screams last night," Tom reminded her.
"But only when you tried to get that big club into my asshole with just spit and cunt juice for lubrication," Pat countered. "You certainly didn't hear any screams after we found the KY-Jelly--unless you count my screaming when you made me come. Isn't it funny, I used to think anal intercourse was so perverted and nasty, even thinking about it made me blush in shame and disgust. Now here I am not only calmly talking to you about ass-fucking, but actually taking all of your monstrous cock all the way in my asshole and loving every inch of it. Thomas Hayden, you have turned this once innocent girl into a perverted whore."
"As long as you're just perverted and whorish for me alone, you've got a devoted love slave for the rest of our lives," Tom assured her. "You know the old saying, 'a perfect wife is a lady in the parlor, a housewife in the kitchen, and a whore in bed.' I intend to see how much whore you can be, and if you don't keep me turned on, I'll trade you in for a different model."
"If that's all it takes to keep you, I've got it made in the shade," Pat laughed, turning, leaping up to wrap both arms around his neck, and her young, strong legs around his waist.
She held her breath and concentrated on his tongue sliding toward her throat, as she felt his big hand guiding his feverish cock into her waiting, passion-wet cunt. She sank down on it with a moaning sigh of pleasure. It always felt so good going in that she didn't know how she would be able to stand the goodness that got better and better the longer and harder he pounded his joy stick into her insatiable sheath.
As he walked with her the few remaining yards to the blanket, she savored the spine-tingling thrill of his cock filling her hot, juicy pussy to bursting. As he dropped to his knees, still holding her aloft, still impaling her on the flaming spear of his up-fucking cock, she flattened her tits against his chest, rolled her belly against his, and began rising and falling on the source of her pleasure so wildly he could no longer keep up.
Falling forward with her legs still locked around his back, and his cock still bouncing off her womb with every punishing, pleasure-filled stroke, he braced himself on elbows and knees and shot the root to her as though his ass were motor driven. He was proud of his overly long cock, glad that it was so long, that no matter how wildly she bucked and wiggled beneath him, no matter what intricate, complicated movements they both made, he never lost contact, his cock never slipped out of her. The heat, wetness, and tightness of her popping, squirting, savagely gripping hole was always wrapped tightly around some portion of his cock, taking all that her up-thrusting and his down-pounding gyrations could bring into play.
"Ohhh darling, fuck me-fuck meee!" Pat pleaded wildly. "It's soooo good, your big, sweet, pounding cock is soooo good. I'm ready to comeshoot it to me harder now-come with me pleeeease. Let's come together, baby, come with meeeeeeeeeel"
"It's almost there, darling!" he cried; "work with me, pitch that sweet, hot pussy to me harder-yes-yes-yesssss-here it comesssssss!"
And they were so absorbed in the pleasure they were giving each other, so wrapped up in the thrill of their simultaneous orgasm, that they didn't notice the deeper shadows that fell on their twisting, grinding bodies in the dappled shade of the walnut trees. They didn't hear the grass-muffled steps or the heavy, lust-charged breathing of the six men who stole out of the cabin to stand in a circle around them.
Slim leaned down, swung from way behind his head, and knocked Tom unconscious with one blow of a stubby, leaded blackjack. He didn't know if he would be forced to knock Pat out also, until he looked down and saw that the decision had been made for him. She had fainted.
The seamen worked swiftly and efficiently. The knots they tied in the nylon cords they used to bound their victims were designed so that the more they struggled the tighter the knots became. The gags they devised to stuff and bound their mouths allowed no more than muffled grunts and whimpers to escape their throats. The blindfolds didn't let in even a hint of light, and sight was impossible.
They tossed Tom into a walk-in closet. They tied Pat, spread-eagled, on Carl and Betty's big, double bed. Her ankles were secured to the foot posts, her wrists were firmly tied to the head posts, and a thick, soft pillow was bunched under her ass, giving easy access and unrestricted entry into her pulled open, high-standing cunt
"Okay," Pat heard Slim say to the others, "she's coming around now, so I guess we can get started. Remember my instructions, no rough stuff, no pushing and shoving. We've got a good deal here, and the first sonofabitch who tries to fuck it up is in a whole heap o' trouble. We got food, booze, records, and air-conditioned comfort. Not only that, but we got a hot, sweet, lil unresistin' cunt there for all of our pleasure.
"Just remember that she's got to have a cock in her the whole time that we're up here on this five-day, all expenses paid, luxury vacation, so don't try to fuck yourselves to death the first couple of go-rounds-stretch it out, 'cause we've all got a whole heap o' fuckin' to do, and I don't want no ass draggin' later on. Any questions?"
None of the five naked men seemed to have any questions. They were all standing around the bed, drooling down at the prettiest girl and the most enticing, exciting cunt that any of them had ever been this close to.
"Okay, we already drew straws for the order of the first round," Slim went on. "Chuck goes first, then Melvin, then me. Fred follows me, then Jack; and Claude, you bring up the rear. Ain't no use in the rest of us standin' around watchin' and gettin' all worked up, so let's go back out in the livin' room and play poker or somethin'."
All of Pat's muscles tensed and she jerked so hard on the bonds holding her wrists and ankles that the resulting pain in her joints caused her to almost faint again. She was sure that no pain could be as excruciating until she felt a heavily breathing man lean over her, reach down to spread her cunt lips with his thick, insensitive fingers, and shove a cock that felt like a sawed-off baseball bat deep into her fear-paralyzed woman hole.
"Ain't no use to fight it," the man growled into her ear, "you got ta take it, so you might as well relax and enjoy it."
Pat thought Tom's cock was big, but this thing inside her now, almost splitting her asunder, seemed twice as big, twice as hard, and it hurt so badly she wished that she could faint, prayed that she could die.
As the man began to pound away in earnest, the pain lessened only because she was growing used to it, not because it was no longer there. Her arms and legs were already numb from lack of circulation and had no feeling in them at all. At first this pain had countered the pain in her cunt, but now she had only one pain to contend with, and it was much too much for her. With a muffled groan behind her gag, she mercifully fainted again.
When Pat came to much later, her mind was so jumbled and confused that moments passed before she realized that she was no longer being raped, that the painful cords binding her wrists had been loosened, her legs were free, and somebody was briskly massaging her swollen, blue ankles.
"Don't fight me," Slim said to her from the foot of the bed; "you're lucky I was next in line. Your circulation was cut off completely and you might have died. You look like a sensible girl, so I tell ya what I'm gonna do-I'm gonna take away your blindfold and gag, and leave your legs free. You give me any shit, though, you try to scream or fight any of us, and it's gonna to be harder on you than it was at first."
"Where is Tommy? What have you done to him?" Pat asked feebly, once her mouth was free, and she could speak again.
"Your boyfriend's all right," Slim answered. "We got him untied-all but his wrists, too. He ain't gonna get hurt, as long as he don't start no shit."
"Who are you, why are you doing this to me--why, why?" Pat cried softly.
"We're scientists," Slim joked dryly, "conductin' research to see how much cock one cunt can take without bustin' wide open. You're our guinea pig. You just stop talking now, 'cause we ain't here for conversation. We're here for what educated folks call sexual congress. Them other two dudes said your pussy is about the hottest, tightest thing that ever said 'good mornin' to a slop jar, so leave me be, while I verify that."
Slim scrubbed Pat's gism-oozing cunt dry with a damp washcloth, and she stiffened as he gently shoved his eight-inch cock into her. It was the same size as Tom's, and though her vaginal tissues were sore and swollen from the ordeal she had already gone through, the relief of this familiar, manageable-sized cock was such a relief that she relaxed in spite of herself, and her greedy, mindlessly hot and horny cunt began to lubricate freely, cling and suck on its own volition, and without realizing what she was doing, she began fucking Slim back.
"Them sons of bitches wasn't lyin' a taste," Slim groaned; "goddamn, girl, you got a pee hole hung on you that would make a preacher cuss. Ain't no pussy got no business bein' this good, and you got movements like a filly colt with a burr under her saddle. Ease up-don't make me come yet, I wanna enjoy this sweet shit for awhile."
But Pat was not about to ease up. Suddenly it was clear to her exactly what she had to do. She would play along with them, pretend that she couldn't get enough of their cocks. She would laugh and joke with them, suck them off, compliment and flatter them as though they were giving her the time of her life. She would persuade them to let Tommy go, then find a way to escape when they were unawares. This was their only chance, and she planned to play it to the hilt.
"Ohhh shit," she panted hotly, swiveling her ass up to meet Slim's thrusts with such force that he had to hold on for dear life, "how the hell do you expect me to keep quiet with your sweet fucking cock driving me crazy? I can't ease up-your cock is too good. Fuck me, you big, handsome, long-dicked mother-fucker--ohhh fuck me, fuck me, make me cornel"
Til be a sonofabitch," Slim said to himself, no longer trying to fight the orgasm that was erupting in his nutsack; "of Pete wasn't lyin' a taste. This is the hottest, horniest lil bitch I ever had the good fortune of gettin' my dick into. Looks like we're in for a fuckin' five days, the likes o' which the world ain't never seen!"
CHAPTER NINE
The Murden brothers, Roy and Roger, were identical twins who had been away to an exclusive East Coast college for the past four years. Phillip Murden, their oil-rich father, and Carla, their jet-set, socialite mother, spent so much time traveling the world for business and pleasure that during the entire four years the boys had returned home no more than three or four times.
After graduating from college with degrees in business finance, the twenty-two-year-old, six foot three inch, strikingly handsome twins had decided to go home for no particular reason. They found themselves on the West Coast, and one of them said to the other, "Let's go home, we might get lucky and catch Mom and Dad there."
They had been home for two days now, and both of them were still walking around on cloud nine, completely dazed by the stroke of uncanny, coincidental luck that had made them decide to return to the old home town.
The Murdens had been neighbors of Chet and Marsha Felton since the twins were pre-teenagers and Susan and Thea were pre-school toddlers. When Roger and Roy left home for college, Susan had been a flat-chested, knobby-kneed, twelve-year-old tomboy, and Thea a coltish, long-legged beanpole of eleven. At the age of eighteen, both of the boys had fucked Marsha, but if they noticed Susan and Thea at all, it was with an air of big brotherly, teasing condescension.
Not finding their parents at home, Roy and Roger had wandered about the familiar, old family mansion, at a loss as to what to do with themselves.
"I wonder if Marsha Felton is still putting out," Roy had mused as they stood before the huge picture window in the salon, staring absently across the two acres of landscaped lawn that separated them from the Felton residence.
"I was just thinking the same thing," Roger grinned. "That's some of the best pussy I've ever had-bar none. Jeeezus, but could that little sexpot pitch a wicked ass. Remember the sandwich she let us make of her-one in her asshole, and one in her cunt at the same time? Like, wow, man, that was the high point of my sex life."
"How could I forget it?" Roy exclaimed, blue eyes dancing merrily, tossing the blond mane of his shoulder-length hair as he laughed at the happy memory.
"I thought we'd kill her," Roy went on reminiscing, "both of us over six feet tall, both with nine-inch cocks, and she such a tiny, little doll."
"But she took all the cock we could pound into her, and gave it back to us in spades," Roy recollected. "Remember how we stood up with her between us, with her hanging onto me with her arms around my neck, and her legs around my waist, and. . ."
"Yeah, yeah," Roger finished for him, "and she turned loose with both arms and legs, and hung there suspended between us on our cocks, still bumping and grinding that sweet ass like a Turkish belly dancer. God, what a woman-let's call and see if we can get her over here."
"That wouldn't be cool, man. Suppose Chet's home or their bratty, little daughters. How would she explain our call? What well do is just stroll over there, drop in, and say hello. Then if she's not alone, well get a message across to her for later."
When the front door chimes rang, Chet had been begging off going another round with Susan and Thea. He had fucked both girls as soon as they came in from school, and they were all three naked on the couch, with his silvery gism still oozing from their open cunts. They were both still horny and begging him to fuck them again.
"Ill suck your cock hard again, Daddy, please let me," Thea was begging.
"Fuck it, I couldn't raise another hard-on if. . ."
The chimes interrupted Chet's declaration of defeat.
"Who the fuck could that be?" Chet muttered, jumping up and silently, frantically shooing the girls out of the room, though he was actually glad for this untimely intrusion.
"Who is it?" he called, snatching a bathrobe from the closet and hastily throwing it on.
"Roy and Roger Murdenl" one of the twins' voices came back through the door.
"Just a minute!" Chet had cried loudly, happily, before dashing into the bathroom off the master bedroom, where Marsha was stepping out of the shower.
"Baby!" he said in an excited, croaking whisper. "Our problems are solved-remember how we were trying to get the girls to go out and get fucked by somebody, so they could at least name a father in case they are pregnant?"
"Yes-s-sure-but what...?"
"Roger and Roy, the Murden twins, are at the front door. We can't let them get away without fucking the girls. When you come out of here, try your damndest to get them hot. I don't care what you do, up to and including showing them your cunt. Then go in the girls' room and prep them--this is our lucky day!"
Without waiting for Marsha to answer, Chet had hurried back out to fling open the living room door.
"Hi ya, Roy-Rog-glad to see ya," Chet greeted the twins. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but you caught me-uhh-heh-heh-taking care of a little bedroom business, and I had to find something to put on. Come in-come in."
"Sorry if we interrupted anything," Roger had said as they entered the spacious, luxuriously furnished living room. "We just hit town, found the pad empty, and thought we'd drop by to say hello before we split."
"Glad you did-glad you did. Marsha and the girls would have been hurt if you had left town without stopping by. Sit down-make yourselves comfortable. You'll never know how glad I am to see you two. Our girls have been driving us both crazy talking constantly about those handsome, sexy Murden brothers, and what they planned to do to you when you got back to town. Now I can see why they've got such a case of the flaming hots for you two. I'd forgotten what handsome studs you are. Uhh-can I fix you a drink?"
"Uhh-y-yes, sure, Scotch on the rocks for both of us," Roy had said, casting a big-eyed what-the-hell-is-this' glance at his brother, knowing that, like him, Roger was silently calculating the girls' ages, which he figured to be no more than thirteen and fourteen by now.
"Kids today are something else," Chet said from the bar where he was pouring them all a drink, extra large ones for the twins. "Marsha and I want our girls to keep up with the times. They smoke pot right here in the house, and they both fuck like little minks. We don't mind; we're happy for them. We've got them both on the pill, so no sweat about unwanted pregnancy-so we say, what the hell, let them have their fun."
The brothers exchanged swift, questioning glances again. Chet handed them their drinks and called back over his shoulder, "Hey, Marsha, we've got company, and you'll never guess who it is-get out here!"
Marsha hurried out of the bedroom struggling into a short, lacy, see-through, black peignoir. She was having trouble getting it up on one shoulder, and it hung wide open, exposing her naked, bobbing, bouncy tits, and the thick, curly bush of her naked cunt
With a shriek of mock embarrassment Marsha spun around, causing the garment to fly high, revealing her most provocative feature, her mouth-wateringly delicious-looking ass.
"Ohh, Chet, how could you?" she had cried. "You knew I wasn't dressed-I-I thought it was some of our relatives. I-I'm s-so embarrassed."
"Come on-come on," Chet said with a laugh, "if these two handsome studs haven't seen a cunt and tits before, I misjudge them completely."
"I-I-uhhh-oh, hello, Roger and Roy," she said, turning, blushing prettily, holding the peignoir tightly closed at her waist, but allowing it to swing open at her cunt. "I still can't tell you two apart, but I'm glad to see you both, and the girls will be thrilled to death. They both swear that they have wet dreams about you two almost nightly."
"Hello, Mrs. Felton," the twins said, rising to reveal two unconceivable erections angling down their thighs.
"Chet was just talking to us about Sue and Thea," Roy said. "Where are the little tykes."
"Little tykes!" Marsha laughed, sitting down opposite the twins and making sure that they looked right into her moist, open cunt as she crossed her legs very, very slowly, "Wait'll you see them-you'll change that tune."
Glancing to make sure that the girls' door was not completely closed, and knowing that they were listening, Marsha went on briskly, "They're taking their after-school naps now. If they aren't out in a few minutes, I'll go in and get them. I'm warning you in advance, though, you two handsome devils are in danger of being raped by those two horny little nymphos."
"We rape easy," Roger said, deciding to play along with Chet and Marsha's obvious attempts to interest them sexually in their daughters, "and speaking of rape, if Chet wasn't here, you'd be in serious danger of rape yourself."
"Why don't we give everybody an equal chance," Chet suggested; "you two go in and wake the girls. If nothing happens to keep you in there, come on back out. If I'm not busy finishing the job that you interrupted, just do what comes naturally, or, as my girls say, if you think it will feel good-do it."
Roger and Roy had needed no second invitation. In less than ten minutes Chet had heard the bedsprings creaking violently, and Thea's high-pitched voice squealing, "Oh-oh-ohhhhh-J-Jeeeeee-zusss-ohhh-f-fuck-fuck-fuck meee, Roy or Roger, whichever one you are. Goddamn-fuck the piss out of meeee-oh-oh God is it ever ggooood. Fuck me harder-harder, make meeee commmmee!"
"Jeeezus fuckin' Christ!" one of the twins bellowed. "If you think Marsha had some good pussy, just wait 'til you get your goddamn joint caught in this hot, juicy man trap, bro! Susan, girl, where did you ever learn-to f-fuck like-th--this. Don't-br-break my goddamn back-but-but d-don't stop wh--whipping that hot, juicy pussy on me. Fuck me-pussy whip me, you sweet, fucking bitch!"
Chet now had Marsha's legs hooked over his shoulders, and was seemingly trying to dislocate her womb as he slammed his monstrous cock into her hot, sucking wetness with all of his lust-maddened strength. Still he caught the flattering comparison between his wife's and his daughter's cunts, and after he had blasted a bubbling load of hot, spewing gism into her womb, he demanded an explanation.
Now, two days later, the twins had not left the house, nor put on a stitch of clothing. Except for the baby contest, everything was out in the open, including the fact that Chet had been fucking Susan and Thea. The young people couldn't get enough of each other, and watching them, Chet and Marsha renewed their own insatiable lust for each other's genitals.
Chet sat at the bar, quietly talking to Roy and
Marsha while Roger lay on his back on the living room carpet, taking care of both the girls at once.
Thea squatted over Roger's face, sitting lightly on his mouth as his long, hot tongue drove shriek after shriek out of her by fluttering expertly over her clit, digging deeply into her asshole and cunt. At the same time, Susan kneeled over his loins, her nubile ass rising and falling in jogging, elliptic circles as she rode his upthrust cock in and out-in and out of her slickly clinging, come-squirting cunt.
"I thought we'd blown it when Marsha told you dudes that I'd been fucking the girls," Chet was saying. "Man, you guys are really broad-minded if that doesn't turn you off."
"Shit, you couldn't have turned us off those two incredible cunts if you had said they'd been fucking stray dogs, let alone their father," Roy declared. "Besides, we'd have to be some awful fucking hypocrites to pretend to get uptight about incest, since Mom got our cherries and taught us both how to fuck and eat pussy when we were just fourteen.
"Mom and Dad apparently had you two pegged wrong, though. They said you were square. They said they threw all kinds of hints to get you two to swing with them, but you never took the bait You don't know what you were missing, Chet Mom's got some of the best ass that either of us have ever had, and believe me, we've had plenty. She's bisexual, and she eats pussy like a champ, too, Marsha. Just wait until we tell them about the change here. You're really going to experience some fucking and sucking. They'll fight over you three gorgeous hunks of pure sex. And if you think Chet's got a big cock, and knows how to use it, just wait 'til you feel Dad's horse cock playing tricks in your cunt."
"I can hardly wait," Marsha grinned. "Tell me, are you two still fucking Carla?"
"Sure, when we can catch her," Roy grinned. "She used to call us at school from all over the world, just to chat, and both of us would get so horny for her fabulous ass that we'd hop a plane and fly to Rome, Paris, Johannesburg just to fuck her."
"She's such a gorgeous, classy creature," Chet said, "she reminds me of Princess Grace. I guess that's why we didn't catch those hints back in the old days. We were too much in awe of Carla's glacial beauty and Phil's money and power. We just couldn't believe that people like that actually enjoyed fucking."
"She's forty-three years old now," Roy said, "and she gets sexier and more beautiful by the day. I can't see why they intimidated you, though. I thought only poor, stupid, ugly people stood in awe of the rich and the beautiful. And as far as enjoying fucking, it is precisely those with the looks, the money, and the leisure time who really become connoisseurs of eroticism, and both Dad and Mom were life long connoisseurs.
"Incest-I hate that fucking word-intra-family sex has been a part of Mom and Dad's life for generations. Both of them were taught to fuck by their parents, so it was only natural that Carla would pass the art along to Rog and me, with Dad watching, participating, and wholeheartedly approving."
"And to think, I was really uptight about Chet's fucking Thea and Susy," Marsha said. "Still, I thought that nothing could be more fascinating than to watch him and one-or both-of the girls locked and straining naked together, their beautiful bodies glistening with sweat, his big, beautiful cock plunging in and out of their tender, lovely cunts.
"I'm really glad you guys came by and woke us up to what a really fantastic thing we've got going. The only trouble is, when you leave, I'll have to learn to eat pussy in order to get any sex at all, because I can't compete with those two sex bombs for Chet's cock."
"In the first place we aren't leaving," Roy said. "Rog and I have already talked about it and made the decision. Dad said he wanted us to settle down and take over operations of his international business affairs one of these day, anyway. Since he's headquartered here, and now that we have found you crazy, wonderful freaks, you couldn't pull us away from here with a bulldozer.
"In the second place, you should learn to eat pussy, anyway, just for the perfect, delicious thrill of sucking cunt. Any woman who denies herself the incredible pleasure of both active and passive lesbian love is denying herself one of the world's greatest sexual joys. Carla gave me that little gem of philosophy, so I know it's true.
"In the third place, cunt, like rare wine, mellows and gets better with age. Since you started out with one of the best, one of the hottest, tightest, juiciest cunts this side of Carla Murden's, there is no way under the sun for Sue and Thea to ever catch up. You've got it made in the shade, woman. We'll see to it that you never go wanting-won't we, Chet?"
"You better believe it," Chet happily agreed. "What Marsha simply doesn't realize is the fact that I was happier than anybody here to see you two guys come in. As bad as I hate to admit it, Susan and Thea were just about to fuck me to death, and I couldn't wait to get them off my back so I could get back to this comfortable, non-demanding, but indescribably good pussy on a regular basis."
"Talk is cheap," Marsha grinned with impish but obvious pleasure at the two men. "It's mighty funny, though, that nobody is getting any action right now but Susy and Thea."
Without a word, Roy wet the head of his rock-hard cock with copious amounts of spit, picked Marsha up bodily, and held her in the air with her ass to his belly. Marsha reached back and down with both hands, and spread her soft, billowy ass cheeks as far apart as they would go. Holding her breath in sweet anticipation as his cockhead gently nudged the target, she sighed ecstatically as she felt the throbbing rod of flesh ease stretchingly, thrillingly into her hot, clinging asshole.
Before Roy's cockhead reached bottom, Chet had stepped around in front of Marsha and lifted her thighs to hook her knees over his upbent elbows. With one savagely powerful thrust, his cock was in her cunt to his balls, rubbing excitingly against the bulge of Roy's root pressing his through the thin membrane separating the two narrow, fuck channels.
"Ohhhhh, that's the way-that's the way-that's the way I love it!" Marsha cried, swiveling her loins with a wild locomotion between her two powerfully fucking lovers. "Fuck me, you two sweet dick bastards-fuck me to death!"
CHAPTER TEN
Pat sat beside her father in the front seat of the Chrysler staring blankly ahead, as he alternately ranted and raved, cursed and screamed, and worriedly, solicitously questioned her about her ordeal. She hadn't spoken a word since he had bust into the cabin, untied her, and escorted her to the car.
"Can't you at least talk?" he yelled. "Goddam-nut, what the fuck's the matter with you? Me and your mother were worried sick about you-neither of us have had any sleep since you've been gone-cops are searching for you all over the statel Tell me what happened to you girl-who tied you up and raped you like that-talk to me, goddamn you!"
Pat stared blankly, glassy eyed out the windshield. If she heard her father speak, she gave no indication. The blanket that he had tossed over her shoulders to cover her nakedness had slipped down behind and around her on the seat, leaving her tits, belly, and cunt exposed. She didn't seem to notice.
"Baby," Carl went on in a choked whisper, "I'm sorry-I didn't mean to scream at you. I'm-I'm just I'll upset, is all. I'm so glad to have you back alive. Why did you do it, Pat, honey, why did you run away like that? Come on, nobody's mad at you, nobody's going to try to force you to do anything against your will again.
"I know you must have gone through pure hell, but can't you see, baby, you've got to tell me what happened to you so I can go to the police-get this thing cleared up. Who'd you go up there with, that Hayden boy? Where is he, what happened to him?"
Pat remained silent. She still did not even look at her father. She appeared to have been struck both deaf and dumb.
"We're pretty sure that both your sisters and your mother are pregnant," Carl announced hap pily. "All of them were supposed to have had their periods within the last few days, and none of them came around. So you don't have to worry about a thing. Everything is back to normal around the house."
Pat remained mute.
"All right, have it your way," Carl said angrily. "play deaf and dumb. Whatever happened to you is your own goddamn fault. If you'd stayed home like you got some goddamn sense, you could have at least gotten fucked by clean, decent guys, and they would have fucked you with love and consideration. But no, little Miss smart-ass had to sneak off in the woods with a simple-minded teenager who wouldn't know what to do with a cunt he found one in his jockey shorts. So no goddamn better for you, I hope those bums fucked the living shit out of you.
"You know what else I hope? I hope that your selfish little ass is knocked up higher than the moon, and if you are, you're going to have that baby, you get me? You're going to have that baby if I have to take you back up to that cabin, tie you back up, and keep you tied up for the whole nine months. If you're not pregnant, and you keep on with this deaf and dumb act, I'll shove your ass so deep in a mental institution that you'll never see daylight again, so either way it goes, I win, and you lose."
They were still miles up in the mountains on a lonely, winding, tree-lined road. Carl drove in seething, teeth-grinding silence for a few miles. Every once in awhile he would glance over at his silent, all but naked daughter, and he would visibly shudder with desire for her perfect woman's body. He hadn't fucked for days, and his boner ached in the confines of his pants.
Abruptly, viciously, he swerved off the blacktop onto a trail that led into a thick copse of trees. Cutting the engine, he ripped open his fly and hauled out his throbbing, flange-headed cock, and shook it at her threateningly. Twisting up on his knees, he picked her up bodily, and flung her over the back rest so that her head and hands landed in the back seat, and her feet remained in the front seat, with her ass hiked over the hump, naked and open to his gaze.
Her cunt was open and oozing, her asshole was swollen completely closed. Carl had no desire to ride the sloppy caboose of the train that had been pulled on her, and he stuck his finger into her asshole to test it for entry. It was hot in there and so tight that he had to push hard to get his finger all the way in.
This is your last goddamn chance," Carl said to her softly, hoarsely, already hovering bent over her, with his feet on the seat beside her, his cock in one hand, the other spreading her ass cheeks. "If you don't start talking before I count to three, I'm gonna go harder on your ass than the guys who raped you. One-two-three."
Carl drove his rigid cock into her entrails with all his might and almost screamed himself at the heat and tightness of the biting orifice. Beside himself with lust and frustration, he humped into her frantically, moaning, whining, almost crying as he pulled her hair, slapped her as hard as he could on both sides of her up-poked ass, beat her in the ribs with his fists. And it wasn't until he had blasted his nuts into her passively immobile ass that he realized that she wasn't acting. Something was wrong.
It had taken Carl the rest of the day and part of the night to get Pat secreted into a down-state, private clinic owned by a friend of his. The doctor had told him that she was merely suffering from extreme shock and assured him that she would be all right with lots of rest and proper care.
He managed, though, to make it just five minutes late to the same spot he had stood when he met Slim, five nights earlier. He cursed softly to see two well-dressed young men, one black and one white, chatting and laughing in front of the Cock-a-Doo, a shuttered bar that was to have been their meeting place. He couldn't afford to be seen with Slim, and these two guys seemed to have taken a lease on this particular spot.
"Shit, the sonofabitch probably won't show up, anyway," Carl muttered; "trash like him can't be depended on. Ill save $300, but goddammit, I wanted to know what went on up there."
The short hairs at the back of Carl's neck stood on end as the white man pointed toward his car, said something to his companion, and the both of them advanced on the Chrysler.
"Cops," Carl croaked softly; "goddammit, something's gone wrong."
The tall, blond man leaned down and grinned at Carl as he rapped on the window.
Trying vainly to control his trembling, Carl pressed the power button and opened the window a crack.
"Open the door, Pete," the man said. "Let me m.
"Slim!" Carl cried, laughing his relief, unlocking the door. "I didn't recognize you all dolled up, man."
Slim slid into the front seat and reached back to open the back door for his friend. "Say, what's with the nig-uhh-the other guy?"
Carl hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "What's coming off here?"
"Drive, Carl," Slim ordered bluntly.
"Carl? Carl? My name's Pete-what the fuck . . . ?"
"Your name is Carl Felton, and Pat is not your hot-assed, nymphomaniac wife, she's your sixteen-year-old daughter. So suppose you cruise around and explain to me the trick bag you put me in, then well discuss-uhhh-adequate compensation."
"I-I had my reasons," Carl said, pulling away from the curb, "good reasons that are none of your goddamn business. What I want to know is what this clown in the back seat has got to do with our deal. Man, don't tell me that you let a goddamn nigger fuck my daughter."
"You want to answer that, Chuck?" Slim asked his friend.
"You're in bad trouble already, man," Chuck growled from the back seat. "I'm not gonna make you apologize for that yet, but you're gonna apologize before this night is over. You go on and get straight with Slim now, but watch the name calling, unless you happen to get your kicks by going head first through windshields."
"You said get five other guys." Slim reminded Carl; "you didn't say a thing about race, color, or creed. I got five guys, two black and three white. I kept my end of the bargain. We fucked that poor girl damn near to death. She held up like a champ, though, and I really thought she was gonna make it with no sweat, until this morning.
"We all took a liking to her. In the first place she got the best pussy any of us ever had our dicks in, and in the second place, she's just about one of the sweetest kids I ever known. We all got us a farewell fuck, and I took it upon myself to give her a little fatherly advice, told her that when she got back to her husband, she better treat him right. She didn't have no trouble puttin' two and two together, and lettin' me know who you really was, and what your game was."
"But what if one of those colored guys knocked her up?" Carl cried. "I wouldn't admit being grandfather to no-shit-no, no-it's all been for nothing, I don't owe you guys a damn thing. You've ruined my daughter for life, and it was those colored guys that did it-that's why she's in shock, she's scared to death of nig-uhhh-colored people."
"Chuck and Claude, the other black dude who was with us, went easier on her than any of us did," Slim said calmly. "She took a liking to them right from the jump, and if she was scared of them, she sure as hell didn't show it. They voluntarily quit fucking her when her pussy got so sore and swollen she couldn't take no more, and she showed her appreciation by giving them two dudes some blow jobs the likes of which you ain't never seen.
"Goddamn it, Carl, don't make me kill you--don't make me beat you to death with my bare fists. I fell in love with that girl-all of us did-we ain't much, about as close to the scum of the earth as you can get, I guess, but compared to the likes of you, we're all knights in shining armor. You lousy mother-fucker, you shit-eatin' dog.
"When I got to talking to Pat about her so-called husband, she figured it out and cried, 'you didn't talk to any Pete-any husband-my father, Carl Felton, put you up to this-just to get me pregnant-just to get that money. Them's the last words she spoke; she became an instant vegetable. When we got back to town we did a little investigatin', and found out that you're richer than ten foot up a bull's ass. Now how about that."
"Bullshit," Carl snorted. "I haven't got any money. I'm flat-assed broke-ruined-that's why I wanted Pat pregnant. If she had a son, the kid would be worth millions-millions. But that's all down the drain. All I got is that three hundred dollars I promised you-take it, and leave me alone."
"Where do you bank?"
"The Mercantile and Trust, but I'm overdrawn-overdrawn by thousands-I'm broke, I tell you.
"You still got the Felton name," Slim reminded him, "and the way I hear tell, just that name's worth about any amount that you can count. So I tell ya what you're gonna do. You're gonna help me and my buddies retire early. We ain't used to much, so we ain't askin' much, just ten thousand dollars a piece-sixty thousand lousy dollars."
"You gotta be crazy-I'll go to the police in.."
"That's one of your choices. You can stop at the next police station and let us tell them a bedtime story, or you can drive around until you come up with a way to come up with sixty thousand dollars -whichever one comes first."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Where is she, Sylvia, are they home yet?" Tom Hayden cried as soon as Sylvia opened the front door for him.
"Wait-wait-just take it easy," Sylvia laughed. "Sit down, relax, they'll be here soon."
"Oh my God, it seems like years since I saw her last," Tom said, going over to sit on the circular couch opposite Sylvia, "and it's only been five months-five long, lousy, miserable months. I still can't understand why I wasn't allowed to see her-I've been almost crazy."
"Doctor's orders," Sylvia said simply, "and other circumstances that will be explained to you as we go along-many of which Pat will have to explain to you herself. The main thing is, she is perfectly well now, as good as new, and she'll be here any minute."
"But what about Carl-her father? He warned me to stay away from her-said if I ever tried to contact her again in any way that he'd have me locked up for kidnap, rape, and then some. Think of that, and he's the sonofabitch who left me tied up in that cabin to die."
"Forget about Carl. I never told you this, because we still haven't told anybody, but Patricia is ours now-Scott and I officially, legally adopted her."
"What? How...r
"The way he put it, Carl's life was in danger. He said that the men who had kidnapped Pat were still holding her hostage, and that if he didn't come up with sixty thousand dollars cash, both he and Pat would be killed. He even had a couple of the alleged kidnappers in the car with him.
"He knew that Scott and I have always wanted kids and had often spoken of adopting at least one. So his pitch was that if we got him off the hook-saved his and Pat's life-he and Betty would let us adopt Pat."
"And Scott went for that?"
"Of course not, my husband is not stupid. He refused to cooperate until Carl told him at least enough of the truth for us to discover that Pat was indeed in some kind of bad trouble. Then he checked everything out, even went to the clinic where Carl had taken Pat, and got her released from there to be put in a place of our choice. Carl didn't mention your being up at the cabin still, but when we called your house and you weren't there, we decided to check."
"I'm glad you did, or I wouldn't be here talking to you now. I owe you two my life, Sylvia, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you."
"Just be good to Pat, Tommy. Love her half as much as she loves you, and you will have more than repaid us. She's going to have that baby, you know, and it may be black. Scott and I could care less if it turns out black, white, or zebra-stripped, but if the possibility bothers you, back out now--don't build her up for a letdown."
"Half of that baby is Patty, and the other half is human," Tom declared, "and that's enough to guarantee my love for it. Besides, what makes you so sure that baby isn't mine? What do you think Pat and I were doing up there in the first place? That first day and night, I'll bet we fu . . . uhh-made love at least a dozen times."
"It may be yours, and I hope it is," Sylvia laughed at the furiously blushing youth, "and you need not be embarrassed to use the word 'fuck' in front of me. It's a beautiful word, an exciting word, and it describes the thing that goes on most around this house. I'm sure Pat has told you about Scott and me."
"Oh she has-she has," Tom said, blushing an even deeper red, "Now-uhhh-don't get me wrong, she wasn't gossiping, or being catty-I questioned her-pumped her. I didn't believe some of the stuff she told me. She knew it turned me on, and I thought she was making stuff up, just to keep my cock hard. But I already see that some of the stuff was true."
"For instance?"
"Well-uhhh-for instance, that you never wear panties, and you've got the most beautiful, hairy, well-fucked-looking cunt imaginable. Goddamn, Sylvia, I'm sitting here looking right into it, and
"Jeezus, I can hardly stand it. I don't blame Pat. She said every time she sees it, she wants to suck it, and-oh God-I do too."
"Be my guest, dear," Sylvia cooed, throwing her head back on the back rest, spreading her lush, hairy thighs wider, scooting her ass to the edge of the cushion, and lifting both feet from the floor.
"Oh my God-oh my God," Tom croaked, leaping up to rip his pants down and off, to keep his bone-hard cock from breaking against the confining material.
Dropping to his bony knees on the soft carpet, he moaned achingly, wrenchingly as her hair-captured sweat-cunt-female aroma assailed his quivering nostrils. The smell made him dizzy, drunk, almost delirious. He thought he was going to shoot his almost week-old load of come into the carpet without even touching his cock.
He breathed in deep, gulping, snorting lungsful of the tantalizing, thrilling, lust-enflaming odor. He gazed wide-eyed, bug-eyed into the fat-lipped, loose-lipped, honey-leaking gash. He had never seen a cunt with the inner lips protruding so far outside the outer lips. He had never seen inner lips so fat, lush, invitingly opened like a giant pink jungle flower. He had never seen a clit so long, thick, perfectly dick-formed, with such well-defined, cockhead-looking glans. Even the raised, teardrop-formed slit of her pee-hole, between clit and vulva, was a thing of fascinating beauty, a miniature cunt in itself.
The thick, black hair fanned out of the crack of her ass like fern leaves. Her asshole was deep, scooped out rather than puckered. Her anal ring was almost black, soft, like a sinkhole in quicksand, sweat wet and glistening, hair fringed and numbingly aromatic.
Tom's mesmerized inspection of Sylvia's genital area lasted so long that she raised her head and looked down to see what was taking him so long to get started. She was about to urge him on verbally, when he practically dived head first-face first-tongue first into her steaming canyon of womanhood and sex.
It took the lust-crazed young man a long time to get coordinated. At first he was trying to lick, suck, and chew all at the same time. He smeared his whole face with pussy juice as he scrubbed it up and down her slit from clit to asshole. He sucked her petal-like inner lips into his mouth and seemed to be trying vainly to swallow them as he sucked and gulped and chewed. Spitting them out, he caught her clit-dick between his lip-cushioned teeth and sucked and chewed with savage tenderness, moaning and whining his frustration at his inability to eat all of her cunt at one time. Her cunt juice was delicious, a nectar fit for the gods, her delicate, yet tough, soft, meaty cunt flesh was a delicacy that tasted better than anything he had ever had in his mouth.
"Suck it, darling-s-s-sssuck it!" Sylvia cried, reaching down with both hands to grab fistsful of his long, red hair, and force his mouth deeper into her woman flesh. "Ohhh God-what you l-lack inin finesse is m-more than made up for b-by your en-enthus-i-as-m. Oh God-oh God-chew it-chew my clit-you c-can't hurt it, baby-it's b-been tried a hundred thousand t-times. That's it, baby-th-that's it-harder-s-suck harder-oh yes-yesssyour tongue-li-lick it-faster, faster-I-I'm I'mmm -c-cooommminnnnngl"
As she twisted around and down off the couch, Tom followed her with his long, lean body, never losing contact with her still spasming, come-pumping cunt hole. This was the only real similarity between sucking Sylvia's cunt and sucking Pat's. He knew that women were reputed not to come like men, but he also knew that when Patty came she filled his mouth with about five times the amount of sweet clear cunt honey that had been oozing into his mouth all the while he sucked.
Now, he was gulping and groaning; the juice was actually running down his chin, and the bottomless spring of ambrosia was yielding up more and more of the incredibly delicious, life-giving fluid. He had forgotten that he hadn't fucked since up at the cabin, forgotten that he was about to come just from looking at and smelling Sylvia's cunt; nothing existed for him but what he was doing, and how mind-blowingly good it was.
When he felt the entire eight inches of his cock slip down into Sylvia's wide open, vibrantly clinging throat, he actually screamed a muffled, choked roar of shock and surprise into her cunt. Pat had been trying to learn to deep throat his cock, and was inordinately proud of herself when she succeeded in getting it three-fourths of the way in.
Sylvia, however, had sucked the thick-headed meat bar in to the hairs on the first try, and the heat in her mouth perfectly matched the heat in her cunt. Her saliva-filled jaws were as wet as her woman-come filled cunt. Her tightly, wetly clinging lips sucked his joint, like her slickly muscled cunt lips sucked his tongue.
His dormant orgasm was forcefully reawakened. He caught her clit between his teeth and chewed hurtingly to get his mind off the explosion building up in his quivering nut sack. Digging his long fingers into the cottony soft mounds of her bucking ass, he began mouth-fucking her in jerky, jogging hammer strokes. She took it all with reciprocal up and down, in and out swoops of her head.
In spite of the fact that Tom's mouth was full of gushing pussy, his animal-like roar of completion could not be stifled. His orgasm seemed to start in his fingers and his toes and course through his body at lightning speed, draining him dry and juiceless. Sylvia choked on the first geysering eruption, but she held his cockhead deep in her mouth, gulping frantically to clear her throat for the next hot, slimy onslaught that shot out of his cockhead almost immediately after the first.
A coughing fit hit Sylvia that caused thick, snotty oysters of come to squirt out of her nose, to spew out of her mouth around his emptying phallus, and tears to spring in her eyes. Still she sucked like a baby, swallowing as fast as she could, losing no more of the precious, beloved man-juice than she had to. She thought he would never stop coming, but she didn't care if he didn't-each spurt tasted better than the last
When his nuts were emptied of their long overdue burden, Tom's cock seemed to grow harder rather than softer, longer, thicker, more demanding. Aside from her husband Scott, Sylvia had never known a man who could come and come again without losing his hard-on. Pat had told her that Tom possessed this super-virile, rare and much longed for quality, but seeing, experiencing was believing, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she and Scott had hit the jackpot with these two kids.
"Oh my God, Sylvia, what have we done?" Tom cried, springing to his feet, and searching frantically for his clothes. "Scott and Pat will be here any minute now. Get dressed-get up and get dressed!"
"Got the guilties?" Sylvia grinned up at him from the floor. "What have we done? We just had the most fantastic '69' session I've had since I was a teenager. Yes, they should have been here already, so I guess they will arrive shortly. As for getting dressed, forget it, we'd only have to get undressed again when they get here."
"But-but-do you mean you don't care if they know?"
"My job was to seduce you," Sylvia said, "and
I'd only care if I had nothing to show for my efforts. Get back down here, and let me give you a quick rundown on what's been going on for the past few months."
After Tom had sat back down on the floor, obviously puzzled, Sylvia said, "It was Pat's idea that you and I fuck. Scott, as well as several other people-men, women, and me included-have been fucking her, sucking her, having all sorts of groovy sex with her since she has been at the trauma center."
"Trauma center?" Tom cried. "Trauma center?"
"Not the kind that you mean," Sylvia informed him. "She has been at a therapeutic resort called Eden, a sexual trauma center for people with severe sexual problems. It's for rape victims, psychosomatic impotence, extreme frigidity, and the like. The place is run by Dr. Gary Gordon, a brilliant, horny sexologist who like Scott and I believes that the best therapy for any psychological problem is good, open, loving, totally free sex
"Had Pat remained in a typical clinic or institution, she would have been a mindless vegetable for the rest of her life. Now she is happier, healthier, and more mature than she has ever been. The real reason we wouldn't let you see Pat was the fact that we didn't think you could handle it. Pat loves you, though, and we love you, but unless you can see things our way, give and take freely, share and share alike, I'm sure that you can see the problems that might arise."
"Don't worry about me causing problems, Sylvia, that is, unless you consider staying hard, hot, and horny a problem. This is a dream situation, one that I have fantasized all my life, having a lovely, sexy wife, with a lovely, sexy mother who would actually join us in bed. Jeezus, this is too good to be true. I know I'm square and inexperienced, because of my straitlaced, prudish upbringing, but fuck that noise, I still know a good thing when I see it."
Whatever Sylvia might have answered was interrupted as Pat bounced through the front door, wearing her simple, white, mini-maternity dress up over her distended belly as she came. She was as fat as a butter ball, with her tits having kept pace with her expanding waistline, and her ass having outdone them both. She had never been more beautiful. Her face had taken on a mature, womanly glow. Her hair, once short-cropped and curly, now hung down to the middle of her back in thick, vibrant, light reflecting waves.
"Sylvia!" she cried, not seeing the two on the floor within the ring of the circular couch. "Where are you? Where is Tommy-where is my baby!?"
"Darling, honey, Pat, baby, sweetheart," Tom yelled, scrambling to his feet, and running to meet her with his cock eight inches out front. "Oh God, baby, am I glad to see you! Let me look at you-just let me look at you!"
She didn't give him a chance to look, though, because she was in his arms, kissing him hungrily, sucking his tongue, and sliding her own tongue into his mouth for some of the same treatment.
He had her up off the floor with his big hand cupping one of her fat, smooth ass cheeks, pulling it aside, as two fingers of his other hand slid up and down her sweaty ass crack, one diving deeper to bury itself into her hotter than ever, juicier than ever cunt, the other stopping short and dipping into her moist, nipping, lovingly constricted asshole.
"Ohhh, I see it worked-our plan-I'm so glad-glad," Pat moaned into his mouth. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come through for us, darling. I love you so much-so terribly much. Take me to bed now, or on the couch, on the floor, anywhere, any way you want me, only don't ask me to suck you off-uhhh-just yet."
"I hadn't planned to," Tom said, carrying her to the couch to lay her down and guide his cock smoothly into her cunt, which she was holding open for him with both hands, "but why the restriction?"
"It is three hundred miles from Eden to here," Pat answered, "and I sucked Scott's dick every mile of the way. He must have come a half dozen times, and I swear it felt like a cup full every time. My jaws ache, and I'm so full of hot, heavy cream that if I shake my head, It will slosh out of my ears."
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the middle of her seventh month of pregnancy, Pat's belly was so big that she could only be comfortably fucked from behind. Still, she was insatiably hot and horny and kept both Tom and Scott busy taking care of her constant need for cock. On her hands and knees this bright, autumn morning, with two soft pillows under her stomach, she moaned and groaned in ecstasy as Scott plowed her back-thrust, juice-spitting cunt from behind.
Tom had fucked her upon awakening, then again after breakfast before leaving for his morning college classes. She had sucked Sylvia's cunt to three shattering orgasms, finger-fucked herself while Scott trip-hammered three more wild spendings from his wife's bucking, sucking loins, and now-still unsated-she bucked her fat, smooth ass violently against her adoptive father's belly as he socked it to her for all he was worth.
"Easy, darling-take it easy-don't hurt the baby," Sylvia warned from her position at the foot of the bed, where she lay watching fascinated as her husband's gigantic cock slammed in and out of the young girl's cunt.
"Don't worry about it-don't s-stop him!" Pat cried. "He c-can on-only h-hurt me when he go-goes in fr-from th-the front with my l-legs o-o-oooover his shoulders. My ass is t-too b-big for him to g-go in t-t-too deep from behind. F-fuck me h-harder, D-D-Daddyyyy-my sweet, sweet-good dick D-Daddy. Oh God, your big hot cock f-feeeels sooo g-good in my pussy-harder-harder -I-I-yiiiee-I-m C-C-COMMMMINNNNG!"
"OHH SHIT!" Scott yelled, jamming his cock in to the hilt, and letting the hot come squirt. "ME TOOOOOI"
Both of them rolled over on their backs in the big, double bed, and Sylvia crawled up to lick Scott's cock clean before ducking her face between Pat's spread thighs to reclaim gulping mouthfuls of his still hot, tangy come.
"Are you happy, darling?" Scott asked, reaching over to tousle Pat's golden hair.
"Happier than I have ever been in my life," Pat answered without hesitation. "I'm happier than anybody has any right to be. Isn't it funny, the worst thing that could possibly happen to a woman turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to me."
This was Pat's very first allusion to the ordeal that she had gone through in the mountains, and Sylvia, now lying in the crook of Scott's arm, cast a swift glance up at her husband. Neither of them knew what to say, because neither of them wanted to reopen the closed wound.
"Don't be uncomfortable because I bring that up," Pat said cheerfully, noting their silence. "Dr. Gordan and his methods were so good for me that there is not even a residue of shock, hurt, or any negative feeling left. He and his staff loved me back to health and happiness. It wasn't just fucking and sucking, it was gentleness, patience, tenderness, understanding-in a word-love.
"Then when he started me talking about the experience, he turned it into a lark, made me tell him how good it was, not how bad it was. He made me remember how many times they made me come, not cry. And damnit, it was good-those guys were terrific. It was the shock of discovering that Carl had done this to me, not anything that happened between my thighs, that blew it for me. Actually what I had was five fantastic, fuck-filled days and nights."
"And if the baby is black?" Sylvia asked, knowing that they would soon have to face that very real possibility.
"Who gives a shit?" Pat replied. "I know you and Scott don't care, and neither do Tommy and I. Whatever it is, it will have to remain a little bastard for awhile, though, because we aren't going to get married until after it's born. If it's a boy, it will still be a Felton, and if it comes first, we win the big brass ring, right?"
"My goodness, I had completely forgotten the big baby contest," Sylvia laughed.
"I had, too," Scott said, "and to think that was precisely what led us to being together like this. Well, don't you and Tom worry about a thing, honey. We've got enough money to last us for the rest of our lives and our grandbaby's, too. You two get married anytime you want to. Fuck that estate."
"It's not just that," Pat admitted. "Tom and I are having too much fun living in sin, wallowing in incestuous, filthy, perverted blah-blah-blah, and other such bullshit. We're together for life, and we know it, so a piece of paper saying we're legal doesn't mean shit to either of us."
"I wonder how the others are making out," Scott mused aloud. "We haven't heard a word from them since Marsha came by-uhhh-how long ago-six months? Seven? At least that long, because nobody was pregnant for certain then."
"Well, if Betty, Jan, and Liz didn't get pregnant it certainly wasn't from a lack of getting pumped full of come," Pat said. "I wish them well. I hope one of them wins, because they need that money. They certainly haven't got anything else. There is no real love in that household, and if you ain't got love, you ain't got nothin'."
The telephone rang, and Scott reached over Sylvia's melon-like tits to pick up the bedside extension.
"Hello."
"Hello, Scotty," Carl's voice sang over the wire, "just called to break some news to you and your sterile whore, and to tell you to kiss my ass and go to hell. Liz had her baby about six weeks prematurely, and it's a B-O-Y-BOY! Eat your heart out, mother-fucker, and I hope you have fun with that sixty thousand dollar cretin vegetable you bought from me. By the way, what do you plan to name your coon grandchild when it gets here--Rastus?"
"Congratulations, Carl," Scott said, unperturbed. "Glad it's over and things turned out for you-anything else?"
"What else do you want to hear? Jan is in the hospital with stomach cramps, and she might deliver today, too, just to put the icing on the cake, and Betty is big as a house-she might have twins."
"Good-good, we were just lying here talking about you people. Heard anything from Chet and Marsha lately?"
"Nothing but the fact that that low-lifed sonofabitch was fucking both of his flesh and blood daughters, probably knocked 'em both up, too. If they have babies, they're bound to be just as crazy as that moron that you paid so much for. Maybe you can buy them, too, since you're in the weirdo collecting business."
"Nice talking to you, Carl," Scott said, and hung up.
"What was that all about?" Sylvia asked. "Liz had a son-premature, but still, a son."
"Good," Sylvia said. "What else did he have to say?"
"Nothing worth repeating," Scott said, rolling out of bed to pad into the bathroom for a quick shower.
When he returned to the bedroom, he found
Sylvia lying on her stomach near the foot of the bed, gently, tenderly licking Pat's cunt and asshole. Since Pat was lying on her side, Sylvia lifted her massive, upper ass cheek away from the hole, and licked away while Pat smiled and sighed happily in her sleep. Not wanting to awaken the young girl, Sylvia kept the pace slow, low key. Stiffening her long, pink tongue, she slid it in and out of the relaxed, sweaty, slightly wrinkled anal orifice with long, lazy, unhurried strokes.
Turned on by the sight, Scott climbed into bed on his knees, spread Sylvia's silk-smooth, pear-shaped ass cheeks apart, and began tonguing her hot, musky anus in the same, casual, slow-paced manner.
"Ohhhh shit, baby," Sylvia gasped, "I love that-you know how much I love it, but it makes me sooooo hot. Stop now, or you'll have to fuck me there."
Instead of stopping, Scott licked harder. His stroking, drooling tongue slicked down Sylvia's silky anal hairs as it drove deeper and deeper into the clinching, sucking hole.
"Oooohhhhh, darling," Sylvia moaned, "tongue fuck it-eat my asshole out-harder-deeper-your tongue feels like a cock in there-fuck me with it, baby-fuk meeeeel"
Scott stopped, causing Sylvia to look back over her shoulder in mild, wide-eyed alarm, until she noticed that he had only stopped to rise up on his knees and lubricate the head and shaft of his cock with spit
Moving her face away from Pat's ass, because she knew that she couldn't cope with too much goodness at once, she lay still and relaxed, impatiently waiting for his long, strong fingers to spread her cheeks again, for his long, strong cock to slide with excruciating pleasure into her itching, twitching asshole.
"Aaaahhhhhhhhhg," they both sighed as the stone-hard boner plugged her shit chute and slid home as smooth and straight as an arrow.
"Slow and easy," Sylvia cooed. "Fuck my asshole slow and easy, darling. I don't want to come, I just want to feel that sweet thing sliding in and out of my ass. I want it all, every sweet, killing, thrilling inch-hit bottom on every stroke-but make it laaaaasssst-aahhhhhh, yes-yessss-just like that, about no miles per hour-uummmmm-mm-fuck me to sleep, just like I licked Pat to sleep."
The telephone shrilled again, and Scott picked it up without missing a stroke. "Hello."
"Hello, Scott?" Marsha's familiar voice came over the wire. "What are you doing at home this time of day?"
"If you want to know what I'm doing exactly," Scott chuckled, "I'm corn-holing my wife. If you want to know just for general knowledge, we got to horsing around this morning, and it got so good to me that I called my secretary and told her I wouldn't be in until about noon-if then. What's up, baby, it's been a long, long time."
"You horny bastards," Marsha laughed merrily, "don't you two ever get enough? You're like a couple of hot-assed teenagers still experimenting with all the forbidden joys of sex."
"Exactly-exactly," Scott hastily agreed, "and that's just the way we plan to stay. Let others make up all the excuses for not fucking that they want to, but me and my sweet thing will continue to do just the opposite. We'll keep on dreaming up reasons to put off doing everything under the sun except the enjoyment of this truly greatest of all pleasures."
"I should talk," Marsha sighed throatily. "Guess what I'm doing, even as I talk to you."
"Working crossword puzzles-trimming your toe nails-walking the dog?" Scott dead-panned.
"Actually I'm not doing anything," Marsha laughed at Scott's dry sense of humor. "I'm just lying here with a great big pillow bunched under my ass, getting quarts-gallons-barrels of come sucked ever so gently out of my tired, but happy, over-fucked cunt. That's the main reason you two darlings haven't heard from me for months and months. I haven't had a cock out of my mouth, cunt, or asshole long enough to dial your number."
"Ahh-haa," Scott laughed, "so you two decrepit, old has-beens are still trying to keep up with us kids. I knew that brother of mine would wake up and discover one day that he is married .to the second best fuck in captivity."
"I won't sue you for slander, libel, and insult only because I know you consider Sylvia to be the best, and it's been my lifelong ambition to be second best to that sex goddess. But for your information, smarty, Chet has been at the office since 8:30 this morning, and believe me, he left here with his nut sack so empty and his tongue so tired he is glad to be there getting some rest. Don't ask me who's doing me a job now, because I'm not going to tell you.
"Anyway, I didn't call you to discuss our sex fives, I called to tell you that the big baby race is over, and I'm glad. Both Liz and Jan delivered this morning, and Liz had a boy-Jan's was a girl. They were both about two months premature, and we're certain that Carl gave those girls something-did something to make them have their babies early. But that's neither here nor there. Liz is the winner, and Carl walks off with the solid gold
"Don't sweat it," Scott said. "Carl has already called us to gloat. Don't know why, since we weren't in the competition, anyway. At any rate, Syl and I are still here if and when you ever need us. For instance, don't you or either of your girls even entertain the notion of putting your babies up for adoption. Syl and I will take them, and give them all the love they'll ever need."
"Our babies?" Marsha questioned. Then, "Oh, you couldn't know, could you? I didn't get pregnant-thank God-but both Thea and Susy did, and they are the loveliest, fattest, happiest little expectant mothers you ever laid eyes on. By the way, Carl told us about your adopting Pat, and it was wonderful of you two, especially considering the condition she was in. Carl told us that she lost her mind, and that you actually paid him to allow you to adopt her, so you could get in on the will, in case she had a boy. I know that's not true, so you needn't even protest it. Where is she now? How is the poor child?"
"She's just fine," Scott said, glancing over and down at the sleeping beauty. "Just fine-you can drop around to see her any time, and decide for yourself where her mind is."
"Ill do that," Marsha promised. "Can't make you any promises as to when, be-be-c-cause . . . oohhhhh, d-darling-n-no-n-n-no-not my cl-clit-pl-pleeeease don't l-lick my clit-you-you p-promissssed-you kn-know I c-can't s-s-stand-oh shit, oh God-I'm s-sorry Scott-I've g-got to hang up-I-Ill t-t-talk to you LATERRRRRRRR"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Carla Murden was in Sydney, Australia, when Roy and Roger reached her by telephone; and Phillip was in Hong Kong. Both doting parents dropped what they were doing and flew home to their sons' double wedding.
At forty-three, the tall, willowy, silver blonde Carla could have easily passed for fifteen years younger. She was a six-foot tall study in elegance and grace, whose classically beautiful face, and slender, mannequin figured had graced the covers and pages of fashion and gossip magazines all over the world. Her six-foot-two-inch, prematurely gray, five years older husband was just as handsome as she was pretty. They both looked spoiled, pampered, worshipped-and they were. They both looked jaded, sexually depraved, as though they had been raised on a steady diet of far-out, highly imaginative sex from the cradle-and they both were.
Their twin sons' marriage to the eight months' pregnant Felton sisters titillated their imaginations, aroused their indulgent, horny curiosities, opened their flamboyant minds to the infinite possibilities of the situation.
"The younger girl can't be any older than thirteen, can she?" Phil asked his wife as they climbed into a cab at the airport for the drive home. I
"Ummm-I don't know-kids grow up so fast these days. I think she's a year or so older than that, though. We always had more to do with Scott and Sylvia than Chet and Marsha. God, I'd almost forgotten those two sex machines, we've got to have at least one session with them before we leave. But what difference does it make how old Thea is? My Daddy got my cherry when I was thirteen, and my brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles had done everything else under the sun to me long before then. Don't tell me you're getting those kinds of scruples in your old age, darling."
"No-no, quite the contrary. I was more hoping that she was only thirteen than actually thinking it. This American bullshit about the age of consent bugs me to death. That's what I like about the Middle East, and parts of Asia. There a girl is old enough to fuck when a man can get his cock into her. When the boys reached me in Hong Kong I was enjoying the favors of two darling little sisters, whose father had brought them up to my hotel suite exclusively for my pleasure. One of them was eleven and the other was twelve.
"Some time while I'm masturbating you'll have to give me all the juicy details," Carla mused. "Tell me all the dirty things you did to them and made them do to you. I wasn't a bad girl at all in
Australia, didn't do anything freaky, and you know that isn't like me at all."
"My God, were you sick?" Phil asked in mock concern.
"Nooooo, not sick. I just missed my two sweet babies so much that I concentrated on the big, blond, Greek god types-you know, the surfers-beach bums. I'd even try to always take them on two at a time to heighten the illusion. Some of them were good and really lit my fire, but none of them could compare to my babies. Now my tongue is itching to get into some hot juicy, pregnant teenaged pussy. I wonder if the boys schooled them-told them about us?"
"Don't be silly-of course not," Phillip said. "This is America, not Samoa. You know how square Chet and Marsha are, and so do Roy and Rog. They fell in love with those girls, got them pregnant, and now they're doing the right thing by marrying them-that's the extent of it."
"Kiss my ass, Phillip Murden," Carla laughed in mild derision. "You don't believe that bullshit yourself, and you know it. Like me, you're wondering how you're going to get it on with those two girls, if not their parents. You know I'm not going to see my sons without fucking them, and I know damned well that you plan to use that opportunity to rejuvenate your old, cold ass in some of that hot, young, juvenile pussy."
"Give the lady a big ceegar," Phil quipped, laughing lustily. "If Rog and Roy haven't brought some open, swinging sex into that household, we sure as hell will. We won't rush things, well jus play it by ear, get the lay of the land, so to speak. Then well enlist the boys' aid to get our full share of the goodies."
"I'm with you," Carla laughed as the cab cruised around the long winding driveway leading up to the front door of the Murden mansion. "Well go in, unpack, have a quick fuck-suck for appetizers, then make our grand entrance next door."
At that moment Marsha was stopping on her way through the living room to ask one of her future sons-in-law, "Roy, what time do you expect your parents?"
Roger was sitting naked on the living room couch with equally naked Thea on her knees before him, deep throating his cock. Marsha still couldn't tell the twins apart, but she knew that Thea was marrying Roy, so she assumed that she was talking to him.
"Some time tonight," Roger answered, not bothering to correct the case of mistaken identity. "They'll be here for the wedding in the morning, so they'll have to make it in tonight. Why?"
"I was just thinking, we'd better clean up our act a bit, in case they come in unexpectedly. People change over the years, you know, and in spite of Phil and Carla's reputations for swinging, our bare-assed, indiscriminate fucking and sucking all over the place might not sit right with them. Let's all get dressed and at least greet them normally; then if something groovy develops, all well and good, no harm done."
"My parents will never change," Roger assured her, "and no matter how we're dressed or what we're doing when they get here, before they've been here thirty minutes, I'll bet you dollars to used rubbers that I'll have my cock about a foot up Carla's ass while she gives head to somebody in this house."
"I wish I were as confident as you are," Marsha said, "but I just can't be. I couldn't bear it if something we did ruined it for you kids even before you are safely married. Please, just for me--get dressed."
"Aw-wight, Mommy, just as soon as I tome," Roger lisped like a young boy, smiling indulgently at the worried, also naked woman. "But what about you-how about everybody else?"
"I'm going to bathe and dress now. We four were fucking in Sue's room, and Chet and Roger are giving her just one more orgasm, then they're getting up and dressing, too. They've already agreed."
"Oh God-ohhh God!" Susan shrieked, as if to confirm what Marsha was saying. "Sock it to meeee, Daddeeeeee! Sock that big, hard cock deeper-deeeeeeper into my burning cunt! D-don't wor-worry, Roy, babeeee-I-I'll fin-finish s-sucking you off, b-b-but I c-can't n-now-I'm C-C-COMMMMMINNNNNNNG!"
Chet walked tiredly out of Susan's bedroom as Marsha left the living room. Flopping down on the couch beside Roger, he sighed, "Shee-it, it won't bother me at all if Carla and Phil have turned straight. Trying to keep up with you kids has aged me forty years. Too much of even a good thing is still too goddamn much. I might do more than just get dressed. I'm strongly considering putting on a chastity belt."
"It's all in the mind," Roger instructed the older man. 'The amount of sex you can give or take, no matter how old you are, is all in your head. Grandpa Murden died of a heart attack at the age of ninety-two while coming for the third consecutive time in his eighteen-year-old mistress' cunt.
"Carla's mother Lady Phyllis Preston Higginbotham Nottingham Mosley has run through four husbands and a couple of thousand lovers, and she's still going strong at eighty-seven. Roy and I have both fucked her within the last five years, and she still takes it and gives it from any hole with the same pleasure and enthusiasm as Marsha. She has a regular harem of well-hung young studs working for her in her house and on the grounds of her English estate-no less than six dudes ranging in age from eighteen to thirty-eight. Granny's idea of a really good day is to be fucked at least once by every member on her staff."
"My God, and to think I used to think that my brother, Scott, and his wife, Sylvia, were some kind of sex maniacs, because they could never get enough. Tell me, has your family upbringing and training got anything to do with your ability to sit there calmly talking to me while Thea gobbles your cock in that hot, wet, magic mouth of hers? Shit, she can make me come in three minutes flat when she deep throats my cock like that."
"No," Roger said with a short laugh, "give me some credit for some imagination and experimentation on my own. This comes from practice. Nobody enjoys getting well-done head any more than I do, and I've trained myself to make the pleasure last. I can come at will-in the next three seconds, or the next three hours."
"Come right now," Scott ordered, testing, staring intently at Thea's busy mouth to see if he could do it.
Almost immediately Thea's swiftly bobbing head stopped dead still in mid-stroke, and she went, "Gurrrrgluulllp-gulllp-gulp," as her throat babbled frantically, and she smacked her lips noisily, licking them to catch the thick, slimy string of come that leaked out, and was running down her chin.
"Jeeezus, what a heavenly sweet load of gism that was," she sighed, now licking the shiny head clean, catching the last oozing droplet on the tip of her tongue and flicking it into her mouth.
Within an hour they were all bathed, dressed, and sitting decorously around the living room awaiting the arrival of Carla and Phil. Marsha had called the Murden house and was informed that the Murdens would be over "shortly." One of the boys had rolled a couple of joints, and the young people were smoking pot. Marsha toyed with her martini, and Chet gulped Scotch after Scotch in rapid succession. The three men all had raging hard-ons. The three women were all overly aware of their itching, burning, leaking cunts.
"Uhhh, Mommy, did you call Uncle Scott and Aunt Sylvia?" Susan asked, more to make conversation and break the nervous silence than out of any real interest. "Are they coming to our wedding?"
"Uhhh-y-yes-uhhh-I called them," Marsha bed, "but they said they're sorry, they can't make it. Pat isn't feeling well, and they have to stay with her."
Actually, Marsha really had wanted to call Scott and Sylvia to invite them to the wedding, but Chet had overruled the idea. He still felt threatened by the openness, frankness, and honesty of the hedonistic couple, and he was deathly afraid that something they might do, something they might say to the Murdens would spoil this one last chance for them to get their hands on riches beyond their wildest dreams.
The front door chimes rang, and Chet forced himself to count slowly to three before getting up with exaggerated nonchalance, and sauntering over to open the door. The greetings were initially somewhat stiff and strained, but effusive. The whole group met in the middle of the floor, exchanging handshakes, hugs, kisses, and laughing small talk. Only Carla's greeting of her sons was noticeably long and warm. Her tongue was clearly seen darting in between their lips, their hands were seen to drop fondly, familiarly to her ass cheeks to squeeze and knead the tempting, cotton soft globes affectionately. She didn't try to hide the fact that she was sensuously bumping and grinding her loins against their hard cocks.
Seeming to take his cue from Carla, Phil began putting more feeling into his greeting of the Felton females. He gave Marsha his tongue to play with in her mouth while he explored her ass cheeks and the crevice between them with both hands. As if to measure the sizes of the babies they were carrying, he ran his big, well-manicured hands slowly over the mounds of Thea and Susan's bellies. Not content with that relatively harmless maneuver, he weighed all four milk-engorged titties in his palms as if to see which one was heaviest. Then, in a surprise move that brought a gasp of surprise and pleasure from both girls, he ran his hands swiftly down their bellies again, nipped their skirts up, and stood smiling down at his future daughters-in-law, as he faced them with his palms cupping their wet, naked, shockingly hot cunts.
"Well, do we pass inspection?" Susan giggled.
"So far-so good," Phil grunted his smiling approval.
Removing his hands and spinning on the balls of his feet so that he ended up facing in the same direction as they were, he shot his hands flat up the girls' skirts from behind. He could not stifle a croaking exclamation of oven-hot, smooth-as-silk globes of their full, naked, pregnancy-fattened asses.
"Jeeezus holy fuck, are you girls sick? Your cunts and asses feel like you're running 120 degree fevers."
"We just seem to get hotter and hotter down there," Thea explained innocently. "Stick your finger in the crack-it's even hotter there."
"Stay away from those holes, though, Dad, unless you're wearing asbestos gloves," Roy warned, laughing.
"I-I f-feel cheated," Chet said nervously to Carla. "I seem to be the only one who just got a peck on the cheek."
"We can remedy that easily enough," Carla smiled, melting against him with her lips parted for his probing tongue and her thighs parted for his digging, fondling fingers. Chet stiffened his big, flat tongue like a dick in her mouth, and Carla sucked on it in kind.
"You're getting my dress wet, dear," Carla moaned into his drooling mouth. "I flow like a fountain from my cunt when I'm hot like this, and y-your fingers are s-soaking my dress in my pussy juice."
"Pull it off-pull it off," Chet croaked.
"Only if everybody else strips," Carla said laughing. "Come on you people, let's get out of these hot, unnecessary clothes."
In less than three minutes clothing was scattered helter-skelter about the huge living room floor, and both families were stark naked. The removal of clothing seemed to calm and cool them, rather than further excite them. Instead of leaping at each other and fucking their heads off, as everybody expected, they began to laugh and talk as though they were fully clothed, and fucking were the last thing on their minds. Drinks and pot were passed around, further relaxing them, making them feel more intimate, close, and no longer under pressure to have to prove anything to anyone.
Phil had the longest, thickest, most fat-headed cock in the house, but the difference was so small between his cock and Chet's, and between Chet's and the twins', that his cock got no special attention. All the cocks were hard, and all the cocks were beautiful. Carla was doubtless the most beautiful woman present, and her tall, pointy breasted, slender-assed sexiness was a matter of naked fact. Still, Marsha's unblemished, centerfold figure, with its lushly compact curves was just as exciting, just as prick hardening and mouth watering.
If there was any special interest shown in the tiny gathering, it was to Thea and Susan. Both of their faces glowed with an inner beauty that was blinding. Their titties stood high and round over their fat, smooth bellies like oversized honeydew melons perched atop a gigantic, silk-covered pumpkin. One cheek of either of their asses was nearly as big as both perky mounds of Carla's boyishly slender buttocks. They both generated heat and light, and the circle tightened around them.
Nobody present could say with any degree of certainty who had begun fucking or sucking whom. One moment they were walking about chatting, laughing, fondling, fingering lovingly and indiscriminately. In the next moment Carla was on her knees with her mouth glued to Thea's cunt, lapping up her sweet, flowing juices, tonguing her tingling, turgid clit. Marsha was on her knees behind Carla, spreading her delicate, silky ass cheeks apart with both hands, rimming her powdered and perfumed asshole with wet, slurping sweeps of her frantic tongue.
Susan lay on her back on the carpet, with her face buried between Marsha's spread thighs, sucking her mother's cunt with avid, voracious hunger, gulping noisily as the juices flowed down her throat in a steady stream. Chet was up on the couch, standing straddling Thea's belly, bowed in the knees. Holding on to the back of her head with both hands, he gently fucked her open, clinging gullet.
Roger stood spraddle-legged over Marsha's head, patiently waiting until her spit-slick tongue had sufficiently lubricated his mother's beloved asshole. His cock was already dripping saliva from somebody's mouth. When he was satisfied that the mini-orifice was also ready, he lifted Carla by the thighs, causing Marsha's sucking mouth to slide down to her open, wet, blonde-thatched cunt.
Reaching up to help him, Marsha grabbed the pulsating shaft in her fist, aimed it at the miniscule, almost non-opening, and watched in awe and amazement as the ropy-veined cudgel of flesh sank easily into the suctioning, pink, round eye. Lifting her face flat up, Marsha began licking and sucking Roger's swinging nuts, licking his cock as it slid in and out, licking Carla's cunt and all the surrounding area between strokes.
Roy was on his knees straddling Susan's mammoth tits, vigorously cornholing Marsha. Noticing the asshole reaming that was going on a scant inch above the delicious cunt that she was sucking, Susan shifted her tongue into double action also. She licked and sucked Roy's balls just as her mother was licking and sucking Roger's. She let the long, hard, spit-slick tool slide over her lapping tongue in the same way. Her tongue also curled into Marsha's cunt hole between strokes. But she went her mother one better by sliding her tongue under Roy's cock into Carla's bung hole and having it plugged in deeper by Roy's hammering tool.
The group formed a fucking, sucking bouquet, rather than a daisy chain. Phil was lying on his stomach, lifting both of Susan's fat, firm thighs high and wide spread, so he could get at her asshole with his tongue, as well as her cunt. What with his long, hairy legs straight out behind him on the carpet, the floral arrangement was complete with long, bristly stems.
And they had only just begun. The soft, sensuous moans and groans had yet to rise in volume and tempo. Sweat had not yet begun to pour down bodies and faces. Orgasms were still just a promise. As they changed partners and positions, however, the atmosphere became charged with an electric, funky lust that changed the soft moans to yelping, deep-throated shouts of ecstasy. The whispering sighs became panting, gasping barks of overbearing pleasure. Gentle, coaxing urgings and endearments became gurgling, cursing demands for more-more-more.
Now all the ladies were tangled in a cunt-slurping, clit-licking circle of frenziedly sucking lust, some of them with men bowed around then-backs, shooting cock to them like crazy. Now they lay separated, one-on-one, each man with a woman draped over him, under him, taking his hammering cock in the hole of his choice, and giving it back to him in double measure. Now Carla was showing her stuff by sucking two cocks simultaneously, while a third plummeted in and out of her cunt. Now Marsha was outdoing Carla by sucking two cocks at once, while two more cocks briskly, rapidly, and simultaneously squeezed in and out of her asshole.
And so on and on and on they went. Round and round and round, stopping to rest and watch, smoke, drink, and chat. Sometimes the entire group would lustily cheer and applaud an extraordinary performance, such as Marsha's unique, first-time-ever feat of taking two cocks in her mouth and two in her asshole all at the same time. Somebody-or bodies-was in the process of coming at all times, and the orgasmic clamor rose and fell like tidal waves.
At 10:00 the following morning they interrupted their non-stop, round-the-clock orgy long enough for the justice of the peace to come and pronounce Roy and Thea, Roger and Susan, man and wife.
"Where's Dad?" Roger, already disrobing again, asked Carla, after the public official had gone. "Why wasn't he here for the ceremony?"
"He's in the bedroom chartering a plane," Carla answered.
"Chartering a plane? You two aren't leaving again already, are you?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, we all are. Stuff your cock back in your pants, and zip up. Not only are we giving you kids an around the world honeymoon, we're joining you."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Georgia Winston, gynecologist, and a personal swinging friend of Scott and Sylvia Felton, pulled her whole hand out of Pat's cunt, and said, "Any minute now, young lady. The baby has dropped into perfect, head-first position, and I foresee an easy, uncomplicated birth. Do you still plan to go the natural route-here at home?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Georgia," Pat said happily. "I just wish it were over with finally. I'm at least a week late, you know, and it's playing hell with my sex life. Both Tom and Scott are afraid to really fuck me, because they think their cockheads going in might meet the baby's head coming out."
"Tom didn't seem to be showing any fear the way he was socking cock to you when I came in," the lovely, naked lady doctor chuckled. "He looked like he was drilling for oil. Now I know I told you kids that you can fuck right up to the last minute, as long as it is comfortable for you, but damnit, Tom's cock is too long for him to pound it into you that hard, even from behind."
"Oh, he was fucking me in my asshole," Pat laughed; "he'd never pound that hard in my cunt."
"Ummmm, I wish I could get Larry to sock it to my ass like that," the fabulously stacked thirty-six-year-old doctor said, "but he's always afraid he'll hurt me there. I simply can't convince him that I can take all he can give in any hole."
"Is Larry with you tonight?" Pat asked, thinking of Georgia's shy, bespectacled, college student husband. Larry was ten years younger than his wife, working on his masters degree, and his insatiable cock was somewhere between Scott's and Tom's in length, girth, and endurance.
"Yes, he and Scott were out front doubling up on Sylvia when I came in to check you out. I guess Tom has joined them now in the only hole that was left vacant. If you don't need me for anything else, I think I'll go out and relieve Syl."
"Well, I certainly could use somebody," Pat replied, reaching down and under her stomach to stroke and fondle her turgid, swollen clit. "I didn't even know you two were here until you came in to examine me. Then you set me on fire with your hand in my cunt, and now you calmly tell me what you people are doing-oh, damn, damn, damn, I wish the baby were here already so I could really get some cock-cunt action."
"You can, dear, I told you that Just take it easy is all."
"What's keeping you so long, Georgia, everything all right in here?" Scott asked from the bedroom doorway, his bone-hard cock already inches in the room, seeming to look around with its Cyclops eye for a likely hole to slide into.
"Everything's fine," Georgia answered. "You should be a grandfather within twenty-four hours, or I miss my guess. And to think, this horny little baggage is still wanting to fuck."
"Head-yes," Scott said to Pat, coming over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed; "all the head you want to give or take. Asshole-yes, but cunt-fucking-no. Not at this point. Nobody can stick his cock in that hot, juicy cunt of yours and keep his head, it's almost impossible."
"Damnit, it just isn't fair," Pat wailed; "when the baby is born I'll be out of commission for six whole weeks. This is my last chance-my last night-plleeeease, Daddy, let me-I'll be careful-I want to fuck until the pains start."
"Goddammit, girl," Scott growled good-naturedly, "you know fucking well that I can't deny you anything when you call me Daddy--that's blackmail, and you know it. But I'm going to be the one to fuck you. I don't trust Tom and Larry, they might get carried away. Roll over-up on your hands and knees."
"No, Scott, fuck her lying down-from the front," Georgia instructed. "You'll have to brace yourself on your hands to keep off her stomach, and you can watch her face in case you penetrate too deeply-which won't be hard for that horse cock of yours, in spite of the handicap."
Pat already had her fat thighs raised and spread, with her elbows hooked under her knees.
Unable to look at her dick-like clit without getting it into his mouth, Scott caught the fat little goodie in his lip-cushioned teeth and gnawed it gently, tongued it flutteringly, faster and faster, dragging wailing moans from the throat of the horny young girl.
"Ohhh shit, I can't stand this," Georgia said, hopping into bed herself, swinging a long, luscious thigh over Pat's head, and settling down gently over her mouth.
"S-s-sssuck it, you horny l-lit-little bitch," Georgia hissed as Pat's tongue began flicking and twirling in her hole-out of her hole-up her slit-down her slit-under her clit-over her clit. "S-ssuck-m-my p-pussy-lick it. Oh God-lick it, girl-lick it-d-don't ssstop-you s-suck sooooo good-oh God-oh God-ohhh my God!"
Raising his head from between Pat's splayed thighs, Scott walked up in bed on his knees. Bracing himself on one hand, he used the other to aim his cockhead in the general direction of Pat's open and closed winking cunt hole. Pat moaned louder into the soupy canyon of Georgia's gaping cunt as Scott's long, thick dong slid into her deeper and deeper, so deep that the spongy head bounced gently against her baby-filled womb. Slow and easy he slugged the magnificent tool into her love grotto, pushing against the baby, rather than pounding against it. Her incredibly hot, still tight cunt sucked his cock on the in-stroke, and sucked it harder on the outstroke. He had to call all of his experience and control into play to keep from losing his head, really shooting it to her, and ruining what was the best fuck he could imagine.
Sylvia, Larry, and Tom came swiftly into the bedroom to investigate the cause of Georgia's shrieks and Pat's muffled groans and moans. The sex-involved trio didn't even know the others were present until Scott felt Sylvia's face under his ass, licking and sucking his nuts, his inner thighs, the crack of his ass.
As Larry hopped up in bed to slam his cock into his wife's throat, Tom positioned himself behind Sylvia's up-hiked ass, spread her cheeks, and socked his quivering cock into her already fuck-loosened anus. For a few moments he went from hole to hole-now in her asshole-now in her cunt. He didn't know in which hole he finally settled and didn't care. All he knew was, he was in seventh heaven, the happiest young stud in the world. He knew that getting involved with the Feltons was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wondered if he would ever get used to his great good fortune.
"No, I'll never get used to it," he sang happily to himself, "never, ever. It will take me a lifetime, and then some to even fully realize what a gas, what a ball this life is. Get used to it? Never."
He was still amazed at how smoothly he and Pat had been worked into Scott and Sylvia's lives. The two wonderful people had actually apologized-apologized-for breaking their standing rule about having sex with minors, and patiently explained how Dr. Gordan at Eden had persuaded Scott and Sylvia to make love to Pat because she needed that land of love from someone she loved, respected, and in whom she had complete confidence and trust.
Scott and Sylvia had told them that they could join the sex parties if they chose to, that they were under no obligation to perform. They had both been afraid that Pat would not be up to the wild and woolly sex that went on in the household. But Pat was consistently the most sought after and the most active. Men and women alike loved sucking milk from her overflowing breasts. Men and women alike loved licking her piping hot, extra juicy cunt. And everybody agreed that nobody--but nobody--could give head to both males and females as good as Pat could.
The only dark cloud that had appeared on their otherwise sunny horizon had been Vera, Tom's thirty-eight year old, four-foot eleven, eighty-five-pound mother. The tiny, doll-like woman had loved her six-foot six basketball center son with a jealous, possessive, consuming passion. When Jack Hayden, her cold and unfeeling businessman husband, had left her some three months earlier to marry his twenty-eight-year-old secretary, Vera had clung tighter to Tom than ever, and this was precisely the time when Tom was having the time of his life at the Feltons.
Tom almost laughed aloud as he remembered the night that Vera had stormed into the Felton house for a showdown. She had been drinking fairly heavily, and later she admitted that she didn't even notice all the male and female clothing scattered about the living room floor when Scott had ushered her in that night, dressed only in a hastily donned bathrobe. They had all been naked, just horsing around when Vera rang, and Scott had shooed them all into a bedroom before opening the door for Tom's angry mother.
"Where is he, where are you hiding him, why are you trying to keep my son away from me?" Vera had yelled without even a word of greeting to Scott.
"My God," Scott had whispered in breathless awe at the pale, colorless little woman. "Tom didn't exaggerate a bit-not a bit-and I didn't believe him."
"Exaggerate? Believe him?" Vera had stammered, completely confused by Scott's puzzling reaction to her outburst. "What are you t-talking about-where is my baby?"
"He said you were beautiful-sexy-all he did was brag about you-I thought he was kidding. Come in-come in-sit down, let me fix you a drink. Tom will be thrilled-thrilled--he'll be here shortly. What can I get you?"
"WeU-uhhhh-I don't drink that much," Vera had said, blushing at what Tom was supposed to have said about her looks, "b-but I will take a small gin. Uhh-you say Tom isn't here? I-I'm sorry I burst in on you like this-b-but I was so worried."
"You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Hayden, I assure you," Scott had said, leading her to a seat, and bringing her a large glass of gin. "I know Tom calls you every day, because we insist that he does, and he wants to, anyway. But you know he's in school now, and working for me, and Pat needs him."
"I need him, too," Vera had said. "I'm so lonely in that house all by myself."
"You needn't be," Scott had said. "We have begged Tom to bring you over, but he wouldn't. I think he's jealous-doesn't want another man to look at you."
"Don't be silly-h-he couldn't be jealous of me," Vera had simpered, batting her big, gray eyes at Scott provocatively. "I'm his mother."
"That's exactly the point," Scott had said tragically. "That's why he confessed to me why he can't stand to come home to you-you're his mother. Now that your husband has left you, he-he's afraid that he-uhhh-couldn't control himself. I hope you won't hold it against him, but that boy is crazy about you, Mrs. Hayden, and he's ashamed of it."
"Call me Vera. I'm not that much older than you. Uhhh-we are alone, aren't we-we can talk, can't we."
"Say anything you want to say, Vera."
"I-I-d-don't know how to put it," Vera had giggled. "You make me f-feel so-so. . ."
"Sexy?" Scott had prompted. "Y-yes-that, too-b-but that's not what I meant-I mean I want to talk to you-cry on your shoulder. I'm so lonely-so terribly lonely."
"I know," Scott had said. "Tom told me what a good, sweet, moral woman you are, and how you'd never go out and get a man to take care of your body's needs, and it really broke his heart to know that he couldn't help you, either-that he dared not tell you his real feelings."
"Oh, it must be t-the alcohol-I'm not a drinker-b-but I want to tell you how I feel, too," Vera had stammered. "I'm human-I've got feelings-my husband hadn't touched me that way for at least a year before the divorce. And I'll admit it. I thought about Tommy that way, too. I wish he had j-just-just taken me."
Then Scott had sat down beside Vera and talked to her soothingly, seductively, telling her how she need not be lonely anymore, giving her wildly exaggerated compliments and flattery, almost ridiculously playing up Tom's feelings for his mother, assuring her over and over that now she was in the position to do anything she wanted to, without fear of any sort of repercussions. As he talked to her, he gently caressed her shoulder, her tiny breasts, her slender thighs under her knee-length dress. At the same time he had let his robe slip open to reveal his massive, threatening erection.
Vera had been shocked-frightened by the huge, thick-headed phallus. She had wondered aloud how any woman alive could possibly take it, asked childishly naive questions about the holes he could get it in, the sizes of the women, what he had done to make it so big. She had made him promise that he wouldn't try anything if she took off her clothes, and even as she sat beside him stark naked, jerking him off with both hands, she still refused to let him try to enter her all but virgin pussy.
He had persuaded her to let him suck her cunt, and after the third orgasm, which turned out to be the third orgasm of Vera's life, she had begun to scream, begging him to go all the way.
"Fuck me!" she had cried. "I don't care if you split my pussy wide open-I don't care if you kill me-I've got to have that big thing inside me! Oh fuck me, Scott-please, please fuck meeeee!"
And Scott had complied. Like a huge St. Bernard mounting a Chihuahua, he had covered the little woman with his huge body, and eased his cock slowly, patiently into the tiniest hole he had ever tried to enter. It took him a good three minutes to get it all the way in, and by then the pain was gone, and Vera fucked him back with as much wild, abandoned enthusiasm as Sylvia ever had. She seemed to have gone completely out of her mind with ecstasy. She began crying, screaming, tearing her hair, babbling hysterical, incoherent curses and endearments.
"Then I took over," Tom said proudly to himself. "If I'm ever in need of a job I know I can be an actor, because I put on an Academy Award performance that night. I ran out of the bedroom cursing and screaming at Scott. I jerked him all the way out of Mom's cunt, and off her body. I called him every filthy name I could lay tongue to, while kicking him with the side of my foot, slapping him on the arms, back, and shoulders with my open palm, making a hell of a lot of noise, but doing no damage.
"Scott knew that Mom was sex hungry, because I had told him that she and Dad slept in separate bedrooms. He knew that she was horny, because I had told him about all the indirect passes she had made to me. But I never wanted her before, she was cute in a mousy sort of way, but she was still just my Mom as far as I was concerned, and sex with her had never entered my mind.
"Now, though, I knew that our future happiness was at stake, and I knew that I would have to finish what Scott had started if we were ever to have any real peace. I grabbed Mom and started talking all crazy about how much I loved her-wanted her-was jealous of Dad and every other man who looked at her. I kissed her face, her lips, her breasts, belly, cunt, ass, legs, the bottoms of her feet, and all the way back up again.
"I begged her forgiveness, but told her that I couldn't help myself, that I had to have her, and before she knew it, I was fucking the living shit out of her, and I swear, it was the best pussy I have ever had. In a few minutes I had her screaming louder and crazier than Scott had-talking the same shit to me that Scott and I had been talking to her earlier.
"And from then on," Tom went on with his happy recollections, "everything has been coming up roses. Mom comes by just about every day for some groovy he-she, she-she, and various combinations of sex. Otherwise she is doing her own thing, blooming like a flower, dating young studs, letting her hair down, and making up for all the fucked-up years she was married to Dad."
By now Sylvia had given up trying to eat pussy, lick ass, and enjoy the reaming she was getting all at once. She had removed her face from under Scott's ass, now lay with it flat on her crossed hands, and rolled her ass back at Tom's hammering thrusts as though this were the only joy in the world for her, and at the moment it was. She, too, was thinking what a great, happy, uncomplicated, sex-filled life they had, as was Scott, as was everybody present.
Scott was still enmeshed in the joy of socking his cock slowly, purposefully into Pat's cock-hungry young pussy. At that moment he was wondering which of the three he enjoyed most, Pat, Vera, or his wife Sylvia, and for the life of him, he couldn't decide. All of them were super fantastic, and he knew that no matter which of his women was best, he was still the happiest, horniest man on God's great, green earth.
"Oh God, it's coming-coming!" Pat screamed, causing everybody in bed to interrupt his thoughts, and stop what they were doing to wonder about the orgasm that had caused this out of the ordinary reaction.
"Th-the pains have b-been c-coming-for th-the last half-hour," Pat went on, "but I-d-didn't w-want to spoil the fun. B-b-bu-but, y-you-ll have-to s-stop now, D-daddy, and-and-l-let the baby
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thomas Scott Felton, the red-headed, spitting image of his proud and happy father, was six weeks old on the night of the great Felton family reunion. The reunion was not planned, in fact none of the participating families had any notion whatever that they were going to get together at that time, at that place, and do the things that they did.
It was spring again, and at 6:00 p.m. on this balmy, early April day, Vera Hayden breezed into Scott and Sylvia's living room, all sunshine and smiles. Now the once mousy and plain woman really lived up to Scott's first-night flattery-and then some. Her enormous, sparkling gray eyes were accentuated with dark mascara on the long, up-curling lashes, and lustrous, blue eye shadow. Her once short, neutral, lifeless hair was brushed, blown out, coiffed into a fluffy, light-reflecting halo of coppery brown. Her cupid's bow lips were painted a stark, wet red.
Before she met the Feltons, Vera didn't own a dress shorter than knee length, thinner than basic cotton, or more colorful than solid blues and browns. Her 32C tits had always been mashed flat by a bra, and her thirty-two-inch ass had always been pressed even flatter under a completely superfluous girdle. Now all her dresses and skirts were micro, she owned neither bra nor girdle, and when she wore panties at all, they were the briefest of G-string bikinis.
"Hi, darlings," she greeted Scott, who was sitting on a reclining chair, reading Hustler magazine, and sipping a drink; Sylvia, who was lying on a section of the couch buffing her nails; and Pat, who was lying on another section of the couch, her dress up around her waist, casually masturbating. "Don't stop what you're doing. I've only got a minute. I just dropped by to bite a couple of chunks out of my sweet, sweet grandson's fanny, then I'm off to my favorite singles bar to get picked up by a couple of long dicking studs. Where is he? Where is the king?"
"He's taking a nap in the nursery," Pat answered after they had all pleasantly greeted the tiny newcomer, "and if you wake him up, Vera, I'll bite your goddamn clit off. Fix yourself a drink and sit down. We haven't seen you for a couple of days-what's been happening?"
"Nothing really exciting," Vera said, going to the bar to pour herself a stiff one, and coming back to sit beside Pat "I picked up a darling young stud of eighteen the other day, and kept him in bed for thirty-six hours. I only let him up to go to the bathroom. You people opened my eyes to the truly good things in life, and I plan to spend the rest of my life catching up on all that I've missed."
"You can't catch up, Vera," Scott laughed, "you'll just have to be content with starting from where you are and not missing any new opportunities."
"Oh, yes I can," Vera giggled. "I'm starting from scratch and catching up, and it's working. The way I figure it, I wanted to start fucking at thirteen, and if my hot, little repressed mind had had anything to do with it, I would have fucked an average of three different guys a week that first year. I would have fucked one a day that second year, and one in the morning, one at noon, and one at night every day for every year thereafter."
"So how are you doing?" Sylvia asked, cracking up with laughter.
"Fine, fine," Vera answered, dead serious. "Since my liberation, exactly fifteen weeks ago, I've been fucked by eighty-five different men. If I can double my efforts every six months, I figure that by my seventy-fifth birthday I will have gotten all that is owed to me. Then I can settle down and fuck just for the fun of it."
"You're beautiful-beautiful, Vera," Scott said, joining in the burst of wild, happy laughter. "I'm so glad you came through for us."
"You're glad," Vera cried, "you're glad? What about me? I'm-I'm delirious. I wasn't even alive until I met you people. I'm glad to know that you still like me, though, because I was worried that I had put a damper on your own enthusiasm for getting it on. I haven't caught anybody actually fucking around here for the past dozen or so times I've come around. What happened? I thought all you people did was fuck."
"Oh, we fuck," Sylvia said with a lazy smile, "we fuck every single day-sometimes-more often than not-several times a day, but we do more than just fuck, Vera. Our lives are beautifully well rounded."
"Maybe I'll be able to get back into a balanced life one of these days," Vera said, "but not yet, I'm having too much fun. Check me out in about eighty years, and you'll probably find me reading books again. Uhhh-when will you be back in action, Pat?"
"Be back?" Pat laughed. "I hardly stopped. I was giving head two days after the baby was born, taking it in the ass after three weeks, and on the night that little Tommy was one month old, big Tom and I started fucking again. Why do you ask? Do you want to play some little girl games with me now?"
"Well, that wasn't why I asked," Vera said, scooting up on her knees, and gently removing Pat's fingers from her clit, "but it has been a long time since I've tasted this thing."
At that moment one of the twins was saying to Carla and Phil, "I still can't see why you have to leave now. We're still having fun-come on, you two, stick around awhile."
"We're still having fun, too," Carla said, standing in the middle of the Murden living room, bags packed and ready to go. "That's why we're splitting now-while it's still good-you'll be even more glad to see us when we get together again. I can't speak for Phil, but I'm in line for something new and different."
"Like what?" Roger asked.
"Ohhhh, I don't know," Carla answered. "I seem to have had it all, but now that you ask, I think I want a dirty-minded, foul-mouthed, freaky little female juvenile delinquent to raise. I don't want to ruin anybody morally-that would be too easy-I want her to be already precociously depraved, and I'll just keep her that way-make her more so."
The front doorbell rang, and Thea hurried to answer it.
"Janey!" she cried excitedly. "Girl, I hardly recognized you! You've changed-my God, but you've changed-come in-come in I"
Jan had changed. Her frizzy, blonde curls had grown out into a shoulder-length mass of thicker, shinier, longer curls. Since her baby was born, she had lost all of her baby fat and then some. She was now a curvaceous 36-22-36, with only her tits having grown bigger, while her waist and ass had receded. Her freckles, pug nose, and big, innocent eyes still made her look younger than her now sixteen years, but her entire bearing exuded a cynical, jaded decadence that was ageless.
"Only got a minute," Jan said, coming into the room and speculatively sizing up the small gathering. "I'm splitting this fucking town, and I just dropped in to say goodbye. I stopped off at your place and Uncle Chet and Aunt Marsha said you two were over here. They told me about your marriage-Congrats."
"Thank you," Thea said, "but where are you going-and why?"
"Where? Don't know, and don't really care-wherever the fucking and sucking is plentiful and hassle free. Hope I'm not shocking your new inlaws, but you asked, and I'm answering you. Why am I cutting out? Because for awhile there my family was my kind of people, fucking like crazy, and everybody having a ball. Now they've fallen back into their old hypocritical, bullshit bags. Dad split, Mom married Brock, and you'd think they were the original Joseph and Mary the way they frown on my getting fucked. So I say, fuck 'em-who needs 'em?"
"How would you like to come with us, dear?" Carla asked breathlessly, unable to believe that the very thing she had planned to go searching for had just walked in the front door.
"If coming with you means coming with you, right on-count me in," Jan grinned, licking her lips as she seemed to really see the beautiful woman for the first time. "Ill come with you, him, and all of your friends and relatives. He is included, isn't he?" she asked, nodding in Phil's direction. "He looks like my kind of people-freaky-like he'd fuck a snake if somebody held its head."
"He's included," Carla confirmed, "and we're both ready to go and start coming now, if you are.
"Yes, I'm ready," Pat said, "but I'm not leaving this town without saying goodbye to Uncle Scott and Aunt Sylvia. Those two are my favorite relatives, including my immediate family."
"I'm going with you," Susan said. "I haven't seen those two since Dad ordered us away from them a couple of years ago. Come on guys-let's all go-you'll love Scott and Sylvia-and hey, we're married ladies now-mothers yet-maybe they'll drop their age of consent restrictions, and give us some action, Thea."
"Well, what a pleasant surprise," Sylvia cried as her in-laws stood grinning at her m the open front doorway. "Come in-come in-Scott, look who's herel"
Warm, wet, tonguing kisses, initiated by the newcomers, were exchanged, and the instant erections that rose in the pants of the two handsome brothers let them all know that this surprise visit was going to turn out just fine.
"Where are our girls and the Murdens?" Chet asked, still holding Sylvia close, caressing her voluptuous body. "Aren't they here yet?"
"No-are they supposed to be coming?" Sylvia asked.
"Well, I guess," Chet said. "Pat came by to say goodbye, because she's leaving tonight. She said she was going to the Murdens to say goodbye to our girls, then she was coming to say goodbye to you. We figured they'd all come, since you two were once such great friends of the Murdens. We thought of the infinite possibilities of the situation, and rushed right over to see if we were still welcome."
"Of course, you're still welcome-always will be," Sylvia said as they walked, arms around each other, deeper into the barn-sized living room.
Both Chet and Marsha stopped and stared in wide-eyed puzzlement at the scene that was being played on a section of the huge, circular couch. They had heard that Pat had lost her mind, but neither of them thought that she was this bad off.
Pat was lying naked, with her legs high in the air, and her thighs spread as far apart as they would go. Tom was kneeling on the couch before her, humping away as though he were fucking for dear life, and Pat was moaning, groaning, yelping happily, as though the tall, young man's cock were bouncing off her womb with every powerful in-stroke.
"That boy has either got a four-foot-long cock, or somebody is as crazy as all shit in this house," Chet said to himself, glancing at his equally puzzled wife with raised eyebrows.
"Ohhh-do it to meeee-do it-do it-do it!" Pat cried. "I'm almost there-m-make me c-comeeemake meeeee!"
"Aren't they beautiful?" Sylvia asked, noting the avid, almost hypnotized interest of Chet and Marsha. "I can almost come just watching them."
"Uhhh-y-yeah I-uhh-guess," Chet said, "b-but what exactly are they doing? Uhh-why isn't he fucking her for real?"
"Fucking her for real?" Scott asked, as puzzled as his brother. "What the fuck do you call for real? He's got that big cock of his in her to the balls. The amazing thing is how that tiny, little thing can take it."
"There's three-four feet between those two," Scott said, "I'm not crazy-tell me how. . ."
"Oh, they can't see Vera," Sylvia cried, doubling over with laughter. "S-she's so tiny-th-they can't-even see her."
Almost running to the couch to get a closer look, Chet and Marsha themselves roared with laughter to see Vera wedged between her long, rangy son and her fabulously stacked daughter-in-law. Vera's face was lost between Pat's strained open thighs, her mouth was glued to the young girl's open cunt. She was on her knees, with her ass hiked up against her son's belly, as he arrowed his long, thick cock like a maniac into her filled to bursting cunt
Since all three of them had been on the verge of coming when Chet and Marsha walked in, in a moment Tom pulled his slowly softening cock out of his mother's come-flooded vulva, Vera gave one last, loving lick at Pat's still spasming cunt and introductions were made.
"We're awfully glad to see you two again," Scott said, after drinks were served, and they were all seated. "What's this about the Murdensdid you mean Carla and Phil? Are they back in town? It's none of my business, but what would your girls be doing at the Murdens?"
"Oh, that's right, you guys didn't know--couldn't know--we lucked out-oh God, did we ever luck out with our girls-but that's all it was, pure, sweet luck. The Murden twins-Roy and Roger-came back to town, and would you believe it, they got both Thea and Susan pregnant, fell head over heels in love with them, and married them-not necessarily in that order.
"Both of the girls had boys, too. Can you imagine the irony of the situation-the shit that we went through? You and Syl were absolutely right-God, what a fucked up situation this turned into for Carl, and almost turned into for us. And now we could care less about the Scottish estate; the girls married into much more money than any of us will ever spend. Carl got the shitty end of the stick, but he asked for it. I couldn't work up a case of sympathy for him if I tried."
"Shitty end of the stick-sympathy? What are you talking about?" Scott asked. "He got the estate, didn't he, and that's what started all this shit."
"Didn't you know? Carl didn't get anything," Marsha put in; "his trick didn't work. He gave both girls something to make them have their babies early, and Liz's boy was stillborn. They got it to breathing with electric shocks and machinery, and when Carl saw that, he ran to the phone to spread the news. By the time he got back, they had already stopped trying, and they listed the baby the only way they could-stillborn. Jan had a girl that lived, and Betty had a miscarriage, also in her seventh month, after taking some of that same shit that Carl made the girls take."
"Well, I'll be a sonofabitch," Scott said, glancing at Sylvia and Pat to see if they caught the significance of this revelation-they both had.
"Carl just packed up and left town after signing the divorce papers," Marsha went on, "and he hasn't been heard from since. Liz fell in love with one of the dudes who helped to knock them all up, and they're living together now. Betty married Brock, and without Carl there to fuck things up, Brock is making a go of their import-export business. Jan didn't like the idea of having her sex monitored and restricted, so she left her baby with Betty and split tonight-and that's the whole story in a nutshell."
"Well, I hope they all come by," Scott said, getting up and beginning to undress, "but whether they do or don't, why don't we-uhhh-get undressed and see what comes up."
Sylvia had neglected to lock the door after letting Chet and Marsha in, and when Pat and the six Murdens burst in without even ringing a few minutes later, everybody already present was tangled in a fucking, sucking pile of raw, naked sex.
The newcomers joined the orgy with wild, lusty enthusiasm, grabbing cock and cunt where they could find it, introducing themselves as they went along, laughing, talking, fucking, sucking, having the time of their lives. Phil and the twins couldn't seem to get enough of Vera-and vice versa. Carla, Sylvia, and Scott seemed to favor Pat. Tom was engrossed in trying to decide whether fucking Thea was as good as sucking Susan, and he happily repeated the test over and over again to be sure, reversing the roles of the girls to further confuse him.
Sometime later the loudly squalling voice of Pat's baby caused her to snatch her milk-squirting tit out of somebody's sucking mouth, push a female mouth away from her streaming cunt, and bump a pile-driving cock out of her gyrating ass.
Marsha, who had been sucking Pat's cunt, raised her head, and wiped her mouth to ask, "Whose baby is that crying?"
"Mine," Pat answered proudly, as she left the room to feed him. "That's the voice of Mr. Thomas Scott Felton, the richest little red-headed bastard in America, calling for his titty!"
