Heard that phrase before? Sure ... we all have. But little has been written on the subject. Freud dominated the intricacies of filial relationships by his concern for the Oedipal relationship, the unconscious tendency of a child to be attached to the parent of the opposite sex and hostile toward the other parent, and as the name of the complex indicates, the psychiatrist was mainly interested in the son's relationship to his mother.
But Freud wrote of his times and his experiences, and life in a middle-class Viennese home of Jewish extraction around the late Nineteenth Century can be considerably different than life now, life in other cultures. Freud pointed directions and asked question, and he was the first to admit that he didn't have all the answers.
Other tendencies, other drives also play their roles on the relationships between parent and offspring, and one such different way is the theme that Mr. Jensen has taken to explore in his latest novel Mother's Little Helper.
Freud based his findings on a female-dominated life, one where the father was around but was the subordinate parent who gave unquestioning love to his children. But in America the male is more apt to be the dominant, ruling often in absentia because of his heavy commitment to his career. What happens to a child-a daughter of exceptional beauty-when her father is away most of the time and she has just entered the adult world of sex? What happens when her mother, long denied the pleasures of marital relations, is forced to come to terms with herself, her daughter, and the daughter's boyfriend? And in this novel, drawn with the etched truth of an actual clinical case history, what happens when the mother and daughter who are alike physically and mentally are torn by their love for one another to the point where all facades are stripped away and the very foundations of their souls are laid bare and exposed?
Author Jensen has asked these provocative questions, and he answers them, frankly and intimately. He has taken from his long years of actual sociological study and made the characters come alive so that the reader can grasp more than just the dry, arid facts of reality, and live the torment and indecision and the breath-taking climax as mother and daughter strive to solve their inner guilts and outer frustrations. Mother's Little Helper is a realistic novel of modern America-not Victorian Vienna-and has as its base the kernel of truth in the saying: like mother, like daughter, extrapolating from the Oedipal complex the unsaid reason for the antagonism between parent and child of the same sex-the subconscious combat for understanding love. Its raw truth and courage is expressed in lucid clarity in the final pages, for it is how and why persons snarled in such psychological webs make their adjustments that is the crux of the matter.
This important contribution to literature and the texts of behavioral study should be on every table and in every library, for rather than a grim warning, it is a commendation for humanity to tie tighter the bonds of love.
Like mother, like daughter ... like could very well be happening on your own neighborhood street.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER I
Anne Terrence had always hated bus depots.
For one thing, they always seemed to her to be dirty, full of grime and dust and old, discarded wrappers, and after nearly twenty years of married life, she resented the bad "housekeeping," public building or no. For another reason, Anne disliked the smell of bus depots, especially in the bathrooms on the few occasions when she had had to use them in emergencies. The buildings had the wrong odors, masculine odors she relegated to the same distaste as the grimy walls and floors. Smells of old clothing and unwashed bodies, sweat and dried urine, cigars and engines. The kind of smells her husband, Jack, used to come in with after a day of hunting or fishing or working on the old family car. Of course, that was many years ago, before he had worked his way up in the company, but still ...
But bus stations bothered her for other, more subtly unconscious reasons. Anne would never admit it, never consider herself as anything but a liberal humanitarian, and certainly not a bigot or prejudiced person. But while color of skin or religion had never been a problem for her-how could they be, when she lived in a nice, all-white, WASP suburban tract ?-the line between poverty and money was still underneath her surface. She judged by it, though never putting it in so many words. Bus stations were for have-nots-airline terminals for the haves. Going to the airlines terminal to meet Jack from a business trip was a happy occasion for her because it reminded her of what she is, what she has-coming here, in the center of the blighted downtown section, mingling with the others on the cold terrazzo floor and hard, worn, wooden benches, reminded her of what she had been, what her childhood had never afforded.
For before Anne had been married to Jack Terrence, she had come from the only poor family in Dunthorpe, a semi-exclusive residential area outside of Portland, Oregon. Her father was the head gardener for most of the plush estates and large homes in the wooded section, having a few lackeys under him and a couple of battered pickup trucks, and her mother was a school teacher at the private school all of the Dunthorpe group sent their children to, and as a result Anne was able to enroll. It almost would have been better to have sent her to a public school with others of her economic milieu, because she was constantly faced with the impact of money. She was treated well, and had many girl-friends-and later boy-friends-but nevertheless, she couldn't invite her friends to go swimming at her house, or play tennis, or much of anything except watch a black-and-white TV (second-hand at that). And while she went to the Cotillions and formals, there was never enough money to buy her the right kind of gown, so she normally ended up borrowing a girl-friend's last-year's right formal.
And when she had traveled, she had traveled by bus.
Well, she wasn't rich now, and she didn't live in the local equivalent of Dunthorpe-but dammit, she was past the point of having to go by bus.
And the last reason she hated bus depots was because of the way the wretched old men inhabited the dark, evil-smelling corners with their open flies and empty Tokay bottles would ogle her. Anne Terrence belied her age, her few months past thirty-eight, looking more like a woman a decade younger. She spent the time and the money to insure that the healthful glow of youth was instilled in her, that the natural ravages of aging were held at bay for as long as possible. The same egocentric drive which had spurred her to become more than her parents, to push Jack up in the jungle echelon of advertising management, to join clubs and become as important a member in her community, worked to make her fear the creeping of years, the loss of her beauty.
She was aware that her body was still firm and proud, with globular breasts high and firm, ruby-crested with perfectly formed nipples; a belly that was flat and showed no striation markings from her one child birth-the reason she and Jack had gotten married was that product of over-zealousness; hips and thighs carefully trimmed of excess fat and legs long and slender and deeply tanned; a gently curving pubic mound downy soft with the same honey blonde color of hair as which crowned her head and shoulders. Her face was round, her chin a perfect complement-neither too sharp or too wide-to her protuberant cheekbones and deep-set blue eyes which had the aura of depth, like forest glade pools of crystal water. Her nose was freckled, as was her cheeks, and would crinkle deliciously whenever she was laughing. Or annoyed at something.
At the moment, sitting there on one of the cold hard benches, stiffly erect and clutching her alligator-skin purse closely to herself with both hands protectively, her nose was wrinkled with discomfort. She was well aware of a fat, balding man who had purposely sat across from her and was staring with lewd, eagerly hungry eyes and malicious grin at her. It was June, hot enough so that she hadn't worn a coat when she had come to the depot, but feeling his insidious gaze worm through her, she now wished that she had worn the bulkiest, most covering fur coat she had. Her short, above-knee skirt and thin velour blouse might not have been on at all; it didn't matter how she arranged her legs, it was as if the man could see all the way up between them, up past her soft, inner thighs to her vagina and the softness of her pubic triangle. She knew exactly what was on his prurient mind, knew the sick, deranged thoughts which spun daydreams of salaciousness through his perverted brain. The way he was dressed in near rags; the lumpy, be-spotted corduroy jacket, the baggy, filthy suit-trousers, the scuffed brown shoes-they all signaled the kind of crude beast he was, what his single-minded desire was formed from. The gutter.
And if there had been any doubt in the repugnated housewife's thoughts about the carnally-excited male across from her, it was totally alleviated by the way he unconsciously stroked the long neck of a smoke-colored wine bottle with his fingers. Lightly, delicately they moved over the slender, hard glass shaft, up and down....
Why didn't he go away! Why didn't he leave! She had been here before him-and she'd be damned if she was going to acknowledge his perversions upon her by moving. He'd only follow anyway, or she might end up sitting near somebody still worse....
She glanced up to the large clock on the wall over the ticket windows for the seemingly thousandth time. Four-ten-another five minutes and the bus from Constantinople would be in. If it was on time. She prayed that it would be early for once instead of its more normal habit of being late. Hurry ... hurry ... let the bus arrive so I can get my daughter and leave....
Her thoughts turned fondly and eagerly to her lovely, similarly blonde-haired daughter. Victoria-a regal name fitting a lovely, queenly child, and when she thought of her daughter, a deep and possessive love flooded over her, a strange ache filling her that at times bothered the mother with its intensity. Perhaps it was because she was determined to give to Vicky the material benefits she had coveted enviously as a child and never had, as well as all her love. Perhaps it was a product of guilt, as Vicky was a product of that one crazy night in Anne's father's garden swing, a night two months before Jack had married her somewhat against his will. Perhaps it stemmed from the more recent evolution of Jack's growing disinterest in Anne as a sexual woman, and her natural inclination to seek an outlet for her chained feelings of familial affection. Perhaps it was a combination of all three factors and others-but the effect was that as she waited for the bus, Anne Terrence was able to forget momentarily about her hatred of depots and the ugly, drooling lecher across from her.
She recalled the last time she had seen her daughter, that previous Christmas, just before Vicky had left for the second semester of her sophomore year at Whitmire College. It had been the last time she and Vicky had had a good, old-fashioned woman-to-woman talk, one of those rarities in this age of generation gap. Anne and her nearly twenty-year-old offspring were naked, lying in the steaming fog of the Rasmussen's sauna bath-a gift from Harlow Rasmussen to his wife, and installed in their basement. Ginny Rasmussen had invited the Terrence women over for a showing of her gift, but at that moment, Anne's best friend was gone, on an errand for her husband.
like an opium dream, Anne conjured up the vision of her daughter lying on the wood-slate bench while she sat with her arms around her legs on the floor. Enshrouded in the sauna steam like a genie appearing from a bottle, her daughter looked like a miniature facsimile of the mother. Her pert face had the same cheekbones and cute, up-tilting nose, the same burning eyes, the same rich, full lips. Jack had enhanced his child with pale, irridescency to her skin which made her all the more beautiful, the mother thought. Vicky's breasts weren't as full as her mother's because they hadn't fully matured yet: they never would be quite as developed, but they were exquisite pear-shaped mounds of their own right, as if carved in alabaster by a master sculptor. Her buttocks were more boyish, even more lithe and provocatively resilient than her mother's, undulating as she walked in perfect coordination with her satiny inner thighs and legs like the stalking of a predatory, feline cat.
Vicky had done most of the talking. It seemed that during the just-completed first semester of her second year she had met a Junior transferred from State, and the way she talked about him made Anne's heart freeze with anxiety. Bill this, Bill that; Bill did and was everything to the girl's mind, and she outright as much told her mother then that Bill Hanley was the love of her life ... Anne had cautioned her daughter, fearing an alienation and misunderstanding if she pressed the issue too much-she had read enough psychological books to know the danger of that-trying to make it clear that Vicky was still young, much in need of experience and education to think of tying herself down to one man. Vicky had laughed, told her that she wasn't thinking of marriage, not for a long, long time. And neither was Bill Hanley.
Anne had sighed inwardly, sure that the infatuation would soon die, as Vicky's multitudinous other boy-friends had come and gone. Just because she herself had been pregnant and married by Vicky's age didn't alter the fact that Vicky was still her child, her only child, and not ready to try flying from the nest ...
But the letters from Whitmire College had continued to speak of Bill Hanley. He's done this, gone there ... they'd went here, done that together ... And finally had come the last letter before the school year had ended, the one which had staggered Anne Terrence, though she bravely didn't show it when she read the portion which didn't show it when she read the portion to Jack which had so bothered her that night:
. . . and Bill has decided that since his father can't afford him to work on the farm this summer, he is going to come to Kingsport with me. Won't that be wonderful? He's got a job offer in a pharmacy-not much, but it will pay for next year's tuition at Whitmire-and he'll only be across town from us. He doesn't have a place to live yet, and would it be all right for him to stay in the small room off the basement until he can find an inexpensive apartment? He'll pay you for it, and the food he eats. Please let me know as soon as possible. Please say yes, mother and daddy....
No! had been the first mental reaction the mother had had. No, we can't let a strange boy live here. It wouldn't look right, what would the neighbors think? "No," she had said to Jack, "I really feel that it would be inconvenient for you, dear...."
But Jack Terrence had only looked up from his paper and replied, "Yes. Why not? The boy is obviously poor-" the word had struck the very core of Anne's being, making her wince-"and needs help. What the hell difference does it make to me? It'll make Vicky happy, and it's no skin off my nose. Maybe I can even arrange for a better job at the agency, if Bill turns out to be half-way clean and intelligent. Personally, I don't care if he has hair growing down to his butt, though old Samuels would scream...."
"But the neighbors, Jack," Anne had argued frantically. "To hell with those busy-bodies," he had snapped. "I can't understand how you can regulate your life around that bunch of do-gooding, prissy snits."
"Jack! That's no way to...." The evening and the rest of the night had swiftly degenerated in a loud, churlish fight, a heated, intemperate lambaste which had been happening all too frequently lately.
The result had been that, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to take pen in hand, Anne had written her daughter that Bill could stay at fifteen dollars a week, room and board. And now, coming in on that same bus with her darling Vicky was this boy-boy! My God, he is a man now, legally as well as physically, the mother considered haplessly-and she would have to be nice to him for the sake of her family. She had tried to explain it as best she could to her friends, but there was still the side-long glances, the oddly-phrased comments about it, and she knew that-
"Mother!"
Anne Terrence snapped out of her reverie, blinking and looking around confusedly. "Mother! Mom! Over here!" Anne stood, smiling broadly as she saw her daughter waving from across the station. Why, she must have been thinking so hard, she allowed the bus to arrive and didn't even realize it!
"Vicky!" she said in return, and hurried over to where her daughter stood, two powder-blue suitcases beside her on the right. She was as beautiful as ever, the mother thought, and a tear formed in each eye. A lump of motherly devotion rising thickly in her breast and choking her words. They hugged one another fondly, patting each other's back the way women do, and then Vicky said:
"I want you to meet Bill, mother. Bill Hanley, this is my mother."
Anne now saw the tall, deeply bronzed young man standing on Vicky's right. He had a short-sleeved shirt bulging with chest and arm muscles, Levi's tapered and slim over well-developed thighs and legs. The pants were a little too tight, Anne thought primly; the stretch of fabric over his genitalia was so prominent as to almost be obscene ! That instantaneous reflection as she looked at the boy made her blush for a fraction of a second-what was she doing, looking there, at his bulging young virility. What was she thinking? Then, as she studied the boy's face, she realized what it was which so un-nerved her.
Bill Hanley was considerably like Jack!
The superficial features were different. Bill had a craggier, squarer countenance to his face, and his hair was black, un-like Jack's brown. And Bill Hanley wore it long, as was the style for the young generation, but not unkempt or dirty-it came to his collar and was neatly trimmed with long sideburns coming to the bottom of his earlobes. Jack had a soft wave to his hair, which for some reason embarrassed him, so he had always cropped his hair short. And Bill's nose was longer, with an indentation at the bridge-Vicky had written he played football-and his eyes were heavily lidded, giving him a sloe-eyed appearance.
But it was the other things, the mannerisms and handling which struck the mother. The way his mouth curled into an infectious grin, showing white, even teeth; the way he held out his hand when she shook it and the firm but not harsh grip of his fingers. The tilt of his head, his stance, with his feet slightly angled, the way Jack always stood. It was uncanny!
"I can tell you were thinking the same thing as I did when I met Bill, Mother," Vicky said. "I wanted to surprise you, see if you caught the resemblance to Daddy. And you did, without me telling you!" Vicky giggled, and tenderly hugged Bill's arm protectively. "Isn't he wonderful?"
"Come on, Vicky," Bill said in a low, masculine, but embarrassed tone, "You keep saying that, but I don't know...."
"It's ... it's true, all right," the mother said, still shocked by the choice her daughter had made. "You look very much like Jack, in a way. You're the way Jack behaves, I guess is the best way to put it. Why, when I shook your hand, it was like the first time I'd met my husband, Bill." She smiled uneasily. "It gave me quite a start."
"I'm looking forward to meeting Mr. Terrence," Bill Hanley said.
"He's out of town for the next few days, I'm afraid. But there'll be plenty of time to get to know one another-since you're staying with us." The last sentence was difficult for Anne, but she said it without showing her inner forebodings, even managing another smile. Anyway, now that she'd met this boy, seen the fact that he was a younger edition of her own husband, it wouldn't be as bad. Perhaps ...
"Well, let's get going," Vicky said. "Where's the car?"
"I was lucky and found a parking spot across the street."
"Fine." Bill Hanley picked up his suitcases, which were on the other side of him close to Vicky, and Vicky picked hers up, her mother taking one of the cases. The three of them walked out of the depot, and the late afternoon sun basked down, covering them with its grace. But inside, Anne Terrence felt an ambivalence of warmth and coldness, for as glad as she was to see her daughter, she was extremely unsettled by this meeting.
Bill Hanley. Her insides churned with strange, unwholesome thoughts as she kept looking at him time and time again. Just like her husband, back in his young virile days, back when he made love to her with the utter abandon of a Viking marauder. The recollection made her tingle inside, down deep in her belly and vaginal opening, a sensual throb as if she was getting sexually aroused ... That bothered her, as did the very presence of her daughter's boy-friend, even one as seemingly nice and well mannered as Bill. Bill Hanley was a threat of a two-fold nature, a double-edged sword which the lovely mother sensed, but didn't fully comprehend. She was drawn to him and yet repelled, and the mixture coiled through her body as if looking for a place to land and strike ...
* * *
Anne Terrence lay in her bed that night, chiding herself for her inability to sleep. After all, her daughter was nearly twenty, fully capable of handling herself. And Bill Hanley had been the solicitous, gentlemanly youth that Vicky had led her to believe he was in her letters. The ride home, the pre-dinner cocktails-suitably weak for the two younger ones, of course-and the dinner itself had all gone well, Anne had to admit. There had been laughter and much talk, and many amusing anecdotes told about college life. Vicky had never been warmer or more vivacious, and her mother could see the beautiful, charming woman she was becoming. It pleased her, made her think that all of her sacrifices and work was paying dividends of the nicest type imaginable. There's nothing more satisfying than to see one's child turn out to be a wonderful person, not to mention a voluptuous young beauty.
And Bill was just as loquacious, captivating in his ability to tell stories, and Anne found herself genuinely interested in his plans for the future and his dedication to getting there. She sensed that inside him was the same drive she had had, directed differently, of course, because he was a man. And what a man. The more she was with him, the more she considered Bill Hanley not just a accidental copy of her Jack, but beyond that, sort of a bigger-than-real replica. He was like a young lion, large of sinew, big of paw, loose of joint-conscious of his strength and managing instinctively to move and speak with impressive control of it.
She would have had a hard time controlling herself if he'd been around instead of Jack, she thought-and Lord knew she hadn't been able to control herself with Jack. At first, those two-score years ago, the young Anne had not been attracted to him; he was not of the rich crowd, but was on its fringes, as she was-though his father was far better off than hers, and the fringe came mostly from the fact that the elder Terrence family lived in a different, farther-afield neighborhood. But after a few dates, she became fascinated with the young man that Jack Terrence was, fired by his enthusiasm for going into the business world after he finished college and going to the top. And she believed. She wanted to believe so badly ...
And then, that night of nights, which altered both their lives forever. How many times had she gone over that still vivid memory in her head? she wondered dazedly as the lovely, now more mature woman, lay between the cold sheets. How many times had her mind run over the incident, like a strip of film looped and joined on a continual replay? Too many, to bloody many ... but still it went on and on inside her brain, making her moan and thrash with guilt and shame, just as it had the after it had happened, and the day after ... and the month after when she feared, and the month after that when she broke the news of her pregnancy to the horrified Jack ...
Anne and Jack had been on a swimming party, and he had driven her home that fateful evening. Both were very high on rum-and-coke, and aroused by the near nakedness of each other in their bathing suits-her white latex, molded to her like a second skin, and Jack in colorful briefs. They had been necking on the beach along with the other couples, and their heated pressings of bodies and lips with the similar actions of their paired-off friends had made them build to an almost explosive level. She could tell his throbbing arousal by the huge bulge in his trunks, the way that the cloth seemed to give off waves of lewd excitement, and there was the tantalizing wet spot where his hardening penis was pressing its tip against it. The salacious sight in turn excited her more, making her breasts harden and her nipples become jeweled rubies moving against her bra.
Her parents weren't home; the note they left had said they wouldn't be back until very late. Anne and Jack sauntered out into the small yard, clinging together, rubbing thigh against thigh, bare shoulder and leg against shoulder and leg. In the back, by the small greenhouse, was the padded garden swing, and before either of them knew it they were on the soft mattress covering, lust consuming all rationality. Jack was kissing her, and his feverish hands were unzipping her swim-suit, and she ... oh God, she was arching her back to allow him to ...
Anne squirmed on her bed now, her face drenched with the sweat of her tortured memories, and her vagina ached, throbbed the way it had back then. Shocks of prurient emotions traveled her spine, her muscles, her flesh; she moaned as if delirious and continued her dream-like reverie ...
The swim-suit was pushed away and down, and Jack's hand was suddenly squeezing and cupping the nakedness of one of her exposed breasts, his lips leaving her mouth to suckle one trembling nipple hungrily. His other hand was still peeling the swim-suit bottom from her hungry loins, down off her writhing hips, down past her moist pubic hair, down her legs, and she ... Lord, yes, she helped kick off the restraining garment. And then he tore at his trunks, making both of them naked, and Anne gasped at the immensity of his swollen cock jutting so hugely from his loins. Then he was between her legs on top of her, and her brain was a seething cauldron of uncontrollable desire. She called to him to stop, that she was a virgin, but he was beyond hearing, and she ... yes, she was silently begging for his huge penis to rip through her hymen and fill her moist, pink-rimmed pussy to its fullest, to surge into her untouched young belly, slide through the hair-covered, lubricated valley and fill her with his naked maleness. She was ready, and her head flailed around her moaning face, her taut young breasts trembling on her chest as she prepared herself for him, for the first taste of masculine entrance.
And then he was there, his cock jerking inside her like a roaring express train, and great billows of intense pleasure swirled through her loins. He heaved and pumped, and she bucked wildly back against him, instinctively locking her legs around his churning buttocks and crying out for more, farther, deeper. Finally, with a scream erupting from the two of them together, he had filled her hotly sucking young vagina with boiling, surging spurts of liquid fire, of his young virile sperm in an inundating, never-ending flow. He also filled her womb with the tiny seeds of life though neither knew it then, of course ...
A wave of crimson shade now made Anne blush violently. I can't go on like this, thinking of that terrible night, of the unashamed abandonment of everything I believe-and the consequences. Thank God my daughter, the result of that wild, erotic night, hasn't inherited the corruption of her beginning....
It was the same way every time, the hellish thoughts tormenting her, her mental struggle to avoid them, her capitulation ... and worse, her physical surrender as well, for as she lay there, mewling and writhing from side to side, a strange series of involuntary sensations were bursting deep in her stomach and loins. She didn't have to look down at her negligee-clad body to know that her nipples were hard now, as they had been on that night, or that her pubic hair was moist from the droplets of lubrications which her mental images had forced her cunt to secrete in anticipatory excitement. She was aroused, aroused as she always was whenever she let herself think about her and Jack making love-the way it had been, but seemingly wasn't any longer-and there was no longer any effort on her part to delude herself that she wasn't.
She bit her lower lip, trying to stem the tide of sexual fury which lashed through her vagina, her belly, up through her breasts, resisting as best she could with every bit of determination, the overwhelming desire to touch herself, to roll her nipples in her fingers, and then slide her hand down to her pussy, down among the soft, fleecy blonde curls and into the wet, pink lips of her hungrily waiting vagina. She had on other occasions, manipulating her little clitoris and her yawning, sucking cunt until her release exploded inside her, but she knew that it was wrong ... that to masturbate did something to you, like give you pimples or made you crazed. She didn't know; her mother had always avoided that subject, just as she didn't care to discuss any aspect of sex. But that's how Anne had been brought up, and the guilt of her transgression in the backyard swing was compounded by the more fearful guilt of being so wicked as to finger herself to orgasm from the very thought of it.
"No ... no," she moaned to herself. "I won't ... I can't!"
If only Jack was here, she thought haplessly. II only my husband was here to satisfy my craving, but he's way away. Gone on another of his damned business trips. Business, always business it had turned out, and she wasn't a wife to him any longer but only a housekeeper and cook. Sometimes she thought that it was her own fault that she was reduced to the life of a near-celibate, for in the early years of their marriage she had prodded and nagged for him to work and climb, and then climb some more. He had, and now he was carrying the responsibilities of two men in hopes of getting a promotion to vice-president. But God! There were times when she wanted his body, his penis ... she wanted sex, and she needed loving. But as the work increased for Jack so his interest in her had declined, and now, refused the physical gratification she desired, she grew increasingly restless and frustrated, and thought more and more of that wild "one time" of their youth twenty years ago.
Even when Jack was home, he was generally more interested in going to sleep than anything else. He was content, at forty, to live out the rest of his life with making love to his wife eight, ten times a year. And Anne had not had a full, satisfying orgasm since Christmas. Anne moaned distraughtly, clenching her fists to keep her hands from touching her swollen breast and pussy. Stop it! Stop it! Abruptly, she sat up, shattered from the force of her emotions. She thought that it was no good, lying here like this-it only made matters worse. She was wide awake, and the rest of the house was sleeping quietly. Around eleven, Vicky had retired to her room and Bill had said goodnight and gone downstairs to the side room which had been fixed up for him. She was the only tormented soul here, and she was going to have to do something in order to get a moment's peace.
She got up, her bare feet soundless on the thick carpet. Her thin, pink negligee, with its bright red bow tied just below her heaving breasts to give the gown an Empire look, trailed diaphanously behind her as she walked to the hall door. A cup of coffee, she thought ... no, not coffee, that would only make matters worse. A glass of milk perhaps, and a sandwich, or maybe some of the pie left over from dinner ...
As she entered the living room, preparatory to going into the kitchen, she heard a murmur of voices from the basement. The steps were right beside her, and she couldn't help overhearing the muted sounds wafting up from below. She stopped, puzzled. The lights were off, Vicky and Bill were in their respective beds ... she listened intently. But there were voices all right, oddly distorted voices, like the co-mingling of grunts, whispers, pleas, and mewls.
Perplexed, she took a few steps down the stairs until she could lean over the railing and hear more clearly. The sultry voices suddenly were intelligible, and they became the distinct, separate voices of her daughter, Vicky, and her boy-friend Bill Hanley! Anne's hand flew to her mouth, and she stifled a horrified shriek which threatened to burst from her constricting throat. Her eyes bulged in the dimness, wide with disbelieving shock and revulsion, and she recoiled on the stairs, groping hysterically for the railing to keep herself from falling.
For the words she had heard the most distinctly were the unmistakable passionate tones of her daughter. Vicky was crying out madly:
"Yes, Bill! Ohhhhh, yes! yes! You've got such a beautiful hard cock! I love it inside, love it filling my cunt! Ohhhhh! Fuck me, Bill, fuck me like this forever! Ohhhhhhh!"
CHAPTER 2
Anne Terrence felt an incredible dryness in her mouth and throat as she heard the lewd exchange of words. She wanted to turn and run up the stairs to her room, escape the vile, disgusting talk which had suddenly invaded her home, her sanctuary, but her legs wouldn't hold her, her feet wouldn't move. She could only stagger downward another step.
"Ohhhh, Vicky, Vicky!" came the panting voice of her daughter's young lover. "Wrap your legs around me and pump your pussy on my cock! That's it, keep pumping me! Ahhhhhh!"
Torturously, as if she needed to reassure herself that her mind was not playing tricks on her, that her ears could be believed, Anne held her breath, waiting for the next terrible outrage to be committed on all that was sweet and good, all that was important to her-her only daughter.
"Ahhhhh!" Vicky cried out abandonedly. "Fuck up into me with your cock like that again, Bill! Ahhhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!"
Anne was sweating freely, her body wet underneath the sheer nightie, beads of perspiration running down between her tightly constricted chest and belly to her pussy below which was tingling madly, salaciously, wickedly; for a moment she thought she was going to faint. A sudden wave of excitement was sweeping over her, making her confuse for one delicious moment what was going on in the little room off the basement with what had happened in the garden swing so long ago. She was exchanging places with her daughter in her imagination, and it was she that was getting fucked so beautifully rather than Vicky. She tried to clear her senses, for she felt dirty, betrayed-and yet the passion climbed steadily, building faster and faster in a tornado that threatened to take command of her sex-starved loins.
Transfixed by her own inner devilments, Anne was unable to stop herself from being drawn to the little room, carefully tip-toeing forward across the basement floor to the door which was slightly ajar. Her mind of boiling emotions prodded her onward, the lucidity at what she was doing, and the self-loathing she experienced because of it, fuzzed with the incoherency of mingling the reality of now with the dreams of twenty years ago.
She reached the door and secretly pushed it open, seeing the dull yellow glow of the small table lamp set on a spare table Jack had arranged. Then the small day-bed-little more than a thick cot-wedged beside the table, a borrowed chest of drawers on its other side. But Anne Terrence wasn't looking at the furnishings; she was staring wide-eyed at the writhing, crashing couple on the bed, at the carnal, lewd side-show of her only daughter and the strange young man who resembled her husband ... Her mouth opened and she breathed raggedly but silently, and her vagina began to beat with an effervescent pulsation, flowing wetness of spiraling arousals down between her legs.
Vicky Terrence, her youthful, beautifully crafted body completely naked, lay on her back with her slender legs raised high in the air, her ankles and feet spread wide and straining to touch the ceiling. And Bill Hanley, his sinuous body glistening with sweat, was astride her like a rider breaking a wild mare, his firm, hard buttocks charging powerfully up between her open thighs in a rhythm as old as man itself, and he had his lips tightly fastened to one of the girl's tender budding breasts. There was the soft slap of their naked, young flesh meeting, and the wet surge of Bill's hard, shining cock penetrating her hungrily clasping little cunt, and the ecstatic expressions of sheer delight on both their faces as they heaved and bucked, flexed and jerked. One of her slim hands was pressed hard into her boy-friend's muscular driving buttocks, down in the crevice between his cheeks, and her finger was slowly revolving inside his arched, clearly visible anus, following the tempo of his strokes by fucking his rectum in return.
Anne's brain reeled convulsively, unable to fully fathom the scene in all its degrading nuances. God, oh God ... she kept repeating internally, aimlessly ... God, my daughter is a virgin ... she must be a virgin ... this can't be happening to my innocent little girl ...
Bill ceased his powerful drubbing of the teenager's cunt, and drew back, the wetly glistening shaft of his hardened young cock in full view now to Anne. He knelt, his penis still poised at the hungry mouth of Vicky's hair-fringed passage, leering and panting down at her. The young girl moaned and jerked uncontrollably.
"Say it," he demanded harshly. "Say that you want me to fuck you!"
"I did! I did already, Bill, honey!" Vicky moaned, panting.
"More! Beg for my cock! Beg for my cock to cum inside of that hot little cunt of yours!"
"Yes! Yes, Bill! Shoot my pussy deep and full! Fill me up! You know that I love your hot cum inside me! It makes me cum! Ohhhh, please, bury your cock in me again, lover, bury it until it shoots!"
Anne watched in horrified fascination at the boy's gleaming expanse of penis which throbbed lasciviously in the light, and the way her lewdly squirming young daughter seemed to be mesmerized by the rigid, palpitating rod of flesh ...
Then, with a leer of triumphal pleasure, the young man levered downwards again, sinking his heated penis far up into Vicky's young belly again, and the mother heard her emit a low, almost painful squeal that made Anne wince from the harsh force it echoed. And in Anne's em-pathetic weakened state, it was as if Jack was in there, driving his large penis into her vagina, and that she was lying beneath his crushing weight and not her daughter ...
Bill was hammering fiercely into the young girl's wide-splayed crotch now, his lips once more fastened on her sweet, bursting nipple. And as Anne watched her daughter being fucked within an inch of her life, she began to lose the last vestige of control which had so narrowly contrived to stop her upstairs in her own, private bedroom. Her mind was drugged by the debauch, beclouded by the miasma of heat and fire and remembrances of yore, and though a dim voice somewhere in the back of her mind tried to tell her to rush in and stop the two of them, but to no avail. She was past all rational thought and action, and her flesh was entirely separate from any restrictions her mind might have wished to place on it.
Her right hand slid down along her slippery, trembling body, down the flat plane of her sides and across her pulsating stomach to rest on the honey-colored curls of her moist pussy. Passion was melting her loins, flowing through her blood, and her other hand pressed her breast of its own volition, making her gasp as her thumb and forefinger gently rolled the now diamond-chip hard nipple around and around.
Her own mewlings, soft as they were, were still loud enough to have been heard by her daughter and Bill Hanley had they been listening. But they were incoherently thrashing on the day-bed in wild abandonment, and Anne could have screamed herself hoarse and probably not have bothered them in the least. She gathered the hem of her sheer pink nightie, slowly sliding to the floor to sprawl with disjointed and unabashed immodesty as her naked thighs and moist, pink cuntal mound were exposed to the same soft light and cooling night air as played upon the nude young lover's flesh. The triangular center of her abject desires was now totally open as she splayed wide her slim legs, tucking her nightie around her waist; the young mother lowered her right hand while still undulating her left on her breasts, rubbed her vagina's wet inflamed lips as she had done in times previous. Only this time she knew it was worse, far worse, far more evil and perverted because she was doing it while watching the salacious rapings of her innocent daughter, her lovely teen-age child whom she thought was a virgin, had wanted even now to believe was unsullied-but wretchedly had to admit had been accepting lover's embraces for some time.
"Ohhhh, Bill, faster! Faster!" Vicky chanted on the bed. "I'm almost there, Bill ... I'm almost ready to climax! Ohhhh! Cum! Cum! Cum!"
"Ohhhh," Bill Hanley wailed in response. "Yes! Yes!" And he arched and bucked his body against hers in a renewed onslaught to their mutual orgasms.
Anne rubbed harder and harder now, her middle finger sliding along the wet, softly protuberant cunt, teasing her clitoris by running a nail around the erect, quivering little feminine phallus, feeling wave after wave of consuming pleasure ripple through her. She dropped her left hand from her breasts and insinuated first one, then two, and at last three fingers in the open, moist vaginal tunnel between her perking spasming thighs. In and out ... in and out, in a mockery of the sex act she was staring at so intently. In and out ... straining her body for the release she felt eminent, and her mind from not shouting out the name of her husband as Vicky was crying out the name of the boy fucking her.
"Bill! Bill! Ohhhh, Billll! Noowwwwww!"
"Yes, Jesus, here is comes! Uhhhhhhh!"
The mother was caught up fully in the wild frenzy of the moment, her hands flaying desperately over her wide-spread pussy as she watched the near-stranger of a young man empty his pulsing testicles of their huge build-up of semen, flooding her daughter's young cunt with his hot, burning white seed.
Want to Cum, want to cum too....her crazed mind chanted insanely, and Anne studied the carnal climax before her with a mixture of jealousy and loathing, imagining herself under that grinding cock as it loosened the gates of its cum, dreaming her buttocks were the ones which were jerking tightly up against the boy's loins, wishing her vagina was so filled with his thick liquid that it was inundated as Vicky's was. The overflow was cascading richly from the girl's tightly quivering cunt lips, dribbling down her pink, wet lips, between the clenched crevice of young ass cheeks to pool on the white desert of bottom sheet.
Anne gazed at the stream of ejaculations running down between her daughter's wide split buttocks, and just as Bill's cum triggered her daughter's orgasm, so too did it set off her own climax. The floor opened up, the earth shook cataclysmically, and all the lights of the world flashed before her tortured retinas. The lovely, bewitched mother strained and stretched until she thought her limbs would fall off, and she lifted herself off of the floor in a trembling, spasming arch of completion, grasping her cunt with both hands tightly and squeezing and rubbing and clawing....
I'm aiming ... oh I'm aiming with my daughter, with everything I have, just the way I did with Jack....
Then, drained and exhausted by the enormous release of her tensions, she collapsed on the floor, breathing harshly. Fogged noises came dully to her ringing ears, but they were of contentment and not of discovery. She peered with filmed eyes dully and saw that her daughter and Bill Hanley were cradling each other in their naked arms, cooing and kissing in the aftermath of their lovemaking, still oblivious to the fact that they had been watched, spied upon by Vicky's mother.
Then, suddenly, jarringly, Anne Terrence returned to terrifying reality, and the sheer sickness of her perverted thoughts, of her silently chanted desires snapped in one thunderous peal the spell which she had been under. Her fingers froze between her legs and then she slowly removed them like cretins of loathing, and she groped herself to her feet, her whole being whirling with shock. The mother released her nightgown, backing away as she still stared uncomprehendingly at the young couple on the day-bed, and then Anne turned and fled, stifling a terrible, agonized cry of horror.
Up the broad, carpeted steps to the first floor she ran, then down the hall to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and locked it-but she couldn't lock out the sheer, numbing pain in her soul.
Blindly she slid under the sheets and held herself in a fetal position, and tried to will herself quiet, her trembling body consumed by confusion and pain, anguish and disgust. Filth seemed to crawl over her like myriad insects on her flesh-only the feeling came within, and not on her skin-but she seemed to be able to sense thousands of tiny, fuzzy legs scuttling over her loins and breasts, their dry, hairy legs raising goose-flesh which rippled from loathsome revulsion.
But she knew deep inside herself that those insects were figments of her imagination, creatures of her own guilt. Whatever her daughter and Bill Hanley were doing, their actions weren't anywhere near as despicable as hers, she thought sickly, and she had no excuse, no reason to hide behind. She wondered darkly if she should take a shower, if the ritual of cleansing herself outwardly might help sanitize her inwardly, but no ... she would never feel clean and wholesome again.
Wretchedly, Anne finally allowed herself to relax her nearly spasming muscles, and she stared up at the dark ceiling, allowing a lethargy to come over her; a welcomed escape from the mental torture her mind threw up to protect her sanity. After a few minutes, a wave of drowsiness drifted over the woman, and sleep, blissful and healing sleep let her sink to unconsciousness, relieving her from the purgatory she considered that she had made for herself in the last half an hour.
* * *
Came the dawn, and awakening to it young
Vicky Terrence felt a sort of bubbly effusion of warm contentment and the tickling promise of more. Sweet lover that he was, Bill had been more than his usual stallion-ish self last night. As she lay in her own bed now, the muscles of her inner thighs pleasantly aching with the almost superhuman drubbing that she had been given by her boyfriend's wild, untamed fucking, she smiled at the rich thoughts of her "home-coming" celebration.
She was a very lucky girl, she knew that. For one thing, Mother had been more understanding than she had thought she would be about Bill Hanley. She loved her mother deeply, didn't want to have the great divide between herself and her mother that so many of her girl-friends at college complained about. But still, it takes a lot of doing for a woman as devoted as her mother obviously was to accept the fact that her child was grown up, was ready to go on her own, to set up her own nest. . .
In this case, the other "nest" was Bill Hanley. It had been love, she thought, at almost first sight. Stupid, perhaps-something out of romance magazines, but at least for her, it was true. She sometimes doubted if Bill felt as strongly for her-but then when she was in his arms, as she had been last night, his cum mingling with her climactic releases in her vagina, she felt at peace with the world and totally loved. She was gone on the boy, enthusiastically allowing him full control over her tender body ever since he had first fucked her following the Halloween dance last year. She couldn't tell her mother that, naturally; her mother wouldn't understand that this was the way the modern generation did things. Why, there were hardly any passionate sounds of love coming from her parent's bedroom in all the years she had lived in this house-did they ever make love? They must have at least once, she giggled to herself-she was here, wasn't she ?
Well, the girl decided that she wasn't going to grow old that way. Bill had taught her the secrets and wonders of the flesh, brought her the knowledge of her body and its workings, and she and her boyfriend blended their genitals and mouths in every conceivable variation at every possible opportunity. His large, rock-like penis thrilled her as he would arch over her, ready to plunge it into her inexperienced but willing young pussy, and lovingly she often caressed in return, running her hot, fevered hands up and down the firm yet pliable shaft of flesh, masturbating him until he would groan and shoot great spurts of hot white semen onto both of them. And then there were the other times, the ones before and after their acts of love, during which they would talk of love and sex and the future, so that she had been assured for the most-part that she had not given herself in vain-that their coupling was on a more inspired plane than pure physical gratification. But even if she was wrong, that it turned out that Bill-certainly not an inexperienced lover as she-was using her and lying to her, she felt that her relationship with him was satisfying, and her desire for him was still a raging fire.
She knew that there was still one of those heart-to-heart talks upcoming with her mother-perhaps with Daddy as well, if he ever decided to stick around long enough. But there wasn't the time now, she told herself; she was already late, having overslept from her wild, orgiastic night in the basement room with Bill. She had an interview with a cosmetics firm in Kingsport who was looking for representatives; it would be a perfect summer job if she could get it.
In a hurry, she wriggled out of the bed's little-used covers and padded nakedly to her bureau. There wasn't even time for a shower now, or breakfast-she'd have to dress and run if she was to make the interview appointment on time. She found a clean pair of panties, and she pulled them on tightly until the smooth round cheeks of her firm young buttocks and the soft, still tingling and wet mound of her cunt were snuggly encased in its thin nylon mesh. She looked down to find a bra, and caught the reflection of her tight panties in the mirror, and the way they accentuated the throbbing split of her vaginal lips, still swollen from her recent fucking. But she didn't feel the slightest pang of remorse, only satiated pleasure. Then quickly she slipped into a frilly white blouse and light green mini-skirt and picked up her comb to untangle her hair. As she looked into the mirror and studied her blonde waves which, like her mother's, gently curved over her shoulders, she saw that her mini-skirt clung to her buttocks and was more than provocative on her tanned thighs, slightly creasing in front where her legs joined her hips. With a sudden awareness she realized that one could almost see the swollen lips of her pussy, but it didn't matter-the cosmetics company wanted good-looking sensual girls-and had made a point of suggesting such clothing be worn on the interview.
She quickly walked into the living room, and almost passed her mother before she realized that Anne was sitting there, staring moodily into space. She stopped short, blinking with surprise.
Anne Terrence sat in her negligee and flowered-print bathrobe in an odd, hunched-over position, her arms tightly folded to her chest. Even more surprising, the young daughter saw, was the open bottle of Madera wine on the mahogany table beside the settee and the half-full tumbler of the smoky liquor in her hand.
"Mother," she said, frowning. "Mother, what are you doing?"
Anne's answering tone was sort of vague and lost, and perhaps a little blurred. "I ... woke up early," she said. "I couldn't sleep very well." She turned her head to flash a brief smile at Vicky. "The sunrise is lovely isn't it ... ? "
"Yes, but-" Vicky paused, perplexed. Did she know something? Did mother hear them last night? She licked her lips, frightened for a minute. "What's the matter, Mother? You sound so strange."
"Nothing ... nothing ... But everything in Anne's voice said that there was. "Here," she continued, patting a place beside her, "come here and sit by your mother. I'd like to talk to you."
"I don't have much time. I have an interview with-"
"I know, you wrote all about your possible job," Anne said morosely. "But I won't keep you long."
Troubled by her mother's behavior, Vicky did as she was asked. She placed her hands in her lap when she had sat down. "Are you sick?"
"Oh, no," Anne said hollowly. "I ... only wanted to talk to you about. . . well, about Bill."
"Oh," A cloud came over the daughter's eyes; her mother wanted that kind of talk.
"You ... seem very close to him," her mother said after a strong sip of the wine. "Do you like him a lot?"
God, if you only knew how much, Vicky thought, but replied: "Yes, yes I guess I do, mother. He's warm and good to me."
"Do you ... want to marry him?"
The sudden words, the intensity of the question, brought Vicky upright. Why was her mother suddenly so concerned? She had never given that impression to her, had tried very hard to allay such fears-which were at the present groundless. "No, I've told you before, Mother, that Bill and I may be going together, but gee, that's what all the kids do today. I'm planning to finish my education first, and I'm not thinking of marriage until after I graduate. Honest!"
"And ... and children?"
"What are you driving at, mother?"
Anne desperately wanted to blurt out what was eating at her heart, to tell her daughter what she had witnessed in the downstairs room last night, but the magnitude filled her with awe. She couldn't bring herself to speak. She wanted some kind of affirmation in the faith she had in her child after spending a wretched night and lurid nightmares, to be told that Bill would stand by
Vicky should their making love end in the same kind of situation that she had found herself in twenty years ago. She wanted some avowal from her daughter that the lewd hedonism of last night-and obviously of before-was more than just the gratifications of the physical, that Bill and Vicky were "in love," and that had been carried away with their affections. At least that would give some form of legitimacy, as tenuous as it might be. There was no way of passing off her own wickedness, Anne thought miserably, but if she could only have the assurance that her daughter was still a good girl at heart ...
But for all of her previous beliefs, she couldn't truly bridge the gap between mother and daughter-the generation gap was a bottomless chasm when it came down to the important matters of life. She drank the wine again, feeling its liquid fire calm her shattered nerves, and knew that this talk was hopeless. She wasn't up to it. Maybe later, after some of the raw wound had had time to heal. . .
"Nothing, Vicky," she sighed, taking a deep breath and trying to manufacture a smile for her daughter. "I ... I guess I'm just an old fuss-budget with a bad night under her belt."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes. You go on to your appointment. You don't want to be late." She finished the glass and poured another jigger from the handy bottle; it had been a fresh one when she'd started.
"I'll stay," Vicky offered, deeply concerned now at her mother's peculiar actions. "Really, I'll stay if you want."
"No, please. I'm fine."
"Well, all right. I should be gone until at least the early afternoon," she told Anne, rising and smoothing her skirt. "I'll take your car if it's all right, and Bill can fool around the house until I return."
The mother nodded, her head low. "Where is Bill this morning?"
"Asleep," Vicky said and then added hastily, "I guess, he can use one of Daddy's swimming trunks, can't he, if he wants to use the pool?"
"Of course," Anne said, again lost in her troubled world. "Why don't you get a pair out and leave them downstairs before you go...."
Vicky did, placing them on a basement table beside the small room's door along with a fluffy towel. The door was closed, as she had carefully closed it after leaving Bill's arms late last night and running naked up the stairs to her own room. But she could hear his soft snorings. Let the poor boy sleep, she thought with a broad smile; he's earned his rest.
She said good-bye to her mother as she went out the door, but Mrs. Terrence hardly acknowledged. As Vicky climbed in the Ford-the family's second car-she hoped that her mother was all right as she had insisted, and that she wouldn't get drunk on the Madera. That would be terrible, she thought grimly as she backed out of the driveway. Her mother had never liked liquor much in the past-was she becoming an alcoholic for some unknown reason? Don't be silly, she chastised herself; A person isn't an alcoholic just because she takes a drink in the morning. No, her mother was merely upset because of Bill and not having Daddy home to help, and the general excitement of her coming home. And as her mother had said, she hadn't been able to sleep well, so perhaps she's sipping the wine to relax and will go back to bed later.
Yes, that must be it, she concluded, and disregarding her stray and unwelcome portents of deeper, darker things to come, she headed for Kingsport and her job interview.
CHAPTER 3
Anne Terrence seemed to pass the morning without moving, as if all muscular control was gone from her body-other than the automatic, controlled motion of her hand with its never-empty glass of Madera wine. She stared stony-eyed out the window, out over the porch which served as the roof for the basement patio, at the green lawn rolling gently upwards from the patio to encircle the large, tile pool. Beyond were a hedge of large plants and trees, cutting off her acreage from those of the surrounding neighbors. All was peaceful, all was quiet outside ...
But inside the distraught wife and mother were the roaring breakers of her storm-tossed emotions. She should have asked Vicky to stay, to sit by her and somehow get through the wall of agony which had cut communication. Then perhaps the deadening effects of the wine wouldn't have taken over so completely, dulled her to the point of stupefaction-the only crutch that she had been able to find so far. She knew that she was on the verge of breaking apart, of suddenly snapping into a thousand pieces like a brittle piece of crystal glass. What Anne didn't know was how or when that shattering would happen, and she tried to stem the cracks, afraid of the sharp forms the fractured remains of her being would take.
She knew that she was drunk, was aware that the chances were she wouldn't be able to navigate if she tried to stand. But she didn't care. Nothing mattered to her any longer. Nothing except somehow saving her lovely daughter from the clutches of prurience.
She didn't hate her daughter's young boyfriend. Bill was only a man, doing what a man is built to do-contrary to how she'd been living latelyand while he personified the problem, was the easily identifiable head which would have to roll, there was the intuitive knowledge deep inside Anne that simply by removing Bill would only be a temporary solution. Vicky would only go out and make love with another man, perhaps in spite the next time to get back at her mother.
Yet Bill Hanley had to leave. No question about it, Anne thought. First, and most importantly, because he was currently the one fucking her daughter-yes, that's right, fucking; no use mincing words at a time like this, she said to herself. Bill Hanley wasn't in love with Vicky, but only taking what the girl was willing to give. He was a lewd, rutting animal, and no matter if her daughter did think she was in love with him, Anne knew better. She could see, couldn't she? She had eyes-and she had seen, last night, for no genuinely loving man would subject a woman to such degrading as to demand that she beg for his penis to ejaculate up inside her! No, Bill had to go for Vicky's sake.
And for her own, as well. Bill was just too damned much the way Jack was, the way unconsciously Anne wanted Jack still to be. That was, as she reflected over her licentious actions last night, the reason why she had gone temporarily insane. If it had been another man, she would have been able to. control herself, she was sure of that, but his-likeness was overwhelming to the point of distracting her to enslavement. She sighed, finishing the Madera wine bottle. Well, as soon as Bill wakes up, she'd talk to him ...
She didn't know what the hell she was going to tell him-probably the truth, a partial truth anyway, about catching him and Vicky together. She'd ask him politely to go and warn him that if he didn't then she would be forced to tell Vicky's father about him.
It might not solve everything perfectly, she told herself, but it would be a start. Later, after she had been able to come to some kind of terms with herself, made an adjustment with her desires and sick fantasies, she could confront her daughter and tell her why Bill had left. He would be gone without explanation when she returned today, and Vicky would be owed an explanation as soon as possible. Then, after the summer had passed and things were more rational, Vicky could return to college, and would probably be over her infatuation for the boy.
Mrs. Terrence hadn't decided whether to confide all of this to her husband, when her thoughts were suddenly brought abruptly to an end by a sound outside.
Splash! Water spilled over the edge of the pool, and she saw the shimmering spectre of a bronzed body swimming from the far end of the pool.
Bill Hanley! He had awakened and had gone outside for a dip! Nervously agitated, a restless
Anne, watched him, frustrated at the fact that he hadn't come upstairs first and been confronted by her before this. She wanted to get this over with just as quickly as possible, to get him out of her house and life; bag and baggage, so that she could begin the slow road to sanity and healing. She stood on shaky legs and walked bare-footed to the plate-glass window, holding onto the draperies for support. Damn you, damn you ... hurry up and finish your little swim, you pervert ...
Her eyes were magnets drawn to him, at his lithe and graceful strokes in the warm pool water as he moved in perfect form. She swallowed heavily, her tongue strangely thick in her mouth, her eyes having a difficult time focusing. She shouldn't have drunk so much-but how else could she have gotten up the courage to express her convictions? She leaned dizzily against the window casement, moistening her lips, and asked herself why she was so upset by that boy. So he looks like her husband? So! She wasn't a teen-ager any more-she was old enough to be Bill's mother!
Hanley pulled himself out of the pool, the sun glinting off the water beads on him like sparkling light off of fish scales; he padded dripping to the low diving board at the near end, but a few feet now from where she was standing limply. His muscles rippled as he walked and his copper skin reflected his youth, his virility, his confidence. He climbed on the board, poised there preparatory to diving, and Anne saw the bulge of his penis and scrotum in the outline of Jack's too-small swim briefs. God, but that boy is built, she thought hazily, I wonder if he's got a penis longer than
Jack's? Then her blurred, drunken thought produced a picture of it, sunk deep down in her daughter's wide-stretched little vagina the night before, and she knew the answer.
Shocked, not so much by the answer but by the audacity of her question, Anne reeled backwards a step, groaning at her still unsettled emotions. My God, am I that sick? she asked herself in horror. She flushed at the obvious prurience of her reflections and averted her gaze just as the young boy executed a graceful dive off the board and his lithe, virile body slipped smoothly through the surface of the water.
Why couldn't she control her restless urgings, her sensually incited feelings? She couldn't seem to get her mind off the lewd, the depraved, the evil ... off of her daughter's boyfriend. Oh, Jack, hurry home, please hurry home, she fervently prayed, squeezing her eyes shut. With him here, his body and not Bill's to be constantly before her, then maybe she could re-orient herself and stop the terrible gnawing hunger in her belly.
She staggered blindly to the liquor cabinet, wanting another drink to calm herself. There was no more Madera wine, so she poured a glass of gin from the decanter and drank it hurriedly, without thinking. The gin hit like a small explosion, spreading through her like the tendrils of a disease ... but the liquor didn't help diffuse her agony or remove her restlessness, but only intensified the feelings she neither understood or wanted. She turned back after draining the glass, more unsteady than ever.
The blue-green water of the pool was now empty.
Anne shuddered, drawing in a deep breath. The young boy must have finished and gone inside, she thought. Good ... good ... now she could get this wretched business out of the way.
Using the furniture as support along the way, realizing that she was now totally drunk but not willing to allow the opportunity that her daughter's brief absence had provided and afraid that more sober she wouldn't find the ability to speak her mind, Anne stumbled for the stairs to the basement.
Bare-foot, she made her way down the steps slowly, holding the rail for balance, blinking rapidly in a futile effort to clear her vision. She entered the basement area as silently as she had the night before, and with just as much of a surprise waiting for her. She froze in wildly shocked immobility, her inebriation making the view all the more breath-taking.
Bill Hanley was standing in the middle of the room, his tautly muscled young body facing away from her, his naked flanks presented clearly. He was drying himself slowly, luxuriously with a fluffily towel, rubbing his back and legs with languid, loving motions. She stifled a moan of embarrassed excitement and felt the small of her own back tingle with the lurid sight. He spread his legs slightly, bending forward to wipe his thighs, and his testicles were dark shadows hanging from between the crevice of his buttocks. A gripping desire settled in Anne's stomach, the lascivious wish to again see his youthful penis, and unwantingly, Vicky's mother found herself mentally willing the boy to turn around ... turn around and show his genitals to her. Instead, the boy rubbed his chest and flanks, his inner thighs, everywhere except where Anne's tortured mind had settled upon....
God! What was happening to her?
She didn't know what was making her react in such a sex-crazed manner, what was making her stare at him with a tingling in her own loins growing stronger, centering in her aching pubic area and in the taut firmness of her unrestricted, barely covered breasts. She had come down here to stop this boy's corrupt seductions of her daughter, to send him away before any more trouble could happen, but here she was, bleary-eyed and open-mouthed, gawking with wet, growing lewdness, as ... as drunkenly despicable in her fascination as that wino looking up between her legs in the bus depot had been! She was no better than that dirty old man! She cried out to herself; no better at all, and was fast becoming as much a gutter-rat as he was!
No. . . no ... I don't want this to be happening! Noooo!
But Anne Terrence's body, goaded by the releasing euphoria of the Madera wine and gin, betrayed her in spite of her misery and self-flagellation, powerfully over-ruling her will with an iron force. Unable to resist, the aroused young mother breathed faster and faster, excited and tormented at the same time, as slowly her daughter's boyfriend pivoted slightly and revealed his balls and fresh young cock to her.
Feet splayed, towel curved underneath and around, the young man began to dry his pubic area in soft, sensuous massages, slowly moving his now limp shaft of male flesh around in the towel, exposing it on all sides to the woman's fevered eyes. Then he moved lower and stroked his distended, gourd-like testicles, rubbing between his legs and up around his anus where last night her daughter had so willingly pushed into with her finger. Then he flipped the towel aside and placed his right hand back on his penis and began to slide his fingers casually up and down it.
Anne stayed on the staircase transfixed as petrified, she saw the boy's once flaccid cock turn a stronger reddish color and engorge from his manipulations, rising until it was the enormous size she had seen the night previous. A low sigh, a moan of pleasure bubbled from his lips as he shut his eyes for a moment and flicked his hand swiftly back and forth over the now erect member, making it stand out from his black-haired loins at a forty-five degree angle, rock-hard, and its burgeoning, thick blunt head a deep pink.
Why ... why he was masturbating! With a cry she was unable to choke away, Anne mewled helplessly with the lascivious sight of his masturbation, falling back with her hand over her mouth as the sound erupted spontaneously from her liquor-weakened throat.
Hanley whirled around, dropping his hand, his eyes filled with fright. "Wha--! Mrs. Terrence! I ... I thought you had gone with Vicky!"
"No, I've ... been home all the time." she managed, swallowing hard, stammering confusedly. This wasn't the way she had planned their talk, not at all! She wasn't sure, her mind whirling with heat and alcohol, exactly what to do now.
"Then . . .you've been watching me, haven't you?" An incredibly knowing grin slowly spread on his features as he sensed her sudden confusion.
"You were, weren't you?" he demanded after his first question only drew a blushing silence. "Standing on the stairs there, getting your jollies watching me play with myself. Weren't you, Mrs. Terrence?"
"No ... no...." she protested weakly.
"Yes," the college boy said softly. He took a step for her. "You wanted to have a good look at all of me. Naked, and I bet you liked seeing me beat off, too. I bet you're all hot under that little night-gown of yours," he added cockily, grinning with an all too apparent smirk. "Well, you wanted to see me naked and here I am. Admit it!"
"No!" Anne blurted irrationally. "No, I didn't want any such thing! I don't need to! I've already seen you naked!" And then she realized what she had said and groaned piteously, sinking to the stairs. Bill Hanley, puzzled, his original confidence sagging, walked over to the stricken woman. "You ... what?" he asked incredulously. "You've seen me naked before now? When?"
"Please-please don't make things worse," she said, stiffening her resolve. "Just ... get your clothes on and leave this house."
Hanley stared at her for a minute, and then put his head back and laughed. That was all; laughed
-but it stirred the anger of shame and anguish in Anne's drunken mind.
"All right, if you must know," she retorted, her face crimson, "I saw you last night. You and Vicky, on the bed in your room you were ... you two were...." She choked on the words, an unwanted sensation of excitement welling up in her at the remembrance.
"Go on, Mrs. Terrence," Hanley urged breathlessly, his cock jerking hard. "What did you see?"
"I ... I couldn't believe it," she gasped. "You and my daughter, her beneath you, her legs spread, begging you to ... to...."
"Fuck her?"
"Don't use that word!" she blazed suddenly. "And what are you planning to do about it."
"Make you leave."
"And if I don't?"
"You will, or else ... or else ... I'll tell Jack, I'll tell Vicky, I'll tell the police!" She was rapidly losing the last bit of her control, and all thought of a rational discourse with the boy had long since fled her distraught, turmoiled mind. "I swear I will!"
Bill's cock throbbed as he studied her, mulled over her threats. Then he said smoothly, "Oh, no you won't!"
"I will! I will!" But even Anne detected the hollowness inherent in her promised actions.
"You do, and I'll guarantee that it will do you more damage than me. For one thing, you'll have a scandal on your hands. I don't know about your husband, perhaps his business can stand such a bit of juicy news, but you, Mrs. Terrence, just think what a story like this would do to your reputation and standing in this charming community. Oh, I know all about your kind," he went on in a crude tone. "My mother was a slave to that kind of creamed-chicken luncheons and claw-mongering bridge biddies. I know all about your kind."
"No," Anne gasped, but her face was a deadly pale.
"And think about your daughter for a minute. You think I raped her? Far from it. You try to break us up, and she'll come with me. That I can promise you."
"But ... but you don't love her!"
"Whether I do or don't doesn't matter. What matters is what you are going to do in the next few minutes."
Anne stared at her daughter's lover fixedly, her mind a swirling fire of total disconcertion. Her carefully considered battle plans were in disarray; her most controlled management of her secret desires had crumbled as if made of clay; and now, with the shattering blow of once more being confronted by his naked, hotly aroused and fully erect penis, Bill Hanley's vaguely disguised lustings lanced through her amour to strike fear and unwanted desire in her heart and she was at the edge of collapse and breakdown.
Her eyes were like shallow puddles, wide and mirroring her thoughts, and Hanley, a boy whose years had held the carnal knowledge of men many times his senior, read the concerned young mother's eyes correctly.
"I'll stay here for as long as I like," he said snidely. "And I'll fuck your sweet little daughter until hell freezes over if I want to!"
Anne felt tears brim her eyes, spill down over her cheeks and drop to wet her sheer, thin negligee. She knew that she shouldn't be crying, that it wouldn't do any good, but she felt too wretched and indecisive, so disturbed and crazy from the alcohol, that the flood was a reaction and she let the tears flow freely, pouring from her like cascading rain, sobbing brokenly beside the naked, still hard-cocked young boy.
Dimly she was aware that Bill Hanley had moved closer and his hand was touching her shoulder as if he had relented in his cold, callous, merciless onslaught of her senses, and dimly she smelled the odor of his clean body. He smelled like Jack after a shower, after he had been in the pool, she thought peripherally, and she allowed her head, her eyes blurring the close-up image of his erect penis and balls cradled in his lap as he sat on the steps with her, and she cried deeply and despairingly.
Bill Hanley felt the warm, resilient flesh of Vicky's mother tight against his, felt her quivering body beneath his circling arm. Goddamn! Oh, it was going to be good, really good ... The blood in his cock was throbbing like mad, and his balls ached with the prurient anticipation racing across his flesh. Damn, he wouldn't be able to last much longer; he was going to have to screw this voluptuous older woman or shoot his cum all over her right there on the stairs.
"Listen," he whispered in her ear. "Listen, I'm sorry. I think we should be friends ... Good friends...." His words were a long, planned flow of honey, mesmerically smoothing murmurs which, combined with his nearness and nakedness and excitement, would slowly have the effect on her he desired. He began to stroke the satiny skin of her shoulder and upper arm gently, and continued to intone softly.
"Don't think about it, Mrs. Terrence ... Don't think about the way I and Vicky looked on the bed last night, the way my penis was inside her, sliding up and down, the way she held me tightly, wanting more ... Don't think about it, Mrs. Terrence...."
Bill Hanley felt her warm breasts pressing against his rib cage and her nipple hardening slightly, and he smiled lewdly as he continued the soft hypnotic sounds. He knew that even though he was saying not to remember, that his spoken lewdnesses were doing just the opposite-the tortured mother was thinking even harder of her daughter and himself fucking away on the day-bed, and that the mental images were in turn causing unmistakable, if unwanted, arousal in her body.
And, perversely, that was what was happening to Anne Terrence. She could feel a certain twitching deep within her belly and her vaginal orifice began to secrete droplets of lubrications, moistening her naked inner thighs. She tried to will her body to cease its tingling ardor, but the images were too vivid, Bill Hanley's nude and throbbing maleness was too close, and her mental exhaustion and alcoholic stupor were too numbing ...
He continued to stroke her shoulder, letting his hand slide slowly and lightly down her side, knowing it was having the desired electric effect upon her. She sobbed against his bare chest, finding a gentle security from his stroking ... she began to whimper softly ... And all the while he was whispering words in her hair, words constantly bolder and more corrupt...."Don't think, Anne ... no, your daughter and I were fucking, and fucking is the right word and should be used ... but you mustn't think of such things ... it only makes you excited...."
Anne was breathing faster now, and then her daughter's boyfriend brought his hand casually and lightly against the swelling mound of one of her breasts, rubbing the pliant quivering, globes tenderly through the sheer nightie. He heard the sharp intake of breath, felt the shudder of muscle spread through her body in a shock wave, and convulsively she stiffened against him. But he didn't stop caressing her breast, running his thumb freely over her nipple, and his cock leaped in his loins, throbbing with the victory he felt was now imminent ...
A warning voice in Anne's mind penetrated the lethargy her hapless state of affairs had placed her in. "No...." she gasped, trying to jerk upright from his clasp. "No ... What are you trying to do to me?"
"Come now, Mrs. Terrence. You want me, don't you? You want me to love you like I loved your daughter ... that's why you were watching us last night and didn't say anything then ... that's why you were staring at me on the stairs ... that's why you're holding me now. Be honest with yourself, Mrs. Terrence ... you want me to fuck you...."
"Oh, God...." she moaned to the room, because she was truly unable to deny his words. Be honest with yourself ... and to be honest, she wanted him, this young replica of her husband, this living memory of the way things had been once with Jack. But still she tried to fight the tiger inside her, and she jackknifed against the dark-haired boy, squirming her hips on the carpeted steps, turning her body away from him, him and his hard, up-thrust cock which seemed always in front of her.
And in doing so, her mouth brushed the boy's lips; he kissed her suddenly, grinding his lips, completely engulfing her mouth and flicking his tongue forward immediately to enticingly meet hers. No ... this is wrong ... I love Jack, and I love my little Vicky ... I can't let this happen ... ! Anne crazily thought, but already her mouth and lips and tongue were responding. The primeval urges of the strong, young male and the unrequited, long denied body of the tortured mother were far, far too strong, too basic in nature to allow the artificial restraints of social pressure to interfere, and she let Bill saw his tongue mercilessly in and out of her mouth, and continue to pinch her nipples and cup her breasts, and she made tiny, rising-excitement mewlings deep in her throat.
Jack ... Bill ... Jack ... Bill ... Her wine-and gin-liberated brain, pinwheeling with the salacious buildup of her sexual being-the very essence of womanhood, the most important physical half of her body, the portion which controlled her attitudes, moods, and chemistry-excited by the way the naked boy's pulsating cock rubbed against her bare, white-fleshed thigh-tortured by her self-incrimination and doubts-began to weave a spell around the situation she was finding herself responding to more and more fervently. Once again, as had happened last night, her mind fantasized that it was her husband, Jack, kissing her, molding her breasts, running his hand down, down, to her involuntarily aching cunt ...
Hanley's fingers had pushed the flimsy material aside now, grazing his touch against the curling strands of her soft, downy pubic hair. He let his hand slide still lower, until his middle finger was in sudden, heated contact with the warm, damp furrow of her excitedly palpitating vagina. She tried to stop herself, remembering this was Bill doing it to her ... then it was Jack her husband, again, and it was all right ... Bill ... Jack ... Bill ... and then everything became a whirring blur, the two men blending into one who was nameless, but just a man, a man who was willing to cultivate the puffed, hair-fringed softness between her legs, her pink-fleshed cunt her husband had deserted ... Oh God, she couldn't stop it now, she liked it ... she liked it ...
Automatically she spread her thighs, opening her inner legs to his probing touch. The heat of desires mingled with the blistering rage running rampant in the testicles and cock of her daughter's naked young boyfriend, and the warm air of the June day wafted across her now exposed vagina, sending another ripple of wonderfully rising sensations through her as Bill moved down on the steps, so as to be able to better part the sparse hair-lined lips of her already moistened cunt and tenderly slip his middle finger inside.
"God, but I want you," Bill said huskily, and Anne thought that her whole body was afire. Shame at what she was doing swept over her flesh even as the wanton craving agitated her loins, and with depraved sureness, the boy probed deeper and deeper inside her moist, throbbing vaginal cavern. I'm a bitch ... a slut ... a whore ... she told herself in utter capitulation. I can't help myself ... I'm sicker than I ever imagined ... but ohhh God I don't want it to stop ...
Anne moaned aloud and struggled against herself vainly. "Ohhh, ohhhh, ohhhh...." she whimpered helplessly as he continued to jerk his middle finger, then two, in and out of her hungrily clasping cunt hole.
"You want me to fuck you with my cock, Mrs. Terrence?" Hanley asked with sneering confidence.
"No, please ... don't ask ... don't...."
But he had to, he had to subjugate his girlfriend's beautiful mother just as he had had to force her daughter to bow to his whims. The cruel and malicious streak which curled deep inside young Hanley's soul, covered though it may have been by a charming and mannered exterior, rose to the surface at exciting times like this, rose as surely as oil on water. He grinned with lecherous, gleaming eyes afire up at the now humbled, now surrendered Mrs. Terrence and moved his hand still faster inside her tender, moistly sucking cunt. "Yes! You will tell me you want to fuck me! Tell me Mrs. Terrence, tell me like Vicky told me last night ... Tell me you want my big cock inside you ... Tell me you want me to fuck you...."
Anne moaned aloud and struggled against his burning fingers. "Oh, God, ohhh...." His carnal words invoked her to react with strange, blood-pounding need. "Oh, Yesss, Jack ... yes, fuck me, Jack...."
"Not Jack, you bitch! Bill! My name is Bill."
"Bill!" Anne screamed hysterically. "Bill, fuck meeee!"
The boy scooped up Vicky's mother in his strong, muscular arms before she knew what was happening and carried her into his small bedroom, dropping her on the unkempt covers of his day-bed while he closed the door. He gazed with lewd, rapturous intent down at her sprawled, wide-legged naked body, her negligee up around her slim waist, her robe open like the wings of a bird in flight. He drooled anticipatorily as he looked upon her blonde-curled pussy, completely and abandonedly splayed in feasting array below him. "Tell me again," he groaned, rubbing his thick shaft up and down as he stood over the insensate mother. "Tell me again, only this time tell me about my cock!"
"Ohhh, no! Not on this bed! This is where you ... did it to my daughter! Noooo!"
He laughed raucously. "Then just think that you're Vicky while I'm pounding up inside your sweet little cunt the way I was hers. Now tell me, you slut, before I get angry!"
A foaming tide of salacious passion ripped through the final cloth of her defense like a hot knife through butter. She looked up through tear stained eyes at the strutting boy, at his giant, hard cock jutting from his black-haired belly, at the oozing drop of seminal fluid emanating from its unseeing glans eye, and her mind was immersed in her sexual whirlwind. Without considering, without a will of her own any longer, Anne dropped her mouth open and heard herself say:
"Yes, Bill! I want your cock to cum inside me, fuck me until I cum too! Fuck me here, Bill, on this bed! Fuck me hard, just like you fucked my daughter!"
CHAPTER 4
The lovely, startlingly sensual Vicky Terrence walked out of the Phileaux Building in downtown Kingsport, smarting with indignation and embarrassment. She headed up the street, her face still flaming red, her lips pressed tightly together with firmness.
Of all the nerve! she said to herself. Of all the goddamned nerve of that man! She didn't seem aware of the lewd, covert gazes the men gave her as she passed them, her skirt swirling around her tender, dark-tanned thighs and smooth-skinned legs, or the way they would stop and turn around to catch a brief glimpse of her panty-clad buttocks undulating provocatively. She was too mad, too burned up to do anything but want to get home and tell her mother and Bill what had happened on her interview.
She had gone to the cosmetics firm in good faith, dressed the way they had asked, and taken their blasted tests. But that sick old personnel director, Steffesson, with his beady eyes covered with old Ben Franklin glasses, and his crawling hand inching up her leg ... why, he made it all but stated that if she wanted the job, she'd have to take her clothes off and let him fuck her on his office couch. Ugh! what a disgusting idea, him and his wrinkled old leathery cock ...
Wait until I get home and tell what happened to me! she thought, fuming with rage. No job is worth that sacrifice! I'd rather starve ...
* * *
Lust-rutting Bill Hanley dipped his finger back into the wet, eagerly trembling passage of Vicky's mother's hotly burning cunt, teasing the hardened little button of her clitoris, playing with it as he crawled over her on the bed, reveling in her abandoned, capitulating cry for his cock. Christ, he thought, she realty's turned on, even more than Vicky gets! I bet that little daughter of hers is just as wild after a few years, just like Anne is-mellowing like good wine, not the vinegar so many older women become. Hot damn, this one wants to be fucked; when they get like her, all fired for cock, nothing else matters, nothing else at all. He wondered how her husband is able to take care of her? Bill smirked; well, he was going to take care of her!
"Mrs. Terrence, baby," he crooned. "I want to fuck you just as much as you want me to. But first I want to do something else...."
Anne stiffened momentarily at his use of obscene words, but his finger playing maddeningly with her vaginal opening and clitoris had overcome all hesitations ... she was too far past the point of no return for anything to matter. She watched with drugged, sex-filmed eyes as he knelt lasciviously between her ankles and stared at her soft blonde pubic hair and the wide, throbbing lips of her open pussy. They seemed to beg for him, to call out to be touched more and be kissed, and the hardness of his penis ached and made him quiver as he dug into her thighs fiercely with his fingers. Then he slithered forward, down upon the wanton slit between the mother's thighs, down to where his face was just above her vaginal flesh. In shocked realization, Anne saw what the boy was going to do to her, and she sucked in her breath in horror.
"No ... no, Bill. Fuck me, please fuck me ... but not that! It's awful!" She moaned and twisted, but Hanley's heavy grip held her in bondage. "Please, Bill, my husband never has ... I've never allowed him to kiss me there ... ohhh, please fuck me instead...."
"Then I'd say it's about time you had your cunt licked," Bill said huskily, his eyes groveling on the thin lips, the delicate fluting of light hair. "Vicky loves me to lick her cunt...."
"Ohhh, no, no...." mewled Anne, and the sudden picture of her daughter submitting to this boy as she was doing, her slim, young legs parting to allow him to kiss her pussy, lick her, tongue her to climax burst into Anne's mind, making her still hotter with the lewdness of her imaginations. Droplets of her seeping vaginal juices moistened the curls of her pubic hair like a morning shower on the petals of a pink rose, and her clitoris peeked up at Bill in response to her excitement. Bill placed his thumbs on her cunt with slow, deliberate motions and drew the soft, wet pubic hair aside, exposing her coral-pink flesh to his inflamed gaze. She moaned and wriggled in shame as he breathed against her, the hot air sending her raw nerves into a state of ecstasy ... and then, petrified, she watched as the boy dropped more and his tongue wetly probed her guilt-throbbing vagina.
The mother's body responded automatically, convulsing in grinding jerks to the slather of his hot, worming tongue. "Ohhhh, my God ... my God...." The bestial outrage continued upon her defenseless cunt, and her stomach churned, and she wailed in animal-like passion as his tongue flicked her inner thighs, curled around her clitoris and snaked rapier-like in and out of her cringing pussy. "Ohhhh, stop ... stop!"
Bill Hanley shook his head negatively and raced his tongue deeper into her dilated hole between her quivering thighs. She raised up her head and watched his battering assault in horror, her mind fired with liquor and sexual passion and the knowledge that it was happening to her. To her! No, it couldn't be true! The unwanted jolt of electric pleasures were pervading her whole being, as though, proving to her sense that it was happening, that she was being sucked and eaten down between her legs by her own daughter's boyfriend.
Bill's hand slipped under her squirming white buttocks and cupped their firm flesh brutally, his mouth continuing to suckle her thrusting cunt more slavishly than ever. Involuntarily she raised her hips and allowed the boy to bury his face still further in her now openly clenching vagina, and the wet sucking sounds of his mouthing filled the small room. His one hand teased in the crevice between her ass cheeks, running an exploratory finger over her tiny puckered rectum, and Anne clenched her hands into fists, her vibrant, naked body overcome by the merciless abuse. Vaguely she thought of her husband Jack, and the few times so many years in the past when he'd attempted to make love to her this way, and how she had primly refused. She had never realized the store of pleasure which this could give ...
Hanley heard her sharp gasps as his hands roamed the soft, yielding crevice between her buttocks, and surging with still hotter lust, he drew her legs up higher and spread her already splayed cunt wider so he could orally fuck her in lewd sensuous circles. He ran his lips around her clitoris, then darted his tongue deep inside her pulsing pussy, feeling her vaginal lips almost puckering and kissing him back with increasing intensity. Anne's buttocks spasmed beneath his touch, and she cried out deliriously as he probed the opening of her anus with his fingertip again. And then, suddenly, he moved downward and levered the tip into the tight pink hole, making her want to scream with torment and pain-but instead she closed her eyes to the new wild-fire spreading through her body and moaned with rapture.
"Don't ... oh, Bill, don't do that," she mewled automatically, but her thighs pushed closer to his mouth and she leaned back, feeling the goose bumps on her stomach and breasts. She tossed from side to side, her total degradation overwhelming her and she sobbed from horrifying realization that she had lost control. The boy licked on and on, moving from vagina to rectal hole to clit with complete freedom, and Anne's body was boiling with the raw, naked flashes of pleasure.
Her body cried out for fulfillment which her husband had so long denied her, and unable to fight it, she raised her desire-drenched loins to the boy, submitting gratefully to his slightest whim. She jerked her throbbing, widespread cunt against his mouth and lips, sunk her buttocks back on his painfully invading finger, reveling in the insane throes of her lustful enchantment.
"Ohhhh ... Ohhhh ... Ohhhh...." she chanted in rhythm to the boy's hotly sucking mouth, and her body began to build ever higher, ever higher toward her coming orgasm....
* * *
Vicky pulled the Ford into the driveway and got out. Much of her original anger had dissipated on her drive home, but nevertheless she was deep in indignant thought when she unlatched the front door and walked in.
"Mother? Bill?" she called out, but the house seemed strangely quiet. Frowning, she closed the door, looked into the living room, kitchen-even walked as far as her mother's bedroom, thinking she might have gone back to bed. She didn't hear anything from the basement. She called out again, received no reply, and decided that they might have gone outside; Bill would be in the pool, and perhaps her mother was sitting in the shade or sunning herself.
The daughter sauntered onto the porch, looked out over the grass and pool. Nothing. Puzzled, she stepped from the porch, down to the flagstone patio, turning every which way in an effort to see if anybody was home. She peeked in the basement window-large, floor-to-ceiling ones with a section as a sliding door-but only saw that the door to Bill's room was closed.
Well, she told herself, Bill is still sleeping. Perhaps mother went visiting ... She opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside the basement playroom, a strangely odd feeling of impending disaster filtering through to her, clouding her already bad day.
"Bill?" Still no answer ... I'll walk him up, and won't that be fun, since Mother evidently isn't here!
She walked across the parquet floor and opened the door to her boyfriend's little bedroom. She stood frozen, her tender young features draining of blood, and she choked back an initial shriek of utter surprise as her vision swam close to insanity by the lewd exhibition of her nakedly entwined mother and her boyfriend.
Her own mother! That was the most hideous part, seeing her own prudish, virtuous mother, who as far as Vicky was concerned, was the ultimate in virtue! There she was, lying on her back in a lewdly sensual position of unnatural sex, her legs raised high in the air as Bill, her own boyfriend that she had brought into the house, buried his head between her inner thighs! My God! How could she! Vicky slumped against the door, sick to her soul, the breath which she had been going to scream with knocked from her lungs.
Anne was clutching the black hair of Bill Hanley now, her eyes squeezed shut and her pelvis grinding madly against his face. Vicky could see her boyfriend's wet tongue lash out at her mother's nakedly exposed pussy like a huge red carpet, disappearing into the soft, hair-lined slit of her widespread vagina, and Vicky heard the resultant ecstatic chants mewling from her mother's passion-crazed mouth, broken and slurred.
"Ohhhh . . .Ohhhh ... Ohhhh . . .I" Vicky couldn't believe her eyes or ears, or the tight sensation gripping her in the depths of her belly. The brutish tableau was beyond her comprehension, her one overpowering thought that somehow, someway, it was her mother's fault. That this spectacle of unabashed lust was the result of a nymphomaniac, rolling with any man she had an opportunity to be with, including her daughter's boyfriend. Goddamn Mother and her lectures on morality and purity and watching out for me ... what a bunch of crap!
The daughter was unable to attach any guilt for the carnal scene before her to Bill. Bill a man after all-and more importantly he was a man that she thought she loved. Defiant with the stubborn pride of a teen-ager, rebellious at the slightest hint of criticism about him, determined to prove to the world-and herself-that her first choice that she had made on her own wasn't a mistake in judgment-Vicky saw him not as he was but as she desperately wanted to believe him to be.
She had come from college with a wary chip on her shoulder, feeling on the defensive toward her mother because of Bill figuring that she would have to argue and fight for parental approval.
And she had been ready, her loins girded; to her, this morning's little talk before she had left for the appointment had been an opening round, a sort of skirmish to test the defenses, and she had mentally strengthened her resolve. Nobody was going to take away Bill from her, nobody!-not even herself.
So as she looked at the boy, at the rigid cock wavering and his face and tongue pressed in the wide furrow of her mother's moist pink cunt, she believed adamantly that he was the victim, not the perpetrator....
Moreover, the years of filial bond with her mother, drawn more intensely because of her father's interest in his work, had instilled in her closeness that made what Anne was doing even more of a betrayal than if she had been just another girl. Anne, as close is resemblance to Vicky as Jack was to Bill, was like a carbon copy of the younger girl as she writhed and moaned hedonistically under the boy's oral ministrations, and this added to the shock and hurt of having found her mother there. Vicky was enraged and bitter by the even more flagrant abuse of essentially seeing herself, a mirror image of what it was like when Bill sucked her cunt. It was a terrible lampoon of the love she felt! A filthy satire of what she considered to be above the animalistic ruttings of two people copulating! Instinctively defiant at what she subconsciously considered to be a perverted characteristic of her relationship with Bill, she still felt a close-knit projection with her mother, one which made her wince with pangs of simulated passion-and this closeness only brought home the pagan ritual of cunnilingus fuller. It was like adding color to a black and white photo, making the details, the richnesses stand out sharply, to etch forever on the retinas of the tortured girl.
Vicky Terrence was more than her mother's daughter in physical looks; she was considerably like her mentally and emotionally. And in the same way that the previous night Anne stood watching her daughter being fucked and thought about herself being the one to receive the pumping cock, so too Vicky, ashen-faced, gaped at her mother being lashed with her boyfriend's tongue, and Vicky loathed her mother then, could have killed her at that moment with pleasure-but all the while her pussy tingled as if Bill was licking her to lewd inflamation instead.
Hate is never deeper than when it is between two previous friends.
Vicky watched in anguished fascination as Bill worked at the widespread tightness of her mother's pussy-she could see the pink flesh and the dark hole of the cuntal mouth, the stretched, wetly slick place where she had been conceived and later was birthed. Suddenly the boy pulled his head up from between Anne's legs and stared up at the lovely woman with obscene and glittering eyes. "You want me to fuck you now, Mrs. Terrence?"
Anne moved her hips against the bed, beads of perspiration forming all over her breasts, stomach, and legs, and yes ... yes she wanted Bill's giant cock deep within her, pulsating with abandonment; she had no morals, no pride ... no reality. Her body reacted with lewd abandon, and she obscenely begged with the foul words she knew he wanted to hear. "Ohhhh, yes, Bill, fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me!" But call me Anne when you do! Oh God, call me Anne and fuck me!"
Vicky wanted to raise her hands to her ears and blot out the terrible vileness she heard pour from her mother's lips! There was no question in her mind now as to who had seduced whom-she had heard her mother demand Bill fuck her, and now her terrified eyes beheld still further proof of her mother's dissolution as Bill levered over between her widespread thighs. Anne reached forward with quivering hands and grasped his cock, just as Vicky did when she was panting for his cock in her, and teased its purplish shaft of flesh and he poised it over her gaping saliva-drenched cuntal valley. Then Bill strained downward, and Anne guided his immense, steel-hard rod into her hungrily trembling vagina, letting it slip past her wet, petaled pussy lips, driving it with abandoned ease deep up into her belly.
"Ahhhhh," the mother sighed rapturously as the young boy began to pound her loins mercilessly, his sperm-inflated balls slapping hard against her anus where only moments before his finger had been and his mouth had licked and his tongue had flicked. Anne cried out again from sheer pleasure, and she raised her legs heavenward to receive more of his thundering cock. His prick slipped smoothly in and out insatiably, his throbbing testicles threatening to burst from his imminent climax and Bill swam with the increasing need to squirt his burning cum into his girl friend's voluptuous mother's open cunt. Anne slid her hands down his gleaming, heaving flanks and rested momentarily on his white, hollowing buttocks, then her fingers spread and pulled him toward her gluttonously, while below her cunt flowered in spasming acceptance. It swallowed the whole of his plunging cock with surging desire, and small, piteous pleas of passionate supplication rolled from her fevered lips. They were lewd and filthy supplications, ones which Vicky had never dreamed of using when she cried out her lusts to Bill, ones which she had only heard in whispers from the most daring girls back at college!
Vicky held her breath and stood there as if glued, her hands over her cuntal loins, unconsciously rubbing herself as her mind hazed and reeled from the complete nadir of this lewd, perverted fucking. Her mother was grinding faster and faster, groaning and moaning desperately, demoniacally coupling with her daughter's boyfriend with a fury unequalled by anything Vicky had ever done, and she couldn't stand any more! Her heart and soul was a turmoil of revulsion and lewd, empathetic responses, and her buttocks quivered spasmodically with unwanted fever. Suddenly Anne gave a high, unearthly squeal and her loins jerked upwards against the tightly clasped penis sunk deep in her salaciously demanding pussy.
"God Almighty! I'm cuuuummmmiiiinnnggg!"
Bill Haney hammered further, feeling Vicky's mother's vaginal walls contact and seep the warm fluids of her beginning orgasm. She rose up from the bed and pressed against his pubic hair, rotating with renewed fire. Then he felt the hot white sperm in his scrotum bubble up and then he was lost in the incredible force of his powerful ejaculation which sprayed the insides of her pussy, filling her full as the night before he had filled her daughter's cunt. The rich milk spurted, as to Vicky's horror, she could see clearly-just as clearly as her mother had seen last night-the white overflow cascading from the wide-split hole of the cunt. The loud cry of the lewd couple, the sight of seeing her boyfriend's seed spilling so wantonly from her mother's vagina broke the final link, and Vicky was suddenly free from the subjective bondage which had chained her immobile and silent.
In a sense, with the orgasm, so she had realized her release, and now as sanity returned to her mother and Bill, so did it to the teen-ager. Vicky ran stumbling in the room, eyes blind with tears.
"Mother! You whore! You bitch! I hate you!"
CHAPTER 5
Anne Terrence's orgasm shot through her like a jagged bolt of lightning, and she was unaware of space or time as the young boy's joined her with his surging cum, her mind whirling with the unleashed tide of her long-untouched passions. Then her body collapsed and she fell against the day-bed mattress, her belly quivering from the satiation she let drift lazily through her.
"Mother! You bitch! You whore! I hate you!"
Vicky! Anne sat upright, and with terrifying clarity all feelings of sex were ripped from her as she saw her daughter rush toward her, her firm young hands in fists, and tears pouring down her cheeks. Oh, God! This was the worst possible thing that could have happened! She had started out with plans to rid her child of lewd sex, and here she was, caught in the very act which she had decried. Fear was sheened on her face, adding an unhealthy pallor to her. "Victoria!" she whispered. "What. . . what?"
"How could you," the daughter raved, crying and choking, quivering with the torment and fury which blurred within her. "How could you, you sick slut! Whore! Bitch!" she repeated in spitting anger.
Bill Hanley was off of the mother like a flash. He groped for his underpants and slacks, which he had draped over a chair the night before when he and Vicky had gone to bed. "Vicky, honey...."
"Shut up," the girl snapped, turning on him. "You just shut up, weakling! Can't you keep your cock to yourself whenever a woman throws herself at you? Can't I trust you when my back's turned?"
"But-" Anne was going to say that Bill had seduced her, only her daughter wasn't going to have any of that.
Vicky lashed out, "Don't lie to me, Mother! I saw you! I saw the way it was, you begging him to fuck you, acting like a sex maniac, a nympho! I saw, and you can't tell me Bill was at fault. Why, he's half your age, you bitch!"
A low animal moan of anguish escaped from Anne's lips, and she tried to turn on her side and curl up in a ball to cover her shame. "Oh God, God in heaven ... no ... no...."
"Yes! I was standing right there and heard it all!"
Tears came from Anne's eyes in a flooding stream. Vicky had caught them, seen Bill with his face between her legs, seen him fuck her long and hard, seen her cum ... She was soul-sick and filled with self-loathing at the betrayal of her body, and the moral turpitude which she had allowed to overcome her. Her guilt had been bad enough before, compounded last night by her sick, but at least private, depravities, but this ... this was too awful to contemplate. Her young daughter had caught her ...
"Vicky ... Vicky...." she whimpered in supplication.
"You saw us, did you?" Bill asked, a slight smirk forming on his handsome young features.
"You saw us-" and then he began to laugh. "Christ, what a family! You were watching your mother ... and your mother was watching us last night! Hahaha...."
"What?" It was the daughter's turn to blink unsteadily. "You mean ... you mean that when we were ... when we...."
"That's right, when we were fucking! You and mother are really two of a kind, honest to God."
"Well, I don't care!" Vicky said hotly, this new, lewd piece of information only incensing her more. "It only goes to show what kind of sick person you are, Mother. Watching Bill and I making love, and then ... seducing him while I was gone! What's with you anyway? Did seeing us turn you on so much that you had to try some of his cock? Well?"
"Ohhhh," Anne moaned, writhing as if in great pain.
"Take me out of here," Vicky said stiffly to her boyfriend.
Bill, having gotten some semblance of control back, bewildered but not unhappy over the fact that Vicky had misinterpreted the situation and was blaming her mother for it, had been dressing quickly. As he buckled his pants, there was an evil gloat festering inside his brain, one which had objectively gotten a great deal of cruel pleasure from this pitting of mother and daughter against each other, and satisfaction from the wedge he had unwittingly driven between them. What the hell, he didn't care about the mother, nor all that much about Vicky if the truth be out. . . he'd take full advantage of the situation, though. Still, Vicky's sudden request caught him off guard.
"Bill, I don't want to stay in this house one more minute," Vicky said coldly. "Take me away. Anywhere, I don't care."
"Please, Vicky," her mother cried out, "Please try to understand ... Oh, God, don't leave...."
"I understand what you did last night, you voyeur. I understand that you ended up by being screwed by a boy. My boyfriend! I understand that you're nothing but a fucking whore!"
"Oh, God, honey, you mustn't hate me, please don't hate me ... I ... I need help, not hate ... I couldn't control myself ... I-"
"Save it for Daddy when he comes home," Vicky sneered contemptuously. "Explain to him why his daughter has left home!"
"Vicky!" her mother groveled. "Nooooo!"
"Are you ready, Bill?"
"Yeah, yeah sure, Vicky."
"Then let's go. I'll be back later," Vicky said to her mother, "but only long enough to return the car and pick up my things. Good-bye, you wicked bitch, and when I leave again, I'm never going to return. Ever! You're no mother of mine! You're not fit to be one!"
The hapless, trembling, utter mortified Anne buried her face in the bed of her sins, rocking with uncontrollable sobs now, and then she heard the door slam and wretchedly know that her daughter had left ... perhaps for good. Anne Terrence moaned involuntarily, the desecration of her life total, and now, with the heat of her body no longer betraying her, she was torn by the torment of her despair. She looked down at her ravaged form, thinking that she was beyond all hope, that she had lost her daughter ... and most surely would lose her husband once he had discovered her adulterous conduct.
Maybe later she would wake up, find that this was another of the nightmares which had kept her tossing and moaning all the previous night ... but she knew, deep inside, that this wouldn't happen. Mentally she was crushed, physically she was bruised and sore, her genitals throbbing with a dull, persistent ache only slightly less than the ache in her heart.
For five minutes Anne lay comatose on the day-bed, trying to blank the pain from her mind, her head pounding with the perverse need to think ... Think ... Oh, God, what could she do? So concentrated on her guilt and shame, and the reasons causing her remorseful action. It was impossible, she glumly concluded. The recollection of Bill's weaseling tongue and sodomizing finger made her cunt tingle and her anus tighten as if wanting more ... she was a sick woman, and unfit as her daughter had shouted at her, for the indelible fact was that she had enjoyed it, had participated in the lewd rape of her body even if Vicky was wrong about her starting it? What difference did it make who started it? She had allowed her long-entombed feelings and the alcohol and the lascivious sights of last night and today affect her so thoroughly that she had willingly responded as an equal partner in wild abandonment.
Slowly, painfully, the distraught Mrs. Terrence arose from the sheets and smoothed the crumpled negligee and robe over her flesh, not wanting to be confronted by any of her sperm matted femininity, and then barefoot, she made her way out of the small room and up the stairs. Her house was empty, silent-as was her soul. She retired to the bathroom and combed her hair, and looked into the mirror, startled by the heavy, sex-creased lines which marred her face. Her disgrace showed like the afternoon sun itself, she was sure, and she had to take full responsibility for what had happened-much in the same fashion as Vicky had irrationally blamed her for it. There was a closer bond between the mother and daughter than either had ever anticipated, which had made the break that much more cutting, more deeply wounding. Her eyes puddled, and she had to wipe them dry with a towel, and inadvertently, the material brushed her swollen, tender breasts. Good God! Suppose she was pregnant! The thought-a part of the whole parallel between Jack and Bill which ran rampant through her crazed head-was a possibility which seemed to her as almost fated. How horrible if it was true! But there was nothing she could do but wait.
Wait ... wait for her husband to arrive from his trip. Wait and possible by the time Victoria returned, the daughter would have had a chance to cool down and her mother a chance to collect her scattered wits. That was the only thing she could do, Anne grimly told herself. Wait and see if the anger and hatred so righteously displayed would have abated somewhat so that some kind of adjustment and perhaps even a reconciliation could be effected. Wait, and pray that the slim strand of hope would be true. The fervent plea that it would be was the only thing stopping the mother from taking a razor to her wrists on the spot and end her suffering.
And though the thought was left unsaid, Anne Terrence would seriously consider suicide if and when Vicky did reject her once and for all. . .
* * *
"Where are we going?" Vicky asked as Bill Hanley drove the Ford through the twisting residential streets.
"I thought you didn't care," he grinned at her.
"I ... I don't," she said pressing her lips tightly together. "Not really." She glanced sharply at her handsome young boyfriend. "But don't you act so high-and-mighty, you animal."
"Hey, I thought you still loved me," Bill said in an injured tone. "I thought you'd forgiven me."
"Well ... I have. I guess."
"Look, it was all your mother's doing, just as you said," Bill lied. "She came downstairs while I was getting out of my swimming trunks. She paraded around and played with my cock and, Christ, honey, you know what that does to me." A whine crept into his voice as he tried to worm his way back into the girl's good graces.
"Yeah, makes you fuck," Vicky said, still angry.
"Well, sure. It makes me fuck. I'm a man, ain't I?"
It was the wrong thing to say. The light of indignation simmered in Vicky's eyes as she snapped: "And lick her cunt and God knows what all before I caught you two!"
"Hey, wait a minute. You watched us for some time, you know. You could have broken us up, right? But you didn't. Why not?"
Vicky turned away, embarrassed and sullen. "Never mind."
"Oh-ho! I can have all the shit you sling, but you're Miss pure-heart, is that it?"
The young, beautiful girl, her face splotched with red, hunched against the door and folded her arms. "Let's change the subject. Where are we going?"
"Well, I don't want to go to a motel; we don't have the money. Tell you what, I've a friend in Kingsport who lives with his chick, see? I'd have asked them if I could have stayed the summer, but what the hell, they want their privacy, and anyway, I wanted to be near you for balling."
"Don't talk that way.
"Balling," Bill said again insolently. "And shit and fuck and cock and tit and balls and cunt. There. I like to use words that way, and I've heard enough of them out of your pretty little mouth to-"
"All right! Who is this guy?" Vicky was beginning to think that things weren't turning out with the idea she had in mind. She wanted to escape from all the lewdness, not get more of it.
"His name's Gary Simmons. Lives over on Chestnut, out by the railroad tracks. Ain't much of a place, but what the hell." Bill shrugged, indicating his whole attitude toward the situation-if Vicky had been looking out for such signs. He was now unsure just how wise it had been, taking this girl along. It was fun fucking her at college, and the set-up at her parents had been cool, but he wasn't about to saddle himself with her, not with so many other girls to fuck. But the scene back in the basement room had been unnerving, catching him off guard, and he hadn't offered any resistance to her demanding to leave-in fact, that had been his general plan, though not with Vicky included.
But for the moment he was stuck with her, and if she was planning to stay around, then she was going to have to do some mighty fast growing up about sex. Gary Simmons was the kind of guy who took what he wanted and to hell with the consequences, and Bill knew without asking the price his friend was going to exact for letting him and Vicky stay at his apartment. Naturally, Bill got Gary's girl in return-petite, apple-breasted Laura Conklin, with hair as black as his-but that didn't change the fact that he was going to have to do a lot of ground-work to get Vicky to go along with the girl friend swap.
Bill had been saving Gary for later, when he had the young girl so eating out of his hand that she'd fuck anybody to please him. Now there wasn't the time for the slow build-up; Vicky would either come through or get the hell out-and as the saying went, if she didn't want to lay, then it was tough tittie.
Well, no time like the present. "Vicky," he said, turning the corner onto the freeway leading cross-town, "Vicky, tell me something. Did you like the sight of your mother and me fucking?"
"Bill! How can you ask--? " The horrified gasp was deep.
"Well, you watched an awful long time." He chuckled lewdly. "I bet you did, didn't you? Watching us on the bed."
"No," she said too quickly. "I was sickened."
"Come on, tell the truth. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's exciting to watch other people fucking, Vicky. That's why there's so many films and books and pictures about sex. Jesus, honey, it's all normal, natural. You know, fun."
"You sound as if you liked fucking my mother," Vicky said cold and harshly. "You act as if you did, you really do."
"What the hell, I did!"
"Enough to cum, too!" the girl said, becoming indignant.
"Yeah, and she's one hell of a fine lay, let me clue you in." He grinned lasciviously at her. "Fucks a lot like you, a hot, tight little pussy that feels almost like it has teeth."
"Of all the sick things to say!" she snapped, her eyes flashing darkly. "What do you mean she fucks like me? You ... you and her looked like two wild animals the way you were going at each other!"
"More like human beings, baby," Bill interjected. "Now calm down and hear me out before you jump out of the car. Face facts, Vicky, you enjoy me fucking you, don't you?" He waited a dramatic moment, but received no answer. "Well, I certainly haven't heard any complaints while we're balling, now have I? Of course not, and that's because you were having a great time, and if you'd be honest with yourself, you'd admit that you enjoyed watching, too."
"But we love each other, Bill," the anguished teen-ager retorted with a moaning wail. "Or at least I thought we did."
"Sure, kid, sure," the handsome collegiate said hastily. "But lots of people believe that swapping mates enhances their own love for each other, see. They figure that sex is good, clean fun that can't hurt anybody, and when you're with the one you love, you put all of your heart into it, making it ten times better than with anybody else."
"Group sex!" Vicky gasped.
Bill waved his hand in a cast-off gesture. "Call it what you want. The thing is that kids our age see sex for what it really is. It isn't dirty the way your mother and father were brought up to believe. This is the age of freedom, right? Well, why shouldn't a person be free inside as well as out? Drop the chains and give yourself over to physical gratification, and then the loving is better, more enriching."
"Is ... that what you want me to do?" Vicky said in a narrow voice, her eyes suspiciously lidded as she looked at Bill. "Screw anybody that I want, just to get to know him better?"
"I didn't say that, baby," Bill replied. He wanted to, but he could sense her unwillingness to agree, her raised guard at the idea he would like her fucking around with others. She would have to-if he was going to be able to fuck around on her. He backed up a few paces to leave him room to maneuver. "I'm saying that I understand things like this, that's all. In all honesty I can't look you in the eyes and say that I didn't get my kicks while fucking your mother. But I'm also saying that what happened back at your house doesn't make any difference between you and me, see-and if you wanted to sleep with some other guy, I'd understand and not hold it against you."
"You ... think my mother feels that way, too?"
"Now," Bill said gruffly. "Your mother is over thirty. She's got too many hang-ups. She's probably back their wailing and crying and beating her breasts. And all over nothing." He turned off the freeway and pulled around a couple of blocks and then parked. "Well, here we are."
Vicky climbed out, dazed and confused, and looked up at the flaking paint on the stucco-walled apartment house. The grass was uncut along the front, and the sidewalk was cracked, and a downstairs window was boarded where a huge hole had been punched through its glass. She shuddered, but didn't say anything, only followed Bill as the boy started down the pitted macadam drive to the rear of the building.
His talk in the car had been very unsettling to her; so much had happened in so short a time to disrupt her life that she was wide open to new suggestions and new directions. Bill's arguments for a pagan, amoral life was contrary to all of the ingrained precepts of her training. They were wrong ... or were they? Hadn't she just seen the hypocrisy masked by her mother's Victorian and Puritan ethics ? She couldn't accept what her boyfriend had suggested, though she knew that a great many prominent and otherwise strict-principled people exchanged keys, lovers, wives and husbands with no outward loss of morals or signs of decay ... and she had to admit that she had been excited by watching her Bill fucking her mother, enjoyed the prurient sights and sounds just as her boyfriend had correctly assumed. Oh, God, she didn't know what to think, much less what to do. The vast, boiling anger toward her mother had subsided a little bit, although she was still bitter and resentful and hated her in a cool detached sort of way. She wasn't going back there to live, she knew that ... but that was all she knew.
Gary Simmons lived on the second floor, in a back apartment which smelled something like ring-worm carbolic. It was small and grubby and cramped, with gold and fuchsia wallpaper in a wild, psychedelic pattern, oil-cloth curtains, furniture made of boards, sawn barrels, and rattan, and empty wine bottles were scattered in all the corners. Gary Simmons fit the apartment. He was pale, thin, small-shouldered with nervous and watery eyes that blinked with rapidity. He had an oval face, wide browed and narrow of chin, and a wiry moustache and goatee so straggly and thin that Vicky thought she had more hair down between her legs than he had on his face. He kept pulling at his whiskers as he talked in a nasal voice.
Vicky had the creeps, but Bill and Gary patted and pounded each other like long-lost cousins, whooping and hollering at seeing one another again. She had never heard of Bill mention Simmons before, and was sorry as she emptied a couch cushion of newspapers and sat down that her boyfriend had thought of here as a place to visit. How could a girl allow herself to live in such a pig sty? but evidently one did-Bill had mentioned that a girl was living with Simmons.
And whenever Simmons looked over at her she got a cold chill in her bones, for his eyes seemed to eat through her with a gaze of a ferret lusting after a plump chicken.
"Where's your girl?" Bill asked, sitting down beside Vicky.
"Aw, visiting some guy with twenty dollars to spare. You know how it is, Bill. Gotta make money anyway you can these days."
Vicky was horrified, and looked at Simmons with renewed revulsion. He was a pimp! A panderer for his girl friend! But Bill seemed to shrug it off nonchalantly. "Well, Laura's a good chick. She'll give the guy his money's worth."
"Long as she brings the bread home, I don't care what she does!" Simmons laughed in a high little giggle which curdled Vicky's flesh.
"Well, what have you two been up to, anyway ? " Bill asked.
"Just got back from North Africa. Tangiers ... Algiers ... all the spots. Got a nice mess of slides from the trip. You wanna see them later?"
"Are they ... interesting?"
"Hell, man, aren't they always?"
This time both young men laughed at some private joke, making Vicky feel very uncomfortable and left out. She wanted to leave, but knew that she couldn't say anything, not after making the scene in her mother's home the way she had.
. . . She'd stick it out; Simmons wasn't going to harm her any, not with Bill here.
"Vicky and I want to stay here tonight, if it's all the same," Bill said. "We had a little heat from her old lady."
"Sure, we'll make a party out of it. Show the slides and all." Again there was a wicked lilt to his voice which made Vicky crawl.
"All right, Gary," Bill nodded. "Ahh, you wouldn't have brought back anything else from North Africa, would you?"
"Well-"
"C'mon, Gary, this is no time to hold out on me."
"I see what you mean," Simmons said significantly and seemed to look directly at the young girl. Vicky frowned.
"Well, don't just stand there, boy," Bill prompted good-naturedly.
Simmons grinned and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later he reappeared with a small, lacquered box, the ornate kind sold in bazaars in the countries he'd been to. He opened the box lid and showed its contents proudly; inside were a dozen or so brown-wrapped, crudely made cigarettes.
"Marijuana!" Vicky gasped.
"Don't act so surprised, Vicky," the boy laughed. "Hell, we've smoked enough grass at college."
True enough, she had to admit. It was the "In" thing-and everybody knew that marijuana was safer than liquor; no hangovers, no possible addiction the way some drunkards were on the bottle, and it gave a pleasant, relaxing euphoria like a martini or two. After a rough day of studying, she and Bill would light up a "joint," and suck in the burning-honey smell. That is, when they had the money, because grass was expensive, and the marijuana at Whitmire was often so cut with other stuff that it was very weak and impotent.
"This is special," Simmons said, passing the box around. "Straight from Turkey. It's a ... a little stronger than you might have been using before, Vicky."
Vicky took one without hesitation. A joint right now would help settle her nerves, her pain and mental suffering. "You mean it isn't cut as bad ? "
"Well, you might say that," Simmons replied with a knowing smirk. "You know what kind it is, Bill. You've had it before."
Bill nodded. Damned right the black-haired college boy knew what the special grass was like ... he'd taken a date like Vicky over to meet Gary one night; a young, innocent and as it turned out, virgin girl who had had three of those cigarettes, stripped off her clothes and climaxed four times with every guy in the room, and ended up the night by sucking the neighbor's German shepherd off, swallowing the dog's cum. Yeah, he was well aware of the drugging effects of this uncut, straight stuff. He had a hard time swallowing the lewd chuckle rising in him as he watched the naive young girl as she reached over and allowed him to light her cigarette for her. She sucked in the cloying smoke as she held the marijuana joint between her soft warm lips, letting the fog swirl in her lungs before exhaling. She drew deeply over and over, reaching for that state of relaxation when the horrors of what she had seen her mother and Bill do would evaporate from her tortured mind, would leave her free and happy....
She took another cigarette when the first butt was little more than ash between her fingers lighting it and repeating the process, never aware that what she was doing would have been all right back at college, but that these "special" cigarettes were dynamite compared to a firecracker-both deadly, but in a matter of degree, rather than in kind....Drawing deeply, exhaling ... and before she was fully aware of its insidious effects, her head was spinning and she could feel herself weaving slightly on the couch. She tried to hold herself steady and found that for some reason her mind couldn't work her muscles or ligaments She opened her mouth and forced thick words out with careful enunciation. "Wooee! You were right, Gary! These are strong!"
Vicky had never felt better in all her life than at that moment. Nothing mattered; she was carefree and blissful, and she felt a warm comradeship, a wide-open loving with the world. She laughed and talked, and laughed some more, for everything that was said seemed to strike her as hilarious.
"How's it going, Vicky?" Bill asked her as he handed her a third cigarette.
"I'm flying tonight!" she gasped breathlessly. "I'm ready to take off ... Mmmmmm!"
You ain't just a kidding, you're going to take off, the boy thought craftily to himself. He placed his arms around her and cuddled the young, stoned girl close to him, letting one hand hang as if accidentally over her breast, grazing it slightly as he moved.
"How about those slides now, Gary? It doesn't look like Laura will be coming home in time to join us."
"Join us?" Vicky blinked, her head whirling. "Join us for what?"
"Why, for the slides, of course," Simmons replied with a chortle, and once more went into the kitchen. Moments later he had a small silver screen set up against the back wall, and a slide projector on a table beside the chair in which he had been sitting. He stood by the light switch on the wall and asked: "Ready?"
"Yeah," Bill called back, "Roll 'em, DeMille!"
The lights were out and for an instant before the first slide was projected on the screen in front of her, Vicky was in total darkness. She felt confused and uncertain, but the marijuana in her system dulled her sense of impending danger, and she lay back on the dirty cushions, snuggling to the warm, beating chest of Bill Hanley, and allowed herself to relax. The drug warmed her blood, and it was so nice to be here, in her lover's arms ... and oddly, she began to notice that being so close to his masculine piquancy, his strong grip which so feather-lightly ran across her bra-encased breast, was beginning to give her familiar, prurient sensations tingling in her pelvic area.... She tightened her inner thigh muscles, even crossed her legs so as to choke the growing agitation that was mounting there. And as she did these things, the screen lit up with a rectangle of the first, brilliantly colored photograph. At first, it was out of focus, but then Simmons corrected the lens and everything came into view readily.
She saw bigger than life a group of four brown-skinned boys and girls, obviously caught in a picture of wild dancing. But the native children were all nude, not in the nakedness of innocent children but with the brazen display of their pubic areas that only adults can so lewdly expose. The girls' taut breasts were small and tight with coal-black hard nipples in jouncing eroticism, and the boys had stiff penises jutting from their almost hairless loins in boorish pursuit.
My God! Vicky couldn't believe the slide! "What ... what is this?" she heard herself question.
Simmons tittered. "A fertility rite, Vicky, often performed in North Africa and the Middle East. This one happened to be taking place in the village of Dumbala, some distance from Tangiers."
The evil looking friend of Bill's switched to the next slide ... and it was even worse! The young Vicky was dumbfounded by the extremely detailed shot of two of the native girls clasping two slender young cocks, obviously in the act of massaging them and stroking them, and in return their own buttocks were thrust out behind them as if awaiting some further joy of perversion....Then a thrilling third slide, even before Vicky was able to gain her breath from the last one; a brown-skinned girl, who couldn't have been past her first year of puberty, was being taken from the rear and Vicky saw clearly that a boy's long cock shaft was sliding in the tenderly stretched ring of her rectum! The child had her mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy....Then another, this one of a girl being rammed in her thinly etched pussy with its delicate fringe of hair by a boy's stiff penis, the picture that of an impalement like a matador on the horn of a bull....
The lewdly portraited sights had involuntarily started her blood racing through the young teenager's veins, obscene sensations began slowly churning in her stomach, pelvis, and loins, increasing in a vortex of incredulity at what she was viewing. Why ... why the next one showed that same little girl being taken with two cocks, one in each of her rear orifices! The boyish cocks were sunk deep in her, hairless testicles slapping her skin like palms on a drumhead, Vicky sucked in the smoke from the drugging cigarette, and squirmed down onto the couch, feeling the tough material press her buttocks and dampening crevice. Her thin panties soaked up the moisture and she squeezed her thighs together to hold down the unwanted fermentations growing there. She swallowed dryly and continued to smoke without thinking of what she was doing, only knowing dimly that she was on dangerous ground and wasn't sure just what to do about it. She didn't want to make a scene ... but my God! Those pictures were exciting her, Bill's closeness, his hand on her bare leg the way it was now ... Ohhhh....She squirmed downward again, the lewd sight of the wild orgy on the screen holding her nearly spellbound, and the secretion band of her panties pulled tight into the split of her loins, rubbing against her vagina and its sensitive, pink-fleshed lips. She felt minute throbs beginning to pulse in the hardening bud of her clitoris and she gritted her teeth and smoked more of the grass in an effort to hold in rein the forbidden delights throbbing stronger and stronger down between her legs.
I mtist get hold of myself! For God's sake! What's happening to me!
But it was of little avail. The heat of the room, the lulling sensual effects of the aphrodisiac cigarettes, the debauched scenes of open lust were not to be ignored by her young body which was already aroused by the lewd perversion of her mother and Bill fucking earlier. Everything was working its depraved effects on the girl, and she couldn't resist the building fire in her wet, swelling pussy and throbbing, hard breasts. No matter how hard she squeezed her thighs together, the flames were fanned by the progression of lurid slides that the silently snickering Simmons threw upon the screen. She moaned and panted and was becoming terrified that she was losing control of herself.
Just as Bill knew she was....
Just as Simmons knew she was....
And the two boys waited impatiently for the final warping of her tender, young mind by the "special" marijuana, gloating more openly with every passing minute over what they knew from past experience would happen next.
CHAPTER 6
Vicky raised up on one elbow. "I ... I don't want to watch any more of that fertility rite, thank you," she stammered, her brow beaded with sweat, her young body quivering with unwanted arousal.
"All right," Simmons said casually. "They were about over anyway. How about a look at the villa that Laura and I had while we were in Tangier ? A very nice one in a small beach community outside of the main town." The boy began to slide the projector back and forth hurriedly to get to the right selection. "Had a lovely place with a private beach and everything." He sighed almost wistfully.
"Fine ... fine." Vicky murmured under her gasping breath. She lay back again, raising her knees now with the soles of her feet hooked on the edge of the cushion, and she held her legs tightly together while her skirt fell back to expose a portion of her smooth, tanned thighs.
"Now the first series of shots was taken on the patio overlooking the Mediterranean. You can see it in the background; the villa was on a cliff that was very sheer. Lovely place, really...." Then he added. "Oh, the girl is my Laura."
Vicky saw ... and then she saw! She made out the face of Gary Simmons and of a girl who was no doubt Laura ... and they were both naked!
Laura was on her knees on the stone patio and Gary Simmon's long, thick cock was plunged in the small, black-haired girl's flowered cunt. Vicky was spellbound as she studied with repulsive fascination as Simmons fucked into Laura with a leaning back of his body so that he in turn could watch the sight of his pale, hard penis stuck in the soft, hair-rimmed flesh of Laura's throbbing pussy.
"My God!" the young girl gasped, "You're ... you're. . . ! "
"Of course," Simmons purred. "I'm fucking Laura. Beautiful, isn't it? Man, look at that expression on her face. Oh, she was loving it that day, I can tell you."
"Oh, no, no, stop! ... stop!" Vicky pleaded at his obscene talk, writhing beneath the newly creeping hands of Bill Hanley on her smooth, tingling flesh, groaning from the indescribable electrifying shock surging through the frayed nerve-ends of her drugged body like a thousand sharp needles. Her buttocks churned desperately into the cushion as sudden hot flames sprang up from her soft inner thighs and danced wickedly higher and higher ... she closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see the horrible things that Gary Simmons was doing to Laura, and what the black-haired girl was doing in return to him, and she strained to blot them out of her mind ... but it was impossible to eliminate the maddening sensations that Bill's constantly caressing hands were causing her.
Suddenly the boy's hands dug into the softness of her flesh and she whimpered in pain. His hand moved down, his hot breath against her cheek, and his fingers were cruel in the narrowness of her waist, the full rounded curve of her hips and the hardness of her cuntal valley below. She clutched his hand as his fingers gathered the folds of her skirt and he reached to touch the crease of her hot loins.
"No ... no, not here, not now, Bill ... please ... we're not alone!"
"I know," he chuckled lewdly in her ear. "I know, and I don't care. I want you, Vicky. Right now I want you...."
"But Bill, there's Gary here," she whimpered.
He rubbed furiously at her panty-clad vagina. "So what? He doesn't mind. What the hell, I've fucked in front of him before-"
"You what?"
"-and he's fucked in front of me, too." He slipped one hand away and then Vicky heard Bill open the front of his pants and dreaded to think of what was going to happen next. "Now, go on, baby," he said sharply. "Take out my cock."
An undesired shudder of sensual excitement quivered through the young girl at his command, yet she couldn't do as he asked. It ... it was somehow so wrong to be so unashamed, and she fought the pin-pricks of sensation which rose up through her belly. "No, please...."
Once again Bill reached over for her, well aware of the hopeless battle raging within his drugged girl friend. He slid his hand under her skirt and along the soft, warm flesh of her inner thigh and she merely moaned, no longer trying to stop him. He squirmed his fingertips beneath the elastic of her panties and with thumb and forefinger on the fleshy lips of golden pubic hair lining the outside of her moist, pink cunt, he spread them slowly, teasingly apart. Vicky lay back, holding her breath, still unable to offer more than token resistance to his hands coursing over her body.
Her marijuana weakened moral strength, her pruriently crumbling will power would not sustain her ... and her resistance shattered with a groan and a sliding of legs to a sprawled, widespread position. The exquisite feeling of air rushing over the rising bud of her clitoris rippled through her now jelly-like muscles and out into the nipples of her excitedly throbbing breasts, destroying all feeling of debasement, humiliation, thought of the other boy's presence, or anything else but the delightful pleasures building within her. The straining thighs relaxed and parted loosely as she rolled toward Bill with a low surrendering moan.
And as if of a mind separate of hers, her hand moved across his pants and slid inside his open fly and clasped his heavy, thick cock. And to her horrified amazement, she found that her fingers, of their own volition, were pushing his jockey shorts aside and bringing the hard, fleshy rod out of its prison, out until it stood up menacingly and erect in the dark room, her long fingers wrapping themselves lovingly around it.
"Ahhhhh, that's it, baby," Bill grunted. He undid his belt and top trouser button, and allowed Vicky to slide his pants down, and then his shorts, and now he was nakedly displayed on the dark couch. In spite of her revulsion at the renewed thought of the other boy in the room, the marijuana-induced sex-stupor made Vicky stroke and caress his throbbing cock, manipulating the long foreskin up and down over the corona just as if they were in the privacy of their bedroom back at college. Then she slid her hand down his long shaft to its base and then below, to cup and squeeze his sperm-bloated testicles reverently, cupping them with inherent affection, then trailing back up to pinch at the beautifully formed pole with tiny, nipping pressures.
Her hips ground of their own volition hotly down against the cushion and she heard her own purring, animal-like sounds emitting painfully from between her passion-clenched teeth. She couldn't believe it! Yet, it was happening to her, by her.... What is happening to me ? she thought confusedly. I must be going mad! I'm as unashamed as my mother, for God's sake! But I can't stop myself ... I want to touch Bill's cock! I have to touch it. . . oooooh, God!
Bill lay on his back, not touching Vicky now, luxuriating in the submission that had fully overtaken the girl. She was kissing his neck, his cheek, his ears and eyes and lips, her hot, wet, little tongue licking at him wildly....
"You may undress the rest of me," he said coldly and immediately she responded, unbuttoning and pulling off his clothes. "Gently!" he snapped.
"Yes, yes, darling," she stammered, not knowing or caring any longer what spell had come over her, her glazed mind filled only with the credo of his magnificent cock. And when she was done, he said: "Now your own things, Vicky. Get naked!"
She stood from the couch, standing in the bright light of the projector, but not caring, not caring that the beady, groveling eyes of the lascivious Gary Simmons was on her as well as the boy's who had taken her mother so wildly this very same afternoon. She stepped out of her skirt and then unfastened her blouse, unhooking her bra with momentary hesitation, then continued as if prodded by some unseen force. Released of their confinement, her swollen young breasts seemed to beg for touching; she paused and smoothed her hands carefully over them, touching her ruby nipples in guarded wonderment. Ohhh, that felt so good, she took a deep breath, unable to fathom the gentle, daze-like lethargy she was experiencing, and then she rolled down her flimsy wet panties and allowed her hands to slowly travel back up her long slim legs and thighs and touch delicately the lining of her soft-edged vagina.
Gary Simmons was mesmerized with the breathtaking loveliness of the young blonde as she stood in the projector's light. Her sleek, firm body was an entrancing combination of swelling breasts and thighs, and he gaped at the velvet-like, honey-covered silken down that she was exploring gently with her fingers now, the junction of her slightly spread thighs. The thin, red, hair-lined slit running the full length of her open crotch caused his mouth to water, and his tongue licked his rubbery, thick lips with anticipation as he watched the glassy expression in her eyes. Soon ... soon she would be his....
Vicky caught the other boys hungry gaze, and her brain was a turmoil of mixed emotions, for while she knew this wanton display of her young body to Simmons was not only unnecessary but entirely immoral, there seemed little that she wanted to do to stop it. And the lewd itching in her breasts, her loins and her belly was reaching an uncontrollable state....
"Get down between my legs," Bill ordered, watching her full young breasts dance and her lush, round buttocks sway as she crawled on all fours to his command, her beautiful long blonde tresses pouring down over her shoulders like a cascading, golden waterfall. "Now lick my cock, baby. Put my cock in your mouth and suck...."
She did, even though this had been one of the things she had never done to a boy before; making him cum with her hand was one thing-but kissing a man on his penis was something only perverts did, only sick people! But I must be sick ... as sick as Mother, because I can't help myself ... I want to suck his cock, just like he wants ... Dear God ...
Vicky lavished Bill's quivering penis before her with her warm, wet tongue, brushing and grazing from its base along its wide underside up to its hardened cockhead, washing, playing, kissing with long hungry strokes ... then back down to its base and to the black-haired pubic growth and then lower, down around his distended, bloated sac of testicles, hot from their load of sperm.
Ohhh, I love it! I love it!
Her first taste of pungent male spice instigated wild tremors of delight in her young body, and she uncontrollably balanced herself on one arm while she reached back with her other and slowly, tenderly felt her breasts and nipples, belly and thighs. Ohhh.... Vicky was wild with frenzy, the churning in her stomach and vagina with a spasming need that she had never dreamed existed and which was driving her to the point of orgasmic madness. God ... she loved this! Quickly she trailed her tongue back over Bill's testicles and along the heavy shaft to its throbbing head, and with a tiny groan, slipped her lips wetly down over it. God! She wanted to suck his sperm into her throat and belly!
She began to suck and lick in earnest now, the powerful stimulants of the slide pictures and the marijuana coursing through her body in a rampage of sexual fire, and though a small shudder of revulsion at what she had allowed herself to do passed through her momentarily, she realized that the exquisite deliciousness of Bill's cock was wonderful. She felt the hair of his pubic loins against her chin and lips, his testicles sweeping against her with every thrust, and as greater sensations of abandoned ecstasy grew to burn her vagina still hotter, nothing mattered but the sweet agony of the lewd desires which rippled through her naked flesh, nothing!
Not even Gary Simmons disturbed her now as she strove to milk her boyfriend's balls of their building sperm and in doing so stave off the unquenchable fire of lust consuming her insides. He came over to where she was on all fours, Bill on his knees before her straining and pumping in a lewd mock-dance of the sex act, and stared down at the buffeting duo, lust contorting his face. The sight of his friend's hard shaft of male flesh absorbed between the lips of the girl's widely ovaled lips increased his already fervid longings a thousand-fold, and he hissed out his breath as he saw Vicky take her hand that she had been running over her own body and use it to massage the soft resilient skin of Hanley's testicles, then tantalizingly stroke the boy's cock-base as she continued to suck rhythmically up and down. He couldn't stand it any longer! He had to fuck her from behind, fuck her right then and now!
Quickly Gary Simmons shed his clothing, and then stood with his long, jutting cock throbbing like a wild stallion. He grabbed Vicky's flailing white buttocks and leaned down over her back, thrusting his penis roughly against the crevice of her smooth white buttocks. The expanded narrow cunt-slit was visibly throbbing with its lips parted anxiously, its wet pink furrow held together by the squirming of her thighs up against his hungry loins.
Vicky could not see the face hovering over her buttocks, but her passion and drug-filled mind was aware of her boyfriend's friend behind her-aware of what he wanted to do to her while she was so desperately sucking Bill's penis in her mouth. She felt the full length of her open vaginal slit palpitate anxiously, greedily ... Dear God! This can't be me! I'm going to be fucked by both boys ... and I want that....
Everything which had ever meant anything to the poor, lust-enflamed girl was torn asunder as she lay in crippled defeat between the two boys. What she was allowing to be done to her was the absolute opposite of everything she had stood for, everything she had believed in ... everything which had prompted her to leave her mother ... and yet there was no turning back. She had to have the two hardened male cocks fucking into her at the same time-had to-had to ...
Oh God, I'm sick ... sick ... but I can't help it ... can't help it!
She flexed her cunt muscles together in a last-ditch attempt to evade the dual ravishment, but neither that nor her mental denials of her sanity helped to ward off the lust-incited Gary Simmons. Her brain was a maze of distorted thoughts, and she couldn't apply what thinking capacities she had to anything but what was being shoved into her vagina, Simmon's huge invading cudgel. In fact, the throb of her internal sinews seemed to incite his large, alien penis, and it plowed its way deeper into her vainly resisting passage. She felt the walls of her cringing pussy clasp around it like a glove, and she sensed its every fleshy ridge as her nerve ends transmitted enormous pleasures.
Dear God! This isn't happening! her mind kept repeating over and over, but she knew it was, and the pungent odors of Bill's cock slithering in and out of her lips stung her flared nostrils and she began to insanely run her tongue faster over his pumping shaft and bulging head. She may have been sick, a whore like her mother, she thought crazily, but she didn't want this to stop! Her cunt contracted involuntarily as the lascivious thought raced out of control through her marijuana-fogged mind.
Gary Simmons drew the girl harder to his loins by grasping her ivory buttocks with his clawing fingers and jerking her back. He felt her moist, slippery hole of a cunt flower open more to receive his cock to greater and greater depths. The cords on her neck and her lips around Bill's penis were hard and tense as she writhed beneath the two monstrous cocks which skewered her naked young body between them like a pig on a spit.
"Now, baby," Bill hissed down at her, "beg for it. Beg like I make you do ... only beg for both of us."
"Mmmmmmm," Vicky mewled, her mouth still taut around his drubbing prick. "Ohhh, yes ... yes...." Her words were muffled and indistinct, but deeply felt, for all control of her body was gone.
"Beg me to cum in your mouth, baby," he commanded, continuing to grind his cock into her wet, quivering throat.
"Yeah, and beg me too," snarled Simmons, digging his fingers cruelly into the softness of her tender buttock-cheeks. "Now, damn you!"
"Ohhhh, yes ... fuck me, both of you....R-ram your cock in my cunt, Gary, and yes, darling Bill, cum in my mouth!" She babbled, the thought of her own lips spewing out those lewd desires for the first time in her life sent new lascivious thrills swirling through her, and she rotated her hips from side to side around Gary's huge, rigid penis, her wide-spread pussy dilating in time to his rhythmic fucking. She was hopelessly impaled between his driving cock in her vagina and Bill's penis shoved tightly in her mouth, and now, moaning and mewling between them she began to twist and squeal wantonly under the double ravishment and thrust up against both men more urgently. Her small white teeth nibbled her boyfriend's cock as it surged with increasing tempo in her sucking mouth, and she clenched her thighs in a warm milking action against the pillaging cock methodically screwing her warm, wet cuntal channel.
The ecstasy of the moment rose within Vicky as she tried to suck with the massive cock fucking her from behind, and as it slammed harder and harder into her cunt, the hardened shaft caressing the smooth walls of her vagina, the blunt tip would batter her cervix and pummel it hard. The room was lighting up in strange colors for the girl, blinding and flashing and mingling with the electrifying shocks that were shooting through her body to the seeming depths of her very being.
Bill Hanley felt the softness of her tongue swirling around the apex of his penis and flicking magically all around his shaft, and he flexed his buttocks, watching the girl's honey blonde head bob up and down as she worked her buttocks relentlessly against the hammering, still swelling cock of his friend. It was a masterful sight, he thought, watching it, though he wondered why she didn't choke. Great whorls of heat were building in the sac of his testicles, and he could see tiny rivulets of sweat rolling in thin droplets from the side of Vicky's firm, white-skinned body as she bucked between him and his friend like a demon driven mad.
Suddenly Simmons groaned aloud and wailed: "Jesus! Fuck harder! Fuck back, you bitch, I'm about ready to blow my balls! Ohhhh ... fuck back! Fuck back!"
Vicky responded immediately, wallowing obscenely in her pleasurable but debasing subjugation, raising and lowering her buttocks against the boy's expanding cock, driving it back inside her, deep up into her belly, sending vibrations of delight coursing through her. She was completely helpless to stop herself, and she knew it and swam in the carnal knowledge ... she was punishing herself, openly feeling she deserved his painful drubbing, for her loins were on fire more than ever, and she was forced to feed her seething hunger with all of the abandonment of the worst slut in history. She deserved this, deserved this and more ... yes, yes ... more! More!
Gary screamed as an insane man, and Vicky pounded back at his pelvis frantically with her ass, squeezing and milking at his palpitating cock vigorously in an attempt to bring about her own climax. Then she felt the hot boiling liquid of his sperm shoot deep up into her cunt ... Oh God, this is when I cum with Bill. . . but I'm not there yet ... I want to cum. Good God, please . . J can't! I can't ... the aphrodisiac marijuana had too strong a grip on the girl, and though she felt every contraction of Simmon's penis as it jerked out its great load of hot, white cream, still her own orgasm was that minute hair away....
She punished herself violently in her effort, then felt his bludgeoning cock grow soft and limp in her hotly clasping pussy, and she cried out in her anxiety.
"Ohhh, don't leave me like this! Ohhhh, make me cum!"
"Haaa," chortled Bill from above. "You aren't going to cum for a long time yet, not after all those cigarettes you smoked. Now suck me, bitch! Suck me harder!"
In a hopeless quest for her own satisfaction, in a wild, maniacal need for fulfillment, Vicky sucked his lust-hardened penis like a wanton whore, and the thick, pummeling instrument disappeared into a strange, lengthening fusion with her face as Bill drove with hollowing buttocks, sinking his penis far into the girl's mouth until his course pubic hair brushed the tip of her nose. His testicles danced lewdly beneath, slapping in unison with his thrusts hard against her upraised chin. Then, his climax rolling out of his balls like a thundercloud out of the sky, Hanley suddenly jerked his cock from her sucking lips, holding his huge, red gland about two inches away from her ovaled mouth.
"Oh, no, Bill ... please, I want it! I must have it!" pleaded the stricken girl, groaning with her agonizing and overpowering fire of unfulfilled lust fanning out of control in her pulsating cunt, and tried to pull him to her, her mouth gaping wildly at his jumping prick.
But before she could close her widely open lips over his cock again, it began to spew hot, sticky cum directly into the searching cavern of her mouth, and the thick, quick spurts streamed from the tip like milk from a cow's udder, filling her waiting mouth to the brim. Vicky swallowed voraciously, trying not to loose a drop of the hot, lust-inciting fluid as her Adam's apple bobbed up and down, rapidly attempting to keep up with the wildly ejaculating cock squirting its load of lewd male cum into her face. The young Gary Simmons groaned at the obscene picture of the girl's self-inflicted humiliation as his friend throbbed out the last of his cock's stream of semen, and then a thin string of sticky white fluid ran from its blunt head to her glistening wet lips, and as he watched wide-eyed, Vicky desperately moved forward to take Bill's deflating shaft between her closed lips.
Then Bill rolled over and lay stretched out on the floor, gasping contentedly. "Ahhh," he murmured. "Not bad, not bad."
"It'll get better," Gary said, grinning. "You know how beginners are. Lots of enthusiasm but lacking discipline."
"Ohhhh," Vicky mewled. She had almost been ready to cum again when she felt Bill's hot sperm spewing deep in her mouth and throat in great, gushing torrents, and the way it billowed heat in her stomach when she was swallowing the white, burning ejaculations-but she was still just seconds away. She pounded her feet desperately on the floor, her end so near and yet so far. "Please, Bill ... please fuck me now...."
Hanley chuckled. "In due time, Vicky. I'll fuck you in a little while soon as I rest a bit."
"Noooo!" she cried out. God, her cunt was on fire! What had happened to her, to be out of her mind this way? Sick ... sick....But the young girl was unable to stem the unleashed beast in her loins, and she kicked out wildly. "Didn't I please you both?" she cried out unashamedly. "Are you trying to punish me?"
"Your sucking was miserable," Bill said contemptuously. "But I'll teach you the right way in a little while."
With an empty groan, Vicky rolled over and gyrated her thighs, her own hands manipulating ineffectually the sperm-flooded slit between her legs, greedily digging into herself in an effort to reach the impossible heights that the double cocks of a moment before had sent her to-only to betray her to the hell of unfulfillment.
"Jee-zus!" Simmons exclaimed. "Look at that little pussy move, will you!"
"Yeah, I think that she might turn out as accomplished as your girl, Gary. What the hell, maybe we'll get her to turn some tricks. I can use the coin back at Whitmire, and I know half the football team would pay damned dearly to get into her sweet pussy."
Dear God, is that what he wants? What now? Is this the path I chose? The utter repulsive horror of what her lover's words had implied shot through the girl like a spasm of electricity. She stopped her hand, momentarily shocked beyond the point of insensate desire, and in that second of clarity she saw many things. She lay on her back, her legs still splayed wide as she stared with newfound horror at the boy who had somehow tricked her into becoming his slave through weird, demoniacal drugs. But now, in the wake of their played-out passions and her deep-set remorse, she was able to gain a modicum of control over her senses, at least momentarily. "You ... you mean you'd make me a whore?" she gasped in disbelief, her foundation of love for Bill sorely shaken. "I won't!"
"Well, as Truman said, baby: 'If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.' " He was leering and confident of his power. "You will if I want you to, Vicky. You just fucked a guy you hadn't met before an hour ago, didn't you? And like I told you in the car, you ended up digging his cock. Well, lots of guys have cocks, and one is just about as good as another-except mine, naturally."
Vicky shuddered, torn between the hot desires scorching her still throbbing vagina and the twinges of guilt and shame that flickered through her confused thoughts. She slowly dragged herself to her feet, knowing that she had to get out of his horrible apartment, out into the sane, clean world again if she was ever going to break the chains of her betrayed body. Bill's plans for her future were so horrid that she bit her lower lip in self-revulsion to the point where she drew blood, his filthy words sending a wave of nausea coursing through her.'
Dear God ... forgive me ... I lost control of myself, and I've almost become an addict to sex and drugs ... I must get out....
She had never felt so alone in her life. She saw now that her lashing hatred, her irrational accusations toward her mother weren't justified. Her mother's words, begging forgiveness, understanding and love filtered through her dazed mind, and Vicky realized that what had happened here, to her, had happened more or less the same way back at the house. Her mother had fallen prey to this Bill Haney, and he was unfit for anybody's love and affection or loyalties. He was incarnately evil....
She was caught up in his abominable trap, and while still confused as to how or why, she knew that once she was out of his web here, she had to go home. She had to talk to her mother and tell her that she had grown up and seen the truth, and that she was the one who wanted to beg for forgiveness and love and understanding. And maybe, just maybe her mother would accept her, dirty and defiled as she was, and the two of them could make some effort to face life together.
She scooped up her clothing, preparatory to putting it on.
"Oh, no you're not," the boy snarled, and grabbed her harshly by the arm. His eyes were beady and cruel, and Vicky's heart pounded as she sensed with horror his gaze on her breasts and soft, wet buttocks and cunt.
"Aw, for Christ's sake," Bill grumbled. "Stick around, Vicky. I told you I'd fuck you in a little while, soon's as I get my cock up again."
It snapped, then, the spontaneous bursting in her head that crashed reality down over her with a shattering force. She turned and twisted from his grip, biting the boy's hand as hard as she could. His howl was only dim in her ears and her brain pounded with the insane, single desire to run ... run ... Bill clutched at her heel, but she was already racing naked for the door, her breasts jiggling wildly and her lungs threatening to burst from fear and exertion.
"Don't lose that piece of ass!" she heard behind her, and then she was at the door, charging out into the merciful darkness of early night. She was sped on by the knowledge of what would happen to her if she was caught, and the single idea made her uncaring that she was without clothing, without pride, without anything except terror. Her breath came in short gasps and her legs felt as of rubber and she crossed the short lawn of the apartment house bare-footed. She kept her eyes on the Ford, hoping that the spare keys were still in the glove compartment ... hoping that she could get away in time....
"Goddamn, that's a little fast bitch," the naked and panting Gary Simmons said at the door of his apartment. He was standing there, watching the retreating form of the nude girl as she dashed for her car. "Look at her tits bob!"
Bill was right behind him in the doorway, anger darkening his face. "She'd rather run through the streets bare-assed than stay here with us. Goddamn her. Well, hell-let her go. I'm not about to run after her like this, my cock and balls flapping in the breeze. I'd get picked up sure as shit for indecent exposure."
"What-what are we going to do?"
Bill turned back toward the darkened, smoke-filled room. A slight, evil grin began to twist his lips cruelly. "I have an idea where she'll roost," he said. "Yeah, she'll head right back to Momma, I bet. And if she does...."
"What, go home? I thought she had trouble with her old lady."
"She does. She caught us fucking. But she's the kind that'll go back there and beg for forgiveness. I should have known better than waste my time on a little snit like her, but say listen, Gary-when is Laura coming home?"
"I dunno, hour, maybe two from now. Why?"
"Well, we'll all use your car then and go visiting the Terrences. I got this thing going with her mother, and if Vicky isn't there, we can go riding the old lady. She loves to fuck, let me tell you."
"And if Vicky's there?" Gary asked lewdly.
"Why, then, there'll be five of us. That marijuana hasn't worn off yet, not by a long shot. She'll calm down, and when she does, it'll start working on her just as hot as before. You know that."
"Yeah, yeah," Simmons agreed, nodding his head with glee. "Hot damn. Either way, we'll be busy tonight."
He closed the door and together the two boys went back into the living room. They spent the time before Laura came home with the car by watching the slides, smoking, and planning out what they would do to the voluptuous mother-daughter combination once they got their hands on them....
CHAPTER 7
Anne Terrence lay in her bed once again, using it as a refuge in which to cradle her tormented body. A bath had been of little help, and though she had rubbed herself to a rosy pink with the large towel, she still felt soiled and unclean. Now, pale and ice-water cold, she curled up nude on the coverlet and enmeshed herself in the net of guilt she felt was enclosing her. She tossed and moaned, chastising herself with mental whips because of her succumbing to the temptations her daughter's young boyfriend had so blatantly provided. She swallowed many times, her shame-parched throat dry, and looked down at her firm body that was nakedly displayed as she lay in silence in her torment.
There she was, she groaned, in all her depravity and degeneracy, in all her evil glory-snowy crests of rounded breasts and her flat, unmarked stomach, and the golden, clover-honey color of her silken pubic hair. As she looked at herself, she miserably realized that her dream had been shattered once and for all-that she had lost her daughter, all that was important to her in her life, in one wild, senseless orgy.
Where was Vicky? her mother groaned anew. Was she safe? Oh, God, she wished that her daughter was here with her. The horror of having her teenage offspring fall prey to Bill Hanley's devilish sexuality, of having her tender mind permanently warped by what she had seen her mother and boyfriend do, made Anne want to be sick.
For a crazy moment, she thought about calling the police and reporting that the Ford was stolen ... then the idiocy of her idea came to her, and she slumped dejectedly, for while she might learn the whereabouts of Vicky that day, no good would it do-and it might get her daughter into trouble, and then most certainly Vicky would never forgive her. And then everybody would know just what kind of woman she had allowed herself to become-including Jack. Jack would be repulsed, brand her the whore she, herself, felt she was, and rightly so; her friends and neighbors would shun her like a plague. What a nightmare this day had become!
She recalled with anguish how she had bucked and twisted under the thick, hardened penis of young Bill Hanley, and once more she looked down on her radiant, shining body, but strangely, she couldn't see the traces of her dissipations as she had thought were there before. As she concentrated on her breasts, she thought of how the boy had taken their taut, puckish uplift and made them come alive; made her come alive, she was forced to confess; and beg for his young cock to salve her tongue-tortured vagina. She squeezed her eyes shut as the erotic recollections flooded through her ... she felt the infernos of Dante, and the torment in her was more vivid than the agonies suffered by her daughter. For the blonde-haired mother had had nearly twice as many years to become infused with the mores and ethics of society, and a stricter society at that, and yet there were many more times the years of sexual experience. Now her body had been reawakened from the lulling gray shadow-world in which her husband's neglect had stored it ... and her new awareness, her re-found fire and lust was much higher than Vicky's relatively innocent plane of experience.
Her fingertips cooled her hot flesh and in spite of herself, Anne found that she was touching one nipple, making the rosebud flower and harden. Shuddering, repulsed by herself, she quickly took her hand away, only to have it settle, unguided by herself, like some perverse demon down on her naked loins. Her pink-rimmed cunt lips seemed to twitch and spasm through their lustrous covering of softly curling pubic hair, and as tender as her well-fucked vagina still was, she involuntarily spread her legs out and drew the lips apart so that her pussy slit and tiny peeking clitoris were visible, and the darker opening to her cunt opened, tingling--
Groaning, she shivered, the blood rising in her cheeks as more vividly than ever the memories of her daughter's young, virile boyfriend came back, with his thick, pulsing cock and heavy, swaying testicles, and the way he had so arrogantly fucked into the moist, creamy pussy which was now quivering of its own volition down between her thighs.
Her hips dug back against the insurgence of her imaginations, and before she could gather the necessary strength to resist her aching distraction, she began to rub her palms lightly around her inner thighs, spiraling ever closer to her hair-fringed cuntal valley, her fingers gently moving back and forth over her flesh ... a tide of rekindled passion beginning to flow over her once again, a flame only slightly banked by her climax with the boy named Bill--
Then she heard the front door slam, and she shot bolt upright. Who could that be? Vicky? Was Vicky home? Shamefaced, Anne grabbed for her coverlet, something to hide her nakedness should she be found in this lewd position-but before she could, the bedroom door burst open, and her completely naked child ran to her, throwing herself on the bed, tears streaming from her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks.
"Victoria! Baby! What ... ? "
"You were so right, Mother!" Vicky wailed, crawling onto the bed like a tiny child after a nightmare, seeking solace and comfort. "Oh, it was awful! It ... it was terrible!" The anguished daughter, her slim, taut loins quivering, her body wracked with sobs, openly wept piteously, her face pressed to her hands. "Help me ... oh, help me, Mother...."
"But, but I don't understand, my darling," Anne said, now thoroughly alarmed. She sat up, putting her arm around her girl. "I thought you hated, me, despised me for what I did...."
"No, no, not any longer," Vicky moaned, chokingly. "I'm no better than you, Mother. No better at all. If you're sick, so am I."
"Oh, Vicky, my baby!" Anne cried, and drew her daughter to her breasts, hugging the girl tightly to her, trying to conquer her own rising anguish at her child's fevered misery. She didn't know what exactly had caused this, had stripped her child nude, had transpired to bring about this radical reversal of feelings-but no matter. She was Vicky's mother, and she was worried and upset just over the fact that her daughter was so emotionally overwrought. "Now, now," she comforted, her hands caressing the child's back and shoulders as Vicky moaned, and Anne hugged her instinctively, smelling the young, sweet hair and feeling her daughter's firm, round breasts against her own swelling globes, nipples against nipples. Her own eyes brimmed with sympathetic responsiveness, and she was at a loss to know what exactly to say.
"I'm ... I'm not fit to live," Vicky moaned.
"Yes, you are, darling," her mother cooed. "I don't know what's happened, or why you're so upset and naked, but I can say that you're the best girl a mother could ever want and ... and nothing you've done could make you unfit. . . nothing."
"You ... you really mean that, Mother?" Vicky whimpered.
"Vicky, I love you more than anything in the world, and when I thought I'd lost you today, I wanted to kill myself. You're my light, my life...."
"But I've been so bad, so sinful!"
"I've ... I've had to think a lot about sins, dear," Anne said ruefully, tenderly kissing the tear-stained cheek nearest her, still running her hands over the soft warm back. "I've had to somehow come to terms with myself, too, you know. I'm ... I'm like you said, unworthy of being called a mother. I let you down so badly...."
"No, Mother, I understand now....I understand perhaps with more knowledge than you could guess. You are my mother, and I love you deeply."
"Your grandmother," Anne said in a sort of reverent tone, thinking back when she had had to break the news of her pregnancy to her own mother. "Your grandmother once told me that while you might not approve of what a loved one did, you couldn't stop loving them anyway. She was right...."
The mother and daughter lay on the bed for a long while then, silent and rocking together in mutual love, rebuilding the faith and trust they had had for one another over the years. The minds of both were whirling with their own private thoughts of guilt and remorse, which only strove to cement their common bond further. Finally Vicky was able to stop sobbing. She blinked and drew away from her mother just enough to wipe her swollen, red-rimmed eyes with the back of her hand.
"M-mother, can I talk to you ? " she asked in a soft whisper.
"Of course, honey!"
"I mean really talk, Mother. I ... I don't think that I've been mature enough before for us to let our hair down, but after what's happened to ... us, maybe we can be closer than just mother and daughter. Maybe we can strip ourselves of our antagonisms as ... as, well, as we are stripped of clothing."
Anne stared at Vicky, into the other's pain-flecked eyes, and was disturbed both by the basic concepts her daughter had said for one of such tender years, and because what Vicky had said was true. The time had come if it ever was to come for her to drop the barriers, be honest and frank. She had no moral righteousness to preach anyway, no soapbox of thou shalts and shalt nots, not after this afternoon, and she vowed to open up all her normal restraints now, when it was far more important to be herself than those other times when she couldn't help her basic nature. In a crazy way, all the hurt and fear she had gone through were beginning to turn out for the better, she thought, and as she looked at her daughter, she seemed to feel calmer and more loving than ever before, unified. In perfect communication now, she and Vicky would find a way together without false barriers or hidden questions.
"Darling child," she said contritely, "after what you walked out on this afternoon, with me fucking-" she swallowed at the word, but now was the time to call a spade a spade-"fucking with your boyfriend-"
"He's not my boyfriend," Vicky spat vindictively.
"Bill, then. Well, I don't feel in any position to give advice. I am just overwhelmed with your willingness to consider me an equal, a friend." She gazed at her daughter's angelic face, so similar to her own.
"No, Mother, no, I must have your advice. I ... I'm so confused and miserable. And you've had so many other men...."
"Me? Lord, no! I was a virgin when I met your father and Bill was the first other man I've ever known. Cross my heart, Vicky."
"But I thought-" Vicky was patently surprised. "The way you were acting with Bill, I was positive you'd had many men before. You ... you were so wild with him."
A glassy-eyed film settled over Anne momentarily. "I told you then, darling, that I couldn't help myself. I'd been without sex for so long...."
She trailed off, embarrassed in spite of her promise to be completely free.
"You mean you and Daddy haven't been making love much? I know that. I've known it for years, on account of not hearing many noises from your bedroom. I used to sneak out and sit by your door at night while you were talking, and I'd hope you'd make love. I got all excited the few times when you did. God, Mother, I'd go crazy not having the one I love fucking me, and fucking me often."
A slow red shine flowed over Anne's features. "I have had a hell of a time," she said hollowly. "I thought I'd go mad when I wanted Jack and he wouldn't wake up. I ... I think that's what made me lose control, Vicky, when I saw your Bill naked in the basement today. He ... he reminded me of Jack years ago."
"And last night? When you saw us fucking, did it remind you of you and Daddy, too?"
"Oh yes, very much so. I got awfully excited."
"What did you do?" the girl asked breathlessly. A strange hot tingling was beginning in her belly at the idea of her mother watching her and Bill fuck, standing there and getting hotter and hotter and hotter.... She wanted to know, because she recalled how she'd been aroused so violently when she'd seen the same thing....
"I ... I...." Anne couldn't say it. She just couldn't admit what she'd done!
"I'll tell you something, Mother," Vicky whispered, her heart pumping faster, sending the still virulent smoke of the sex-laden marijuana through her blood, up to her brain, down to her breasts and vagina. "I'll tell you two secrets, in fact. I got excited watching you and Bill today, too, just like you. I was so excited that if you hadn't cum, I was going to have join in. Or-or do what I did when I used to sit outside your bedroom door," she blurted, unable to control her mouth, the words of truth which rolled from her heart. "I would have played with myself."
"I did," her mother heard herself whisper. "I sat in that open doorway last night and I fingered myself until I came. And I've done it before when I've gotten so hot I had to have relief."
"Did ... did you ever use a handle of a hairbrush or something like that?"
"Oh, never ... only my fingers." Dizzy with her confessions, Anne first stared at her hands as if seeing them for the first time, then down at her golden-fleeced vagina which had felt their touch so often. "I was fingering myself when you came home," she admitted haltingly. "I couldn't stop myself."
"I know ... I know what it's like," Vicky said. She gazed with an electrifying intensity at the same soft pubic mound where her mother was looking ... and her breath caught in her lungs. She turned on the bed, unable to take her eyes off the displayed sexuality where she'd seen Bill's cock slide in and out, and from which had spurted his overflowing sperm, and which now in her imaginings she dreamed of fingers whipping back and forth and over....
She stared, enamored for some unknown, unthinking reason, still stirred sensually by the drug in her system, and though she had seen other nipples and breasts and vaginas of other girls at high school and college, she'd never reacted this way before. It was because her mother was her own flesh-and-blood, and she was instinctively attracted to the womb which had produced her; there, so close that she could touch it, was the heart of her conception, softly protected by the curve of one firm, downy-soft thigh and the slightly puffy lips. Her own genitals began to tingle, lewdly in response to her words and thoughts....
"I used to use that yellow hairbrush you gave me for Christmas when I was ten," Vicky murmured in a fevered hush. "Then, when I was at Whitmire, one of the girls showed me a vibrator, a round, candle-shaped one made of plastic and that ran on batteries. They're cheap, and when I used it, it reminded me of a man's cock...."
Anne swallowed hard, agitated by her daughter's immodest talk-of her own perverted admissions. She had always been so ashamed of having used her hands to curtail the hunger of her unrequited sex drive-and the thought had never occurred to her to use anything else as a stimulus. Her stomach was a thousand butterflies, her breath seemed to grow harder to draw into her lungs, and she realized with a wrenching guilt feeling that as Vicky talked about what she did with that vibrator at college, her hips were beginning to quiver and her breasts were actually throbbing in response to her own daughter's immoral practices.
". . . I bought one at the drug store," Vicky droned on mesmerically, lost in her world and staring openly at her mother's now trembling vagina. "I'd sit in a big chair in my dorm room and read a text for homework, and when the urge would hit me, I'd turn on the little vibrator and run it up and down the crotch band of my panties. I'd let it play there, buzzing and tickling like crazy until I couldn't stand it any longer, and then I'd slip out of my panties, spread my legs on the arms of the chair and slide it up and down my open pussy. When I felt my orgasm nearly there, I'd throw the book aside and jam the round, smooth tip of the vibrator up inside my cunt as far as it would go ... and I'd squeeze it and squeeze it and squeeze it...."
"Vicky, don't...." Anne moaned, a deep wetness pervading her responding cunt, and little droplets of unwanted desire began to form on the fleecy pubic hair covering her slowly swelling vaginal lips. She groaned and inwardly fought off her sexual chemistry, clenching her inner thighs together. "Vicky, darling girl, don't go on like that. You're only disturbing yourself."
The girl swung her gaze to her mother's face. "Are we bad for doing that? Tell me, Mother ... are we Wicked to masturbate?"
Anne had always considered herself so, but under the necessity to answer her daughter, she realized that her own mother had been wrong, that the only thing wicked about masturbation was the guilt she had for so long attached to the act. "No, no Vicky. We're women, with women's drives and needs. We're only human."
Vicky's response caught in her throat. "Then was Bill right? Is pleasure the only goal, and everything else artificial restraints? I sucked his cock tonight, Mother," the girl said in a rising voice, near hysterical. "I sucked his cock and he came in my mouth while another boy, a perfect stranger I'd never met before fucked me in my cunt at the same time from behind!"
"Vicky! You're ... you're getting too upset! Calm down, and let's talk this over," Ann cried, alarmed again at her daughter's flaring excitement. "Please calm down!"
But Vicky, crazed by the marijuana in her head, tortured by experiences her youthful years hadn't prepared her for, demented by an attraction toward her mother she couldn't even find words to describe, couldn't have stopped the billowing emotions flowing through her for anything. The calmness of the previous few minutes had been like the eye of a hurricane, a brief repose between the whirling winds of chaos on either side as the storm moved onward ... and now her mind and body were in the flux of tornado-like deliriums surging through her.
"I wanted them, Mother! I wanted Bill and Gary in the same way you wanted Bill! For a purely physical fuck! To hell with who they were! I couldn't have cared less, and I still don't!" Quaking with uncontrollable agony, the young girl once more sank down and tremblingly clenched at her mother like she was a life preserver. With near incoherency and still climbing hysteria, the girl babbled in short, terse words what had taken place since she and Bill had fled the house.
"Oh, my darling little girl," Anne moaned pathetically, "how horrible."
"Why? Why isn't Bill right and all women should spread their legs for any attractive male who passes?"
Anne was speechless for a few moments. So that was what was bothering her, she thought. She held her baby girl to her and tried to cuddle the warmth of her passionate love for her, tried to ease some of the terrifying recollections of what her daughter had done since she left the house. All my fault, she said to herself sickly. She was driven to it by my getting fucked by her boyfriend....
She knew that that wasn't exactly true-that Bill Hanley was inherently corrupt, and that Vicky would have had to face the facts of his debauched view of living sometime or another. But it had been combined in the most sordid of situations, the catching of her own mother writhing nakedly with him-and that had shattered the poor girl's psyche far more than perhaps another time, another place would have done. Yet even as she held her daughter, Anne realized that Vicky had uncommon strength of character, that though what she had gone through had all but snapped her mind the way a short circuit will burn a fuze, there was still the chance that Anne might be able to do something to stop her daughter's self-loathing and disgust which gripped Vicky's pain-wracked soul, and she might still have a chance for a normal, happy, and love-filled future.
"No, Vicky ... love and sex can't be separated so casually. I wanted Bill, and I enjoyed being fucked by him-I have to honestly say that to you-and I'm not sure whether I would have been able to resist him again. But Bill is wrong when he says that women shouldn't have feelings involved. We do. We bear the children and have our loves, and where along that scale a woman decides to make love is something which has been controversial since the world began. I can only answer for myself, and tell you that as long as you're physically unscarred, then try to forget it. It's no use torturing yourself for it-you can't go back in time and erase what transpired. Watch yourself more closely in the future. Nobody but us will know what has happened-you're never going to see Bill again. We can both help each other in that way."
"Is ... is that how you feel, Mother?"
"Yes. I've been far worse than you about sex, but talking to you, darling, has made a lot of things clearer in my mind as well. The advice I just gave is the advice I plan to take."
Vicky was sitting up now, and Anne focused her loving eyes on the curves of her lithe young body, its tiny, firm ripples and pear-shaped breasts, and the way her inner thighs were pressed around her vagina. Wisps of yellow pubic hair, still wet and matted with male sperm peeked from between her closed inner thighs, and as Anne looked at her daughter adoringly, she began to regard Vicky not as a child any longer. She was a woman, having had men and received pleasure, and there was no use denying the fact that they both had committed the same immoral transgressions of the flesh. Their transgressions seemed to tie them together more closely, closer than just friends, for there was still the filial ties, and things were a little less terrifying for the two of them as together they smiled tentatively at each other.
Vicky looked down and spread her legs. She saw past her tiny hardening nipples and white breasts her sparsely-covered pubic mound, with its thin, pink slit and curly hair lighter than her mother's pubic hair. She placed a tentative finger at her cuntal valley, opening the coral smooth flesh to view. It was wet, glistening with the still heavy layer of her orgasmic secretions and Gary Simmons' recently-spewed sperm.
"You're not revolted by me then?" she asked softly. "You're not just saying this to make me feel better, and all the while you're nauseated by the sight of that other boy's cum on my legs and pussy? You still love me ... after all this?"
"More, darling," Anne said fervently. "More than ever." She sat and then got an idea, and quickly she padded across to the bathroom where she got the still damp washcloth she'd used in the bath. "Here," she said, coming back and lying on the bed. "Just to show you what I feel, I'll wipe you off, just as if you were a baby again, needing changing."
"I'd like that, Mother," Vicky said, and obediently stretched out on the coverlet, her brain oddly filling with the weird heat of drugged arousal, and she looked down her body at her mother, and then up along her mother's firm, lithe body which was stretched out alongside her, at the rounded beauty of her breasts and buttocks, and the way that her so near, so close hair-covered cunt was tantalizing the smoldering fire in her belly. She stared at her mother's vagina, trembling, unable to stop the lewd thoughts in her head as she saw the soft-downed pink lips glint and the hint of her clitoris peek from its folds. God, my mother has a beautiful cunt....I wonder if she thinks I've got a beautiful one too....
Anne smiled at her teen-ager's face and then looked down past the slender column of Vicky's throat, across her smooth, tanned shoulders, down her sides and breasts, down to where her hips swelled from the slimness of her youthful waist. Anne drank in the loveliness of her creation, and admired her child's abdomen and legs, and then turned her attention to the glistening wetness in front of her, Vicky's velvet-smooth thighs, which for some reason were now slightly trembling....
"Open your thighs a little more, darling," Anne said, and found that her chest was suddenly constricted and her throat tight. An inexplicable sensation tickled Anne's stomach, as if she was anticipatorily excited by her daughter's cunt. She couldn't understand it, any more than she had been able to explain any of the other happenings of the last two days, and could only try and clear her head of the unwanted stimulations. With a soft moaning hiss Vicky rolled her legs aside, and Anne gasped at the enticing sight of her tender, pink vaginal slit with its fleshy lips a reddish color as if swelling with desire, and her blonde pubic hair matted with the commingling white-hued juices of her recent fucking.
Anne took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, and quiveringly, she raised the washcloth up to her daughter's wet, soft vaginal slit and stroked it back and forth.
"Ohhhh," Vicky moaned, and spasmed suddenly from the delicious contact. The marijuana burst afresh in her blood and marrow, lighting the insane fires of her unquenched lusts, and although she tried to stop herself from reacting openly to her mother's touches, telling herself that it was wrong, her cunt tingled with every cleansing stroke of the warm, rough-edged cloth.
Anne continued to brush her daughter's pubic hair and cunt tenderly with the damp cloth, drying the blonde curls, fluffing them, moving down one soft inner thigh, then another. Intense stabs of desire radiated through Anne, and in half-revulsion, half-captivation, she took the cloth back to the moon-shaped buttocks and the barely mature long pink valley of her daughter's cunt, and unable to resist, she began to once more stroke Vicky's pubic hair and vaginal lips. The girl shuddered and gasped for air, her pulsating legs spread still wider for her mother to touch, one leg bent in the air as Vicky turned and arched her loins forward, as if she was enjoying the lewd contact. Anne could see the hairless, puckered mouth of her anal opening now, and shuddered reflexively. Something perverted, something more wrong and more degenerate than the acts she'd allowed to be done to her body before was beginning to take mass in her belly.... She was becoming excited by her own daughter! She was actually attracted to the dainty pink flesh and nestling clitoris which had suddenly begun to become erect in the sweetly trembling folds!
Vicky had always considered oral love between women as incredibly abhorrent, and had turned it down the few times she had been propositioned at college. But as inexorably passionate fingers touched her inflamed pubic lips and hair, and parted the soft, moist hot crevice to gently stroke the open slit between her legs, the young teenager undulated her hips slightly and felt her pussy secrete more juices of desire. Charged with the sexual fermentations of the marijuana, spurred by her lack of climax at Simmons' apartment, she was powerless to stop the pleasure of her mother's contact. She gazed sideways wide-eyed at her mother's vagina beside her, at her enticing pink flesh and the honey-dewed, sparkling droplets which Anne was unaware of having formed uncontrollably on her own soft skin. Vicky breathed the musky, female scent, quivered as she fought for control, and then unable to, reached out with one, tentative, trembling finger and brushed it over the lower belly and inner thighs, circling the coral edges of her mother's cunt. Her skin was so soft, so warm and satiny ... so good to touch....
"Vicky!" her mother gasped with a groan. "What ... what are you doing?" She jerked, her body convulsing from the lancing touch. It was undeniably pleasurable, and an electric shock rippled through her from her child's softer, lighter feel.... She looked with agony at the sensitive pink flesh before her own burning eyes, at the golden triangle of her child's pubic curls and taut ruby lips and the way that even more of the delectable young cunt was flowering open as Vicky widened her legs still more, The mother trembled and moaned from the salacious and unwelcomed passions convulsing her belly and loins, for her daughter was still moving her fingers around her pussy, stroking like feathers, and Anne was unable to stop from arching her buttocks and letting one leg slowly rise and bend in response.
She fought it with all her might. "Stop, Vicky ... stop before it's too late....Ohhh, Vicky, Vicky ... enough, enough, no more!" she begged weakly, wretchedly aware that she couldn't stop the mounting sensuality which had overtaken them. But her pleas died in a strangled mixture of sob and sigh and her body pulsed as her mind cried out in fevered rejection.
Vicky was beside herself now, and she extended her middle finger and ran it along the partially open slit of her mother's pussy, up and down, entranced by the way it slowly parted and made a slight sucking motion for more. She located the hard clitoris and tweaked it, rubbing it around and sliding her other fingers in the moistly throbbing mouth of her cunt, her mind a revolving whirlwind of dreams and passions, as if she was fingering herself too, the way her mother had said she had done while watching her and Bill fuck last night....
Anne rolled her head from side to side, and in a futile gesture of anguish, mewled: "Oh God, Vicky, you've got to stop! This is wrong!"
"Is it, Mother? Why? Isn't this what we've been talking about? I mean when you get down to the fundamentals? We love each other, don't we?"
"Yes, but-"
"If we love each other, and we want each other, then that's when we should enjoy sex--It must be that way.... You said so...."
"No, but we're...." She shuddered, choking, for Vicky had slid her finger up inside her cunt and was teasingly massaging it around.
"Love me, Mother," Vicky breathed urgently. "Take me in your arms and love me, for I'd rather be loved by you than the men who have loved me before...."
A tortured gasp erupted from the mother's throat, and unable to control herself any longer, she dipped her head forward and her hot breath blew searing flame into the open, pink well of her daughter's vagina, and her tongue snaked out and made tingling contact with the girl's wet cunt, and she heard her daughter gasp and shiver and cry for more ... more! Anne kept telling herself that this was the most horrid of all perversions, and shame made her tighten her vagina against the invading fingers of Vicky's wildly churning hand, but that only caused further lascivious delights to ravage her loins. Unable to control her inner desires-for Anne wanted to love her daughter, and sex was a part of loving as she had told her daughter-she lashed out with her moist tongue and licked and kissed Vicky everywhere-and Vicky in turn parted her thighs and drew her one leg higher and outward so that her mother could have more access to the seething flesh between her thighs.
Her fingers still madly worming around, the young daughter let all thoughts of right and wrong, immorality or depravity sweep away as she clutched the excitedly throbbing buttocks of her mother with almost spastic strength with her other hand and tangled her lips and mouth in the golden curls of her pubic hair. She licked hot molten paths all the way along the cuntal lips, right down to her mother's tiny puckered anus, then back up again, to where she nipped the quivering clitoris with her sharp, white teeth, smelled the beautiful bouquet of female aroma coming from her mother's heated loins, her own pussy aching with twin devils of mouthing and the excitement of her oft-repressed, secretly desired longings.
"Ohhhh," Anne moaned in a muffled voice. "Ohhhhh." Ripples of loathing at what they were doing coursed through her, but all was overridden by the deep inundation of sensuality and passion. I can't do it to Vicky ... not my own daughter.... But there was no alternative, no way to avoid the smashing realization that she had always wanted to explore the wonderment of Vicky's body, to become one with her as she had become one with her husband.... Her head oscillated slavishly as she abandoned herself to lesbianism, to incestual lesbianism. Her body heaved and pumped against her daughter's mouth, her thighs widening and she drew Vicky's wet, richly pink cunt closer into her face. Her mind swirled in the ambivalence of wanting and yet not wanting this lewd, incestuous carnality to stop.
What's possessed me ... possessed us both ? her confused, sex-starved mind queried. I'm on fire ... ohh, this is wrong ... ooh but good.... But the forces exerted on her flesh and her mind were too overwhelming to allow her to answer her own questions, for after all of the pain and suffering she had gone through-starting with the insidious buildup of years of frustrated neglect, and culminating in shame and despair over her daughter-her brain was more than willing to simply give up and allow passion and delight and total abandonment to her private desires dominate her actions.
Anne's head moved her mouth along her daughter's smooth, passion-moist slit, orally fucking Vicky harder and faster, sliding her hot, wet tongue far along the child's throbbing, hair-fringed cunt and reveling in the unintelligible whimperings Vicky made as she in turn swirled and flicked her lips and tongue around her mother's velvet-like interior of pulsatingly moist pussy-flesh. She brought her hands around Vicky's hips, pushing her thighs up until the youngster's saliva-drenched vagina was pressed tight and draped around her wet, slavering cheeks, and Anne spread her legs wide so that her daughter could cup her soft, white buttocks and thrust her pink young mouth deep, deep into the searing liquid depths of her open loins....
Neither of the two women undulating on the bed heard the soft, surreptitious entrance of the three young people. The three who stood transfixed in utter, obscene awe at the lascivious sight before them.
Gary Simmons sucked in his breath. "Jeezus! You said that they'd both be home when you saw the Ford, Bill, but I never-"
The voluptuous young girl with them, Laura Conklin, grinned excitedly. "Man, what a kick! I wish my old lady liked sex that much. Gary, if we ever have a child, can we raise it to-"
"Shut up, both of you," hissed the fevered Bill Hanley. He was astounded by seeing his girl friend caught in the sexual fury of lesbianism. He stared incredulously, for not even in his most debauched imaginations had he ever dreamed up such a combination, and here it was, spread like a picnic before him! The sight of mother and daughter simultaneously absorbed in their writhing, undulatingly sucking of each other's cunts, at the matted pubic hair and pink vaginal flesh and the way they both greedily clung with lips and mouths, licking and sliding their tongues from their respective clitorises to the tenderly pink buds of their anuses, made his drug-stoned mind shatter.
The three watched the slaving women buck and spasm their way to orgasm, heard the mewls and muffled moans of enrapturement, and then the sight of the lesbianic, incestual orgy brought their boiling passions to a crest. They had hoped to be able to somehow trick or coerce either the mother or daughter or preferably both into games of sex, Laura greedily a participant after she had come home from her afternoon trick with a customer, but if they were going to have their share, it was obvious to them that there would be a lot of catching up to do! Quickly, as if on a prearranged signal, the three young persons stripped off their clothing and stood naked for a moment, still captivated by the sight.
Simmons, standing scrawny and almost overshadowed by his immense, swollen cock, began to stroke it lightly, pulling the shaft skin back and forth and letting the fiery cum build in his testicles, while he wide-eyedly watched the two nakedly churning women on the bed.
"Ohhhh, I want the mother," he moaned, rocking on his heels. "Ohhhh, I want those hot wild lips of hers on my cock!"
Bill Hanley flashed him a look, his eyes twin beacons of lust. He chuckled lewdly. "Take the mother, then. Me, I'm going to take Vicky again, and I'm going to take her a way she's never let me fuck her before! But she's got no choice this time! I'm going to fuck her in the ass!"
The two boys walked stiff-legged over to the bed and climbed on.
CHAPTER 8
Anne writhed and moaned on the bed from the delectable firebrand lickings of her moist, hot furrow, the gentle probing of her daughter's tongue and fingers in her vagina and anus. The feverish passion she had allowed to completely engulf her was returned double-fold, driving her tongue into the hot, clasping channel of Vicky's cunt, and closer and closer her own orgasm was spinning.
Vicky strained her loins into her mother's mouth with all her strength. The marijuana was now working its full effects on her again and coupled with the abandoned welcome to her unmentionable desire of making love with her mother, she was beyond the point of intelligible comprehension. She mewled incoherently and wound her warm and smooth thighs around the tongue which was being thrust so rapaciously into her. The smooth, velvet lining of her vagina clasped her mother's mouth, squeezing her tongue tightly until she thought she would go insane. She was insane-with a madness of total surrender to the lure of the flesh. Her drugged mind reveled in wickedness and she screwed her buttocks up tight against her mother's face and her soft, hair-covered skin and tiny naked anus was sending uninterrupted delights surging through her body. There was no today, no tomorrow, only the deep, dark hole of lust and flesh, of mouth to cunt, cunt to mouth. Sweat poured from her tender body as she strove wildly for what had been so elusive all day-her climax. She didn't realize that the boys and the girl were with her until long after her mother had, and when she did, she no longer gave a damn.
Anne felt the bed sag and then warm, hairy flesh near her upper body, settling close to where her daughter's wide-splayed legs were. She looked up and dimly at first saw something long and thick and jutting out. In one, gasping moment she realized that it was being extended toward her face, and that it was a penis! She suddenly wanted to scream, to fling herself from the bed and run, but she was incapable of movement between the force of Vicky's tongue and hands holding her genitals tightly and the still not rational clearness in her mind.
She knew that the strange, crazed man on her bed wanted her sexually; he was naked, his cock was huge and hard, and the gleam in his maniacal eyes was unmistakable. But she didn't know who he was, or how he had gotten there. She moaned in mortification that anybody, stranger or not, should have seen her and Vicky like this, shamelessly cavorting against all the holy laws of nature and man. She started to sob, wishing the ground would open up and swallow them all.
"Suck me, lady!" she heard the young man shout. "Suck me! Suck me!" He lay down so that he could slide his cock to her better.
"Nooo!" she wailed to unhearing, uncaring ears, and she tried to turn away as the hardened penis was pressed forward, the slick, rubbery head pressing against her chin, being moved insinuatingly across the pumping crevice of her daughter's buttocks and directly toward her tormented mouth. She wanted to gag, but the rest of her body was still wildly heaving from the prurience of her daughter's still churning lips and tongue, down between her thighs, and she could only lie there, feel the sticky seminal fluid against the softness of her lips, and feel the hard, unyielding surface of the cockhead rub still closer.
And then she heard the familiar, hateful voice. "Haaa! Don't act so Goddamned goody-goody, Mrs. Terrence. Suck his cock!"
She turned a little more, and saw Hanley beside the other boy now, and the leering grin on his open, bubbling mouth and demoniacal contortion of his features, and she quaked with terror and humiliation.
"Bill Hanley!"
"Yaaaa, it's me, Mrs. Terrence. I returned with some friends, Gary and Laura. We've come to join in, and I see the party's already under way! Haaa! How do you like the idea of sucking Gary's cock while I fuck your sweet daughter in the ass! Haaa! I like the idea just fine!"
"Dear God! No! No!"
From the other end came the groveling, pleading cry of the helplessly drugged Vicky. "Somebody do something to me! I'm ... I'm going out of my mind! Mother! Suck me! Mother, who's there?"
"It's Bill, baby. I want to fuck your ass!" the boy said.
"Ohhhh, yes, yes! Fuck my ass!"
"Please, no!" Anne protested. "Leave us alone, all of you!"
"Fat chance of that, lady. Your daughter-likes cock-seems to like everything, by the looks of things here," Simmons cackled lewdly.
"And so do you, Mrs. Terrence," Bill Hanley said snidely. "You liked me sucking your cunt and fucking you today, well-this is just a little more of the same. Relax and suck his cock. What the hell, you might even get to enjoy it like Vicky here. Right, Vicky?"
"Oh, God, shut up and fuck me!" the crazed teenage girl screamed. "I tell you, my insides are ready to explode. Mother...!"
"Oooohhhh!" Anne cried out as rough hands turned her around so that Vicky could be carefully rolled onto her all-fours. Oh God, why did her punishment have to include all of this? Wasn't her commitment to the lustings of the flesh by her enjoyment of her own daughter's body and the involvement of mutual lesbianism enough punishment for her sins? Even though her passions had been unnaturally aroused and were surging through her blood, the mother was shocked by the impact of Bill Hanley's threats. God! He was going to sodomize her daughter right in front of her ... her own mother! The obscene thought of the ravishment she could not begin to stop caused her to weep and grind her own heated buttocks, and one look at Vicky's passion-fevered face told her the girl was too far gone to resist.
Then Vicky Terrence felt an alien finger probing the puckered inlet which her mother had so beautifully kissed a moment ago. Her ex-boyfriend's finger prodded, making her wince and jerk forward a bit as he burrowed into her anus, then suddenly his finger entered and it didn't hurt her the way she'd anticipated it would, but instead sent new, surprising pleasure expelling through her loins. Bill moved his finger around in the tight but expanding hole, worming it lewdly in and out, ever widening her tiny rectum. Vicky found herself wiggling her hips back against it, her mouth dipping once more into her mother's cunt in front of her, responding to this strange new subjugation with uncontrolled passion.
Anne had, when pushed aside, come up to a semi-squatting position, her legs wide and her thighs spread so that she was sprawled with her pussy just under her daughter's mouth, and she propped herself up on her elbows, her head swimming, her loins stretched for all to see and lust after. She was too dazed, too horrified, too controlled by the forces of her unspent sex to fight off the unfolding events. All she could do was moan involuntarily as Hanley parted her daughter's trembling white buttocks and levered his finger into her tight virgin ass-hole, and then Vicky was lowering her face to her open, wet, palpitating cunt, and her daughter began to tongue the pink, moist slit again, sending out acute tinglings shooting through her, and her earlier cries were one long, abandoned moan as Vicky lashed with her tongue and hotly teased her excitedly jumping clitoris. Anne could only writhe on the bed, churning with the delicious and lewd sucking of her vagina, for despite the abhorrence her mind and spirit had for this partnership in group orgy, she couldn't stop herself from loving the warm kissing of her daughter, and she slipped downward slightly to a better position, giving Vicky greater access to her open genitals.
"Mmmmmm!" Vicky moaned, slavering delightedly in the wetly churning cunt of her mother. She felt Bill remove his finger, the rubbery skin of her anus clinging to it, and then she quivered with anticipation, drawing her knees wider apart so that she could present him with the wider stretched orbs of her buttocks, and then the girl felt Bill move closer on the bed and blow hotly in between her thighs, teasing her with lewd anticipatory nuzzlings against her tight, hairless sphincter muscle, driving her wild.... My God, she had to be fucked! Why was Bill torturing her this way ? Her cunt was aflame, her ass-hole an inferno!
"You want my cock?" Bill taunted. Say shit and beg for my cock in your ass!"
"Yes! Yes! Shit! Fuck me in the ass! Ohhhh!" Vicky cried out, burying her mouth in her mother's voraciously quivering cunt as she thrust her buttocks as high up in the air behind her as she could get them.
He pressed the smooth, rubbery tip of his cock into the tiny hairless channel, doubting that the drugged girl was fully aware that he was penetrating her anus at first. And then Vicky felt his foreskin being stretched back against his long, thick shaft of flesh as it slowly wormed its way into her rectum, past the tiny barrier of tightly clutching muscle.
"Aggg!" the girl screamed. "It hurts! It's your cock in my ass that hurts! You're too big! God Almighty, Bill, you're too big!"
"Push back and shut up, you little bitch!" the boy commanded harshly.
God, I'm helpless! I can't move! Vicky could barely think, but she knew that every way was pain and more pain, so she pushed back in hopes of alleviating some of the bursting pressure in her rectum. It was like accepting a huge telephone pole inside her, widening her buttocks until she thought she was split down the middle, right down her spinal column! The boy's lust-hardened penis surged right up into her warm, rubbery depths, and finally all the way until she was sure it was lodged all the way up in her throat.
"Ohhh, ohhhhh, ohhhh," she gasped.
Bill Hanley's own masochistic joy was almost unbearable as he watched his long, thick cock skewering up between the soft white moons of her buttocks, the ragged pink edges wet with its own secretions. The others-Laura and Gary-were momentarily entranced by the lascivious sight of Vicky on her hands and knees, her small anus wrapped tightly around Bill's cock with several inches of it engorged in her rectum, her head and beautiful long, blonde hair a mass of wild entanglement as she wildly sucked her own mother's cunt spread wide on the bed before her.
Anne was totally absorbed in fascinated agony by the sight of this boy sodomizing her only daughter on and on, and as she stared in subservient anguish at the lickings of her defenseless genitals, she was staggered by the forbidden pleasures she felt.
Vicky was moaning her muffled cries of pain in a tone which left little doubt that she was beginning to enjoy it! Her hips were moving backwards of their own volition, meeting the thrusting penis of Bill Hanley as if she was going stark raving mad with response. Anne continued to watch the humiliated Vicky undulate her buttocks and it was too much for her not to find horribly delightful-and weird thoughts grew in her mind, swamping her flesh and driving away the last vestiges of restraint. Fear, self-guilt, hatreds-they all were replaced by desire, desire that made her belly churn and stimulating waves of excitement pour over her, and her passions overflowed all bounds as she twisted in the evil grip of her sexual agony, writhing and arching so as to not break with the open mouth glued to her ravaged cunt, while Vicky's flicking tongue played light summer lightning over her clitoris and vagina.
"Agggggl" Vicky groaned with each inch that was forced into her hot rubbery passage from behind. "Ahhhhh!" she screamed as she thought how beautiful, how wonderful the pain was. I'm being punished! Yes! I'm being punished the only way I can be! She ground her buttocks back and the huge penis burrowed its relentless way right up into her unstretched rectum. There! All the way! She could feel Bill's pubic hair against her white, fleshy buttocks, and she knew that she'd taken all of his cock in her anus. Oh God! It's so wonderfully terrible! The blunt intrusion of his swollen cock vibrated through every sinew of her, and the soft spongy flesh of her widely stretched anal passage was excruciating in pleasure-pain that filled her ceaselessly. She took one hand away from her mother's wide-splayed thighs, hungry for more, and dipped them into the throbbing golden mass of her own pubic hair and the opened wet slit of her cunt, feeling Bill's sperm-filled balls batter the back of her hand; she groaned with her breath caught in her throat at the added sensation, feeling his massive cock through the thin wall separating her vagina and rectum. She slipped her hand in and out of her pussy as she raised and lowered her hips, the fire in her loins increasing and her cunt demanding more than just one finger. She inserted two, and then three, cramming them in her wet, seething vagina in rhythm with the huge prick that was fucking her tortured anus.
Anne's young teenage daughter was delirious with delight. She was fucking herself while his wonderful cock drove like an express train up her ass, and she was completely and hopelessly impaled, her tits throbbing like Bill's hammering testicles. She moved her head from between her mother's open thighs for an instant, looking down between her lewdly bobbing breasts and beyond her belly to where her fingers were absorbed deep in her hungrily aching cunt, and she could sense Bill's, Gary's, and Laura's eyes on her as well, soaking up the lewd excitement of which she felt she was inherently responsible for causing-and that in turn only made her wallow more in abhorrent delight.
And then the pretty young girl swept downward again, flicking her tongue several times against her mother's clitoris, then downward still more to the offered opening of the hair-covered vagina, plunging far enough in to feel the rippled walls of hot flesh which had once been stretched with herself when she was born, and she taunted the satin-smooth vale between her mother's thighs with salacious delight. Oh ... this is wonderful ... the taste of my mother's cunt ... I love it! I love her...!"
Anne chanted with her mind out of control now. "Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" but while her sane mind rebelled at being sucked by her daughter while watching Vicky being fucked in the ass by Bill Hanley, she couldn't even consider stopping the loving caresses and warm kisses. Her cunt flowered open wider and wider and her lubrications increased with each further second that her daughter's sucking lips moved on her vaginal orifice, and warm trickles of saliva and juices ran unhindered down her white, quivering thighs as she ground her hips upwards off the coverlet into Vicky's slavering mouth. She had never known of anything so soft and wonderful in her life! Her body, lithe and firm and warmly pink with blood-pumping desire, shook from the assault on her senses and genitals; she had lain dormant too long, and the shock of sexual abandonment and the acceptance of her daughter as her lover forever ruptured her past. Gone were the frustrated days that now seemed so unreal and far away, the reality of the present encompassing her mind and taking her to another existence of pure ecstasy, which she wholeheartedly accepted.
Gary Simmons could no longer take the lust-inciting scene of Vicky sucking her mother's cunt while his friend fucked the girl demoniacally in her ass. He straddled the mother, making Anne balance herself by placing her hands behind her and sitting almost up, her thighs wide and her legs bent for more of her daughter's suckings. He placed his hand behind Anne's head and pushed her toward his hard penis, rubbing it around her lips, making her mouth wet with his excited male emissions. She mumbled in revulsion and tried to shake away, but he held her so tightly she couldn't move, and then with his other hand he forced open her mouth; she clenched her teeth, but Simmons wasn't to be denied, and increasing the pressure and arching his muscled buttocks, he crushed his thick cock against the soft, moist lips and into the wet cavern of her hollowing cheeks.
Anne closed her eyes, feeling numb and in a dazed trance, the strange boy's hairs at the base of his penis rubbing her chin and lips. His hands held her in a vise-like grip, and he started sliding his cock slowly in and out; she could feel its rubbery cock-head along the ridges of the roof of her mouth, and the long tube running beneath the length of his fleshy shaft slip along her tongue. She heard Simmons command harshly for her to suck:
"Suck, you damned bitch! Suck hard!"
She did, her lips slowly beginning to nibble at his thrusting penis, and though she coughed and sputtered at first, she accustomed herself to his perverted invasion, and tried not to think of what she was doing. His bloated testicles bounced against her chin, and her nostrils filled with the piquancy of his pubic secretions, and sweat and saliva grew in her mouth, becoming sticky from his small emissions of seminal fluid. She could tell that he was jerking his hips and straining his loins against her mouth, and his short, stubby fingers were curled tightly in her hair, forcing her bobbing mouth over the full length of his turgid erection. His penis stretched and expanded until there wasn't any room left, but instead of repulsion and sickness, she was fast learning to love sucking his cock. The foaming passions which had been released over the last two days, reawakened and expressed in new, wondrous fashions, were now boiling out of control, and she allowed her mind to sink still further into the cauldron of her lusts. On her own, she raised a hand, her balance kept by Simmons' clutching hands on her, and brought it around and up his legs to the soft, resilient skin of his scrotum, and she crooned mutely as she sucked, massaging his balls tenderly while flicking her tongue across the tiny split of his cock-head glans, opening her throat wider to accept still more of his pumping wet penis, rolling it around in her butter-soft interior, making Simmons cry out with pure delight. She'd never dreamed of what she'd been missing all these years! So good! Oh, Christ, she'd been a fool for so long!
Laura Conklin was on the far side of the bed, naked and sprawled as she watched the orgiastic tableaux with lust-bulging eyes. Her own hand was between her open legs, fingers buried deep in the hot, soaking passage of her cunt as she bucked and jerked, striving for release. Her body was on fire with passion, for never could she recall being this excited! She watched avidly as Anne's soft, ovaled mouth clasped greedily at her boyfriend's growing white penis, her thin, tensile rim of lips clinging to it as though held there by some unseen clamp. Gary grinned lewdly and winked at Laura as he sawed in the mother's mouth, and then he stared down at Anne's lust-contorted face sucking his cock as if it was a piece of candy. Laura could see thick, white fluid dripping from the corners of Anne's mouth and run in tiny lines down her chin, for the woman was reveling in the cruel humiliation that Gary was subjecting her to, a masochistic light shining strangely in her glazed eyes.
And Laura was equally entranced by Vicky. Bill's girl-the little blonde heaving herself with increased fury up and down on Hanley's powerful rod, her hips undulating madly, her left hand streaking in through the hair-lined lips of her young slit, both of her rear orifices flowering to the delicious rape of mind and body. She had her face deep in the fleece-covered vagina of her mother, sucking and licking frantically on the fleshy protuberances of pink cunt there, her thick wet tongue drawing voraciously every drop of her mother's joyously secreting juices in lewd delight, her tender but voluptuous body matching the rhythms of the foursome. The black-haired girl now was unable to stay idly aside for her turn-she had to join in the pillaging, had to become one in this mass orgy so that she could cum among them. She had to!
Laura Conklin removed her fingers from her insatiable cunt and crawled forward. The girl was petite but magnificently proportioned, her round, smooth face framed with short, clipped black curls and provocatively lidded brown eyes that were wide and almond-shaped. Her full nude breasts with their black nipples and only slightly lighter-colored areolas hung and danced beneath her like two lush fruits ripe on the vine, and her finely molded bottom was quivering with erotic pleasure, her skin of pale iridescence rippling with desire, and her wide, full lips were open, her breath fevered with need and sensual throbbing. The girl swung up and placed herself astraddle Vicky, her buttocks and inner thighs grazing the daughter's blonde, whipping hair, and Laura stood brazenly and pantingly with the hot, moist opening of her thin, black-haired cunt, parted invitingly by her fingers, directly facing Bill Hanley. Then she eased herself closer to him until the palpitating flesh of her swollen pussy was resting as close as possible to his mouth above her. Cupping her breasts in her hands, she leaned back, letting her boyfriend, Gary, balance her with a hand and arm he had removed from the no longer resisting Anne, and Laura cried:
"Eat me, Bill! Hurry, lover-baby, eat my cunt the way I like it and make me cum! Make me cum toooo!"
Obediently, with sensations flooding through him from the ride he was giving the pretty teenager's anus, Hanley dipped his face downward and forward slightly and began to suckle and lick the black-haired Laura's wet vagina, her secretions sweeping out to moisten his cheeks as his long hard cock continued to batter in and out of Vicky's clasping rectum.
For long, frozen moments the five naked lovers remained that way, each straining ever fiber and nerve of their beings for their orgasms, their only sounds grunts, mewls, and sighs of billowing desire, and the slapping of slippery, sweat-and lubrication-slick flesh. It seemed as if they would go on forever, striving for but never quite achieving their releases. Then-Strangled noises forced their way from Gary Simmons' tortured gullet, and he knew that he would be the one to start the chain of orgasms with the cum which was rolling upward from his testicles. A moment now ... a moment....Now! He writhed his hips furiously and watched the young mother, Anne's lovely face work, her lips sucking, his prick soaring, his body straining with the needles of his climax. White, hot sperm rushed through his penis and squirted in never-ending streams deep up into her hotly gulping mouth, and she gulped greedily, swallowing and sucking on furiously while he emptied his cum in surge after surge, his cock shoved still harder down her throat....
Anne thrust her loins up at her daughter's superbly licking mouth which was still buffeting her vaginal passage, every muscle in her body contracting wildly as she rose up involuntarily and nearly fainted from the epileptic attack of her contraction. She gulped and swallowed, savoring the taste of the bitter-sweet semen as it wormed its way like an ambrosia brandy down to her belly, and her cunt opened and clenched like an angry fist around Vicky's tongue, her buttocks flexing to rock-hardness as her orgasm hit. She gurgled and wailed an unintelligible scream as the power of her body unleashed from deep in her chest at this moment she had been craving for. There was no time, no space, no motion-only the unbelievable pleasure of her climax, and she was struck again and again by the spasmodic twitchings of every muscle in her body....
And as she came, so did Laura. Her whole body began to shake as if she was afflicted by some form of sexual palsy, and she chanted, "I'm there! I'm cumming! I'm cuuummmmiinnnnngggg!" Her feminine juices flowed onto the face and poker-like tongue of Bill Hanley, and he could feel her bursting orgasm as he sucked deeply of her pungent, delicious secretions....
Hanley threw back his head then and groaned as he thrust his cock's full expanded length into the teenage daughter's wide-stretched anus, his body beginning to jerk convulsively as he clawed at Vicky's waist with harsh, clutching fingers, pulling her buttocks even wider apart for his penis to skewer yet another fraction of an inch into her. He babbled, "I'm cumming too ... I'm cumming too ... " as he felt his boiling semen amassing within his throbbing balls as they beat a tattoo against Vicky's beautifully naked ass. And the explosion imminent, he slammed his now spewing cock all the way to its hilt in her soft, unresisting rectum....
To Vicky, this was a heaven-sent miracle, a well . to quell the maddening devils rampaging deep within the core of her drugged womanhood. She cared not who it was ... only that his cock was finding refuge in her starving belly, and she wanted it to crawl in there and stay forever. She licked and sucked shamelessly at the delectable cunt before her, and heard her mouth cry out and the others groan gutturally and yell mindlessly, but it was all in the faint background of her mind; her lover was hammering her with rapid, pile-driving thrusts and her fingers were reaching her very womb, and she licked and sucked wildly. Oh Christ ... don't stop now....I want to cum so badly ... I want to cummmmmmmmm!
And then she felt Bill Hanley's stream of hot seed spurting into her rectum, spurting far up in her belly with violent force, ricocheting against her smooth rubbery anal passage, its steaming heat finally setting off her own, long-due climax. She was there! At last!
She screamed, and screamed again and again, her release was that great. She heaved her nakedly jerking buttocks back toward the humping boy's penis as it continued to empty into her anus with unbelievable force, her thighs trembling and her stomach quaking as if someone were pressing against it with giant pressures, her brain reeling insanely with the sensual reactions traversing along her spine. She fell forward at last, Bill's limp cock sliding from her tortured rectum slickly, and she cradled herself with sighing satisfaction in her mother's naked arms, and let her lips softly close over one of the turgid nipples. She sucked the nipple as grayness closed over her, feeling the contentment of a baby after milk....
It took some time for the five nude people to stir. They huddled on the bed, exhausted and un-moving, resting and re-gathering strength after the wild orgiastic fucking they had just participated in. Semen and sweat and lubricious juices mingled and glistened on their shining bodies and on the dampened coverlet beneath them, the air seeming to crackle with the lewd emotions and desires that had been unleashed.
Laura Conklin was the first to move. She slowly crawled over the flanks and bellies and breasts of the others and leaned over the naked loins of her boyfriend. She kissed his huge, though deflated, cock tenderly, taking the shaft in her mouth and sucking it, kneading his balls at the same time. Gary grinned delightedly, ever amazed at the black-haired girl's recuperative powers and her insatiable desire to have a limp prick harden in her gullet. She began to purr kittenishly and his penis began to swell and fill her puckering cheeks. Then she released it, letting it stand straight and stiff and shining in the dim light of the bedroom.
"Fuck the mother," she whispered tantalizingly. "Go and fuck the mother in the ass, the way Bill fucked the girl."
"And you?" Gary asked, his cock jerking with the lewd words and the exciting idea she had proposed.
"Bill can fuck me while I suck the girl. I'll suck her hot little cunt until she really cums....I like that, tasting pussy and having it cum...."
Anne looked wide-eyed at her daughter for a moment, hearing Laura, and held Vicky tighter to her bosom. But then she saw the smile of happiness on Vicky's young face, a smile intended only for Anne, a smile that said more than a thousand words could convey. Then she knew, and she was no longer bothered by shame or remorse or guilt. What was the use of self-deception? She and her child had reveled in the salacious acts done to each other and with the three young additions; vanished were the inhibitions and prudish outlooks which had fettered herself and Vicky, and they were now worshippers of the flesh. The mother thought fleetingly of her husband, about what he would think and do if he ever found out about this, and what was obviously bound to continue ... but what had been could no longer be again, she saw now, and she didn't want to return to the old, incomplete ways. Jack would have to fend for himself as best he could. From now on she was going to live for and with her daughter.
It was only a matter of moments before the five arranged themselves in the positions so salaciously suggested by Laura. And through the night the games went on, the lovely mother and daughter indulging in every depraved perversion imaginable. Anne and Vicky both knew that it was all right now, that whatever they were doing or had done or would do in the future was all right by the other....
CHAPTER 9
Anne Terrence was soaking in a tub of hot, soapy water, drowsily letting the morning pass in blissful uncaring....She slid languorously under the water, stretching her long, naked limbs and recollecting hazily of semi-wakefulness of the passing of the month since the evening of the orgiastic party. Bill Hanley and his friends, Simmons and Laura Conklin, were gone from her life-not without some pangs of sadness, for they had brought her much enjoyment-but as the love Vicky had had for Bill was over and finished, there wasn't really enough in their purely physical attachment to make them more than temporary acquaintances, and they had gone their own way after a bit. Vicky was planning on transferring to another college come fall, a closer one so that she could live at home. Jack ... well, her husband was still the same inattentive man as ever, about the only thing which hadn't changed since her daughter had arrived....
Her reverie was interrupted by a playful knock on the bathroom door, and then it opened and Vicky came in. She was smiling mischievously, her honey-blonde hair uncombed and her face flushed slightly from sleep, and she was dressed in a chenille robe. Anne smiled lovingly at her daughter as the girl crossed on bare feet and sat on the edge of the tub.
"Good morning, darling," the mother said. "Did you sleep well?"
"Uh-huh. Daddy left already?"
"Yes," Anne replied. "He's gone to Chicago for a week this time and had to catch the 8:30 flight."
"How's your bath?" Vicky asked, dipping her hand in the water and swirling the warm, murky liquid.
"Nice," Anne answered dreamily. "Very nice."
"Move over," Vicky said, standing casually and unbuttoning her robe. "I'll get in and scrub your back...."
Anne looked at her teenaged daughter, at the girl's young, taut breasts with their hard, distended nipples quivering as she stood unabashedly naked, the chenille robe a pool around her ankles. A fever overtook the lovely woman as she gazed up from the bath, and she had to admit she loved having Vicky like this, her white thighs and trembling vagina bursting with sensuality; since that fateful afternoon when she and Vicky had had to be totally honest, and the night which had followed which had proved their love for each other, neither had been saddled with false guilts or hatreds resultant from social conformity. There was no more need to pretend, to be chained under the guise of righteous morality, and their love for one another was in the open now. Naked, both she and her daughter were-soul-naked to each other as they were physically naked, and they knew what they were, what they had always been, and would continue to be with a little prudent care to avoid discovery.
The lovely girl climbed into the tub as Anne moved her legs, and as Vicky began to slowly, tantalizingly soap her mother's hardening breasts, Anne found her belly churning with desire and a tremendous spasm of love and devotion sweep over her flesh. Strange ... now she looked forward to Jack's trips, when he was gone from the house, rather than the frustrating way it had been before.
"And later," Vicky promised in hushed, excited breaths, "we'll go into my room for a change. I bought another electric vibrator yesterday when I was downtown. I can't wait to see what it does to you ... Mother!"
