My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends It gives a lovely light!
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
One of the most important anomalies of sexual life is an abnormal presence of sexual sensations and presentations from which necessarily arise frequent and violent impulses for sexual gratification.
They may become so predominant that they completely sway the field of imagination and desire, and imperatively demand the relief of the affect in the corresponding sexual act. In acute and severe cases, ethics and will-power lose their controlling influence entirely, while in chronic and milder cases restraint is still possible to a certain degree.
-Richard von Krafft-Ebing Psychophia Sexualis
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
1-The Family Sex Ring
2-The Sex Candidate
3-When Papa Doesn't Care
4-Sex Secret
5-Sex for Fun and Profit
6-The Feather Mattress
7-The Naked Nymphet
8-Blackmailed Sex
9-Sex Party
10-Sex That Backfired
11-Camera-Eye View of A Sex Spree
12-More Play Mates for the Sex-Circle
13-The Sex Studio
14-Blow The Man Down
15-The Growing Game of Depravity
16-The Sex Crush
17-Passionate Revenge
18-Attacked In Skidrow Epilogue
PROLOGUE
The nude man in the photograph was barely visible. You could only see pictorial smatterings of his body he was so covered with the twisting forms of nude or semi-clothed women.
A woman's naked figure, her legs spread wide to encompass his bare shoulders, was sitting on his upturned face hiding that portion of his body with her body.
Another nude woman sat spraddle-legged on his belly facing his feet. Her hands were cupped at her tits and a look of rapture spread over her face.
Yet another held the calf of one leg in her one hand and the heel of that foot in other. She was kneeling at the foot of the bed and she had inserted at least his big toe, and perhaps more, in the curly-haired nest she had protruded forward to accept him.
A fourth woman, whose dress was raised well above the soft line where her thighs blended to the round swelling of the hips, stood beside the bed looking down at him. Her legs were splayed outward and you could see the blur of his hand in the wide V she presented him.
A young girl-a very young girl-stood slightly in the foreground weirdly garbed in short white boots and one of those net affairs the kids wear over their bikinis when they go to the beach. The netted piece was belted with a broad black belt. She was not taking part in the orgy, merely observing the variety of acts with which the man was giving wide-spread pleasure to his coterie of female partners.
The non-participant couldn't have been more than fourteen, judging from the smooth texture of her skin, the slightly angular shape of her near-woman's body and her height-she was by far the shortest of the females in the photograph.
Jim, an old college friend of mine who had settled in our little southern California beach city to practice marriage counseling, had brought me this photograph-along with several others of the same sort.
"What do you think?" Jim asked as I returned the picture to him and he tucked it into the neat portfolio he had placed at his feet when he first sat down in my newspaper office.
"I think the guy's having the time of his life," I answered. "What do you want me to do? Buy a set of these for suitable framing to give as gifts to my nearest and dearest friends?"
"No Rog," he answered. "These aren't part of any joke. I'm counseling that man and the story he has told me is the wildest I've ever heard in fifteen years of counseling."
"Look," I answered. "I run a little weekly newspaper. You sure as hell don't expect me to publish these pictures and do a story on his hang-up for group-sex for my readers. I don't think it would go over too well, do you?"
"Rog, be serious with me," Jim answered. "This case is a classic of its type. I don't want you to publicize it-I want your help as a writer to shape it up for publication in our association journal. The implications in it are so profound, so all-encompassing that we could help other counselors aid a variety of family problems through its dissemination. Besides, your judgement about the whole thing is just about one-hundred-eighty degrees off course. Everything you've jumped to conclusions about from looking at the photographs, every idea you've had is far off base. Other people, untrained people, seeing these photos and just looking at the surface would feel the same way, I'm sure. But you're dead wrong."
"The guy is getting laid, doing some muff-diving, fingering the hell out of another broad and letting another get her gun by fucking herself on his foot-I'd just guess offhand that he likes a lot of company," I responded.
"Wrong," said Jim.
"This little cutie in the foreground, the young one, looks like she's waiting for some part of him to open up so she can hop aboard herself," I continued.
"Wrong," said Jim.
"What's the big scientific explanation then?" I asked.
"In the first place," Jim said in answer to the question, "he's probably one of the more moral men I've ever run a test on. He's married and the reason he came to me with these pictures is that he wants to save his marriage."
"That's an interesting theory," said.
"Believe it or not, Rog, he isn't enjoying one thing that's going on in that picture. Sure, he's doing them, but he doesn't like it. He's a damned prisoner, a male whore if you will," said Jim.
"So he's a whore," I said. "Who's his pimp?"
"That girl in the foreground," Jim answered.
"Who is she?" I asked.
"His daughter," Jim answered with a sigh.
CHAPTER ONE
THE FAMILY SEX RING
Jim, the marriage counselor, the family involved, and I worked on the strange, tangled web of their problem for months. Afterwards, I told Jim I would help him with writing his study. In pieces and parts Jim and I put together the story interviewing the family, friends, and an odd-ball assortment of characters who fitted into the mixed-up world the family had created for itself.
The names have naturally been changed to provide privacy for the family, but the incidents, at least as the participants recall them, are factual. The facts many times verged on the edge of fantasy-but if what was reported by the man and wife, both in their late 30's, their 17-year-old son-and their 12-year-old daughter-were fanciful at times, it indicated to us, as researchers, that the fantasies may have been what the participants actually wanted to have happen.
Taped on an initial interview, the following is the explanation offered by the daughter for her start into this macabre world.
* * *
"Some kids get sent to the store to bring home bread. Other kids fetch home stamps from the postoffice. Others get asked by their mothers to bring home a pack of cigarettes.
"Since I was twelve years old, my mother has asked me to bring home men."
That was the first comment that 13-year-old Mary Andover had to make when she was asked to tell how she became involved in what turned out to be a deeply-involved sex ring taken part in by every member of her family, including herself.
Mary was a cute little trick with a confidence about her that belied her extreme youth. About five feet tall she had that little girl figure that is stretched angularly toward full womanhood. Curly black hair topped her piquant face, shiny, cold-black eyes sparkled and her lips were the color of blooming roses. Everything about her appearance marked her as a blossoming child who would become a beautiful woman; everything, that is, until you noted a certain grimness about her manner, a worldliness that made you know immediately that she had won her confident manner through experiencing the adult world well before her time.
"Yes," she continued, "my mother sent me out into the streets to find men to bring home to her so she could fuck them. She was a damned nympho and she had to have men the way some people have to have dope or alcohol.
"To her the day was lost when she didn't get some cock."
"Did she just simply ask you to start finding men for her?" asked Jim at this point in the interview.
"No, she just sort of kept talking-over a long time, I don't really remember how long-until one day it just came out," answered Mary.
"What do you remember of it?" asked Jim placing the tape recorder's microphone more closely to Mary so we wouldn't miss a word.
"Oh," said Mary, "I don't know. I do remember coming home from school one time-I think it was the fourth or fifth grade-with a little lesson we had worked up on why we shouldn't let men, strange men, pick us up in their cars on the way to or from school.
"Mother looked at it and told me that if a man ever tried to get me into his car I should only do it if he promised to bring me straight home to my mother. She also said something about I should tell the man my mother would treat him nicer than her little girl could, and that would make the man be sure to bring me home.
"Looking back on it now, I see mother actually would have had me bringing men to her so she could satisfy her nymphomania at a lot earlier age than she actually started me."
"When did she actually come right out and ask you to start doing this sort of thing," Jim asked.
"That I can recall vividly," said Mary. "She had been priming me for a long time. It just seemed natural when she finally made the request."
(It was at this point that Jim Friar, the marriage counselor, told Mary just to recollect the situation as if it were happening today rather than in the past. This is how Mary told it.)
I came home from school one afternoon and was in the kitchen getting some cold milk from the frig to go along with a little plate of my favorite cookies which mother had set out for me. Mother came into the kitchen and she was gushy, she was making over me so much. She really looked wild-eyed, but she was being so nice I overlooked that. She was wearing her pink housecoat, the quilted cotton one that really made her look like a million dollars. It fitted her to a tee, and really showed off her figure. She had belted it tight around her waist, so you could see how narrow her waist was, how big she was up above and at the hips.
It was a shorty-coat and came just down to the middle of her thighs. I noticed that she had not buttoned the top buttons and I could see that nice line that went down the middle of her chest and showed how big and plump her tits were.
"Honey," she said to me putting an arm around my shoulder and giving me a hug, "let's have a little talk-real girl talk."
"Sure, mom," I said.
Her eyes grew even shinier and she took me by the arm and led me into the living room. She wasn't holding my arm so much as she was rubbing it, trying to make me feel good. I figured she wanted to tell me about the changes that were taking place in my body about that time. I had just turned 12 and I knew that there were a lot of things I would be doing, having periods, getting rounder like Mother-but the conversation took a far-different swing; in fact, it really swung.
She sat down beside me on the sofa and sort of relaxed. She raised her arm and brushed her hand roughly through her own black hair making it kind of tumble about and turn real freely. Then she took a deep breath and clasped her hands behind her head and sort of stretched out. Her housecoat hiked way up her legs when she stretched like that. Looking at her and watching her cat-like movements, I was convinced I had the most beautiful mother in town-in the world.
"Honey," she said, "you know all about this big difference between men and women, boys and girls, don't you?"
"Sure, Mom." I replied. "The girls talk about it a lot ... and I've seen some pictures. Mom, please don't be mad at me about the pictures, I just saw them in some medical books." Her eyes brightened at the confession I had blurted out.
"Are you sure those are the only kinds of pictures you've seen?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked, not quite sure what she had meant.
"I guess you haven't seen any of the kind I was thinking about," she said amusedly, apparently enjoying my bewilderment.
"What other kinds are there, Mom?" I asked her.
"Never mind, dear," she answered. "You'll know about them someday. Men sometimes carry them for a joke ... or something."
The strange twist in the conversation perplexed me, but I was enjoying having this time with Mom, and our girl-talk, that I just decided to overlook the things that I couldn't understand. Maybe I'd ask one of my girlfriends to see if she had figured out what our mothers were trying to tell us. Parents often assume their children know so much more than they really do, but that's another matter.
"Honey," Mom said bringing me back from my thoughts, "Don't you have any idea of how men and women can make use of these differences?"
She finished asking the question by removing her hands from behind her head and placing her fingers on her silky thighs. Her breasts had risen in a sharp swell, as she sucked in her breath, when she asked me the question. I noticed, too, that now her fingertips were straining at the fleshy, white thighs like she was trying to grip, or hold onto, something in herself.
"Yes," I answered lowering my head and blushing a little. "I know how you and Dad made me and Jeff-if that's what you mean."
"That's what I meant," Mom said twisting herself into a more comfortable position on the sofa. She was now absent-mindedly stroking her thigh with the palm of her hand and the front of her housecoat had bloused open so that her ample breasts peeked out through the opening. The nipples were a rich brown, clearly standing out against the broadening pink background. They were also jutting forward, like mine had on occasion when I played with myself a little.
"Sweets, I just want you to know that when a woman starts doing that sort of thing With men she begins to want to do it more and more," Mom said now really caressing her thighs which were becoming more and more exposed as she scunched around on the sofa. Her fingers were drawing red lines on the pale flesh she was rubbing so hard.
Suddenly she stood up, quickly rearranging her housecoat so that she was covered once again. I saw little beads of perspiration standing out on her forehead and her upper lip. The brightness in her eyes was now quite pronounced, in fact, she looked almost wild-eyed.
"Mary," she said, her voice husky with the deep breaths she was now taking, "let's talk later on. I'm going into my bedroom to lie down for a while. Okay?"
"Sure Mom," I answered. "I've got some homework to do."
"Me too," Mom giggled. Once again I couldn't make sense of what she was saying so I just laughed with her and watched her go down the hallway to her bedroom. She bumped against the wall once or twice and her hands seemed to be clasped in front of her.
I was eating my cookies, drinking the milk and just glancing through one of my textbooks when I could hear her moaning. It was quite loud because it came through her closed door and all the way down the hall to the living room where I was sitting.
Remembering how flushed she had appeared and the stumbling walk down the hallway, I became certain that she was physically ill and ran quickly down the hall to her room to help. The moaning was rapid I felt she must be in constant pain.
Nothing, I found when I dashed into her room, could have been further from the truth. She hadn't a pain in her body-only rapt pleasure.
Opening the door I received the shock of my life. Mother was twisted nude on the bed. Her back was arched in a great sweeping U and one arm was outstretched, the hand clutching at the bedpost. Her legs formed a great wide-spread V. Her other hand was busy plunging in and out of that treasured playground. Her whole naked body glistened with sweat and she gyrated her beautiful round ass in time to meet the plunging fingers.
She looked right at me. I know she saw me staring at her. But she didn't even break her stroke so intent was she upon reaching the pinnacle of her desire. I don't think she could have stopped if she had wanted to. She was so close to that moment of climax that she had to go on with her masturbation.
Mom came. I knew it, because once in a while I had rubbed myself on the outside of my own nest until I had that wonderful feeling.
But my child-like orgasms were nothing compared to the one I witnessed Mom having. She erupted. She yanked her hand away from the bedstead and seemed to pull her cunt open so that she could bury her other hand in that volcano she had produced for herself. She doubled until her knees touched her sweat-covered forehead and then arched backward until she was resting only on her heels and shoulders. She doubled and stretched in great movements that made her white legs and arms seem to blur, so great and fast was the movement. Her face was contorted and the neck muscles and veins stood out against her skin like a bas relief.
The massive reaction seemed to last for minutes as she strove to achieve complete relief. But gradually it died down and her hands were clutched together at her crotch, her shoulders hunched forward to accommodate her desired position. I couldn't help staring.
She remained in a fetal position for a few more moments, her shoulders moving slowly, deliberately, as she milked the last bits of passion from her body. She seemed reluctant to end her pleasure-as though she were trying to bring herself to another peak.
As I continued watching her she rolled completely onto her back and I could plainly see that she was once more massaging the lips of her pussy, squeezing them into puckered shapes with one hand and stroking the contorted shapes with the fingertips of her other hand. She really wasn't finished. She was trying to raise herself to another orgasm.
"Mom," I finally said. "Are you alright?"
"Getting better'n better," she whispered through her dry lips. "Oh, I'm getting better'n better."
Fascinated, I could only stand there. She hadn't told me to go away and I felt almost hypnotized watching her manipulate her cunt. As in the living room earlier, her eyes were blazing brightly as she applied more and more pressure to the now distended ball of hair and female organs. Her mouth tightened into a harsh smile and she could say nothing. But sounds emitted from deep down in her throat-cat-like mewlings that made her sound like an animal.
"Bettern' better ... better...." She moaned once and then fell back to letting the escaping air from heaving lungs make the only sounds she could produce. Her one hand was now operating more rapidly in the dark slit which shown darkly between her wide-spread, white thighs. She had removed her other hand and had run it up her heaving belly to one of her big, round tits.
She pinched at her nipple once in a while and each time she did her other hand thrust deeper-and more rapidly-into that sweet garden she was hoeing with her fingers.
The hand massaging her breast inched, reluctantly, away from the the now swollen source of arousal and snaked toward the bedpost again. When her fingers touched the post she jerked her arm forward and clutched the bedpost with claw-like strength. She twisted her neck so that she could look up at her hand and the pole to which it was attached.
Smiling, she began to rub the hand up and down the bedpost while maintaining an identical rhythm between her legs with the other hand. She seemed to radiate rapture as she matched the two movements. Once again she stopped rubbing the post and pulled herself up to it so that her lips touched it. She began kissing the post and stroking it with just the tips of her fingers.
Later, as my own experience grew, I would know that she was imagining that the bedpost was a man's cock. But for this first time I could only stand there mystified still by the going's on in the adult world.
"Honey," Mom moaned, "on the dining room table ... the candles ... bring Mother one of the candles."
They were the first words she had uttered that made any sense and I whirled to obey her.
"Will you be alright while I'm away?" I asked worriedly.
"I'll manage," she smiled.
I fairly flew down the hall to the dining room. I knew the candles Mom had mentioned. They were quite large ones kept for decoration. I took one of the three in the candlelabra and hastened back to the bedroom.
Mom was stuffing her fingers deep in her cunt when I got back. She had clasped her free hand over her belly so that she could feel the movement of the thrusting fingers both inside and out. Her face was a picture of rapture.
"Here, Mom," I said extending the candle to her.
"Hmmmm?" she murmured. She seemed to have forgotten her request. Looking at the massive candle, however, she quickly remembered and reached out for it. Her hand, the one that had been rubbing her belly, was hot when it brushed against mine. In fact, there was immense warmth rising from the entire area of the bed where she was sprawled.
"Oh, Mary," she managed to say. "Thank you. Oh, thank you."
She took the candle in her hand and cradled it between her breasts, wrapping and folding them until they concealed most of it even though it was at least ten inches in length. She was warming it to body temperature, but I didn't know that right at the time.
Finally, Mom removed the candle from that deep valley made by the cleavage of her breasts when she compressed them like two great wadded balls of flesh. She held it pressed against her belly and sighed contentedly. For a moment more she ran hands up and down it, circling it with her fingers. It was rough textured, the designer had let the tallow run loosely down its length so that it would appear streaked with use. Mom touched each knobby protrusion dreamily, seeming to be looking forward to what the knobby little bumps would feel like.
Then she held the candle up above her with the wick pointing away from her. She looked like a supplicant holding that candle aloft like that, like she was adoring it. Then, so help me this is the truth, she stabbed herself in the cunt with it.
She did. She plunged it like a dagger into that widespread cunt of hers with both hands. She drove it in in one great thrust. She jabbed so deeply that her hands were resting on her cunt hairs with nothing in them at all when she had finished.
I gasped at the sight, at the swiftness with which she had accomplished the act. Now her hands fell apart and I could plainly see what she had done to herself. The candle, the whole damned ten inches of it had disappeared into her cunt. Looking directly up between her legs you could see the immense roundness of the thing spreading her rubbery vagina to its exact diameter. Only the wick dangled out.
She moved her hands languidly upward, molding them to the geography of that lovely mounded belly, punching idly at her navel, sweeping to her breasts and trapping each one in a hand. She pumped at her tits and glanced down to watch the nipples rising to brown points of tingling delight.
Then she followed the same course back to the open mouth of her cunt, rested for a moment, and then felt about for the wick of the candle which was locked securely in what must have been the absolute depths of that magnificent-and well-used-tunnel of hers. She plucked at the wick, brushing aside damp pussy hairs that draped over the end of the candle to provide almost a curtained veil for the shaft which was taking her to the brink of complete ecstasy.
Holding the wick firmly now, she slowly tugged at that massive penetrating candle until it began to show between her legs. She was slowly pulling it out and her eyelids grew droopy as she measured the withdrawal to make those rough grooves in the candle press at every crevice inside the channel it followed.
She had removed about half of it when she suddenly placed her hands on the wick-end and plunged it to its fullest depth into her once more. The act brought the first sound from her. Previously she had been so silent that she seemed to be worshipping the phallic quality of the candle. The withdrawals and insertions picked up pace, and soon she was emitting those guttural sounds she had made earlier just before coming into her hands.
Mom was about to put herself over again. Again she was going in just a few seconds after the moans began. This time she sank the candle to its hilt just as she came and she flopped on her back, her rump churning in delight as the climax wracked her very being. When she stopped the angular thrashing about she lay very still. It had been most satisfactory to her I could tell.
CHAPTER TWO
THE SEX CANDIDATE
Having watched her mother masturbate herself twice in a wild exhibition of narcissism, Mary related during the interview with Jim that she still couldn't bring herself to believe what she had seen. The depravity, the violence and the fact the practioner was her own mother left Mary aghast-but also worried for her mother's safety and well being, a common enough reaction since everything she had witnessed would have caused her own body great pain.
* * *
"Mom," I wailed. "Have you hurt yourself?"
"Hmmmmmmm, nooooo, Honey," she sighed. "I didn't hurt myself at all."
"Is there anything I can bring you?" I asked continuing to worry she had damaged herself with gigantic candle pounding her that way.
Mom didn't answer right away. She turned her head to me and lazily drew circles on her belly with her long beautiful fingers. She did this so long that her legs bent at the knees so that her heels were very near her ass, began to stretch a bit as she undulated her hips in time to the motion of her fingertips on her belly.
The shine was returning to her eyes, and she averted her stare at me to look down at the candle which she was beginning to expel from her cunt by contracting and releasing her abdominal muscles. She was transfixed watching the candle slowly ease into view.
Then she looked directly at me again and said what she had wanted to say from the beginning.
"You could bring me a man," she said.
"A man?" I answered quizzically.
"One with a prick as big as this candle," she smiled at me. "One who could fuck me as well as I can handle myself. One who can give me the toss in the hay I really need. One who can stay hard forever."
"Mother," I blurted out. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand. I haven't understood a lot today, but your wanting me to bring you a man is something I just can't understand.
"Do you mean you want Dad?"
"Dad!" she hissed the word. "Dad! Old One-Shot himself. No, I don't want your Dad."
The gross belligerence the word had stirred in Mom made me wonder once more about what went on in this strange adult world. I knew that men and women, when they married and even sometimes before, slept together. I knew that somehow they put their things together and had babies. But I also knew that when you married you only put your thing with your husband's. And here was my very own Mother asking me to bring her another man. A man not my father. I couldn't understand.
"Oh, honey," Mom said, her voice trembling and her breath beginning to come in short gasps. "You brought me the candle-now bring me a man."
The earnestness of her plea made me worry that she was ill-made me wonder if I shouldn't do what she asked to save her from becoming really sick. But how do you go about finding a man and telling him you want to take him to your mother?
"Please, Mary," begged mother kneading that gigantic candle around in her cunt, tentatively pushing it in, letting it out slightly. "Please, bring me a man."
"But how, Mom?" I implored. "How would I be able to bring you a man?"
Mom saw that she had somehow brought me around to at least considering taking action on her plea and she propped herself up in bed quickly to explain her plan.
"Remember in the lesson how you were told not to get into cars with strangers?" she asked excitedly. "And I told you that if some man did try to get you into his car, you should tell him to take you home and your mother would treat him better than you could?"
"Yes, Mom," I answered, "I remember."
"Well you know that park at the other end of the block? The one where the children aren't supposed to play because there are some bad men hanging out there?" Mom asked me.
"Yes," I replied. "And, Mom, I've never played there, either."
"Well," she suggested smiling coolly at me, "you can play there a little while this afternoon. I'll just bet that a man would try to get you into his car. And you tell him what I said about your mother taking care of him. Will you do it for mother?"
What could I say? The gleam was back in her eyes, her skin was growing sweaty again and you could tell by her voice that she was desperate for whatever it was she wanted with the man.
"Okay," I answered quickly, "I'll go to the park."
Mom gave a great sigh of relief and stretched out spread-eagled on the bed when I agreed to her suggestion. Her arms brushed against the messed up sheets and her stretched legs spread and retracted in great sweeps.
"Honey," she said just as I was preparing to leave her bedroom, "Why don't you take off your school dress and put on those shorts you wore last summer along with that white blouse you like."
"But, Mom," I said, "those shorts were cutting my legs last summer, they were so tight I'd pinch myself trying to get into them now. I've grown a lot since then."
"Some of those men, the kind I want you to bring me, like to really see a girl's shape," responded Mom. "Go ahead and put them on like a good girl."
Looking at her and thinking of how ill she must be with her need for a man, I simply nodded and went to my room to change. When I took my dress off in my room, I noticed for the first time that Mom's activities had had quite an affect upon me. My own panties were quite damp where my thighs met. I didn't recall having that funny feeling that had taken place when I rubbed myself, but I did know that I had a warm feeling between my legs.
"Hurry, honey," Mom called from her room. I stopped contemplating my own dampness and hastened to pull those old shorts from my dresser drawer. Twisting and wiggling to get into them, I knew that I had grown a great deal since that last summer. My hips weren't really broad like a woman's, but they were beginning to swell out. The tight shorts bunched up little mounds of flesh on my butt and belly as I struggled to get into them. I couldn't zip them all the way, but I decided if I wore that white blouse outside no one would see anyway. I put on my sandals and took a look at myself in the big door mirror that let me see full-length.
You could tell I was a girl, that was for sure. The tightness of the shorts had pumped up my ass so that it really stood out and my thighs just surged out of the bottoms of the shorts, the flesh standing out obviously where the shorts no longer restricted me. Somehow, this made my legs look longer than they really are. The loose blouse accented the plumpness down below and, while it covered me above, you could see the twin bumps of my tits moving about beneath the fabric.
"Honey," wailed Mom, "please hurry."
"I'm all dressed," I called back. "I'll be going in just a second."
I walked back down the hall to Mom's bedroom to let her look at me before I went out. I could tell she wasn't interested in how I looked by what she was doing when I poked my head into her room.
She was standing up in the bed and was standing astraddle that bedpost she had been rubbing with her hand earlier. She was again tweaking the nipple of one breast and masturbating herself with her other hand. Then, she placed both hands on the bedpost and lowered herself onto it, slowly thrusting the gleaming wood deeper and deeper into her playground.
"Aaaaaaggggghhhhhhh," she groaned in a sound of sheer ecstasy. "Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh."
I watched until she was in a squatting position and then moved toward the street door. Mom, whom I had watched expend herself twice already this afternoon, was going for a third trip. She would only notice me when I returned with the man she needed so badly. I closed the front door quietly so as not to disturb her mounting sexual bliss.
Once on the street I walked quickly toward the park. The biting tightness of the too-snug shorts made me swivel my hips as I walked so that I could avoid some of the cutting pressure on my own cunt. I noticed that by really undulating my hips I could keep the bite away, but could also enjoy the steady pressure of the fabric created. I hadn't reached the park, when an old car pulled up beside me at the curb and a man, bending low in the seat so he could see out at me, asked me for directions on how to find a street.
I walked casually over to the door of his car and told him how to get there.
"How would you like to get in and show me how to get there?" he asked. "I'm not sure I could find the street from the directions."
There was no sense in my fooling around with a lot of preliminaries, I decided looking down into the car. If this was one of those men, I'd better find out in a hurry, what with Mom back there probably killing herself on the brutal bedpost.
"Do you mean you want me to get into your car and stay with you?" I asked bluntly.
The directness caught him completely off-guard and he could only gape at me.
"If you do," I said continuing the straight-forward approach, "I can only suggest that you drive me to my house. My mother says she can take care of what you want a lot better than I can."
If my first remark had caught him by surprise, the second flipped him entirely. He just leaned back in his seat and stared at me with bulging, gleaming eyes.
"You shitting me?" he finally managed to gasp as much as a question as in the manner of a snarl.
"No," I said, "I mean it. My mother told me just now she needs a man, and I said I'd bring one home to her."
Once again I couldn't see any sense in beating around the bush and, beyond that, I didn't have the first idea of how girls went about picking up strange men.
"For real?" muttered the man. "I don't believe it.
But I'd be a damned sucker to pass it up if it's true. Hop in kid. Let's go see Momma."
I got into his car and we circled around the block and parked in the driveway of our home. Once the car was parked well down the driveway where we were partially hidden from view by shrubs and trees, the man put his arm around me and tried to kiss me. I tried to shove him away, but he was awfully strong and he held my head in a lock until he could wrap his lips over my mouth I say wrap, because his mouth was wide open and the kiss, if that is what it was, just got my face all wet. He let go of my head; as I twisted away he grabbed one of my tits with that big strong hand and wrenched at it. I would have hollered, but I knew that Mom was inside and that she needed whatever it was she needed from this man.
So, instead of screaming for help, I just relaxed completely and let him feel me wherever he wanted. My turning dead fish seemed to turn him off and he gave me a funny look.
"You are serious, aren't you?" he muttered. "Is your mother inside the house?"
"Yes," I answered him taking his now limp hand off my breast, "and she's really waiting for you."
He shook his head in plain amazement and then reached across me to open the car door. That close to me, and without having to worry about having him drown me with those kisses, I could notice for the first time that he actually had a rather nice smell to him-you know, shave lotion and hair oil, things like that. His clothing wasn't mad mod, but he didn't look seedy, either. His trousers, except for a massive bulge dead center in front, were neatly pressed and the sport shirt he was wearing seemed quite clean. All in all, I hoped that Mom would be pleased with the man I was bringing home to her.
I couldn't guess that early in this game that all she was interested in was that magnificent hump in the front of his trousers. He could have been wearing coveralls and smelled of cowshit from head to toe. Mom wasn't particularly particular when it came to men-a fact that stood her in good stead as this new phase of our relationship changed.
"C'mon, kid," said the man, breaking into my thoughts, "I'll bet your mommy's already got the bun in the warming oven for me."
More adult language that I couldn't cope with, and the old folks say they can't understand teen talk.
"Follow me," I said getting out of the car and heading for the kitchen door.
"That's a pleasure," he chuckled.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I could see he was watching my butt in the tight confines of the skin-tight shorts. Pausing at the door, I did a little bump and grind and heard him stumble and bark his shin on the steps. It wouldn't be much trouble, I thought to myself, to have a man for my own. They certainly seemed to enjoy watching a girl's ass.
We entered the house and I called out to Mom: "Hey, I'm back. Come look see what I brought you."
There was no answer, so I led the man down the steps toward her bedroom for I now knew that's where she still was. The noise we had made coming, and our footsteps on the kitchen floor, had overshadowed the low-pitched groaning from the bedroom-the same sounds mother had been making all afternoon. She was still having at the bedpost when we walked into the bedroom.
She was squatting and sliding up this wooden tool in a slow, even movement, when we walked into the bedroom. I could hear the man gasp again when he saw mother.
Mom barely interrupted her languid movement as she looked at me ... but she twisted her body more roughly on the wooden shaft when she saw the man and heard his vivid appraisal of her action. Suddenly, Mom changed completely from the woman I had seen masturbating herself only minutes age into some sort of a demon.
She began a slow dance, still maintaining her mount on the make-believe cock of a bedpost. She beckoned to the man with her outstretched arms, and rolled her belly in the most sensual fashion. She lowered her head so that she looked up at him from her half-closed eyelids. Her arms withdrew from their beckoning and she clasped her hands to her beautiful tits, squeezing them into great white globes from which the brown nipples poked out like beacons to guide him to where Mom wanted him.
She stood-stock still for a moment and tightened her leg muscles until her ass, too, was rounded into two taut globes that matched her bunched up tits. As she relaxed, her buttocks lowered slowly. She repeated the motion several times and then began running her hands from mid-thigh toward her breasts in wild, mad sweeping motions that showed her heated state of arousal.
The man, for his part, had stepped out of every stitch of clothing he had on and was moving beside the bed toward mother. His shoulders, partially covered by sweat-matted hair, were broad and strong. He got onto the bed with Mom and slowly lifted her off the bedpost. She wrapped her arms-and as soon as they were free of the post-her legs around the man as he stood there.
He turned, just briefly, as I heard a loud wet noise and Mom came all the way off her imitation cock. When he turned, I saw my first cock. What a sight!
It was as big as the candle Mom had used on herself earlier and as big around. It had a flame-red end that was so bulbous it spread beyound the diameter of the white shaft which supported it. It pointed up out of his crotch at an angle that pointed it straight at Mom's cunt. Looking at that immense organ, I wondered for a minute if Mom might not suffer less if she remounted the bedpost.
But the man gave her no chance to change her mind. He opened his mouth into an enormous cavern and grabbed most of one of Mom's mammoth jugs with it. At the same instant-the moment she emitted a long-drawn out sigh of relief-he released her hips slightly and her weight plunged her down onto his massive erection. She gave another moan.
His bull's cock penetrated to the hilt on the first thrust because mom was already well lubricated from her build-up on the bedpost. Mom seemed to be sitting almost in mid-air, her head nestled on his shoulder and clutching him tightly with arms and legs.
The man turned toward me now and I could see that great shaft of his throbbing from base to the point where it disappeared into Mom's now wiggling body. Their pubic hairs were entangled from the to-the-hilt stab he had first rammed into her, and the web of black hairs made his cock stand out all the more-at least what you could see of it.
He then knelt on the bed, lowering Mom in front of him. Then he simply leaned forward and fell full upon her. She gave out another of those low animal sounds and locked herself into position with the man positioned at the deepest part of the center of her sex. They held the position for perhaps a minute, then the man withdrew a part of his pendulous prick by pulling back from Mom's belly.
"In," she hissed in his ear which was near her mouth, "In! Dig me with it. Root me, damn it."
The man, obviously pleased with Mom's more-than-active participation chose to tease her, however. He retained his position with nearly half the length of his great shaft out of her.
Mom cured him for that. She reached all the way up his back to his shoulders, slowly, touching him lightly. Then she ripped his entire back with her long nails ending with her fingers dug into, and pulling on, his taut ass. The raking left bright red streaks in even rows down his back.
He yelped in pain but couldn't hold himself back either as the searing, tearing nails directed him into a pile driver ram of Mom's cunt. The yelp blended nicely with Mom's groan of delight at the penetration.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN PAPA DOESN'T CARE
(Mary's first interview with the marriage counselor continues following her shocking revelation that she had twice watched her mother practice narcissism, and then had been sent into the streets to find a man to service the older woman. These basic findings were to eventually prove major keys in opening the mysterious workings which had, when the interviews were requested, nearly ruined a marriage.)
* * *
"You bitch," the man howled after mother had raked his back with her nails. "You'll kill me if you keep that up."
"Fuck me!" Mom yelled, screaming like a banshee. "Fuck me!"
He went back to his business, aroused by her cries for pleasure. He hugged Mom close and their bellies scooted about together in wild gyrations while he kept her plugged full. Then he raised himself up slightly so that he gave her a good jab. She reacted wildly, the thought of his cock leaving her seemed to trigger some dark part of her mind. As he pulled back, she ripped him once more down the back with her long fingernails.
"Yeeeeeoooowwwwwww," he yelped again, as he had on the last gouging. He plunged to the hilt into Mom, and she subsided to enjoy the immensity of him pushed to the back walls of her cunt.
"You bitch," he gasped shivering as he twisted his deep-seated cock into Mom's rutted pussy. "You sonofabitch, knock that off or I'll beat your ass off for you."
Mom's slitted eyes, now glazed over with pleasure and her drooping lids, lighted only a bit and she pulled her mouth close to his ear.
"Fuck me," she cooed. "Give it to me big, baby."
He clutched her close, his hands locked on her hips until the flesh bulged beyond his straining fingers. Mom's legs were embracing him about the waist and they hardly moved except for grinding of their bellies together.
The man couldn't seem to stop sticking Mom, however, and he pulled back to give her a good shot once more. Her reaction was exactly the same as before, and a new pathway of red furrows stripped down his back as she raked him back to the in-deep position she loved. This time I could see tiny trickles of blood appear on his back where she had ripped open the earlier trails.
"Oh!" he yelped, or more exactly, screamed, as the pain seared through his body. But once again he buried himself in Mom's box. I could even hear the slap of his balls on her butt as he reacted with haste so that he could avoid the jagged rips of her nails. Mom, it seemed, certainly knew how to control the depth of a man's use of her pussy. But her fingernail-control system didn't work to her advantage on this third time.
"You bitch!" the man hissed at her when he caught his breath again. "That does it!" He slapped her across the face, brutally. His hand fairly flew as he gave her the flat of his hand. To and fro, to and fro, he smacked her and smacked her. She wrenched to try to get away from his beating and they rolled to their sides.
He was still riding her groove with his cock as they toppled over, and I could see he pumped her four or five times as they lay on their sides. Then he grabbed her and rolled once more. They wound up with Mom on top and the man on the bottom.
Mom laughed crazily at the man and said, "Now I've got you, baby. You're headed for the count now."
Then she slapped him roughly on the face the same way he had slapped her and ground down on him so that he couldn't help but keep his cock rooted to her need. He groaned at the slaps, but at least they weren't so painful and harmful as the fingernails. He sprawled out with Mom welded to his joint and let things go at her pace. She sat straight up so that his cock had a straight route to travel to the base of her desire and she hardly moved, just that slow rotation that kept his imbedded cock traveling in" circular twists at the opening to her vagina.
The relaxed position, laying on his back like that, seemed to hold the man back. Without the pumping action he had tried, about all that seemed to be happening was that he was supplying his immense rod for Mom's enjoyment. But you could see from the rich, full smile on Mom's face that he certainly wasn't going soft inside there.
All of a sudden, she seemed to tense and she thrust her brush in jamming sweeps up and down the small portion of his belly she commanded.
""Oooooooohhhh," she moaned in that deep sound I'd grown to know meant she was coming. "Oooooohhhhhh. You've got it, baby ... you've got it!
Standing near the foot of the bed I could see that she meant it. Her torso stiff, Mom just squatted there on the man and let loose with wave after wave. She must have had orgasm after orgasm as she sat there moaning and cooing softly in this ultimate delight.
"And now one for baby," said the man when Mom finally relaxed. "Hop over on your hands and knees, kid."
Mom raised herself off his shaft and, as it eased down her tunnel and into, sight like a locomotive coming into view, I could see that the man hadn't come-off. He was bone-hard and purple and ripe like a plumb.
The man extricated himself by pulling himself toward the top of the bed. His legs drug between Mom's and the gigantic cock of his slithered between her pendulating boobs which just hung like great globes downward.
"Got a little kiss for me, honey?" he said pausing with-with his prick just under Mom's chin. She bent her head a little and I could see lapping on the head of his cock with her little pink, pointed tongue. Then he grabbed her by the back of her head and the head of his cock disappeared into her mouth. As it did her jaws opened wide.
The man pressed harder on the back of her head; she began to struggle frantically as he made her accept more and more of his shaft. I couldn't tell whether she was fighting trying to get rid of it-or working trying to get more. Whatever course she was trying to take, the man seemed pleased with her ministrations and settled back on the bed again and let Mom suck wetly on his distended tower of manhood.
But Mom had other ideas, you could see. She wasn't against taking a little cock in the mouth to prime him, but she thought cock ought to be used properly after a while-rutting a path in a cunt.
She showed this by slowly ridding her gaping mouth of its visitor and then she twisted rapidly in bed so that her exposed ass and twat faced full-on for the man's view. She wiggled her hips invitingly to him and reached back with one hand to jiggle his prick. She was like a bitch in heat, trying to get herself mounted and serviced. Her demands for sexual gratification amazed me-this would be the fifth go around for her since I had gotten home from school only a couple of hours before. I also knew that she was coming off a lot more than just once each time she got worked-over-or did the job herself.
The man, thoroughly aroused by his having screwed her and having her suck on him, sprang to his own knees right behind Mom's rear and drove home in one plunge. He really pumped her in this positon because he didn't have to worry about her raking him with her sharp fingernails at the times he retrieved most of his cock from her volcanic slit.
His eyes were now the ones that were dreamy looking as his stroking took on a steady, rapid pace. He had his arms wrapped under Mom's belly and would occassionally reach upward to diddle her a tit or tweak one of her hardened, elongated nipples. Mom, for her part, just reared back to meet his every stroke, or rotated her ass when he was buried in her.
Suddenly the man held himself on one withdrawal-the shaft completely visible to my eyes. The first inkling of his great red gland appeared at the dewy entrance to Mom's vagina. He held the pose for two or three seconds and Mom grew frantic trying to retrieve the shaft she needed so badly. But the man had her by the hips now and could hold her in the position he was enjoying.
Then, just as Mom seemed to be going out of her mind, he simply leaned forward in a sprint-like thrust that impaled her cunt in one stroke. They fell together on the bed. Mom on the bottom, the man on top. Now, it was the man who didn't try to move. He just locked on and held his exploding cock deep in her letting the pent-up globs of passion he was emitting shoot into her. Mom didn't protest at her imprisonment under his weight or at the mighty surges he was letting fly in her. Her outspread arms moved languidly in semi-circles about the sheet, her hands would grasp the bed coverings in claw-like passion once in a while as she nodded her head in approval of his being glued to position.
If Mom was a real lover, the man was at least her match. He held her locked on for at least a couple of minutes. His only movement was the twisting, grinding motion of his belly and ass as he tried to seat his glans at some deeper point in her widespread body. When he had first fell on her and began that orgiastic screwing you could plainly hear the rasping sound of their pubic hairs crunching together.
"Don't leave, baby," Mom implored the man when he finally stopped his grinding on her spread body. "Don't leave....hmmmmmm ... just a little bit more ... stay a little bit more."
The man didn't pull off, but he hadn't the strength to serve her in any other way than to just keep what was left of his erection nestled where he had come to rest in her cunt. Now it was Mom who twisted, turned, gyrated, using up the last of his well-spent hard-on. She started to come off again. Her mouth eschewed those little deep, inhuman sounds again and her body glistened with sweat as she made the effort to use the last vestiges of his embedded organ. She made it.
Watching Mom and the man work each over like that had made me completely oblivious to time, but now that they were completed I glanced for the first time in hours at my wristwatch. It was nearly six o'clock. Oh, I thought, Dad will be here any minute. Hell catch them like this.
I ran into the kitchen and looked out the window into the driveway. The man's car was parked there. But dad's car wasn't. He always parked in the driveway and I had feared that he would block the man's auto so he couldn't get away if Dad had been home.
I relaxed, convinced that Dad wasn't home yet. I would tell the man to leave before Dad got in. It was as I started back to the bedroom that I noticed the kitchen table for the first time-the gin and vermouth bottles were on it and an icetray was also there with only a few half-melted cubes in it.
Dad always mixed himself a martini when he got home. The bottles and ice hadn't been there when I had brought Mom's lover home from the park with me.
Dad, I knew, was in the house.
I ran through the house and looked out in front. His car was parked at the curb.
I looked in the living room. He wasn't there. I poked my head into the family room. He wasn't there. Finally, I reached the door to his study. It was ajar. I looked in.
Dad was sitting there sipping his martini, not his first by the near-emptiness of the cocktail mixer resting on a side table. He was reading the evening paper, his feet propped on the ottoman and obviously engrossed in whatever item he was looking at. I coughed nervously to get his attention.
"Oh, hi there, Mary," he said amicably. "You were so busy watching when I passed you in the hallway I didn't want to disturb you."
"You saw?" I gasped.
"Yeah," he answered, "quite a show wasn't it?"
"You saw Mom and that man?" I asked unbelievingly. How could a man sit there talking clamly when his wife was in bed with another man? How could he even discuss it with me, his daughter?
"Sure," Dad said, taking a sip on his martini and folding the newspaper neatly before placing it on the sidetable.
"You saw what they were doing?" I continued to question him absolutely perplexed at his attitude.
"Look, honey," Dad said, "I saw them and I saw what they were doing. Don't get so excited. You don't know all the facts."
"What facts are there?" I asked. "What can there be that makes you accept this as you have?"
Dad paused before answering. He was studying, as he always did, the words he would use. I don't think Dad made an extemperaneous statement in his life. He pursed his lips in thought. Then he reached for the martini pitcher, filled his glass, and drained it in one movement as if he were working up the nerve to discuss something he found slightly distasteful.
"Honey," he finally said, "your mother and I have had a very good marriage with the exception of one thing ... she's a nymphomaniac ... do you know what that means?"
"No," I answered.
"It means that your mother is a wonderful woman, a great mother to you, and a fine wife to me-but she has to have sexual relations more often that I can give them to her," he said matter-of-factly as if he were talking about those space vehicles he helps design at his job. "I know she can handle a lot of sex," I muttered recalling the depraved afternoon she had spent.
"It's something in her mind," Dad said. "It doesn't mean that she can't be wonderful for me and Jeff and you. She's tried to control her sex urges, but to her sex is addictive just like smoking or alcohol or drugs are for other people.
"Since I can't physically supply her needs, I have permitted her to satisfy her appetites with other men. It's worked out quite well, believe me.
"In fact, when she's finished with that man-and believe me, too, he can't end her passion once she's aroused-she will call for me."
I sat down on the little daybed he kept in his den too amazed to say anything. Just as I sat down I was further shocked when mother appeared naked in the den's doorway. She didn't see me. She just stood there leaning against the door jam, her one arm reaching up in languid gesture, the other arm supplely bent so her hand could engulf one of her glistening, sweat-covered tits.
"Harry," she said, "he's gone."
"Good," Dad answered her. "I was getting pretty hot listening to you two going at it in there. You really had him yelping for mercy, dear."
Mom crossed the room swiftly to Dad's chair. She still didn't see me because she roughly grabbed Dad's head and forced his face into the silky triangle where her thighs met.
"Do me, Harry," she cooed, "do me good."
Dad must have forgotten my being there, too, because he wrapped his arms around Mom's waist rubbing his hands around in the small of her back, sliding them up to her shoulders or down to the pear shaped ass she rotated slowly to the motion of his probing face.
Mom just moved her body up and down, slowly, enjoying Dad's actions. Once when she bent almost into a squat I could see his red tongue lashing at her pussy. His chin was moist. Then her legs closed about him and he was lost to view-but he must have stayed with her because she was making those baying sounds again. Dad was taking mother with his mouth and she was vibrating to every delightful swish he laved on that tender, private part of her body.
It was finally too much for me. They obviously had forgotten my presence so engrossed were they with each other's body. I know they wouldn't notice me until they had had their pleasure.
I spread my legs apart until the scanty shorts ripped at my crotch as I knew they would. I spread the lips of my own cunt with one hand, as I had seen Mom do, and then tickled the smiling pink lips with the fingertips of my other hand.
CHAPTER FOUR
SEX SECRET
(It was interesting to note, as Mary's interview continued, how detachedly she came to associate herself with the promiscuous activities of both her mother and father-and the relationships the husband permitted his nymphomaniac wife to have with other men.
Relationships which were to become so involved the whole family situation-once acceptable to Harry Andover-would become upset.)
* * *
Mom just seemed to roll up and down on Dad exhorting him to greater and greater mouthings as he orally satisfied the volcanic cunt she rammed about his face. She came once more with those loud, wet sounds that I had heard so often before this afternoon. His face would pop into view once in a while, as she completed these ultimate, titanic waves of climax.
When they had finally come to rest, Mom stepped back and began undressing Dad. Her deft fingers rapidly stripped him completely until he was sitting on his chair stark naked.
"Take me to bed, Harry," she whispered leaning toward him so that her big tits flattened against his chest. "Please, honey, take me to bed. I've got to have more."
"No, babe," Dad answered. "Right here in the chair with you sitting on it. I know how you are in bed and I don't want my back clawed up again."
"Oh, Harry," she muttered. "You're so damned afraid I'm going to hurt you."
"Damned afraid and for good reason," he laughed at her as he tugged her over his cock which was now standing up-but not near as gigantically as the man's had when I saw it that afternoon. Dad was well-built in the bull sector, but he wasn't immense. I wondered, sitting there riding the last waves of my own delicate little orgasm, if his slightness didn't have something to do with Mom's problem-nymphomania.
Dad tugged Mom again and she placed her feet on either side of his chair and moved into position directly over his upright cock. His hands moved up the inside of her smooth thighs, pushing balls of flesh ahead of them as they made their way to her waiting cunt. Mom began to squirm at the approach, and his hands slid the last few inches to her nest in a quick movement that rammed about three fingers up her. He stroked with his hand while she did a bump and grind before him in response to his attentions.
With his free hand he now reached between them and I could see him skin back the fold of skin at the top of his prick. Now I discovered how some men don't seem to have that big plum on top of their cocks while others do. I found out later about circumcision, but seeing Mom peel Dad's fruit bowl was my introduction to the subject. She milked it a few times-maybe three or four, and then rolled over onto it. She anchored herself in position, her arms clasped around his shoulders and began a side-to-side motion that ground him into her like she wanted. He was to the depths and she held him at that deepest point, molding the contours of her little bag of juices to fit him.
It was only minutes and I heard Dad say, "Got it, honey, got it."
Mom thrashed a bit and, lowering her lips to his ear, moaned to him, "We've got it, honey ... we've got it ... oh, stay with me ... stay with me."
Dad's hand's held mom at the waist, just above that nice outflowing curve of her hips. Her skin was reddened with the pressure of his hands and you could see he was pulling as far down on him as he could get her. They stayed together in that frieze-like pose for minutes.
"Harry," Mom said when they finally separated, "I've never had such a wonderful day."
"Get all you needed?" Dad asked smiling at her and running the palm of one hand up the generous curves of her legs and slightly rounded belly.
"Mmmmmmm," she answered, "all I wanted. And you gave me the best."
"That's the way it should be, shouldn't it?" he asked tickling her softly on the hip so that she wriggled to get closer to him.
They were snuggling like a pair of kids and the serenity of their togetherness posed yet another perplexing question to my mind.
How, I thought, can they be this loving when both of them know that it was another man-or mother herself-who had supplied the depraved bulk of Mom's pleasure? I had to know.
"Mom, Dad," I blurted out from my scrunched up position on the daybed, "I don't understand."
Mom nearly humped out of her skin at the sound of my voice. It really was the first time she had noticed my being there in the same room with them.
"Mary," she cried, "what are you doing in here?"
"I was talking to Dad," I answered. I lowered my voice and added, "You were busy down the hall."
"Well," Mom said sharply, "I don't think you should be spending your time watching your mother and father ... watching them...." Her voice trailed off. She had lost control of the situation and seemed to want help from dad.
"Now, now," Dad soothed her. "Mary's getting to be a big girl and I don't see how we can reprimand her for watching us when I saw her watching you and whoever was in there with you. I've told her about our arrangement. She's been very understanding and quite mature about the whole thing. I think we owe it to her to be frank in all our future discussions. If she saw the man you were with I don't see why she shouldn't also see that her mother and father have made a sensible arrangement out of what most people could never hope to cope with. By the way," he added almost as an afterthought, "who was the man ... anyone I know?"
"No," Mom said averting her eyes. "You don't know him."
Dad seemed to sense there was something in Mom's looking away, and the way she had answered his question, that there was something wrong. He looked at her closely.
"How did you meet him?" he asked pointedly.
"H-He came to the door ... he was selling things ... he was selling things for the house," Mom stammered in what both she and I knew was a lie. I had been the one who had gone to lure him into her bed.
"Oh well don't worry," Dad said. "I thought maybe there was something you were holding back. You know that's the one thing that has made our accommodation work out for us-telling all there is to tell."
"Yes, Harry, I know," Mom answered, casting me a little imploring look not to divulge what my part had been in the afternoon long orgy.
For the first time that afternoon, I realized suddenly just how weak Mom was. Her weakness would prove to be a key for me to gain control over her-a control I had no idea would grow to my own involvement in a round-robin of promiscuity and debasements that would ultimately become my whole life.
CHAPTER FIVE
SEX FOR FUN AND PROFIT
The interview with the Andovers' daughter, Mary, came to a conclusion and the marriage counselor and I decided that our next interview should be with her parents so that we might find some balance to the debauched case history we were working-up. After all, we thought, the 12-year-old girl's report to us could have been made up-childish imagination at work growing out of what was apparently an obsession with sex. The following was an initial interview conducted with both Harry and Jean Andover. It not only confirmed, but broadened what the nymphet had told us.
* * *
"Jean and I were married after we had both graduated from college," said Harry Andover lighting a cigarette nervously in Jim's office. "I was twenty-five and she was twenty-three.
"Our marriage was quite wonderful from the first. I had saved up enough money to get us started with a good financial base and Jean's intelligence and aptitude for my work gave me the backing that a young man needs when he is first getting started.
"She was a gracious hostess, as well, and the times I had my superiors and their wives over for little dinners or large parties were most enjoyable for them and were good for my career. I began advancing rapidly, changed jobs once or twice when business acquaintances who had dropped by offered me new chances."
"What Harry is embarrassed to tell you is that I was going to be with his bosses and prospective employers and insuring him new opportunities," put in Jean Andover calmly. "He is magnificent in his work, but he's very reticent about calling attention to his capabilities.
"I just made sure that the right people thought of him-because of my abilities to draw their attention."
"Honestly," Harry said, "I didn't even think of it-that Jean could be using her body to advance my career. We had both enjoyed sex from the beginning of our marriage. I knew she was demanding-in the first years it was nothing for us to spend an entire weekend holed up for a sex frolic. Hell, I could handle her three and four times and we weren't at all prudish about our relations. I learned to enjoy performing cunnilingus on her, when I couldn't handle her any other way-and she would, once in a while, return the oral favors herself."
"I hated to waste him in my mouth," Jean said. "But I knew he would expect the favor in return for his bringing me off with his tongue.
"What Harry didn't know-from the first experience we had with sex, I learned to want it more and more. More than any one man could ever hope to give a woman.
"I was a virgin when we married," she continued, "and Harry is built just right for a young tight girl. Big enough to supply pleasure, but not so immense that it was like a bull goring a puppy."
"Jean just used her leftover sex for our economic advancement," commented Harry. "All I knew was that she was able to satisfy herself with what I had to offer her sexually better and better as the years progressed.
"It was Jean who told me of her activities when she found her nymphomania so far out of control that she demanded more sex than even my business acquaintances-and I-could supply."
"All I could think of was sex," explained Jean. "It was like a craving that stayed on my mind all day and night. The turning point came when Harry settled into his last position-at the top of the scientific laboratories of his firm.
"His work demanded his constant attention, and so far as my being able to help him up with the ladder with sex, there was really nothing he needed. He was at the top in the largest firm of his field and seemed to be settled for life.
"He would be tired at night and his love-making became spread out with longer and longer time lapses. Too, he was only able to take me once, sometimes twice. Even with oral copulation it just wasn't enough for me by that time.
"To keep from going out of my mind, I had to tell him of my needs."
"When Jean told me," Harry interjected, "I was shocked. But, when we finally settled down to discuss the situation, we found that there could be a private arrangement when two people actually love each other.
"Like an alcoholic, or a drug addict, we both faced up to the fact that Jean had a major problem. We tried to solve it in an intelligent manner and we did."
"We did," shrugged Jean sadly, "Until our own daughter ruined it."
"In all fairness," started Harry, "I don't think we can place all the blame on Mary ... I think...."
"In all fairness," snapped his wife, "In all fairness ... you've 'all-fairnessed' us both ... the whole family ... right into the biggest whore ring in town. You're damned 'let's look at all sides of this' attitude started me out, and it's made me into the biggest lay around. It's drug my friends down into the most abysmal depths of depravity. It's made you and me both slaves to a 12-year-old girl whose whole life has turned into one swinging orgy. You wouldn't be here now if it weren't for the fact that she's made a slave of you, too."
Jean's sudden waspishness, her vindictive cutting up of her husband caught all of us by surprise. The intelligent trend of the conversation was suddenly shattered with the emotion packed into her outburst.
"Jean," Harry said quickly, "I'm here to save your marriage. I admit we're both over a barrel with that kid, but the first and foremost thing I'm thinking about is you and me. We had our arrangement and it was working well. We can have it again."
"We can never have it again," snarled Jean yanking her hand from his. "And you haven't got the guts to face why we can't have it again, have you?"
He slumped visibly into his chair, his hand still posed as it had when he reached to hold his wife's hand.
"I just think we can work something out," he whispered in a voice none of us could hardly hear. He was, for the moment, a defeated man.
"Work something out," Jean continued, her voice rasping out every word. "Work something out ... what do we about the films, the people we've gotten involved? What do we do about the tape recordings? What do we do about the men who just drop by my home for an occasional piece of ass?
"What do we do about the goddam women you're servicing? What about them, damn it? What about them?"
"Gentlemen," Harry said lamely, "I think my wife's last question is the one point that will be the most difficult barrier for us to hurdle in seeking a solution.
"She's become extremely jealous of me."
This turn in the conversation caught both Jim and me by complete surprise. How could a couple who had released their bodies to whoredom be jealous? Harry, early in their marriage, had made the adjustment to not being the sole occupant of his wife's bed and pants. Jean, obviously, had not been able to make the same adjustment.
"He hasn't fucked me in six months," lamented Jean suddenly losing her "fire. "He's so damn busy with his work and with being a male whore himself that he can't even give me an inch in six months.
"I ask him to even do a little tongue job on me and he begs off saying he's too tired. Man, he couldn't even hold the dildo for me if I asked him to."
Jean's biting, scathing denouncement of his sexuality finally roused Harry's own fire. He sat quietly glaring at her and then shot at her.
"Well, if you hadn't brought your own daughter into this whole thing, we could have gone as before for the rest of our lives. But, no, you had to get Mary into the show. You turned her on with your asking her to seduce men so that they would come to you. You were the one who agreed to pose for those first photos. Damn it, you and your hot cunt ... you've set the scene for ruin. Our daughter has only taken advantage of it.
CHAPTER SIX
THE FEATHER MATTRESS
The first phase of the interview with Harry and Jean Andover opened a chink in their pit-like life which neither Jim, the marriage counselor, nor I had ever encountered before. It was beyond imagination that the parents of a 12-year-old girl could become the child's whores. But, after considerable calming down and resolute re-directing of the interview, we were able to come up with more factual information. Information which opened even more doors. Then Andovers' family closets were jam-packed with skeletons of sexual abberation.
* * *
"Jean," pleaded Jean Andover's husband, Harry, "we've got to keep the discussion on the highest planes if we are to come to any conclusions that will make sense-and save our marriage."
Jean, still sniffling into the handkerchief her husband had given her following their emotional outburst at each other, could only nod agreement. Jim had laced her coffee with a liberal portion of brandy and she was regaining some control of herself. Harry lighted another cigarette in the veritable chain he had been smoking and tried to compose himself so that he might continue the interview.
"Gentlemen," he finally said to us, "everything that both my wife and I have said is true ... it's true.
"We are absolutely in the control of our daughter. She could not only ruin us, but a lot of other families in town with the evidence she has gotten together. Evidence compiled by forcing us to take part in the vilest debauches-and recording them with film and tape."
"What sort of grip does she have?" asked Jim, the counselor.
Jean and Harry looked questioningly at each other as if seeing whether they should let anyone else in on the goings on. While they undoubtedly wanted help, they lived in continual fear of what might befall them if anyone else were to come into the information. It was Harry who finally nodded affirmatively to his wife and she became the spokesman for the couple.
"Where do you start when you tell something like this?" she asked of no one in particular. "Is it with Harry and me? Is it with my daughter, Mary, and me? Is it with the men who have paraded through my legs practically from my first sexual expereince?
"Lord, I don't really know. All I know is that I'm being used ... used because I'm a damned nympho ... used by my own daughter.
"She told you the truth when she said that I sent her out to bring me that first man. She'll probably tell you that I sent her out again after that ... and again, and again. She'll be telling you the truth. I needed men. I burned them up faster than most housewives burn up trash.
"Several months ago she brought home another man from the park area and he and I were having a real go of it. He was a depraved bull. He turned me every way there is to turn a woman. His cock was gigantic and it was one of the better afternoons I can ever remember. Nothing satisfied him-as nothing could satisfy me.
"As usual, Mary, watched from the doorway to my bedroom. I didn't give a damn whether she watched or not. I was getting my cookies in great big wads and this guy never went soft. He had me and then took me again before I could even get my breath. He was a satyr of the most debauched order and relished every stroke he gave me. I admit it, too, I answered him thrust for thrust. It was the wildest!
"He was taking me dog-fashion when I noticed in one small burst of sanity that Mary was standing at the door-not looking, but taking our picture. I could have cared less right at that moment. He was taking me right to the peaks and I couldn't have said anything to her if I had wanted to. I just kept humping for him and she clicked the shutter several times before we came off together. We fell forward on the bed and he stayed with me for what seemed hours, jabbing with that still stiff prick.
Once in a while I could twist my head up and see through my mussed hair that Mary was still taking pictures.
"Finally, the man left and Mary came into the room where I was laying, still nude.
"She looked at me almost disgustedly. She didn't say a word, just nodded her head down the hallway to let me know that Harry was home and ready to give me my last rodding for the day. We had all grown used to the pattern. Mary brought home a man, I'd screw all afternoon and then I'd go down to Harry's den for my last servicing of the day.
"After that first picture taking episode, Mary never showed me the photographs," continued Jean Andover. "It seemed that she was engrossed in recording my acts.
"She brought home, now that I think back on it, a more varied group of men. Some were fat, some lean, some tall, some short. They were well-dressed, ill-dressed. They were hairy or smooth skinned. Some had moustaches, some full beards. I didn't really much care ... there was only one thing I wanted-sex. And each of the men gave it to me ... and Mary was taking photographs of it all.
"One afternoon, after the man had left, Mary walked with me down the hallway to her father's den. She had only come to the den once or twice after that first time when she had watched her father perform cunnilingus on me before fucking me. She seemed not to want to watch her own parents copulating anymore.
"But this particular afternoon as she walked with me she said she wanted to photograph us while Harry was eating me. I told her no-she could watch but there were to be no pictures taken.
"It was right then, for the very first time, that I discovered how cruel, how evil this twelve-year-old child had become. She looked at me through just slits of eyes and said that if she didn't get to take pictures she would tell Harry that I was sending her out in the afternoons to bring home men.
"Then, that was the last thing I wanted to have Harry know. I knew he would flip if he knew of the danger I was exposing our daughter to by sending her to spots where men were looking for girls.
"I tried to beg her off, but she was adamant and merely repeated her threat to tell her father how her mother obtained the men she needed to service her nymphomania. I had to agree."
Harry Andover, who had been sitting slunched in a large chair in the marriage counselor's office listening to his wife's story lit yet another cigarette.
"Let me go on, Jean you've had enough for a while," he said to his wife.
"When Mary and Jean both came into the den I was a little surprised, because, as Jean has said, our daughter had seemed to lose interest in watching us after only once or twice.
"I had had a couple of drinks that afternoon and it had taken Jean longer than usual to finish up with the man who was her sex partner that afternoon. They had been stirring up quite a ruckus ... she had howled for more sex in loud, earthy language and the guy was one of the people who have a hang-up for describing everything he's doing or going to do. I was really pretty worked up myself because I could hear it all even though the doors were only slightly ajar.
"He had been describing the pleasure he was giving Jean by having her hang onto her ankles with arms outstretched above her. She made a perfect target for one long ram was one of the things he had said. And she must have, because she moaned when I heard their bellies slap together. They talked and talked, Jean heaved about on the bed and the two of them just grunted and groaned throughout that whole session.
"So when Mary and Jean came into the den I was set to wind up Jean's day with a lot more fervor than had been my wont in recent weeks. I really wanted her that afternoon.
"I didn't go for the picture idea, myself, but Mary said she was going to stay and that was that. I would have argued more, but there was Jean standing there waiting to be taken-and she didn't apparently seem to care if the kid took a picture or two so I thought nothing more of it so much did I need Jean right then.
"When Mary suggested I get undressed right away I didn't have a thing in the world against it, because I wanted all of Jean and I wanted her quickly. So I stripped and drew Jean to my side for a little loveplay to get things moving along.
"She was standing beside me, I was sitting on a straightbacked chair we keep for such purposes in the den, and I was getting my hands all over her. Jean, who had started off the session with just a shade of reluctance-which I attributed to the newness of having her picture taken while engaging in the sex act-warmed rapidly to my manipulations. She became the same old Jean, holding my cheeks to her belly while I reached upwards to rub her tits or down to run my hands into all the smooth curves and hollows of her thighs and knees.
"Pretty soon, Jean was begging me to eat her and I drew her by the ass into the standing position we both enjoyed. But Mary suddenly said she wanted the picture to be of her mother laying on the daybed with me kneeling before her. It was a strange request, again using hindsight, but neither Jean nor I were in an arguing mood so I took Jean by the hand and took her to the daybed.
"She fell onto the bed wide open for me. Her passions were as aroused as mine and she looked lovely. One leg was spread so that that foot touched the wall and the other leg hung over the edge of the bed so that her foot rested on the floor. Her cunt was beautiful. Widely opened, moist with the demands of her ardor, and so pink at the entrance darkening only toward in its innermost parts. Her clit stood like a tuning fork, vibrating with demanding arousal.
"Mary said she wanted to capture the look on my face, and told me to get between Jean's legs-but just to look not to eat. I did ... I did. . Just like a stud being led to service!
"I heard the camera shutter click and fell forward on that hot juicy pussy of Jean's that had been spread so invitingly. I had plunged my tongue right into it and was ready to go when I heard Mary's command to stop."
"I started to argue, but the way she had snapped at me made me feel I had to obey. I backed off to pose again. Jean about went out of her mind at the withdrawal. She needed me, too. She tried to grab my hair and pull me back to her need, but Mary told her sharply to move her hands away from my face."
"How'm I going to see his face if you've got your damned arms in the way," said Mary. "It's okay if you hold him by the hand away from the camera, but I want his face."
"We posed for what seemed hours," interceded Jean Andover who took over the narrative from her husband. "It was the most tantalizing time I had ever had in my life. She made the two of us spread, stretch and move to her every direction. She let Harry get his mouth and tongue just close enough to drive me wild and then made us pose some more.
"When Harry got to me finally, I went off merely because I could feel his breath coming close down my thighs. When he tongued me I was already shooting my wad. He nearly drowned as he met me coming upstream against his plunging tongue."
"That moment of climax for Jean was usually our signal to fuck-to bring me off," put in Harry. "So when she started her orgasm I licked her up just a little on the inside and then got back to settle her On my lap for our usual copulation.
"But our daughter wouldn't even let us go through with this final act. She again made us pose for the pictures. I say made, because there was a grim finality in her tone that seemed to command more than request.
"Never permitting me to penetrate, always keeping my cock just at the threshold of Jean's body, she had us pose in all the ways she had seen other men taking her mother. It went on for at least half an hour. She shot so much film that she had to reload the camera at least twice that I noticed. I wasn't noticing much because looking at Jean's body twisting to all those sexually provocative distortions had implanted only one thing in my mind-sex."
"When she finally had enough of the posing, she merely walked out of the room again with that disdainful look that she had given me in the hallway," interrupted Jean. "I knew she hadn't been taking those photographs for enjoyment. I knew she had something else in her mind, but what it was I didn't know then."
"But one thing," interjected Harry, "she certainly had handed us an afternoon to remember. Delayed as we had been, I went home on the first thrust when I finally was able to stop that posing. Jean's cunt was like a lubricated tube just waiting to be filled with prick. She had been in the dog-fashion position for the last set of pictures, and her ass wrapped around my belly in that first shattering plunge. Once again she climaxed at the penetration, the initial plunge.
"She was like the softest downiest feather mattress," said Harry. "Every roll of her flesh curved to accept me."
"I slept like a log," Jean added. "I dreamt of Harry and me just getting started ... of our lovemaking ... of the fun we had together on those locked-away weekends when he fucked me over and over again.
"It was perfect....
"It was also the last night's sleep I've had since. What was a beautiful dream for the two of us that night turned into a hideous nightmare the next morning when we finally went out to have breakfast with the children before we sent them off to school."
"That was the day that Mary said she was going to stay home and talk to us," said Harry. "She shooed her brother, Jeff, off to school like he was a kid brother instead of a high school junior nearly six years her elder.
"And what she talked to us about after he left has been the hell we've been going through ever since."
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NAKED NYMPHET
Following our first interview with Harry Andover and his wife, Jean, my friend Jim and I decided to return to further investigative interviewing with the couple's 12-year-old daughter, Mary. The couple had pointedly agreed that there had appeared to be some ulterior motive in their child's demand that they pose for her while copulating. We thought we should first obtain the child's reasons. The following is the basic substance of our second interview with the child.
* * *
"Why did I want the pictures of my folks fucking?" mused Mary. "Well, honestly, at first it was because I needed the photographs to help me masturbate."
The young nymphet paused to let that shocker sink in on us.
"I mean it," she added hastily. "There wasn't anything bad about it at all at first.
"You remember when I first talked to you that I said I had taken myself off while watching Mom and Dad go at it with their mouths and end up with a real screwing?
"Well, later on, when I tried to play with myself again I couldn't come at all. I rubbed myself all over my belly, played with my nipples and tits the way I had seen Mom do it, and squeezed my pussy for what seemed hours. But nothing happened.
"I couldn't understand it, but then, on another afternoon while I was watching Mom and a man I had brought to her for screwing, I was able to do it successfully while I was watching them from the doorway of the bedroom.
"I figured out that I had to see people fucking so that I could play with myself and get my own kicks. I tested it by buying some of those movie star books and looking at the pictures of the stars kissing. I would imagine they were naked, in some of the books there wasn't much need for imagination. I would play with myself looking at the pictures and I would have that little climax of mine.
"I just decided one day that if I had to be watching people really fucking or at least so close I could imagine they would be soon that I would get some pictures for myself.
"With Mom doing it all the time with those men, and her sending me out to bring the men to her by letting them pick me up, I decided pictures of her would do pretty well.
"They sure did. I bought one of those little camera kits that has its own developing tank and everything so I could make the pictures right in my own bathroom. When I made the prints and got them dried I could go into my home anytime and look at them, play with myself and get my jollies."
"What made you ask for the pictures of your Mom and Dad?" asked Jim.
"I didn't mean anything wrong, you know?" Mary said, for the first time sounding like the little girl she was rather than the child who had forced her parents to perform sexually for her so she could record their actions on film.
"Well," soothed Jim trying to get the child to answer him, to explain her reasons for the outrageous demands, "why did you do it then?"
"I guess I just decided I wanted pictures of them, my parents, rather mom with all those other men," Mary said.
"Was that the real reason?" Jim continued not satisfied with her answer.
Mary looked small and beaten now that Jim maintained the same line of questioning. She looked about the room, averting her eyes from both of us. One glance fell in my direction and I could see an almost spoken plea to stop all this before it went further.
"Was that the real reason?" Jack repeated.
She scootched lower in the chair in which she was sitting and rested her hands, palms up, on her lap. Then she clasped her hands and leaned forward tensely.
"I did it to make them MY slaves," she spat out. "I hated Mom making me go down to the park to stand around and pick up men so she could use them when I brought them home. I hated her ... I hated her ... I hated her.
"And I hated Dad because he was letting Mom get away with all that fucking around instead of getting mad at her and making her stop making me do that.
"All the boys at school were talking about me. They thought I was bringing the men home for myself. I heard all the talk. I lost my friends. I hated my parents for what they had made me do."
"How did you intend to use the pictures?" Jim asked.
"I didn't really know, Mary answered. "I just knew if I had those pictures Mom and Dad would be in my power.
"How did you plan to use that power?" asked Jim.
"Again, I didn't know. But I did know that afternoon when I made them pose for me that I would use the pictures to make them suffer for what they had done to me," Mary responded savagely.
"How did you use the pictures?" Jim questioned.
"Mary narrowed her eyes to the merest slits and glared at him. She was annoyed to the point of becoming belligerent as time wore on and he continued probing both her actions and her motives.
"You want to know so damn much," she snapped. "Alright here's what you want to know. Here's everything you want.
"After I had the pictures of mom and dad I waited until the next time mom got me aside in the afternoon and asked me to go to the park to find her a man.
"As usual she was hot as all hell and just about out of her skull with desire. She was hugging me and squeezing me and telling me how wonderful it was of me to do this for her.
"I waited until she was really worked up and then I just told her 'No' I wasn't going to do that anymore. You should have seen the wind flush out her sales."
"But honey," the mother had said: "you know why I need a man. Your Dad and I have told you everything about us ... about ... about our ... accommodation."
"I know mother," I answered, "I know and I know that you need me to bring you men because you're afraid to go out and get them yourself. If you didn't have me you wouldn't get your fucking would you?"
"Why are you doing this to me?" implored the frantic mother. "What do you want?"
"Money," I answered. "It's just as simple as that. I want money."
Mary's mother stared at her child, amazement written across her face. Pay her own child to deliver men to service her? she thought. Never!
"You little bitch," Jean Andover screamed at her daughter. "What the hell do you think you're trying to pull? Me pay you? I'll beat you within an inch of your life."
She moved toward her daughter to carry out the threat. Her mind, confused both by rage and the driving need for sex, blurred as she lashed out at the girl's face with her open hand. The slap resounded through the house.
"That's the last time you ever pull that," hissed Mary. To emphasize her new posture she returned the slap aiming it to blister mother's reddened cheek.
Shocked at the immediacy-and the overbearing attitude-of the return swat, Mary's mother stood gaping at her daughter. The blow had brought her back to reality for at least the instant.
"And here's why you won't," snapped Mary reaching into her purse and pulling out a photograph. She dropped in on the floor so that it landed at her mother's feet.
Jean Andover stared at the photograph which had landed on the floor. It was small, but not so small that she couldn't see in vivid black-and-white detail her own face staring rapturously up at her while a man, one of the men whom Mary had brought to her, leaned over her shoulder fondling her dangling tits as he laid it to her dog-fashion from the rear. His face leered over the white shoulders, his hair-matted shoulders looming behind those of his bitch.
"What do you mean?" gasped Jean Andover unable to grasp the ultimate import of what her daughter had just rasped at her.
"I mean pictures like these will go to daddy's bosses, your friends everyone you know if you don't do as I say and give me moeny," Mary yelled at her mother. "Don't bother trying to tear it up. I've got the negatives where you can never find them. I can make as many of these pictures as I need to keep you in line. I can spread them all over town if you don't do what I tell you to do."
For Mary the outburst was not without shades of worry as to just how far she could push her mother ... how much she could bring the older woman under her control. But the worry faded when she saw the woman visibly sag and cast a woeful look at her daughter. The mother was skittled completely and no will to fight back. For that matter, the older woman knew also, that she had nothing to fight back with.
"How ... how much ... money do you want?" Mary's mother asked.
"I want five dollars," Mary answered quickly not wanting to lose control of the new situation between the two. Action was called for and action was what Mary would give.
"I'll get it from my purse," Jean said.
"Get it then, and hurry up about it," Mary said sharply.
Her mother hurried down the hallway to the bedroom, the bedroom where she had become accustomed to receiving the men her daughter went into the streets to find, the bedroom where so many wonderful afternoons had been spent regaling in the sordid sex sports that she relished-she needed. She reached into her purse and found a crumpled five dollar bill. It was almost significant that the bill was old and worn, dirty with use. Jean Andover shuddered as she pulled it out and straightened it in her sweaty hands.
My God, she thought, how low have I sunk? Paying my own daughter to bring me men. But the passion that had brought her to her daughter before the confrontation had returned and Jean Andover, fraught with a frantic, frenzied desire for a man and what he could do for her, could not reason a way out of her predicament.
She returned to her daughter and handed the young girl the money with a hand that shook and trembled both with passion and with fear.
"That's a lot better, mom," said Mary, cuttingly using the last word. "Now baby will go out and bring you a big hot cock so you can ride it and ride it until you blow you belly out.
"Tell you what, mom. Since your paying now why don't you tell me what kind of a man you want. Do you want him fat or thin, tall or short. How would you like me to bring you a real stinky, sweaty, bearded tramp? One tried to get me the other day. I'll bet you could have had fun with him. He'd have smelled like a pig and you would have been the trough he could feed at. Would you like a bum, mom? Would you like me to let a real smelly old, dirty man go for me so I could bring him home to you?"
"I don't care," wailed Jean in a piercing cry that she brought up from her sex-tortured depths. "God, you don't know what you're doing to me talking like that. It makes me hot enough to take on anything you could bring through that door.
"Get out! Get out! Get out onto the street and bring me a cock ... I've paid you, now do it. Go bring me a man."
Jean Andover was tremendously excited by her daughter's description of the variety of men. Talk was one of her bags. She thrilled to sexual discussion. It aroused her as much as a man's hands working over her bare body or prying into its carnal pit.
Mary smiled thinly at her mother, cruel with the acknowledged power she now held over the woman whose weakness was an insatiable demand for sex-in its every and wildest forms.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BLACKMAILED SEX
Mary's second interview had revealed the two sexual aberrations which were to run throughout her sexual pattern of development-the voyeurism which she satisfied by taking photos of copulating couples and a growing masochosism which she developed and relished by driving her parents-and the growing circle of sexual partners-to animal-like bestialities. Jim had her talking freely now and we listened in awe as she provided us with more insights into her warped character.
* * *
Taking the money from her mother's trembling hand, Mary walked out of the door and headed down the now familiar part of her neighborhood to the park where she knew men lurked hoping to pick young girls. But as she walked, attired now in the preferred costume of tight shorts and tighter sweater, a new feeling swelled in her own body. She was sexually aroused by the torture through which she had just placed her own mother. The woman had been begging like the lowliest slave for her daughter to bring her a man.
And that's just what I'll bring her today, mused Mary thinking of how to further the punishment she was inflicting upon the sexually depraved woman-her mother.
On this trip she wasn't stopped on the street by any man in a car. She made it all the way to the park. She walked up and down the tree-shaded walkways glancing about to see just what sort of a companion she might find to service her mother. She purposefully averted a meeting with one or two younger men who eyed her young body with avaricious appreciation. She also avoided a tall, well-dressed stranger who smiled at her knowingly, oggling her cute swaying hips and the sharp rises in her sweater where young breasts peaked to their largest size. She was hunting for something special today. Something-someone-to add to her mother's torment.
She found him, finally. The bum she described to her mother as the pig who would feed at any sexual trough. He was sprawled limply under a tree, a bottle of cheap wine tipped awkwardly from his hand. He gave her a leering, rheumy-eyed glance and his lips moved moistly as he dumbly attempted to speak to her.
She posed three-quarters to him looking up into the trees so that the long delicate line of her neck led gracefully down to her breasts, her stretched belly, her tawny legs. She tightened the muscles in the cheeks of her ass once or twice to add to the show making her leg muscles reveal their suppleness-and desirability.
She twisted about, as if she were looking at something else high in the tree, so that he could enjoy gaping at her body from a variety of angles. He stumbled to his feet, took the last swig from the bottle, and lurched toward her.
"Hi, kid," he slobbered, the spittle dribbling down his liver-red lips. "You see something interesting up there?"
Demurely, she looked at him and then walked just a step or so away. He followed clumsily, enjoying the toss of her hair as she turned away from him.
"What'smatter?" he asked drunkenly. "Mommy tell you not to talk to strangers?"
"Yes," Mary answered giving the man a smile however.
"Shit, kid," he rasped through his thickened lips, "I'm no stranger. I've seen you working this park before. Don't try to fool me, kid. You're out a couple of times a week trying to get a piece in here ... and from what I've seen, you get it. C'mon, lets go over to my car."
As he completed the statement, he took her roughly by the arm and started to lead her to an old, beat-up sedan parked nearby.
"No, please," she pleaded, putting on her usual act of the reluctant young thing that most men seemed to enjoy. "I couldn't do that."
"C'mon," he whispered huskily in her ear, his breath heavy with the cheap wine, "I won't give you nuthin' you've never had before, kid."
He was now half-dragging her toward the car and she moved closer to him so that he wouldn't be so noticeable and get picked up if someone saw them. The reluctance could only last until the man was absolutely in need of his prey, Mary had long since decided. Once seduced, it was necessary to get the man on the way quickly.
He pushed her into the front seat of the car, crawling across her sprawled body to get to the driver's seat. His rough clothing scraped her face and neck as he moved in such haste and a rank odor assailed her nostrils as his crotch passed over her shoved down head. This was just the man she had wanted to find for her mother this day, Mary laughed to herself: a sodden, smelly old fool.
"If you promise not to hurt me, I'll go with you," she whimpered when she was able to get up. "I know a nice place where we can be alone-and there's plenty of good liquor, too."
The man's eyes glistened with new life in them as he heard the words uttered by the pretty little girl sitting next to him.
"Hey, now, kid," he muttered happily, "you're getting the right ideas now. Where do we head?"
His mind was so fogged with alcohol that he couldn't fathom any of the plan in which he was only a very minor character. Had he been sober, the manner in which Mary shifted her hips about, and slowly moved her hands along her bared thighs, would probably have fogged his judgement as much as the wine he had been drinking. Only her nude body, spread for his vilest uses could he see in that clear part of his mind. Ravaged, bent to his will and need while he parted the sweat, innermost delicacies of her young body with his great cock, that was the sole picture searing his imagination.
He drove slowly, following her directions until they wound up in the driveway, hidden by the trees. The engine turned off, he reached across the seat for her, but she twisted out of his reach, opened the door and smiled at him from gateway.
"Not here," she said, "everyone can see. Come inside with me. There's a great big bed that's oh, so soft to lay on and there's plenty of booze-and me."
He lurched out of the car, nearly falling to his knees in his pitiful haste. He shambled behind her holding her hips in his hands as much to steady himself as to enjoy the soft warmth of the girlish curves. He pulled her around to his belly so that he could feel that mound, but she tugged away as he groped for her tits.
Once in the kitchen she stopped him. She rushed to the liquor cupboard and drew out nearly a fifth of her dad's gin. She unscrewed the top and, walking provocatively to nestle at his side, offered the drunken bum the bottle.
"Drink it," she laughed. "Drink it all. I like my men to be drunk."
The man wrapped one arm unsteadily about her and took a long pull at the bottle. He coughed as he pulled the neck away.
"C'mon," Mary urged. "I'm not going to bed with a man who can't handle his liquor-he couldn't handle a woman either. Drink it. Drink it all."
She was rubbing her body up and down against his, exciting him with flow of her curves, the feel of her slithering actions. He took one glance at her and upended the bottle. He drank and drank. With each swallow, his head tilted further back and he clutched at her shoulders to steady himself.
He paused for an instant and she commanded him to go on emphasizing her order by reaching between his legs and tweaking his soft prick with her finger tips through the rough trouser crotch. He swallowed again, noisily, the gin running out of the sides of his mouth and down his rapidly working, large Adam's apple. The rough stubble of his beard glistened with the gin.
"Here," she smiled at him, "let me undress you."
She tugged at his shirt buttons, ripping some, undoing others. She yanked open his belt, unzipped him and tugged down his pants and shorts at the same time. The mildewed, sweat-stained clothing fell in a heap on the kitchen floor, just as he polished off the last dregs in the bottle.
She guided the now nude man carefully toward her mother's bedroom-shoving him, tugging him, letting him steady himself against the wall when he banged into it in his drunken stagger.
Pausing at the door to the bedroom she looked inside to see how well her timing was working. She thought she knew what she would find-and she did.
Her mother, her back to the door, was kneeling on the bed trying to rid her body of its pent-up sexual juices my ministering her needs with the dining room candle. Her hand was locked around the rough-textured instrument and she was cranking it like a ravenous cock in and out of her cunt, waiting for her daughter's return.
"Hey, Mom," Mary snarled, "look what I brought you for your five dollars."
She shoved the drunk through the doorway with enough strength so that he coursed wildly onto the bed and collapsed in a limp pile on the clean white sheets. Her mother, expecting a visit from a thoroughly aroused man-aroused by her daughter's teasings, glanced over her shoulder. All she could actually see was the man's hairy twisted legs. She moved about to present herself to his pleasure.
"Oh, no!" she groaned as the full impact of what Mary had delivered struck her like a bludgeon. "Oh, no."
"Go on," yelled her daughter. "Feed him at the trough. That's all the pig is good for. And that's all you are-a damned trough of dirty sex. Feed him, Mom. Feed him."
The barbarity of what she had done to her mother, the cruel denial of the woman's needs by presenting her with a sot who couldn't have raised an erection if he had wanted to because of his drunken state, triggered the masochistic streak in Mary.
She was laughing hilariously, insanely as her mother stroked the limp cock almost in supplication, trying to revitalize it so she could obtain her service. Mary was still laughing. Mary was coming, aroused and completed through her perverse enjoyment of the debased position in which she had placed her own mother.
Mary was so writhing in such ecstasy at the expension of her unmistakable passion that she hardly noticed her mother press her own cunt down on the gaping mouth of the passed-out drunk in a vain effort to find release. She even tugged him onto his stomach and rested his loose head in a curly nest that made a V at the inner junction of her thighs.
She smashed at the back of his head with her fists until his tongue fell loosely out of his mouth to merely lay at that portal to her passions. She twisted his head so that his rough stubble raked her soft belly and the tender skin surrounding her cunt.
But nothing could arouse the man. He was out.
"Suck on him, Mom," commanded Mary. "Maybe that'll bring him around. Go on, suck his old cock if he won't feed on you."
Sex-crazed, delayed too long in the regular fulfillment of her carnal needs, Mary's mother twisted the man again so that she could clutch his limp prick in her hands and give long lingering sucks on the head of his penis. She worked like a mad woman, licking, tonguing, sucking, massaging with her hands. She knelt beside the man, laving his organ with the wildest attentions.
Unnoticed, Mary walked to the bed and slyly picked up the discarded candle. She positioned herself behind her mother, and spread the great, white globes of her ass so that the dark pussy hairs came into view. Mary sighted carefully at her target, the pink portals of entry to that dark tunnel of fire tormenting her mother.
Then the daughter thrust the massive instrument home to depths of her mother's pit.
That was how Harry Andover, alarmed at the shrieks he had been hearing, found his wife and daughter when he rushed into the room. The 12-year-old girl ramming that great candle in great wrenching grinds into the twisting aperture; his wife sucking mightily on the limpid cock of a drunken bum who reeked of gin.
CHAPTER NINE
SEX PARTY
The sadistic streak showing up in Mary's revelations of forcing her mother to engage in a futile promiscuous act with a passed-out drunken bum caused us to decide that we should, for the first time, have Harry Andover, his wife Jean, and their daughter come together in Jim's marriage counseling office to have a group discussion.
More and more was revealed of the growing powers Mary garnered over the family group. But it also began to become apparent that the mother and father were not entirely opposed to taking part in the orgiastic debauches in which their nymphet daughter forced them to take part. The following was put together from all their reports regarding the actual events which followed the father finding his daughter copulating his wife with a candle while the mother tried to orally wheedle an erection from the unconscious drunk.
* * *
Harry Andover stared dumbly at the twisted body of his wife, Jean, arching her bare buttocks and hips to receive the strokes being delivered by the candle thrust deep into the pit of her passion by her 12-year-old daughter. Jean was also sprawled over the drunken bum the daughter had brought home to service her mother. Her mouth was opened over the drunk's limp organ, her tongue licking about the head, lovingly trying to stir the man's arousal-but to no avail.
"What the hell's going on in here?" Harry nearly shouted. "It sounded like someone was getting killed."
No one answered him so engrossed were the mother and daughter in their sex play-the drunk was beyond hearing anything.
"And Mary!" he said really noticing his daughter for the first time. "What are you doing in here?"
Harry had grown used to seeing his daughter observe her mother relieving her sexual tensions on men, but this was the first time he had ever seen her right inside the room. It shocked him. He had never thought of the child as an actual participant in the weird sex life he permitted his wife.
"Shush, Daddy," hissed the girl through tightly pursed lips. "I'm just about to get Mom to come off."
"Good Lord," Harry stammered. "Get away from there!"
Mary's eyes gleamed cruelly as she thought for a moment how her mother would howl if she cut short the servicing she was rendering the woman with candle she clutched in her hand. The sadistic streak in the child won out-she stepped back and let the candle drop to the floor.
"Alright, Dad," she laughed. "You're the boss-for now."
The withdrawal of the pleasure-probe drew a howl of dismay from Jean Andover, who had been pumping to meet every maddening thrust of the painful instrument employed by her daughter.
"Put it back!" she wailed pulling her mouth away from the drunk's shrunken cock which still had not responded to her oral attentions. "Mary, put it back! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
"Daddy said, 'No,' Mommy," the young girl teased. "He said I can't fuck you anymore."
"Put it back," moaned the woman now beseeching her daughter to return to her aid. "Please, Mary, please ... I paid you. . you promised me ... put it back ... put it back!"
"No can do, mommy," giggled Mary relishing the tortured pleas wrenched by her mother's passion-inflamed sexual needs. "Don't you think I should listen to what daddy says?"
"Please, honey," groaned the mother. "I've got to have it. I'm right here. Put it back ... p-leeeeeze!"
"What should I do, daddy," coyly asked the young girl. "She really needs it, don't you think. She thought she was going to get fucked and all she can get is that candle-and she can't even get that if I don't do it for her."
Harry Andover, who had been unaware that his wife was sending his daughter into the streets to lure men to the house to satisfy his wife's nymphomania, was thoroughly confused by the course of events. He couldn't answer. He could only stand shocked into a state of paralysis.
"Well," said Mary to her father, "if you can't make up your mind, I guess I'll just have to go back to helping mommy out."
She spat the words, "daddy," and, "mommy," twisting them into cursewords. As she ended her final statement to her father, she reached for the monstrous candle which lay on the floor near the bed. Once again she took it to a position behind her mother's wide-spread rear end and once again-drove it to the hilt with one swift thrust.
The result was not, however, the same as the first time she had driven into her mother's cunt. Jean Andover humped back to receive the full force of the blow-taking every inch and enjoying both the force and the length. A rasping, dry-mouthed cry from lips gave vent to the pent-up emotional release she experienced with the new, violent penetration.
The nymphet delivered her mother's release with a rapid, hand-blurring series of strokes that culminated in a long, drawn out moan from the woman's lips as a massive climax rushed through her like a tidal wave.
Emotionally drained by the interrupted stroking, the mother fell atop the drunk making him groan at the weight of her body toppling upon him. He raised an arm to shove her off, but finding no strength to accomplish this, he let it drape absently over her bared bottom which straddled his chest. He raised slightly, cocking a rheumy eye at the still spread entrance of her body which sprawled before his face. Idiotically, he chuckled, moved his head forward until the stubble of his beard roughly caught in her pubic hairs and rammed his tongue into opening.
Jean Andover heaved backward to accept the idly-offered tongue. It's rough scraping on the soft crevices of her playground aroused her once more. But the drunk had only momentarily come to life. He fell away, unable to keep his head raised to her offered nest. He snored as he lay back.
But for the woman, the moment of arousal had brought upon her a new, fresh wave of desire. Thoroughly debased by the earlier tortures wracked upon her by her daughter, the woman had no sense of decency left to her, no vestige of control. Sex, wild, sensuous, driving sex was all that played in her fired-up, tormented mind. She needed it. She would even beg for it. Even beg her daughter for it.
"Honey," she called in a whining voice to her young daughter, "Do me again ... please ... use the candle some more...."
"Why don't you ask daddy to help you out," said the girl in a flat tone of voice. "Tell him to get out of his pants and help you out."
"Harry," begged the mother, "do it for me. You heard, didn't you? Please, Harry, get undressed ... do it for me."
Harry Andover, mesmerized by the immoral activities he had just witnessed taking place between his wife and their daughter, started as his name was called. The grossness of the sexual play, its fire and intensity, had held him spellbound and unable to move to stop it. But the demand that he take part in it appalled him. To engage in sexual promiscuity before his daughter's eyes, perhaps even with his daughter, was too much to ask.
"Get dressed and get out of here," he snapped at his wife. "I mean it. Get the hell out of this bedroom."
Jean stared dumbly at him, a beseeching look still clouding her sex-glazed eyes. She needed sex more than she needed a lecture, and she couldn't bring herself to get dressed and leave her passions unfulfilled.
Their daughter, still casually watching the conflict between her parents, moved the candle, which was still loosely bulging from her mother's vagina, in a small, feathery circle. The woman sighed at the momentary return of pleasure and leaned backward on her knees to accept the slow rotation of the device.
"Dad," said Mary, eyeing her father with a cold look, "I think you'd better do what I suggested. Get undressed and give mom a little poking."
"Mary," replied the astounded father, "you don't know what you're saying. You get out of here, too. Go on, get out of here. Mind your father."
Mary made no move to leave the room as she had been ordered. To her this was the moment of the greatest test of her new power-her new relationship in the drawn tight family. She merely inched a bit of the candle forward into her mother's cunt, twisting it slightly to draw forth a new moan of pleasure.
"Get undressed, Dad," she snarled. "It's up to me to decide what you're going to do."
"What the hell do you mean," questioned the father, momentarily taken back by his daughter's defiance, her obvious intention to go ahead with immorally servicing her sex-crazed mother.
"I mean what I said," snapped Mary. "Get undressed and give Mom a good fuck."
It was a showdown of the maddest order. The father standing watching the slowly increasing pace with which the candle was prodding his wife to new peaks of sexual arousal. The daughter standing watching her father through slitted eyes, grinding the candle further and further with each stroke.
Caught in between these two forces, and rapturously enjoying the movement of the candle rending apart the dark tunnel's entrance, Jean Andover could only moan her pleasure and hope that her daughter would win in this conflict of wills between daughter and father. She needed her husband's manhood desperately.
"Harry," she groaned, "do what Mary says. Give it to me."
"Do it, Dad," hissed the daughter. "Do it or I send a little batch of pictures I've got to your boss."
"This statement was the one that finally broke through Harry Andover's befogged mind. So that was it. She was going to blackmail her parents with those photos he had posed for a few days ago-and, damn it, he thought, she can. My own bitchy little daughter has me right over the barrel.
The showdown ended. The wills which had clashed had found the stronger. Harry Andover, as his wife had earlier in the afternoon, surrendered to this sadistic, 12-year-old girl who had mastered the family.
He undid his belt, unzipped his fly and dropped his trousers along with his shorts.
"That's better," smiled the young girl watching her father obey her command.
"Hmmmmm," moaned the mother, "that's a lot better."
Harry Andover walked to the bed numbly. In other circumstances the sight of his wife's nude, waiting body, her obvious need for him, would have stirred to him to action. But at this moment of abject surrender he was unable to think of sex enough to stimulate his organ into erection.
His daughter, now assured of her absolute control over her parents, diabolically solved his dilemma.
"Give him a little blow job, Mom," she ordered. "You know how. You've been sucking that tramp for half an hour trying to get a rise out of him. Go on, give Dad a nice, hot suck."
To emphasize her command, and to insure its being carried out, Mary cruelly twisted the candle, screwing the lips of her mother's pussy into an agonized contortion which racked the woman's body with a heady mixture of pain and passion.
Her mother's hand darted out to grab the limp organ dangling between her husband's legs. Using it almost like a handle, she pulled him close enough to stuff the head into her mouth. She slobbered on it as she drew upon it to give the man's organ sexual dimension. She skinned the foreskin back to run her rough tongue raspingly over the tender red head. Releasing her handhold, she squeezed his testicles in even more direct sex-play. The prick, now held only by her rapidly working mouth, began to respond to the stimulus. The beginnings of an erection started as the woman laved all-encompassing attentions on the instrument.
Harry moved his hands to his wife's head, tangling his fingers in her tossled hair. He stepped closer to the bed to give her greater room for employment of her mouth as his cock stiffened. If he was to be some sort of a slave, he might as well as enjoy his new role as much as possible.
"That's it, Mom," his daughter's voice interruped his growing sexual revery. "Suck him good. Get yourself a nice homemade hard-on. Suck it ... suck it good."
She twisted the candle again to add pointedly to her direction and the woman bobbed her head to-and-fro on the cock to obey.
By now full import of the changing roles in the family were flittering from the father's mind as he pushed his belly forward to enjoy the attentions his wife was literally showering upon his now distending cock. One of his hands moved from his wife's hair to the soft, long neck she was straining to reach him. He stroked her throat in long sweeps. Then he brought both hands to her throat, moving them up along her rapidly working lower jaw and finally firmly grasping her by the cheeks. He reared forward driving his prick, now at full erection, deep into the oral cavity she offered him. He could feel the bulbous head of his cock shoving at the soft rear of her pallet.
"Give, baby," he laughed at her, "give me a good one."
Jean, her mouth filled completely with storming cock, gave a garbled answer, muffled by his thrusting prick. Frantically, she tried to say something again, but her husband took advantage of her attempt to open her mouth to pour more of his now thrusting prick into the depths of her oral offering..
"Gssshhhh ... ggggsssshhhh," she gurgled, her eyes widening at the growing impacts of his glans to the back of her mouth and the opening to her throat. She had never felt him so aroused, not even in their honeymoon days. He was obviously getting his full measure of enjoyment from her rapidly working mouth.
So intent were the mother and father on the profoundity of their oral copulating, they did not notice their daughter-or the bum who was still sprawled limply on the bed. The mother had cast him aside-as useless to serving her sexual needs, but the daughter had not ruled him out of the action yet.
Mary, still turning, twisting screwing the candle rapidly in her mother's wide-spread cunt, had reached over with her free hand to slap the drunken bum's face sharply in order to arouse him from his gin-soaked slumber. The sharp cracks caused him to move about and he cast bleary eyes at the blowjob action going on between husband and wife. His hands moved down his belly, moving the rubbery skin about with the pressure he applied.
"Hey," he muttered, now awakened by the view, Mary's slaps and his own hands rubbing over his body, "hey, that's a real show. Put it to her buddy. Put the old boots right to her now."
Goaded by his hoots for more action, activated by Mary's probing of her mother's cunt, and aroused by their own oral juncture, Harry and Jean stroked closer to completion of their act.
The drunk shifted further and pressed his now growing organ hard against the softness of woman's thigh. He secured it in the area behind her knee.
He pumped his now turgid cock into the knee pit to prime it even more. Suddenly, rekindled by the proximity of sexual activity and charged by his own playing with the woman's soft, pink flesh, the drunk rolled to his own knees and crawled behind the woman.
"Get that damn thing outta there, kid," he snarled at Mary who still had the massive candle working in long, pleasure-rending strokes in the bared cunt of her mother. "'Get it outta my way. I'm going to have me some from this end."
Mary laughed derisively at his drunken fumblings at this rear entrance to her mother's delight. This was even greater than she had planned. This would drag her mother to the abysmal pits of depravity. She would be taken by her husband in her mouth and by this sloppy, smelling, reeking bum in the cunt.
The girl happily moved aside, withdrawing the candle, knowing that she had to quickly move the candle to pave the way for this ultimate degradation to her mother. Nothing could have pleased her more at the moment.
Mary walked out of the room, glided down the hall to her room and picked up the Polaroid camera she had recently purchased to serve her voyeuristic needs, to gratify her need to see pictures while she masturbated.
She returned to the master bedroom cocking the camera to record the threesome's sex action-action which centered now on her mother and the woman's wildly gyrating body.
Jean Andover, mounted both fore and aft, penetrated at either end by ramming, jamming cocks, could have cared less that her debasement would .now be caught on film.
The thrusting probing cocks of her husband and the stranger were supplying even her nymphomania with total satisfaction. She reared backward to take the massive rammings of the bum's cock which was burying itself on each thrust deep within her vagina, and she stretched her face forward to lave her oral attentions on the now skidding instrument her husband shoved in and out between her lips. It was the ultimate in pleasure, being serviced by two men at once. If this was to be her fate at the hands of her sadistic daughter, then she would find it enjoyable.
The sucking of her mouth, the pressure of her lips, the sweet tenderness of the inside of her oral cavity finally bore fruit from her husband. Harry tensed with his cock about halfway out of her mouth, tensed, then rammed home with a sharp gasp of elation as he spewed into the cock-filled mouth of his wife.
His emission coincided with her own climax. The flows wracked her ecstatically. She stretched herself to the fullest, the better to have the best of both cocks. Hungrily, she washed Harry's prick with her lips and tongue, milking each wave from him. Savagely, she ground her hips backward against the other's still rotating cock, the better to serve her own passions.
Mary, clicking away with her camera, moved from position to position to record the entire momentous climax. Her eyes shined with expectancy, knowing that when she took these photos to the privacy of her room she would find dramatic release in looking at them and massaging her own, tender-skinned slit of desire until she could come.
Jean Andover's head slipped forward, bent down as her husband withdrew the now lank organ from her mouth. He kneaded her shoulders gratefully, acknowledging the pleasure she had given him. He slipped a hand up and down the now warmed length of her arched neck and slipped away from her.
Jean, too, was totally satisfied with the action, enraptured with the steadily pumping cock of the bum as it prodded the last measurable droplets from her emptied sexual depths. It had been glorious.
But the action wasn't to end on this note of sexual contentment for the woman. The drunk hadn't shot-off in the rapturous moments that the husband and wife had just experienced. His body, previously numbed by immense quantities of alcohol Mary had urged him to drink, was only capable of producing an erection-he couldn't get it off.
Mary, who had sought an afternoon of bestiality for her sex-ridden mother, had taken this into mind when she had set her mother up for orgy. She knew for sure that alcohol would have a deadening effect upon the man's desires. What was to follow was, however, even more deliciously debasing than even she had planned on.
"Keep humping, honey," the drunk grumbled as Jean settled down to rest after her debilitating debauchery with the two men. "Keep that nice big ass of yours in action."
"Sure," she murmured, "go ahead and finish up. I'm just too bushed to move."
"The hell you are, baby," he snarled at her, pinching both rounded globes of her ass and twisting them at the same time. "You put some action here for me."
Jean screamed at the unexpected pinches that immediately drew red welts where the fingers and nails had gouged at her bared butt.
"Hey," yelled her husband, "none of that rough stuff."
"Shut up," his daughter snapped at him. "Shut up. Let him do what he wants."
"But he's hurting your mother," exclaimed father.
"Get off the bed and stand over there by the wall," the girl commanded, her voice edged with threat.
"But he's hurting your mother," the father repeated as his wife screamed at still another skin splitting pinch on her ass.
"That's what I want," his daughter laughed icily. "Now get over there and watch-that's an order!"
To the accompaniment of his wife's shrieks of pain, Harry shambled to the wall as he had been directed by his new sex master-his daughter. He faced the wall, hearing the screams and not wanting to watch the torments the man was delivering upon the body of his wife.
"Turn around," ordered his daughter imperiously. "Turn around and watch ... this is going to be good."
Slowly, he turned, afraid to see, afraid not to obey. The sight nearly drove him to action to protect his wife.
The man had now grabbed her by the long hair on her head with one hand, and reached around her supple body to grab one of the great orbs of her breast with the other. He was tugging back on her hair, making her yelp as he jerked its tangled, damp texture. The other hand was pinching her viciously on the nipple, twisting the tit abormally into squeezed contortions of his its true, rounded shape. At the same time he was stiffly jamming himself to the depths of her spent tunnel, ramming home completely with each stroke to add to the woman's torment.
"God, no!" Jean screamed. "No! No! You're killing me!"
"Fuck me, you slut!" coarsely commanded the man ripping at her body in a three-way torture that caused her to buck and jump. "Fuck me or I'll rip you're damned tit off."
Jean howled and shrieked against these cruel spurs.
But each cry for mercy was answered with another clawing or plunging penetration.
The woman's daughter moved purposefully from spot to spot capturing these debasements on film to augment her already plentiful pornographic library of her mother's sex acts. She smiled at each shriek. She even moved in close to get a good photograph of her mother's face twisted in pain.
"Hell," muttered the bum shoving the woman from him onto the bed into a spread-eagled position, "this ain't doing me no good. Roll you ass over, kid, I'm going to finish you off old-fashioned."
Jean, sprawled as she was and weakened from the orgy and subsequent torture couldn't move her pain-spent body. She was unbelievably tired from the emotional action.
"I said roll over," commanded the bum, striking her completely exposed, voluptuous ass a mighty whack with his open hand. "Roll it over, damn it!"
She moaned and shifted slightly so that she could obey-anything to stop his seemingly never-ending slapping and striking and pinching of her helpless body. The motion wasn't fast enough to suit the man and he grabbed her roughly at the crotch to flip her on her back with a movement that caused another groan to pass her dried, parched lips.
"That's it, sweetheart," he grumbled in a satisfied manner. "Now spread out because I'm coming home to roost."
She glanced down over the soft, roughly-used mounds of her breasts at the man who now knelt before her. The immensity of his sex-aroused cock stunned her. Was that thing really in me, she mused? It was at least two inches in diameter, at its purplish tip, and his hair-matted belly seemed to be at least a foot or more behind the head of the shaft upon which that immense head was stuck.
She obediently stretched her legs, however, the blows had made her a slave to his command, and she didn't want anymore of them if she could help it. He placed his hands roughly on the inside of her thighs, the creamy skin pushed roughly about as he adjusted her position to meet his plunge.
"Spread it for me," he ordered holding her legs slightly aloft to make a dark target of feathery, hair-covered nest.
She moved her legs outward.
"I said spread it, you dumb bitch," the bum snarled, tweaking the soft, tender flesh of her thighs with his nails to emphasize his disapproval of her merely moving her legs outward. "I said spread it ... spread it with your fingers so I can get in deep and fast."
Twisting her head to the side so she wouldn't have to observe this next debasement, Jean reached down to the dark V and inserted her fingers in her cunt. She spread the lips slowly until they glistened pinkly, nakedly to the man's view.
"Okay," he continued. "Now put it in for me like a good girl."
His fingers clutched with the least bit of pressure on her thigh, as if he might wrench her flesh again if she didn't hasten to obey. Her head still turned, her eyes averted, she groped between their bodies for his cock, found it and guided to close proximity with her now fully exposed pussy.
"Put it in, quick," her tormentor commanded.
She pulled his massive organ to her, felt the head shove at the pink opening, removed her other hand. It was all done swiftly in one complete move. She gasped as the man's cock skidded down her well rutted pit to bang into the dead end of her chasm with a thud that matched the loud smack of the man's belly against hers.
"Get your legs around me. Keep spread," the man ordered. She obeyed, locking her ankles together to make a great, warm mounting board for his awkward, painful drives into her body. "You don't want to get hurt more, do you? Fuck me, honey, fuck me good or I'll rip you up again."
She pulled with her legs to give him the advantage of maximum penetration and then released him to allow him the slow withdrawal she knew men enjoyed. Then a tug with her legs to repeat the action.
"You ain't hot enough for me," the man said joining the pumping action of her legs with the stiffening of his own protruding belly. "Play with your tits. Get yourself fucking hot."
Still staring away from this man who was rooting her like some smelly beast, Jean casually cupped her bruised breasts softly and molded her palms to their curved warmth.
"Rub 'em, damn it! Rub 'em till you get hot," the man snarled in her ear as he lowered himself closer to her body. She responded quickly, swinging the globes in wider arcs.
The prodding of his cock, her toying with her breasts, produced the desired effect for the man as she began to warm to this task being forced upon her. She, too, came to enjoy the rammings of his organ and soon she was completely engaged in the act for which she had been prepared through torture and depravity.
The pleasure burned through her belly, warmed her legs, and brought perspiration to her forehead which dampened the tender tendrils of her tangled hair. It broiled through her in mounting waves of heat and excitement until she was actually rolling up to meet his strokes aroused again.
She came off with a great eruption of her body-a volcanic eruption which she earlier had thought impossible to achieve again. The roaring action started with an almost audible rumbling at the darkest, deepest points in her ravaged body and ended in a really visible spillage of her juices. She came in great peaks. His pounding cock banged forth spasm after spasm until she screamed now with ecstasy, where earlier she had been screaming with pain.
"Oooooooowwwwww," she moaned. "Give it to me! Give it to me! Fuck me!"
The man pumped at her, ground his belly against hers until their meeting hairs began to tangle into a spiderweb from which the only part with painful, elastic, untangling. But still he didn't ejaculate. He was still bound up by the alcohol.
"Okay," he ordered her, withdrawing in one smooth swipe, "score another for you, sweetheart. Now lets get me off."
He grabbed her by the back of the head and the jaw and shoved her down on still turgid organ "Oh, no!" she moaned plaintively. "Please, no ... not that...."
"Open up," he commanded applying pressure on her jaw until the pain forced her mouth to pop open. "That's more like it, honey. Suck it!"
Even the woman's daughter, the child who had forced her mother into this predicament, gasped as the now fully recuperated man rammed his cock home in her pain-wracked mouth. He thrust with a vengeance, with a now whole-hearted need for satisfaction aroused by all that had transpired in the bedroom.
His cock slid through the pink oral cavity. The head slamming backward until it lodged with hammer-like force at her throat. She gagged at the penetration, so suddenly did the man achieve his entire goal.
Rather than take any more pain she went about her work with masterful motions designed to finally bring him off. She exhaled her breath to fan his desire with heat. She entwined her tongue about the shaft to construct it with laving motions. She rubbed her mouth up and down to tantalize the bulbous purple head. She cupped his testicles in her hand, and with the other hand, she jerked swiftly on that part of the shaft which he couldn't ram into her mouth. Her hair, tossled and moist with perspiration, she let flay his bared belly. There wasn't a part of her she didn't try to get into the action as she twisted and squirmed to add this magnificent sight to his unabridged pleasures.
Responding to tweaks on her cheeks or the pressure of his hands on her ears and head, she fondled, sucked and tried to cajole his still unresponding cock. She developed a smooth rhythm to all of her ministrations, as the time dragged on, a never ending rolling series of motions.
Tiring, the man grasped her hair and pulled her off. He lay on his back, his swollen, reddening prick pointed to the ceiling and said simply: "Around the world, honey ... this is gonna take time."
Even this ultimate dispoilment wasn't too much for Jean Andover.
She assumed a kneeling position on the bed beside the man looked into his face as if awaiting some new directive.
"Start off with my feet, kid," he shrugged nonchalantly as if this new sexual depravity were simply something to be expected of a woman.
She twisted sideways and began the trip with her tongue which would eventually cover every exposed, bare portion of his body. Facing his widely extended feet she had bared her own nest of pubic hairs to his fiendish view and he jammed a finger into the swollen slit with no intention of giving her pleasure.
Jean twisted to avoid the jabbing, painful finger, but he clutched her by the fleshy area of her thigh and held his target close enough to twist and control it with his grating middle finger. She finally relaxed, giving into the pain rather than to fight and undoubtedly receive an even more unspeakable torture.
Her darting tongue worked up his hairy legs leaving the areas she tongued moist. She purposefully let her dangling breasts pound out a small, pleasure-giving rhythm on his erection, hoping again to so indulge his desire that he would come. At the V of his thighs she turned the other way, at last getting her cunt away from churning finger. But now her breasts were exposed to his meandering hands and he grasped them firmly, painfully to direct her hardworking tongue.
Licking on the whisker stubble about his throat and jaw, the woman paused once more wondering whether her sex partner would want her to kiss him on the lips.
He laughed at the unspoken question and pulled her head down roughly to press his purplish, wet lips onto hers. The coarseness with which he plunged his tongue fully into her mouth was worse, if that were possible, than had been the insertion of his cock in her mouth.
But she stayed with the kiss until he released her and guided her back to the center, the now quivering, rockhard center, of his passion.
As her tongue pried the core of his navel, twisting the small hole about, he glanced down at her and growled: "Get on board, baby, give me another roll."
Jean braced herself to accept the rending finger to the end of his spasm. But instead of shattering the outraged cunt, he jammed the finger into her rectum just as he came. The force of the jab to her outraged hole plunged her full mouth onto his spewing prick. The scream of pain was drowned. It came out only as a gurgling sound unheard by any of the persons in the room who had watched with either horror or pleasure at the woman's mistreatment.
Her husband, standing dumbly at the wall, rammed a fist into his own mouth to surpress his own cry of woe at the sight-at the sights-he had beheld enacted in a pain-wracked orgy between his wife and the man on the bed who now humped the last oozing drops of his pleasure into her mouth.
Her daughter, the child whose sadistic bent had triggered the entire debasement, gasped with a mixture of horror and pleasure at this final, violent spewing of passion. Horror at the obviously painful penetrations of the many orifaces of the mother's tortured body pleasure that caused the child to squeeze the shorts-covered lips of her own pussy and mold them into the contortions that brought the child her own young girl's pleasure through masturbation.
"That was a helluva good go-round," laughed the man slipping off the bed and settling into his disheveled clothing. He glanced meaningfully at the three-the mother, sprawled helplessly on the bed; the father, standing horror-struck at the wall; and the girl, lost in a rapture of her own making.
He walked out of the room, into the kitchen. He paused at the nook where the liquor bottles stood. Chuckling, he helped himself to an armful of bottles saying: "Hell, they gave me everything else, why not?"
CHAPTER TEN
SEX THAT BACKFIRED
As Jim and I reviewed the growing complications in the sexual proclivities of the Andover family, it became apparent that the 12-year-old daughter, Mary had gone over completely to the sadistic bent in her perverse nature. However, a new tack in the interview conducted in her parents' presence brought forth something completely new concerning the child's sexual development. The following is the conclusion of the three-way interview which had already clearly displayed the nymphet's sadism by the way in which she had delivered her mother into the hands of a drunken bum.
* * *
"When that man left the room," Mary said, "I had nearly had one of my own climaxes. Watching the way he used mother, fiddling with myself between my own legs, I was all set to go over the roof myself.
"I could hardly wait to get to my own room where I could look at my photo collection and bring myself off. I didn't say word to my folks. I don't think Dad could have talked, and Mom was so beat up she couldn't talk, either. I practically ran to my room to get to those pictures, and to look at the ones I had just taken of mom. I knew I was going to have one helluva time with myself and I could hardly wait.
"I got into my room and closed the door. Ordinarily, I would have simply pulled down my pants, spread those pictures on the bed and went to work on myself. But everything that had happened so far that day had been out of the ordinary and so it was with my masturbation.
"I did not take off my shorts and panties and spread the photos I had just taken on the bed-as I had planned to do. But suddenly I wanted all of my clothes off, not just my cunt coverings. I had never had that urge before, but I was so wild I did it anyway. I tugged that tight sweater off and then hustled to get out of my bra. My tits swung out into the open and it felt like I had let a soft spring breeze rinse over my body. I kicked off my sandals and just stood there for a minute enjoying the feeling of being completely nude.
"Then I glanced at the pictures on the bed, thinking, I guess, that I would start playing with myself. But the pictures of Mom being twisted and turned into all those positions by Dad and the man, or even the one of the two men going at her, didn't seem attractive.
"I remember walking over to the drawer where I had the other pictures-the older ones of Mom alone. The ones where she was taking care of herself. I remember I had to hold my thighs together real tight while I looked over these photos, and I selected the ones I wanted to look at while I played with myself. She was really enjoying herself in them, the same way I did when I was bringing about my own climax.
"Then, with my pussy just a hot ball up between my legs, I suddenly didn't want to look at any pictures.
"I wanted to look at myself!
"I was hotter than a firecracker, but still I took the time to drag my bureau about so that when I was on or near the bed I could see myself in it. The work of tugging the big piece of furniture about on top of my growing sexual arousal drew the sweat out of me.
"I know that because when I finally got everything arranged the way I wanted it my whole body was like glossy paper. It shined with the perspiration of labor and desire. My hair was shiny too and I had a real good close look at myself-looking for the first time to see if I were an attractive female.
"I looked me over from top to bottom-I mean everything. It was a real sexual inspection just for my own pleasure, and I found that everything I saw made me want to really work me over, sexually.
"I ran my fingers through my hair to toussle it, to make it look wild. It did look attractive mussed up and it also felt good to rip my fingers through it. I lowered my eyelids and looked as sexily as I could into the mirror and found my body responding to the sloe-eyed glances I gave my image.
"I ran my hands over my cheeks, pushed them into little balls and then tickled the soft skin. I stroked my throat the same way and then just pushed my mouth about so I could see the pink insides. My puckered mouth reminded me of Mom and I thought how someday-maybe soon-I would be having my first French kisses, or, better yet, sucking on some man's flaming, pounding prick.
"I stroked my shoulders, and I liked the feel of the broad sweeps of smooth, soft skin, the warmth, the gracefulness of the lines and curves. Then I let my hands drift across my chest and then down until they touched my tits. Oh, Lord, that felt good. They weren't big, like a woman's, just orange-shaped mounds, but I knew they would grow in the next few years into those nice melon shaped globes that would be attractive to men-and even more pleasing to me.
"I lifted one until I could just kiss the nipple by stretching my tongue to its utmost-the way I had seen Mom do to herself, once in a while. Oh, did that feel good. The nipple just shot out like a root hunting for my pink tongue. I couldn't help but think of that pointing, hardened nipple as being something like a man's erection.
"I was rubbing my soft palms down over my belly when I realized, if I were to finish this inspection, I had best stay away from my pussy. The slightest touch at that point and I would have gone off all over the place.
"So I passed over my flat, tight tummy really quick and walked over to the bed and lay down on it. I reached down to my calves and stroked my hands about and up them to behind my knees where that real soft flesh is. Then I massaged my thighs, moving my hands up the insides all the time to the point I ultimately wanted to reach.
"I was all spraddle-legged, my feet on the floor, a lot of my ass hanging over the edge of the bed as I moved my hands softly, languidly toward their goal. I made the flesh on my thighs flap by patting my inner thighs softly. I was concentrating on bringing off just one of hell of a spasm and delaying to the last possible minute the one touch that my whole body was now screaming for.
"I was really trying to go at it slowly-the whole wild thing felt ever so much better than the previous perfunctory playing around with the lips of my pussy. But my hands, both at the same time, touched that crinkly little nest of pubic and I grabbed myself-grabbed real hard. I spread my cunt with two fingers on one hand, for the very first time, put the finger to myself. Really put it to myself, I mean. Inside ... inside just as far as I could thrust it. I had never had anything in my vagina before so it was like cracking open the pearly gates and all with just one fast, wonderful motion.
"It was so wonderful that I came off even as my finger was going up my tunnel. And, again for the first time, I really got off.
"I kicked and moaned with the delight of it. I even fell off the bed, but I never relinquished my finger's penetration. Oh, that felt good. I was coming just like Mom. My little trickles prior to that masturbating were nothing-and I had known it. This was what a climax was all about, and, Lord, did I enjoy it. I pumped my finger further and further inside and suddenly felt that first thrill all over again-I came again.
"It just seemed too good to be true. To be able to come and come and come. I don't really know how many times I went off, but I do know I was thrilled to the marrow. In fact, it felt like the marrow of my bones had turned into come and I was milking every bit of it right from the source springs of my passion.
"I didn't know whether I wanted to stretch my body until it unsprung or cuddle up and do myself over and over. My body just felt totally released, and I did everything and anything I wanted. I was all wet between my legs and I could even feel the warm, tacky juice covering the cheeks of my ass. The hair was all tangly and it stuck to my come-covered hands. Oh, that was a sensational series and it just didn't stop. It went on and on and I enjoyed every rapturous wave of it."
"She really was enjoying it," said Mary's father interrupting her re-creation of that final debauch of the day. "I had tried to console Jean after the ordeal that bastard had put her through, when I suddenly heard Mary groaning and shouting from her room.
"All sorts of wild thoughts kept racing through my mind in the few seconds it took for me to actually realize where the almost animal-like noise was coming from. I even considered the idea that the beast had come back for more of his idea of fun.
"I had no idea what was going on. But even though I should have hated her for what she forced her mother to do, I couldn't not go in to see what was the matter.
"She was out on a sex cloud somewhere when I went into the room. There she was wrenching her body outward, stabbing her finger between her legs. Those damned pornographic photos were scattered all over the bed and floor. She was writhing in a vertiable museum of photographic carnality.
"She was making quite a show of herself, I admit it, after having watched my wife having at it with that man, and then seeing the spectacle of a young girl masturbating while completely nude, I got sort of aroused myself."
"Sort of," Mary laughed. "You had an erection like you had never had before. Go ahead tell what happened next."
Harry Andover lowered his head, puffed deeply on one of his never-ending cigarets, and then nodded his head.
"You begged me to fuck you," he said. "You spread your legs and your pussy and just lay there on the bed heaving, writhing trying to get me to fuck you. But you didn't order it the way you had ordered your mother and me before, so I knew your heart wasn't in it. I couldn't have brought myself-not then-to screw my own daughter."
"That's when I found them," put in Jean Andover taking part in the new trend of the interview. "She was whinnying like a mare in heat, and Harry was standing there rubbing his cock.
"She was moaning over and over, 'fuckmeeeeee....fuck meeee,' and suddenly I was really afraid that Harry couldn't withstand the temptation, the offer, the demand-whatever you want to call it. "And, too, the sight got to me somehow, even though I was sure I was bone dry, wrung completely out by what that drunken slob had done to me already. I don't know how, but I got all heated up watching them, my daughter and my husband, and I suddenly had to have one more toss myself.
"I grabbed Harry's cock, skinned it back and hootched my own belly forward so that the head could handily rub my pussy. We just stood there playing like that. I knew I couldn't take a full cock in my beat-up cunt, but I could use it on the lips. Harry didn't seem to care at all. The head was inside where it was warm and wet and I worked his balls and the rest of the shaft with my hands. I guess it was something like getting jacked-off, only in a cunt."
"It wasn't bad at all," Harry recalled. "The head slipped about just at the playground entrance and Jean's body jiggled with the rhythm of her hands working me over. She had to hunch her shoulders and her tits bulbed up and the cleavage was just a big chasm. I came off quite quickly looking at her and taking her stroking. She did, too, even though my cock wasn't all the way up. We had a big, long French kiss while she pushed her hips down to let the round head masturbate the clit and lips."
"I could see them coming," Mary now said. "It made me mad as all hell, because I really meant it when I had yelled for Dad to fuck me. Right then I was ready to lose my cherry, become a real woman and all the way. I watched them on the carpet, watched them contort their bodies so they could get all they needed-and I was damned mad it wasn't me getting that cock."
"I don't think," Harry said crushing the cigarette and reaching for a fresh one, "that any of us, not even Mary, realized right then how angry she was."
"No," his wife said, "we didn't then, but we certainly found out later on didn't we?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CAMERA-EYE VIEW OF A SEX SPREE
The impact of the parents' unspoken meaning attached to their stated comment that their sex-driven sadistic daughter had made them suffer was readily apparent to both Jim and me. We suggested they continue, in her presence, to relate what happened after this newest side of their daughter's sex personality-narcissism-had been brought forth. They told us:
* * *
"She was fully aware that even that first horrible afternoon when she had demanded money of me-and brought home that beast-hadn't brought an end to my nymphomaniac need for men," said Jean Andover. "In fact, she had assumed full control of our whole family relationship and seemed determined to drag me to the brink of my sanity with her sexual excesses and demands.
"She was asking me for more and more money each time she brought me men. I wondered what she needed the money for, but she was very secretive. I knew she wasn't buying clothes for herself, because all she had to do was order her father or me to buy things and we did, so great was her unmerciful power over us.
"But when we did find out it was almost a physical blow."
"Yes," interjected her husband. "Mary really had been saving for something-something that just added another measure to the mad sexual spiral she had spun the whole family into."
"She purchased a movie camera and tape recorder, both very expensive with the money I had given her," said Jean visibly shrinking at the recollection.
"Mary, her mind was so twisted by now, even brought out her new equipment in a party-going mood," said Harry.
"Yes," said Jean, "she had kept me out of her room for the better of a week saying she had something special, a surprise for 'Mommy and Daddy' in there.
"Then one afternoon she started talking about men and how they used women-that sort of talk always turns me on and she knew it. I thought she was just working me up so I would give her some more money to go out and fetch me a man. I wasn't really hot that day, because she had been awfully good about bringing me my studs.
"I was all set to give in ... to ask her to go out and hustle me up a man to service me. When she suddenly stopped talking and said she wanted to go to her room for a while. She ended the whole thing so abruptly I knew, or thought I knew, that she had just wanted to torment me. My cunt was like a wet paper sack hanging between my legs and the lace of my bra rubbing over my tits as I moved drove me mad with desire.
"She had really set me up and I went to my own bedroom to take care of myself. I was walking down the hall past Mary's room when she came out and grabbed me by the shoulder and told me to leave myself alone-she said the afternoon would be taking care of my needs. Lord, how right she was."
"I got home from work just as Mary was talking to her mother," commented the husband at this point. "I knew something was up, but I didn't know whether it was a tiff or maybe even Mary had brought home a man and she was telling her mother what to do with him . .she had gotten that way ... ordering her mother how to sexually gratify herself ... what positions to assume ... what debasements she must submit to.
"I joined them in the hallway and that's when Mary told us to come into her room-that she had a surprise for us. We went in and there, on the bed, were two big packages all wrapped with ribbon and a couple of smaller ones which were also decorated in a festive fashion.
"We just looked at her ... we had grown used, also, to waiting for her to give us orders. We weren't doing anything by that time that wasn't okayed in advance by our daughter."
"When she saw we were waiting she gave that cruel little laugh of hers and told us to take off our clothes," put in Jean. "I didn't need any urging because I was half out of my skin with passion. I just stripped without formalities or anything. I knew what I needed and I was sure that our daughter would see to it that I got it."
"I undressed, too," said Harry, "then just stood there waiting for the next order even though I could tell by the way Jean was looking at me that she was ready for a sexy frolic in just about any manner either Mary or I would suggest.
"But she told us to go to the bed and unwrap the packages-the larger ones first. I took one package and Jean the other and we undid the ribbons and wrappings. When we finished we opened the boxes that were inside and found the movie camera gear and that tape recorder.
"Mary practically cackled as we looked at the equipment and she saw that we understood what it was there for-to make movies of our sexual activities and to record our voice and the sounds of our lovemaking on the tapes," said Jean.
"Then she had us open the smaller packages," said Harry. "She really drew out on the time for us before she was going to let us mix it up sexually."
"The smaller packages both contained bottles of a Spanish liqueur, a thickened variety which had a heady aroma, rich taste...." said Jean.
"-And was loaded with Spanish Fly," interrupted her husband.
"Man, weren't they, though?" said Jean recalling avidly the after effects of the drinking party which ensued. "That stuff was loaded for orgy-making and Mary had each of us drink a whole bottle while we sat there naked, together, on the bed."
"We didn't drink fast," put in Harry, "we just sipped it while our daughter set up the camera and sound equipment, adjusted some bright movie lights so that the bed was flooded in bright light. She took her time at every step."
"I needed an aphrodisiac like I needed a knock in the head," said Jean. "The first gulp and I could feel that wild scratching in my cunt like it needed a rasp or a file to grind away that all-consuming itching. Harry had a couple of swigs from his bottle and his cock came up to a rigid attention. I'd never seen it pulsate like that before. It just stood there throbbing. I could even tell the ache, the desire, that was coursing through him."
"I just wanted to grab Jean and ram her through," said Harry. "I never had anything hit me like that before in my life. One minute I was sitting there and the next I couldn't get sex out of my mind."
"We were rubbing our thighs together, twisting our ankles about the others, just playing about as much as possible when Mary said we could start kissing," added Jean. "I just threw my bottle on the floor and jumped astraddle Harry. I rammed myself down on his stiff prick like it was the only thing in the world I could cling to to maintain my sanity. As it went up, I put a wad down on it-it was just that fast for me."
"Lord," said Harry, "how she drove home. I was the one who yelled with the excitement of it. She took the whole shaft, from the head right down to my crotch, in one stroke. I could feel her coming. I didn't go off right away, but it was pretty fast for me, too."
"He took about four more strokes and returned my flow with interest," his wife said. "Oh, he came and came. I could feel the heat, the stream gush up through my cunt. I came again just with the thrill of his going off like that.
"But that liqueur Mary had given us kept both of us in a full state of lust and need. Harry didn't go soft and I didn't die down a bit. My cunt was like a volcano and his cock was like a measuring stick probing to find the core of my heat. We went at each other like animals in season-and all the time Mary was moving about with that movie camera taking in the whole scene."
"And it was some scene," Harry added. "I never went soft and couldn't get enough of Jean's body. I put it in anytime she got near me. We were wet with sweat and our bodies slipped about like a pair of greased pigs. Once we slipped crossways and wound up with our organs ground against each others mouths in one of the wildest sixty-nines' you can imagine. I rode her and she rode me with pounding, insane strokes that turned sex into a living-but desireable-hell."
"Physically, we were spent," said Jean. "But emotionally we were at an hour' long peak that we couldn't come down from. My back ached and Harry groaned every time I went after his cock once more. Our muscles were like rubber, but the sex jag wouldn't end for either of us.
"Once my legs gave way when I was on top and I just fell impaled on his prick. He couldn't move either but that hot shaft just contracted and swelled of its own volition until the strength came back to both of us and we started humping again to one more wracking wave of spasms.
"All the time Mary was winding that camera, inserting more film, telling us to talk more while we fucked so that she could tape the whole, mad ordeal."
"It ended the same way it began," now said Harry, "in just one great convulsion. It just stopped. There was nothing more to give or to demand."
"That's when Mary started that hideous chortling of hers again and turned on the tape recorder-she said, pointedly that she wouldn't be able to show the movies until later in the week. Hearing us on tape though was ghastly. How two people could say the things we said, demand the basest, coarsest copulations. We could even hear the moist sound of our bodies sliding about or the loud smacking noises our lips as we handled each other orally," Jean put in.
"The sound I remember the most was when my cock slipped out once with a wet, snapping gush and you could hear us screaming trying to get back together-in the background Mary's voice was hissing the command for us to fuck-over and over she ordered it.
"And we obeyed like a pair of slaves-sex slaves."
CHAPTER TWELVE
MORE PLAY MATES FOR THE SEX-CIRCLE
As each new fascinating-and fantastic-element in the Andover family's startling case appeared, we became convinced that we were no where near the point of total discovery. Only with the complete revelation of the multi-faceted sexual intrigues and orgies that stormed through their relationships could there be any hope at all of pinpointing something, some direction that might help them. Once again we asked to interview the daughter alone because it was so apparent to even the most casual observer that her stormy, sextossed mind was the keystone to the abnormal family structure. Mary related these facts concerning events which followed her first pornographic movies which had used her parents as the participants.
* * *
"Taking those movies really got me wound up-and in a lot more ways than you might think," Mary said. "I went back to my room with the tapes I had made while mom and dad were having their little party, but I wanted really was to see the movies.
"Somehow the thought of them fucking, and fumbling around with each other really set me off. I turned on the tapes for the time being though and had myself a real session-with the mirror and the sound of their voices begging, beseeching for more and wilder sexual activities. Oh, I could come right now just thinking of that night. I had been getting my cookies with bigger and bigger flows ever since I had discovered I enjoyed looking at my own body. But with their voices yelling, 'suck me, honey,' and 'screw me, baby' and all those things it was just out of this world to play with myself. I had to keep a towel by my side to catch the floods I brought out and even it was dripping by the time I had finished my own private workout.
"But getting to see those movies was the big thing and that bit of business caught me a couple more playmates for the sex-circle I was beginning to put together.
"I knew of a photo studio in town where some of the kids said the darkroom man didn't ask too many questions about negatives. Lots of the kids were talking about sex a lot by my age, but I didn't know just how true what they said was. A lot of them made up stories, I knew. They bragged about getting fucked or having sucked on boys' cocks and getting their tits played with at black-out parties, but it was all mixed up between truth and wishful thinking. I wasn't sure about this darkroom man, but he was the only hope I had for getting all that wonderful sexy film developed so I decided to try my luck.
"I went down to the studio with the cans of film in a shopping bag. A lady was minding the front when I got there."
"What would you like, Miss," the lady asked."
"I've got some movie film I'd like to have to developed, but I'd like to talk to your darkroom man about it first," I answered.
"I'm sure I can take your order," the lady said. "How many rolls do you want printed?"
"Really," I stammered. "I've got to talk first to the man who will be developing it ... I understand he ... he ... he does special work on occassion."
The woman stared at the young girl standing before her for a long moment and then turned to the back of the shop through a curtained door.
"Come with me," she said firmly. "Maybe we should talk over this film-it sounds sort of special."
The way the woman said "special" Mary knew that she had some idea of its content. She followed the woman quickly without a backward glance.
"Al," the woman called into the darkened backshop area, "come here a minute, will you?"
Mary heard rustlings in the dimly lighted room and a muffled male voice saying, "Okay, I'm just going to be a minute souping this stuff from the party the other night."
Mary got the idea he was working on a special order right at the moment, and she began to feel more relaxed about her decision to come to this shop. She stiffened, however, when she suddenly felt the woman's hand slide around her waist and squeeze her in an overly friendly fashion.
"How old are you, honey?" the woman asked moving the arm up and down slowly on Mary's firm young hips and sides.
"I'm ... I'm seventeen," Mary lied. She didn't think it would be a good idea to state her real age-twelve.
"What's your name?" the woman asked now resting her rapidly warming hand on Mary's flanks.
"Mary," she answered. After all, she would have to give her name when she left the film so she could pick it up.
"My name's Ruth," the woman said in a familiar manner which was made all the more familiar by her now smoothing the skirt down over Mary's butt. She paused in the sweeping motion to cup the rounded cheek she had now cupped in her free hand.
"Hi, R-R-R-Ruth," Mary stuttered growing excited at the fondling she was receiving. She had never had any hands on her body in a sexual fashion before and she found that this rubbing and smoothing was quite tantalizing-quite exciting, in fact.
"Al will be a few minutes, Mary," said the woman, "Why don't you tell me a little bit about your film."
"Well, " Mary said slowly, not quite sure how much she should tell.
"C'mon, Mary," the woman urged, "I get to see the stuff anyway after Al developes it-and you wouldn't be so shy about talking about it if it weren't something, shall we say, out of the ordinary."
"I heard your store developed the kind of film I've got, but I really don't want to talk about it to anyone but this Al," Mary said. "Who is he, anyway?"
"He's my husband," Ruth answered, "so, don't worry about things at all. Tell me about your movies. What have you got?"
She emphasized the growing urgency of her need to know by now slipping her hand down Mary's warming thigh to the hemline of her mini-skirt and sliding the hand upwards so that it shoved the skirt ahead. She also started using her other hand by clasping Mary's shoulder and tugging her slightly about so the two women faced each other in the dim light. She pulled Mary's softly yeilding, now expectant body to hers and performed a slow, sensual grind with her belly on the younger girl's flat stomach. The rubbing brought on the early stages of arousal that Mary had so often brought on by rubbing her belly with her hands.
Suddenly, the woman stepped back and smiled at Mary. She moved to a desk drawer and pulled out some photographs that had been placed well to the back of the drawer.
"Here," Ruth said smiling, "take a look at these and see if we're talking about some of the same material in your movies."
She took Mary's hand and pulled her toward the desk. She patted the younger girl's ass affectionately as she drew nearer. Mary had to look closely at the photos because of the near-darkness in the darkroom workshop area. As her eyes focused she breathed deeply as she recognized what was going on in the pictures on the desk.
In one, two nude women were laying side by side on a bed smiling at each other. They each had enormous tits and the four globes were flopped together between them, touching, cradled by the molded form of the meeting place.
Another photo depicted the two women now clasping each other in a wild embrace. Each was feeling the other's tits and they were giving each other wide-mouthed kisses. Their legs were tangled together and the thigh of one woman was crammed hard against the crotch of the other.
Still another photo portrayed one of the women sprawled out on the bed, her head resting on a pile of pillows. She was cradling her own breasts and smiling down between her spread-eagled legs to the mussed up hair of the other woman who was lavishing her oral affections on the splay-legged woman.
Mary gasped as she looked at the next photo! The women were now sprawled on their sides-each taking the other with her mouth. A dazzling array of arms and legs framed the beautiful, rapturous faces of the women as they sought to return the favors being rendered by the other partner.
"Like those? Are your pictures like those?" Ruth asked the shaking young girl she was now hugging and squeezing with growing abandon. "Tell me, honey ... tell me ... are your pictures like these?"
Mary, her young body warming in response to the woman's working her over, looked up from the photographs spread before her sex-glazed eyes on the table. She opened her mouth to answer-and the woman kissed her.
It was no motherly kiss. Mary's eyes widened for a moment at the initial moist contact of the lips upon hers, and then she went limp with pleasure and her eyelids fluttered close. She slipped into a wonderful dreamy world which engulfed every comer of her mind-brought electric tingling to every nerve in body.
Ruth's tongue filled her mouth. It tangled with the child's. It drew the tender young pink thing out of the girl's mouth and into Ruth's. It pushed the stolen pink bud back into the child's mouth and pushed a wet entrance for itself again. Ruth's tongue searched out the deepest parts of the girl's orfice, swept up the tender sensuous insides of her cheeks, played along the firm row of sparkling white teeth-and then plunged in rapid strokes to the limits of its long, moist length.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," murmured Mary at the deft, artful laving she was receiving from the mouth of a true expert. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm."
She knew she was in good hands for a lesson in sex which she would always remember and she relaxed. She let her body drift into the soft curves of the older woman, to feel the warmth, the soft, giving pressure of the matured body. She could only vaguely feel Ruth's hands pulling at the elastic top of her panties. She wiggled her hips to help those wonderful hands accomplish their mission. The nylon panties slipped to her knees and she raised a foot slowly to let the garment fall in a loose heap on the floor.
The removal of that thin shield triggered Ruth into even greater activity. She had this little kitten on the go and she was going to press the advantage she had built up-press it to the unnatural act she had hoped to bring off with this now willing partner.
She pulled back from the prolonged French kiss to stare at the girl whose dress she had pulled well above her hips, whose panties lay in a pile of smoothly textured material on the floor.
Holding the girl's bared belly against her, Ruth pumped, rolled and ground against her trying to bring to that pinnacle of arousal from which she couldn't retreat-couldn't retreat until she had had the satisfaction that Ruth intended to supply for her.
"Mary, how do you do it with your boyfriends?" she said in a husky, soothing-voice. "Do you let them get on top of you? Do you kneel for them and let them go in from behind? Do you mount them?"
She mentioned all the positions that Mary had seen her mother take and the impact loosened her even more. She was returning the gyrations of the older woman and she now pressed harder so that the warm softness of their bellies together could add to the pleasures.
"I've never done anything like that with a boy," she answered. "I've never done anything like that with anybody."
Now it was Ruth's turn to gasp her delight and surprise.
"You're virgin?" she asked wonderously. "You've never been fucked?"
"Noooooo," Mary moaned responding in greater measure as Ruth brought home with her rotating body the rapture she felt at being informed of the girl's still retaining that sweet flower.
"Oh, you'll like what we're going to do," Ruth whispered sweetly into the girl's ear just before she clutched her for another kiss.
Mary, fully-prepared now for whatever might come to her, didn't wait to have her tongue sucked into the sensuous, wet mouth encompassing hers. She plunged her tongue forward feeling the soft raspiness of Ruth's tongue as it slipped and slithered out of the way.
"Here," said Ruth pulling their mouths apart with a loud, resounding smack, "sit on this chair, honey. Just sit down. I'll take care of everything."
Mary let herself be pushed back a step or so and then a soft chair seat bent her knees and she collapsed, legs spread wide onto the chair. She arched her back against the backrest, smoothed the chair arms with long fingers and let her head bend forward so she could look down between her soft white legs and the sight of Ruth going into a crouching position before her.
"Oh," sighed Ruth, "that's real eating pussy you've got there, dear. It's so pink, so sweet. Put your legs over my shoulders, Mary. Put them way over my shoulders. They're so soft I want to feel them around my face while I eat you up."
Mary had to draw upon every measure of her fast waning strength to assume the position Ruth asked of her. When her young, full legs were just above Ruth's shoulder she let them fall with a plop. It was' the last move she could make, she felt. It was so restful, so blissful.
Ruth, now that everything was spread and readied for the delights she intended to pass out, now moved with cat-like grace to the final position. She wrapped her arms about each soft, well-molded thigh so that her fingers could lightly scratch the feathery nest before her. Then she touched each lip of that perfectly-formed pussy with her fingertips, drawing forth soft, pleasured groans of joy from the girl.
She parted the lips further and delicately blew onto the treasure the hot breath which she brought from deep in her lungs. She dawdled her middle finger languidly across the dainty clit until it stood up like a quivering tuning fork to reveive the blandishments.
Ruth was wearing only a loose fitting blouse which tied at the shoulders. Seeing that she had complete control of the girl's emotions she now took time to untie the strings and let the blouse slip away from her body, down to her waist. She then looked into Mary's languid eyes with a devilish glance and said, "Lean forward and unhook me, Mary."
When the young girl did so she had to strain again to roust her waiting body into action. But with great effort she managed to bend over Ruth's back and quickly undo the hooks.
"Now slip my straps off," Ruth said soothingly.
Mary did and Ruth's great, peach-smooth tits spilled wantonly out of the confines of the now disposed of bra. Ruth sighed at the release and warmth of Mary's hot thighs now resting on her bare shoulders.
Ruth raised her body slowly between the girl's legs, letting their feminine skin slide together until she reached a position which permitted her to fill the gaping, feathered V of Mary's thoroughly damp crotch with one of the full melons of her breasts. Reaching under the girl's leg she cupped the breast so that its soft, warm bulb would rub against the gate to Mary's deepest pleasure sites.
The older woman now smiled directly at Mary and Mary could only smile greatfully in return. Ruth's nipple, pressing against the opening to the tunnel, hardened to the stroking motions of Ruth's hand and Mary's now twisting cunt. Soon the stiffened nipple came into contact with Mary's clit. The touch drew a long, long sigh of joy, of rapture, of delight, from Mary's puckered lips.
"Aaaaaaggggghhhhh, mmmmmmmmmm, ooooohhhhh," she sighed twisted her hips to receive the full benefit of this most unusual of sexual contacts.
"You like that," half-questioned, half-assured Ruth smiling again at the young girl.
"Ooooohhhhhhh, yes," moaned the nymphet, "yessssssss."
Ruth, prolonging the eventual act she would perform to its fullest, arousing delay, then flitted her tit up and down so that the nipple and the clit were pounded together in a wild rythmn which brought even greater howls of rapture from Mary's parched lips. She kept up the drumbeat until she glanced down to the meeting point and saw that Mary had also the pink area at the point of the tit to make the roseate spot and the inch-long nipple shine. Too, Mary's legs were now working up and down the older woman's back in the motion of arms embracing a lover. Ruth smiled. The precise moment was at hand for the ultimate raptures.
She pulled the nipple away from the clit, slid her rounded tit away from the feathery crotch and placed herself in the adoring position she would hold for a while before that lovely, bared-and spread, pussy. She opened her mouth wide, exhaled one last soft gust of hot air onto the now pulsating lips and lunged forward.
Mary yipped at this final, necessary rite. A hot tongue plunged smoothly through the tunnel that led to her desires-and she was immersed in her first act.
Ruth, who was actually one of the women in the photos she had shown Mary, was expert at oral love-making. She thrust her tongue in maddening plunges to the very innermost points of the young girl's body. She held it firmly against that small sack. Then she rapidly laved the cunt with the full width of her tongue. Achieving the rewards of the girl's mewling cries for more, Ruth rose to even greater levels of skill. She pointed her tongue into a stiff, dart-like point and drove it against the sack, then she alternated the rapier-like thrusts with full-blown laving of each crevice, each peak, along the tender walls of the tunnel.
Mary's calls for more and more made Ruth pause to tantalize the child with little nibbles on the lips of her pussy followed by the tenderest bites on the passion-inflamed and swollen organ. The bites brought little yelps of purest delight from the girl and she clawed her hands through Ruth's hair to hold that devouring, delightful mouth full on the tender target.
The girl's legs spread wider and wider the better to accept the full treatment being rendered upon her passion-wracked cunt. The wider the flowered garden opened the deeper Ruth plowed it with her tongue until, in a blinding light of pleasure, Mary's flow rumbled out of the little sack, down the course of the dark tunnel, past Ruth's thrusting tongue and spewed forth in a volcanic explosion of pleasure.
Ruth could hardly hold her own against the rushing torrent for a moment and then the heated, rapids virtually forced her back from the now throbbing, gyrating orifice. In awe she watched the spasms wracking the girl's body. She reached up and touched her own face.
"God," she blurted, "you come a bucket, honey. You sure do come a bucket."
"She sure does," said a man's voice. "She sure does. I've never seen anything like that before in my life."
Al, the darkroom technician who had come into the desk area quietly and had watched most of the perverted act, reached over Ruth's shoulder to gently insert a fat, rough finger into Mary's still contorting cunt. He moved it slowly forward until his clenched fist rested against the twisting lips. He tickled the walls of the churning cunt and Mary responded with even more spasms.
Holding his probing finger in the sheath, he unzipped the fly of his trousers and drew forth an even better shaft to insert in it.
"No, Al, no," Ruth said hastily, "she's cherry. Don't fuck her. Let me have her for a while. She'll be a lot readier for a man later on, believe me, Al."
The man, standing with his finger buried to the hilt in the still yearning pussy, paused. He looked excitedly at his other hand which was now filled to capacity with his turgid cock.
"Don't worry, Al," Ruth hastily assured him, hoping to put off the ravaging of this tender, fresh cunt until she had had her fill. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."
"Maybe if you both take care of me," slyly said the now leering Al. "How about that, kid? You know how to take care of a man without getting yourself screwed?"
Mary could only look questioningly at Ruth. For her, until Ruth's oral working her over, sex had meant masturbation and she truly had no real idea of what a man might expect-unless, she thought, he wants me to suck him off.
"I-I-I don't know what to do," she finally stammered lamely.
"She doesn't, Al," Ruth said hurriedly. "Please, let me handle you."
"Nope," said the man with an air of finality to his voice, "it's either both of you or I mount her right now."
He was a big man and the threatening move he made with his massive organ toward the untried cunt he still impaled with his finger spurred Ruth to action.
"Wait, Al," she whispered huskily. "Let me show her something. You'll have a good time. Believe me you will. I guarantee it."
Without waiting for an answer she deftly undid his belt and yanked his trousers and shorts down completely exposing the lower portion of his torso. She then grabbed his hand from Mary's cunt and led him to a daybed which stood in the comer of the room while she unloosened her own skirt enroute.
At the bed she had him lie down on his back and she removed her panties-the last vestige of clothing she had on.
"Mary," she ordered. "Come here, quickly. Watch what I do with my hands and then you do it when I stop."
The desperation in Ruth's voice stirred Mary to move her tired body from the chair and she lurched on unsteady legs to the bed. She sat on the bed and watched as Ruth demonstrated the debauched-but practical-method of bringing a man off by hand. Ruth's slender fingers tickled the base of the cock while she wrapped her other hand about to constrict it and rub it. She palmed the bulbous, reddened head and then slid her hand back down its length to course upwards to the plumb-like head again.
Al fell quickly into the mood and his slowly twisting legs and heavy breathing indicated complete satisfaction with this method of supplying release for his built-up sexual passions.
"Here," Ruth said moving the great prick toward Mary," you take over."
Gingerly, the child reached forward. She had never held any sex organ-male or female-but her own before, but somehow she wanted to do this. Doors were opening for her this afternoon and she wanted to go through them no matter to what depravities they led.
She aptly matched the strokes and fingerings that Ruth had been applying and Al hardly noticed the passage of his cock from one set of playful hands to the next.
"Now how about a little something for Ruthie?" the older woman said after she saw that Al was not going to be disappointed with the arrangement. She emphasized her request by suddenly switching about in the bed so that her own blazing cunt was posted over Al's working lips.
He grunted acceptance of this role and raised his shoulders, extended his neck so that he could orally copulate with his wife while the continued strokings of Mary's suddenly expert hands kept his desires churning.
His laving attentions to Ruth quickly drew gasps of delight from the woman and she bent her body so that her face was close to the pumping hands that were working on her husband's erection. Periodically, when Mary's hands were plying the base of the massive instrument, Ruth would dip her head and lick on the purplish glans, or opening her mouth widely let it slip inside for an instant of added jollies.
Al, who had been printing pornographic movies; who had watched as his wife had brought this firm-bodied girl over the top; who had fingered the tender pussy; who had been stopped only inches from getting a good fuck in it-Al came to a feverish peak in only moments.
"Get your hands out of the way, kid," he commanded Mary. "Ruthie, baby, finish it off ... finish if off."
Ruth curtly knocked the child's hands away from the now throbbing cock and grabbed it herself. She plunged it into her mouth bobbing her head up and down to mininster to the entire shaft. Al, satisfied with the sucking, slippery attentions, went back to the base of his wife's passion and, thrusting his tongue wildly, brought Ruth off just as his own emission spewed into her mouth.
The animal-like savagery of jabbing tongue pulled Ruth to the core of her sex and, in the excitement of her climax, she let the spewing, pumping cock slip from her lips.
Ruth recovered quickly and rammed the still shooting cock into her mouth to pull the last dregs.
"Mary," Ruth said as Al's cock slipped once more-and finally-from her mouth, "kiss my cheeks ... kiss them with your tongue."
The child pushed forward to lick at Ruth's cheeks.
"Now kiss me," Ruth continued, "kiss me on the mouth ... kiss me hard ... real hard."
The women wrapped their arms about each other and fell to the bed in a squirming tossing tangle as they kissed long and full.
When the kiss ended finally in a wet smack as their mouths pulled away from the vacuum, the two feminine members of the threesome sprawled in a web of still writhing arms and legs. Al, stretched lazily as he looked at the two twist and turn in the last, dazed movements of spent passions. He slipped an arm under Ruth's now relaxed shoulders and slowly running the palm of his hand over belly which was still rising and falling heavily, he started at Mary's near-naked body.
"I'm going to get some of that little cunt, yet," he said out loud. "This is good enough for starters, but I'm going to be in you yet, kid."
"Later, Al," laughed his wife toying with his now limp prick. "With this you aren't going to be poking anything no matter how much you want it."
"I'll go along with that," he said leaning back. "But I'm going to put me a hard-on in that snatch sometime-sometime soon."
"I hope you will," Mary suddenly said as she too reached over to tenderly squeeze his cock. She said it before she even thought that the man's wife was laying on the same bed with her. She was shocked at her utterance. Shocked so that the shock plainly showed on her face.
"Don't worry, Mary," Ruth said calmly, still idly playing with her husband's once mighty organ. "I understand. Sooner or later all of us gals want to slide one of these poles up our little twats."
She rolled about so that ample tits were pushed hard against her husband's chest and she stroked his hairy belly with her hand.
"And I couldn't think of a prick that would be better than Al's," she cooed complimenting her husband's manhood. "You've really got the full order of equipment to keep a girl happy, honey."
Al gruffly kissed her, reached over and gave her a playful swat on her still bare ass and rolled off the bed.
"C'mon," he said quickly, "let's get some work done. You didn't come over here just to jack me off, did you, kid?"
"I came because I heard you didn't ask too many questions about movie film you develop, and I've filmed some stuff that I don't really think I should take down to the comer drugstore."
"You shot it?" Al asked with a little start. "How the hell did you shoot anything you wouldn't let just anybody develop for you?"
Mary gave a little shrug and smiled at him. She'd keep her sources and techniques her own little secret.
"Just let's say I've got some hot film and I wonder if you would bring it out for me?" she said simply.
"Tell you what, kid," Al said. "I'll soup it and give you a reel for $75. If I like what I see I'll make some copies for me and you can have it for $35. Can you raise that kind of dough?"
Mary, who was sure the price would be $35, again smiled. She would simply ask her mother for $35 the next trip she made to the stud farm for her.
"Sure," she said aloud. "I can get that kind of money.
"When can you deliver the film?"
"Give me about a week," Al replied.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE SEX STUDIO
The tangled web of sexual aberrations was slowly spreading into a morass that would involve more and more persons in Mary Andover's network of abnormalities. The interviews continued to expose new and excessive directions. Mary revealed a new dimension to us as she told what happened after her perverted session in the studio laboratory with the shop's owners, Al and Ruth. The following is how we summed up the subsequent events as detailed in interviews with the growing number of participants.
* * *
Mary left the studio and went directly home that afternoon. When she arrived at the house she found her mother having a cup of coffee with Jane, a new neighbor who had only recently moved into the area.
The two women were seated on the sofa in the living room when Mary entered.
"Oh Mary," her mother said. "I'm so glad you got home now. Mrs. Ashley has been asking about you. She has a daughter your own age, and a son who is the same age as Jeff. We thought you two might help her children get acquainted at school."
"Sure," answered Mary looking noncomittally at her mother and Mrs. Ashley. "Anything to help out."
"Why, thank you, Mary," said Jane Ashley. "That would be awfully kind. I was just telling your mother how difficult it is for a new child to make friends right in the middle of a school year. We had to move away from the childrens' old friends when my husband took a transfer to this area. He works for the same company your father does, I understand, although they are in separate departments."
"When would you like me to drop by to meet them?" Mary asked.
"Why not tomorrow afternoon," suggested Mrs. Ashley. "The boys can get together and you girls will probably find a lot to talk about."
"I'm sure we will," Mary answered. She was sure, too, because with her growing experience in the many deviations of sexual behavior she was beginning to always think in terms of how any new experience could be twisted to a sexual angle. In fact, the very idea of a new set of victims for her sadistic train of thought, aroused her slightly as she now took a closer look at her mother and the new neighbor.
Mary, just finished with a rousing frolic during which a woman had magnificently serviced her passionate desires, wondered if she could bend yet another person to her will.
"Will your daughter be taking the same classes with me?" she asked as if seeking more common background for the upcoming meeting.
"Yes, I believe so from what your mother tells me," answered Jane Ashley.
"We're studying sex and its relationship in marriage right now," Mary said closely watching for any reaction from the women. Her mother, she knew, would tingle at the mere mention of sex-it had been nearly three days since she had had any playtime. But Mary was even more interested in Mrs. Ashley's reaction. She was disappointed to see not even a flicker of interest. She descided to pursue the subject to see if there might not be a point of arousal she could spot.
"It's all so interesting to young girls," she said. "We've covered the basic medical facts about sex (Jean Andover nervously reached for a cup of coffee at the word's second usage) and now we're just starting to discuss some of the methods of enjoying a happy sex-life in marriage."
Mary's mother was now visibly activated by the continuing referrals to her prime need-sex. But Mrs. Ashley merely listened in an interested fashion as if the matter were of no more than academic concern to her.
"We're finding that both the man and wife have to engage in a certain amount of direct action so that each will feel needed, desired in sexual area of marriage," Mary continued enjoying the mounting arousal she denoted in her mother's nervous actions. Talk of sex was always enough to spring lose that important mainspring of her mother's strange life.
"It sounds very interesting," said Mrs. Ashley calmly.
Mary obviously wasn't getting anywhere with the woman so she decided to try at least one more trick.
"Daddy will be getting home shortly," she smiled sweetly at her mother. "I think I'll set out your drinks. Would you care for something Mrs. Ashley. Dad has a magnificent new liqueur that he and mom really enjoy."
Mention of the aphrodisiac which had sent her and Harry into a prolonged sexual bout brought a shudder to Jean Andover's now sex-taut body. She stared, pleadingly at her daughter but as had become normal in this abnormal family, she could not bring herself to say anything that would stop her.
"I really don't care for liqueurs," said Mrs. Ashley to which Mary responded with little pout of dismay. Her mother sighed in relief.
"But I will have a martini if it isn't too much trouble," she quickly added. "I guess it's late enough in the day to have a drink."
The way she had made a point of stating she had waited long enough for a drink-and her haste and interest in obtaining the drink, did give Mary something to think about. Could it be that Jane Ashley enjoyed her schnapps-enjoyed a drink enough to make it the weakness that Mary was seeking.
"I'll make you one," Mary laughed. Then, looking directly at her mother she added pointedly, "I'll bring you your liqueur, mom."
The child hastened to the kitchen where she quickly put together the drinks and returned to the living room carrying them on a little serving tray. She had carefully brought along the cocktail pitcher which had a bountiful bonus in it.
"I'm sorry," she smiled at Mrs. Ashley as she indicated a large water goblet on the tray. "I couldn't find the little cocktail glasses, but I though this might do."
Jane Ashley's eyes beamed approval of the girl's choice and she smiled appreciatively as she saw, too, the nearly filled pitcher.
"That's alright, Mary," she laughed. "I'll manage somehow."
"Here, Mom," Mary then said coolly. "Here's your liqueur."
She then picked up a Coke she put on the tray for herself and sat down to join the women. She poured the goblet full to the top with the contents of the martini pitcher, filled a smaller glass with the aphrodisiac for her mother-then sat back to watch the results.
Jane Ashley raised the gigantic martini slightly, nodded agreeably at Mary and her mother and said lightly, "Cheers."
She downed nearly a third of the drink at the first draught and beamed approval at the mixture. Mary's mother reluctantly took a small sip of the liqueur and Mary swigged her Coke.
"That's a very good martini," said Mrs. Ashley toying with the stem of the glass and then taking another healthy belt at it.
"Daddy taught me that," Mary smiled demurely, hoping that the ice in her voice didn't come through as a warning for the woman who was settling into the web the child was weaving. .She smiled sweetly at her mother-and in words that only her mother could really understand, added, "Mom and dad have taught me ever so many things."
Jean Andover squirmed uncomfortably on the couch as her mounting passions and the first tingle of the sexually-arousing beverage began to join forces in her raging body. She didn't answer, merely took a long sip on the liqueur that drained the glass.
Mary poured her mother another and then looked at Mrs. Ashley to see how her newest prey was reacting. Jane Ashley had drained her own glass and carefully set it down near the still well-filled pitcher to get across the idea that she would readily accept a second if it were to be offered. Mary complied with the unspoken request by re-filling the huge glass to the rim.
The child now scrutinized both women even more closely and noted the flushed faces and glistening eyes-one caused by drink the other by passion.
"Would you excuse me for a few minutes," she asked politely. "I have something I have to do in my room."
Jane Ashley jovially waved the glass she had already picked up for the second time. Mary's mother merely looked perplexed as she nodded approval for Mary to leave. At that particular point in the rising tenseness of the situation not one of the participants really knew what course of events would take place. Mary was still building a perverted sex situation in her own mind, her mother knew something was afoot-but not really what it would be, and Jane Ashley was too engrossed in her drinking to even think that she might be being drawn into a trap-an abysmal trap at the bottom of the depraved ladder of sex.
Mary returned in moments to find that the new neighbor had emptied and refilled the glass in her absence. The pitcher was now dry. She then looked at her mother sitting at the other end of the sofa. The liqueur, the teasing talk of sex and delay to find gratification for the desires were working openly on the woman. Her fingers were tapping on the back of the couch where she had flipped an arm and she repeatedly smoothed a non-existent wrinkly on the hip of her skirt.
The build-up was perfect, Mary decided, taking another look at Mrs. Ashley who was now nearly sprawled in a state of drunken relaxation. Her tongue was thickened with the kick of the large and frequent martinis and she had trouble framing Mary in her view as she slowly raised her head to look at the girl when she returned.
"Y'shure know how ta make a martini." She grinned at Mary, hoisting her nearly empty drink aloft in a playful toast. "Thash bes' I've ev-ev-ever taslited."
"Can I mix you another?" Mary asked sweetly.
"No," the woman replied trying to pull herself into position to stand up. The unsteady move merely hiked her skirt higher revealing her thighs to the mid-point of their rounded, soft beauty. She gave ano'ther shove and managed to sit upright, but failed to adjust her skirt as if she hadn't even noticed the disarray. To Mary, the sight of the bared feminine limb was quite exciting-especially when she recalled her own bare legs wrapped around Ruth's head and shoulders. Not allowing her own excitement to interfere with the set-up she was planning, Mary hastily started up the sex conversation once more.
"We learned in our sex classes that women have ever so many more physical points of arousal than men," she stated. "They say that men can be readied for a sex act just by looking at a woman, but a woman has to be touched.
"Thash for sure, isn't it, Jean?" Mrs. Ashley giggled winking knowingly at the other wife. She thought-at that moment anyway-that the secrets of sex play were really known only by herself and the other married woman.
Mary's mother could only nod her head in agreement, she was excited now beyond speech and she wanted to end all the talk, have the woman go home and get her daughter to the park where she would bring home a man-a man to fuck her!
"They said a woman's breasts are the most accessible and desirable points of arousal. But some women just like to have their hips or bellies rubbed," continued Mary keeping the sexual line of conversation rolling. "Is that true, Mrs. Ashley?"
"Whatever yer teeshers say is what you should lishen to," laughed Mrs. Ashley still unflustered by the topic. "We've all got out little places, I guesshh."
Mary's mother could no longer forgo playing with her "little place." She now began running her hands in long, smooth sweeps down her hips and thighs and back up again.
"One of the girls said something about a 'clit' the other day after class," Mary said maintaining the conversation's direction, "I didn't know what she meant by that. Do you know what she meant, Mrs. Ashley?"
The mention of thw word, 'clit' was Jane Ashley's second weakpoint and the word triggered a bullet of sexual need into the pit of her stomach. She and her husband always played with her own before settling down to lovemaking and the word-and the copious drinking-set her immediately afire with desire.
The reaction wasn't missed by Mary who had been hoping for the discovery of a chink in the woman's sexual armor. So, she thought, you're little clit is your monkey. That was the key to the locked up passions.
"I've heard that when a man plays with it it stands up and vibrates almost like a tuning fork," Mary remarked. "Is the clit a part of a woman's arousal structure?"
Jane Ashley's eyes grew limpid as she thought of how delightful a part of her sexual equipment her clit was. She put the now empty glass on the coffee table and smiled at Mary.
"It's a part, darling," she murmured through her drink-thickened lips. "Mmmmm, yesh, it'sh a part."
With that she attempted to rise, struggling against the inertia the martinis had brought upon her.
"Think I'll go home and see if my daddy's there yet," she said simply.
Mary knew full well just what was important about daddies being "home." Jane Ashley was ready for a good rousing fuck and she was heading for the correct place to get it-home. But home wasn't a part of Mary's well-conceived plan, she had prepared a detour to depravities that the older woman had probably never even though of before.
Jane Ashley missed the sofa cushion with her hand as she attempted to stand and the loss of balance sent her tumbling onto the fired-up body of Mary's mother. Sprawled in a prone position on her stomach, the drunken woman became nearly unconscious. She settled her head comfortably on Jean Andover's lap, rubbing her cheeks softly against warm, soothing belly. One of, her hands flopped casually onto the warm thigh and she gave it a comfortable squeeze as she drifted off for a little nap.
Her mother looked at Mary wonderingly as though waiting for a decision on how this new, and unplanned for, situation should be handled. Her sex-filled mind showed through her eyes which implored her daughter to somehow get rid of this unwanted woman-so that the real partying could swing along.
Mary slowly rose to her feet and walked to the sofa where the older women were tangled. She spread her lips into a thin, cruel smile of disdain. The smile she reserved for those exciting occasions when a new slave was put under her power. She stood looking for a long, drawn out moment, relishing the sight, enjoying what was now to take pake.
"Let's rape her," she said quietly to her mother.
"W-w-w-what?" gasped her mother.
"I said let's rape her," repeated the child in a stony voice that bore no hope but that a rape would be accomplished. "Help me drag her into my bedroom. I've got everything set up."
"Oh, Mary," moaned the mother, "what have you got in mind now? We're females. We can't rape a woman."
"Like hell we can't," hissed Mary placing her hands under one of the sodden woman's arms. "Take her other arm and we'll haul her into the bedroom."
"Mary's mother delayed only a fraction of a second. The tone in her daughter's voice brooked no room for arguement. She was, somehow, going to debase Jane Ashley. The mother clutched the victim's other arm; the mother and daughter tugged the limp woman from the living room sofa down the hallway toward the sensuously rigged bedroom.
"Where we goin'?" muttered Jane Ashley as she revived a bit due to the tugging and hauling on her body.
"We're going to get some more to drink and have some fun," Mary assured her.
"Drink?" Mrs. Ashley giggled sprightly.
"Hmmmm, something nice to drink," affirmed Mary casting a glance at the liqueur bottle she was hefting along with Mrs. Ashley.
"Party?" questioned the woman happily, "Goin' have party?"
"A real party, Mrs. Ashley ... and all for you," confirmed Mary.
"Thash real nice," smiled the woman. She tried to stand and walk but her knees wobbled and she collapsed laughing into the arms that held her-guided her down a path to perversion.
Mary and her mother shoved Mrs. Ashley through the door to the bedroom. The mother gasped at what she saw even though she had been placed in sexual servitude in here before. Some new additions had been added without her knowledge-additions which foretold that her daughter's sadistic streak was rapidly swelling beyond any human confinements. Wide, soft, black leather straps had been attached to the bedposts and they were now placed neatly so they would be handy for use.
"Good Lord, Mary," Jean Andover gasped aloud. "What have you done?"
"I haven't done anything-at least not yet," answered the child. "But we're certainly going to do something. Toss her on the bed on her back."
The mother and daughter deposited their drunken bundle on the bed with a flop that made Mrs. Ashley bounce up and down as bedsprings reacted to the impact. She gave a little sigh and relaxed on the soft bed.
"Undress!" Mary commanded her mother. The mother moved rapidly to comply with the direction and soon stood naked beside the bed where Jane Ashley had settled into a liquor-soaked slumber.
Mary went into the bathroom to remove her own clothing-and to make use of another addition she had found attractive to her perverted senses. When she stepped back into the bedroom her appearance drew an awed, frightened glance from her mother.
Mary had donned high-heeled white boots that were fitted snugly up her legs to where they ended near the apex of long legs. About her torso she was covered with the fish net fabric of a beach coat. The coat was belted tightly to her small waist with a broad leather belt. The appearance was that of a slavemaster whose word was to be obeyed-no matter how outrageous the command. To emphasize the role she also carried a small leather whip, short-handled and short-thonged but capable of providing the drive needed in case a word of command wasn't enough.
Her mother shivered staring at this new personality quirk appearing for the first time in her daughter. But in the shiver was blended a sense of expectancy. Jean Andover rubbed her hands over her belly and well-molded thighs jubilantly. If Mary said there was to be a rape-an obviously abnormal rape-then there would be one, her mother knew for sure.
"Get on the bed with her and take her panties off," Mary stated firmly. Her mother eased herself beside the resting form on the bed and softly raised the short skirt until the elastic band of her nylon panties could be seen. The soon-to-be victim stretched lazily as preparations for her debasement were taken.
"Mmmmmmm," she moaned in her sleep. "Mmmmmmmmmmm, that'sh nice,"
"You'll think 'nice' when we get through with you, lady," chortled Mary gleefully directing the initial steps of the rape. "Get her pants down, mom."
The mother started to tug lightly on the tops of the panties. Suddenly she felt a smarting lash to her bare ass-a snap that drew a small yip of pain from her lips. She looked behind her to see what had caused it.
Her daughter, the whip swinging forebodingly in her hand, glared at her. The mother glanced backward further and saw a thin reddening welt on the white globe she presented to her daughter's mastery.
"I said this was going to be a rape!" snapped the child. "Yank'er damned pants off her. Stop being so coy. If I had wanted her seduced, I'd have ordered you to-I told you to rape her, and that's what I meant."
As she ended the order in clipped tones that spat out each individual word, Mary arched the whip through the air and snapped another cutting lash to her mother's buttocks.
The pain acted as the motivating source for the woman. She roughly pulled down the panties whch she had been trying to work down, jerked the drunken woman legs until the nylon was wound only about one ankle.
"Please, don't hit me like that," she implored of her daughter. "Please don't."
"Do what I say and you won't get whipped," her daughter answered coldly. "Don't obey me and I'll flog your ass raw-understand?"
Before the mother could answer that she would obey, Jane Ashley, who had been momentarily forgotten in the confrontation between mother and daughter, raised herself to her elbows and looked about with her bleary eyes.
"Hey," she mumbled, "whash goin' on?"
"Shut up, you dumb bitch," hissed Mary. "Spread your legs ... the party's on."
"Hey," Jane yelled seeing now what had happened to her clothing during her nearly unconsious sleep, "Gimmee back my pants. What the hell you two trying to pull?"
Mary delivered a stinging slash with the whip to the inner portion of the woman's naked thighs in answer to the question.
"Yiiiigggghhhhhhh," screamed Jane looking aghast at the red welt.
"Spread your legs, I said," Mary repeated, her voice edged with violence. "Spread, or you'll get another belt."
Jane, awakened by the blow and the rough treatment, but still groggy from her drinking spree, tried to roll off the bed. She wanted away from this and she wanted away fast. But her alcohol slowed reaction wasn't fast enough. Mary slashed at the retreating hips with the singing little whip. The hiss of the thong travelling through the air ended with the harsh snap of its landing on the white skin. Jane rocked back and forth trying to dodge the now raining blows which were raising welts and starting tiny trickles of blood coursing from the stinging wounds.
"Hold her down, mom," yelled Mary. "Let's hold her down."
Her mother rolled over onto the now shrieking woman restricting much of her action with her own weight, clasping her arms and grinding a knee into the twisting crotch. Mary joined the tussling women and pulled one of Jane's protesting arms toward one of the leather straps she had placed on the bedpoles. She clamped the wrist within the binding and locked it in place with the bruising brass buckle made for that purpose.
With one arm trapped, Jane couldn't fight off her attackers even as well as she had before and it was a simple matter for the mother and daughter to secure the other arm with a second strap.
Mary then leaned over the woman's helpless form and planted a wide-mouthed, wet kiss on her lips drowning out the screams for mercy. Jane tried to twist her head away. Mary's answer was to imbed her fingers in the woman's hair and twist her face back so she could resume the slobbery kiss. She suddenly removed her mouth and snarled at her mother, "Rip her shirt off-and rip it, don't try to be subtle. We're going to have her naked for our party."
Jean grasped the shirt by the collar and yanked in opposite directions at once. The buttons snapped, flying about the bed, and the material gave way under the rending stress. Jane now had only her bra on-and the dainty garment gave way to the same ripping action that had shorn the woman of her blouse.
Her breasts were so well-developed that even stretched out on her back as she was, Jane presented a bountiful pair of globes to receive the rapine actions of Mary's plying hands. Mary tweaked the soft nipples until the woman tried again to scream, but couldn't due to Mary's mouth which completely covered hers-soaking it inside and out with wet attentions. Then Mary calmed a bit and began a slow manipulation of one breast, cupping it into a full melon of plump pleasure, squeezing it tenderly, rolling it about slowly.
"Noooooo, noooooo," moaned the woman.
"P-p-p-puleeeeeeezzzz, nooooo."
But the slowly hardening nipple, the reseate glow of the pink circle at its base, belied the fact she wanted the rape to end. She was beginning to enjoy-or at least become aroused by-the going over she was receiving.
Now that the woman was secure and beginning to come around to accepting her debased role in the erotic activity, Mary realixed a bit and looked at her mother who was manipulating Jane's other breast in the same manner as her daughter.
The mother's eyelids drooped dreamily down as she watched how the tit she held yielded to the pressures she applied to it. She was enjoying the sight, relishing the hardening of the nipple that was hers to control. The feel of flesh-even feminine instead of male-against hers had added to the arousal she had had to hold back on for so long now.
"Mom," her daughter's voice interrupted her reveries, "you've been a good girl-why don't you take her first?"
Jane roused herself, although she retained her soft hold on the intended victims warming tit, and looked questioningly at her daughter. This was the moment evidently prepared for-but, she thought, how do you go about raping a woman when you're a woman yourself?
"What shall I do?" she asked seeking guidance for her next action from a mere slip of a 12-year-old girl-a girl, however, who seemed to know tricks that her married mother had never heard, or thought of.
"Sit on her thigh with your pussy and see if that doesn't make you feel good," suggested the child absently as she returned to plant another wet kiss on Jane's damp mouth. Jane struggled slightly to dodge the kiss, but then steadied herself to the ravagement when Mary's tongue plunged inside with a rapid series of strokes.
Watching her daughter laving moist kisses on the strapped down victim, the mother moved so that a firm, warm thigh rested between her own legs, filling lusciously the space presented by the wide-spread crotch. She tingled at the touch of the feminine flesh, the lips of her vagina. She slid back and forth tentatively-to find that the contact was capable of producing a rapturous effect. She clutched Jane's bare leg, pulling it to her cunt and taking advantage of the firm pressure.
Jane thrashed, trying to keep her tormentor from using her limb as a sexual device to bring about lustful satisfaction. But the mother had only to concentrate on the one leg, to keep it pumping against her swollen cunt. Other than that the daughter's attentions to her hot mouth and tit were turning her on sexually. She gave up the brief struggle in acceptance of demands being placed upon her body. She had no other hope, really, and she knew it.
The mother spent her desires almost immediately upon the bare limb. The usual climax was as great as usual, which surprised-and pleased-her. She had wondered if making use of a woman's body might not hamper her ability to accomplish satisfaction for her lusts. The evidence of her unstinted ability soon spread in pools upon the quivering thigh. She slipped about in the lubricants of her own body which now squished between her and the glistening leg of her partner.
Mary then applied a new angle to abnormal party. She looked at the strapped woman, smiled, and reached for the bottle of liqueur she had carefully thought to bring along.
"You're really not having too much fun yet, are you?" she asked the woman. She didn't wait for an answer, the question was its own answer so far as the sadistic child's mind was concerned. "Here take yourself a drink."
Jane protested, now sure that the bottle contained something that would add to her debasement. But the effort to avert drinking from the bottle was of little value as the mother and daughter held her by the jaws and throat and poured the contents into her mouth. She choked on much of it, spit out more-but ample quantities of the sex stimulating beverage were gotten into her.
The stimulant's action was dramatic and almost immediate. Jane stretched her nude body sublimely, smoothing her back and languidly flowing arms against the bed sheets. Her face flushed as the blood pounded through her stretching limbs. Her eyes flashed devishly at the mother and daughter. She paused in her languishing, rippling twisting of her body and smiled at them where just moments before she had been screaming at them to stop tormenting her sex-ravaged body.
"Somebody eat me," she demanded. "Somebody eat me!"
For the first time words had an effect on the nymphet-the same effect they produced in her mother. Hearing the plea for unnatural sexual pleasure aroused Mary because she knew what a woman's mouth had done for her earlier in the afternoon at the photo shop.
They also generated a powerful, emotional upheaval in the child's mother whose nymphomania-thoroughly driving her now-demanded an incessant round of orgiastic pleasure once set off.
The dual arousal triggered a sudden, wild and abandoned scene as both mother and daughter scrambled to respond to the cries of the strap-restrained woman they had in their power. With the same thought in mind, to orally wrench sexual spasms from Jane, they each lowered their own bodies quickly to the center of her need. Each had grabbed a leg to better spread the target they sought and the result was that Jane's body was stretched into a great wide V with her cunt the furry center of the splendid spread.
'Oooow wwwwww," howled the spread-eagled woman as the grasping hands strained her legs to the breaking point. The pain was terrible, but it was easily forgotten in her anticipation of the oral relief she would have lavished upon her. 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmm...."
"Get back, she's mine," stormed the fanatically aroused mother.
"Get out of the way, I want her," the daughter spat back.
Thrashing for possession of the now protruding pussy, the two females fell between Jane's twisted, sprawled limbs in a maniacal, clawing battle to see whose mouth would clamp on that desirable, dampened-and debased-sexual receptacle.
"Get back ... get back," yelled the mother.
"Go away ... go away," snarled back the daughter.
"Please ... please ... please...." moaned Jane over and over eagerly awaiting a conqueror to sheath a hot tongue in her fired up offering.
It was the child who won out. She just grabbed her mother's hair and pulled the woman back when she saw the dark tunnel, out-lined by the pink lips and feathery pubic hairs spread immediately before her. She strained her neck, opened her moist mouth wide-and locked on.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhhhh," sighed Jane at the stabbing, rasping penetration. "Y-y-you've g-g-got it!"
And she had it well. Having experienced the pleasure of being the recipient of oral copulation, Mary now wanted to give, and give, and give the pleasure. She let her imagination run wild as she recalled how she had been tongued so recently. Her tongue darted, licked, plunged. She nibbled on the sweet lips with her own to draw out the pleasure for Jane. Nothing she could reach in that pounding volcano was left untouched.
Her mother, shoved roughly out of immediate participation reeled to the side. She flung Jane's leg down on the bed where it rubbed in long, strong strokes against her own daughter's bobbing shoulders. Then she scrambled up; toward Jane's passion-contorted face.
Jane's mouth was agape, her eyes wrinkled closed as she accepted the child's lust. She didn't see the girl's mother smiling impishly down at her as the mother settled herself into a position to make use of Jane's now straining oral offering.
Jane's mouth had formed into a perfect O as she moaned her rapture and at just that perfect moment, the mother squatted down on the pursed lips.
"Take it!" she commanded scrunching her once-again blazing organ onto the woman's face. "Take it ... eat it ... eat it!"
If Jean Andover had not known earlier what her daughter had meant when she announced they would rape this woman, she knew now.
The trussed Jane, surprised and shocked by the suddenness of this new sexual assault, tried to twist her head away from the grinding pussy. But it was as though the opened sex organ and her puckered mouth had formed an immense, consuming, adhesive vacuum which no force could tear apart. Beside the strength and ferocity of the new connection there was the maddening flickering of the younger girl's tongue-it had taken the sex-prisoner to the brink of absolute desire.
The mother, riding the twisting mouth as she would a bucking mare, suddenly felt the mouth open. Wet lips slithered about the pumping organ. A tongue tentatively touched the outermost, pink fold of pussy. Then, with an audible gasp, the prisoner succumbed wholeheartedly to the oral rape. A hot tongue, raspy as a file but hot as a brand, thrust upward.
The rape was accomplished completely. Now it would result in-new paths of sexual activity leading to the desired point-the ultimate, basest depravity.
All three women were now pounding in a mad rythmn of abandonment. The mother, her desire nurtured and serviced by the prisoner, was looking down between the legs of the woman where she could see the bobbing head of her daughter lavishing the same oral satisfaction on Jane.
In the midst of her oral working over of the strapped down Jane, the child looked up at her mother's pleasure-bedecked face. Mary smiled evilly with her eyes, her mouth glued moistly to her unfinished business between the full, writhing legs spread about her. The message they flashed at her mother didn't care how much more their mutual participation in the orgy would bring about. The tongue, plunging madly now in her vagina, brought off the first wave of relief. From the well-springs of her passion-flamed pit came the first dribble of rapture, then a spring as the flow spilled forward to meet the rasping tongue, then a plunging rapids as she experienced the long-delayed spasm she had wanted for so long.
Mary's work at the other end sufficed to start the flows in Jane's body and the raped woman turned and twisted her body to accept the scraping child's tongue as it massaged the slit to which it had addressed itself.
Jane, strapped to the bed and a prisoner, was also the beneficiary. The dual role added to her pleasures since there was nothing she could do to stop the rape-and now, with the expending joy funneling through her own body, there was nothing she wanted to do to stop it.
The only audible sound was the mother moaning her gratification. The other two females gave off only the sounds of their heavy breathing-their mouths trapped in sexual surges pouring into accepting oral cavities.
Mary's mother swooned at the release of her pent up drive. She fell awkwardly off Jane's face revealing that woman's pink tongue still probing where there was no longer a cunt to probe.
The daughter's face bore the same traces of release as she pulled away from the victim's still pumping torso and crawled upwards over the soft belly, the ample bosom, the tense throat-and plunged her own sex organ down onto Jane's face.
Once more the force of rape was required to hold Jane's face at the proper angle so that the pink, moist lips of pussy and mouth could work together. She didn't want it, but Mary tangled her fingers in the woman's hair to tug the mouth into a position to accept her. Almost immediately the tongue tenuously touched the tip of the slit and then thrust into this new sexual offering. The second oral rape was on its way as the victim succumbed to her hopeless predicament.
Mary, each of her sexual abnormalities responding to the immensity of the activities, was prepared for quick release. Her back arched and she plunged her pelvis hard onto the smooth face trapped between her own soft thighs, her head followed the arch and her eyes squeezed tight as the flood gates were opened. A galaxy of bright lights and stars roared through her mind. She held herself in position with the last vestiges of her strength so that she could savor the now relaxed mouth of the woman under her. She rubbed the lips of her cunt against those of the woman's mouth in a final depraved kiss and fell to the side as her mother had done only moments before.
However, while both mother and daughter were satisfied for the time, the liqueur that had brought Jane along so easily was still working on her unspent passions. She needed more-and more-and more.
Mary, glancing at her mother who had also drank of the passion producing liqueur, solved the problem with another evil suggestion.
"You look like you could stand a little more, Mom," she smiled. "Let's see Jean and Jane go sixty-nine."
Her mother groaned at the thought, but complied as she had been trained by threat and lash to do. She pulled herself over the prone victim so that both women easily faced puffed pussies which were open to anything offered to relieve them. They both fell to the oral copulation in the realization that they were both victims of rape. The action of laving tongues and hot lips nibbling at tender private parts quickly set aside any logic, however, and soon the two were enmeshed in giving and receiving the blandishments of the other. Mary slipped off the bed to put back on the fishnet garb she had had on at the start of the session, but her eyes never left the supple, churning forms of the two women-and their debased activities at the slit of the other.
Partially spent from the earlier round, both took longer to rise to their climaxes and the wet, smacking sounds of their lips mixed with the wheezing sound of their breathing. Limbs stretched languorously to the probing rhythm of tongues and hands smoothed easily over the curves and molded flesh of the other participant with an almost tranquil rapture. Only the sudden heaving of exposed asses, and emotional grunting by both, heralded the soon-to-come end of their workmanship. Stiffened bodies and harsh, final bobbing of heads marked the point of completion and then they fell apart, faces stained with the results of their work, eyes dreamily showing how their minds relished the final raptures. They almost cuddled as they sprawled side by side.
The daughter walked to the bedside and handed her mother the candle which had been so often used as a phallic replacement. She had the devilish smile adorning her face as again she proffered it.
"Now," she demanded of her mother, "really rape her."
Jane tried to pull away from the new ravaging of her body, but the obedient mother plunged the immense candle into the target with both skill and desire-anything to keep that thin lash off her body.
The affects of the liqueur were nearly worn off Jane's now tiring body so the plunging, twisting candle was only part pleasure.
But the continual massaging began to have its effect and Jane's groans for release soon turned to deep-throated moans for relief as her vagina's deepest resources began to manufacture one more load to be emitted. The candle's plunging, gyrating manipulation of the now fully offered cunt worked one more spasm from Jane and she finally spent in flow that matched her earlier releases.
The two older women, now thoroughly enslaved by the cruel iron will of the child, huddled on the bed waiting to see what might next happen to them. They were amazed-and relieved-as the child moved forward and roughly undid the straps which had held the victim in a leather torture chamber.
"That ought to be enough for now," Mary grinned at them. "You can rest up for the next time I need you. Besides, I've got all this on film so we can all review it anytime we want. Maybe even your husband would like to see the films, Mrs. Ashley?"
The question-and its import-sent a shudder down the unclothed woman's body and she stammered, "Y-y-you took movies?"
"That's right," Mary answered, "and Mom knows how I use them."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BLOW THE MAN DOWN
Her own father and mother, the couple at the photo studio the innumerable strangers brought home to serve the nymphomania of her mother, Jane Ashley-the circle of the nymphet's sexual power was ever-widening. But the gill's brother, Jeff, a high school senior, had only been alluded to briefly in the interviews given by the growing number of participants. We thought at this point it would prove informative to talk to him and we asked that the interview be alone for the first time so that we could see how his views might substantiate the earlier talks with the other members of his family.
* * *
I had an after-school job and didn't get home until later in the evenings, maybe seven o'clock or a little after, and I wasn't at all aware of what was going on. Then, one night about eleven o'clock, while I was catching on my homework I heard sis, that's Mary, groaning in her room and I went to look in to see what was the matter. She had been kind of crusty about that time, and had told me to keep out of her room, so I hadn't been in there for a couple of months. It was an eye-opener, what I saw when I went in there.
She had some real low lights on. They were focused on the wall beside her bed where she had mounted a whole flock of small photographs. She had on some kind of a fish net thing and a pair of those high-heeled boots. Her back was to me and she was hunched up in a ball, but her legs seemed to be spread apart. She must not have heard me come in to her room because she stayed in that same position and just kept on moaning.
When I got around the other side of the bed I could see why she hadn't heard me-she was playing with herself and staring glassy-eyed at that wall with the pictures.
Honest, I never knew before that that girls played with themselves the same way guys do. I guess I thought they never needed to, or something, butjt was quite a surprise to see her flopped out like that with her fingers buried in her twat.
She saw me when I walked around to her side, but it was like she didn't even notice me. She was so far down the trail she couldn't have stopped if she had wanted to, I don't think. She never changed her expression or anything, just kept up that working on her cunt and darting her eyes about over the various pictures.
Well, I could hardly stand there and look at my own sister taking herself off. So, I turned away. It was then I got my first close look at those pictures. You know which ones they were-mom, dad, Mrs. Ashley, a whole flock of men with mom whom I never even knew.
The one that really got me though was the one of Sis, mom and Mrs. Ashley in that three-way deal. In my wildest dreams I had never imagined that three human beings could twist themselves into that crazy a sex-match.
I guess I should have been shocked and got the hell out of there, but I had never seen such wild pornography before in my life. Sure, I'd seen the comic books and some of the guys had pictures in their wallets of men and women doing it-but those pictures Sis had topped anything in the world, I'm sure.
What with looking at the pictures, hearing my own sister moaning and groaning while she pumped her own slit-I just sat down on the bed. I was nearly limp looking at it all, hearing it all. But the sights and sounds hadn't knocked me out completely. I found that out when I felt my cock start to swell up in my pants. I just unzipped my fly and pulled it out and started to masturbate, too. It was just that exciting that I didn't care if my own sister saw me pulling on my dong.
The sight of my hard-on must have set sis off even more than she had been, because she twisted her body so that then she could watch me stroking it. Her eyes sort of popped and she smiled up at me like she was really enjoying the show. I could have cared less by that time. In fact, I looked right down between her legs where her fingers were literally flying in and out of her pussy. We watched each other until my bolt shot. I just let it fly, because, as I said, I was far beyond embarrassment by that time. I shot-off and the come arched up a good two feet before it came back down. I threw myself on my back and just flopped there enjoying the sensation.
Mary enjoyed it, too. She whined joyfully as she watched me go-off, and then she got her own cookies and she stretched and turned and twisted as the spasms wracked her own body.
Pretty soon we were just laying there on her bed. We were both spent for the moment-but only for the moment. I knew sis was a good looker for her age, and I had always enjoyed watching her spinning around the house or playing around. But now, looking at her when she was all sexed up and nearly nude, I saw that she really was going to be a real sexpot someday. Someday? Hell, she looked good enough to fuck right there.
She knew it, too, because she turned about so I could get a better look. That fish net thing didn't hide a thing. Her nipples poked through the webbing, her skin was all pink underneath it and it had slid up so far during her game that I could see all of her belly, the soft hairs between her legs and those firm, long legs. Man, she was built so well I would have eaten her just to get a crack at her.
She let her hands stroke her body again and that really started to get me hard again. My cock was all I had out of my pants and it was standing up to attention again from the show she was putting on. Her hands just barely touched her body as they travelled all over. Every now and then she would squeeze a thigh or pump a tit to make it swell out where the flesh was pressured. She kept swinging her legs about so that I could actually see her cunt opening and closing as her legs distended or swung back together.
Somewhere along the way she took my hand and rested it on her soft, rounded belly. I didn't try to fight the idea of playing with my own sister-hell, I wanted to the worse way. I just rubbed her belly, I didn't try to cop a feel anyplace else. I didn't know how she'd take to that and I was having too good a time with that belly. I'd press it flat for a while then pucker it up into a hot, yielding mound. Then I'd just move my hand around it or stick my finger into her navel a little bit-that really made her gasp.
She was having a good time herself. She was cupping both tits and trying to touch the nipples together, or she would reach down and rub that hot skin on the insides of her thighs.
She was really getting hot; her breath was coming in gasps and she was mewing like a kitten. It was the same for me and I reached down to play with my cock again.
That's when she reached over and put her own hand on it. Man, if you don't think that's something. I'd had a couple of girls hot enough to jack me off. But your own sister-that's something! She acted as if she knew what she was doing. She stroked it real easily with just her fingertips and then she'd grab onto it and give a couple of fast pumps. She kept it up, pressure and then release, tickling and then squeezing. Oh, it was something, alright.
Then she said the first thing she'd said since I came into the room. She was really pumping me by then and I was all set to go off again. She kept up that hand job and raised herself on an elbow so that she could look right into my face. She was smiling like an imp and then she said "I'm going to suck it, Jeff...."
I thought for a moment of stopping her. After all, she was my sister. I really wasn't going to let her, but she looked at me so longingly, the desire was like a pair of flames in her eyes. Then, her head was moving slowly forward.
It was too late for any protesting, any talk. I just lay back and let her blow me.
Oh, did she know how. She worked my cock with her hand just before she started to nibble the head with those sweet red lips of hers. She puckered up like she was going to give it a kiss and then let just the knob bulge inside those lips. She nibbled for the damnedest, longest time and then she took it all-just opened her mouth and let the whole shaft slip easily into her mouth. She stroked my cock with her mouth like other girls had stroked it with their cunts when I fucked them. She moaned just like I was in her cunt-like I was fucking her. She really wanted to please me, and she did. I shot the whole second load right into her throat when she was making one of the beautiful downstrokes.
She didn't let go until she had gotten it all.
"Oh, thanks, Jeff," she cooed when she finally let it fall limply away from her mouth. "Thanks."
I must have looked sort of funny at her when she was laying there beside me thanking me for letting her suck me off. She smiled at me and said, "You don't really know, do you? I think every girl wants to suck on a cock. We really worship those big shaffs. They supply us with pleasure, with passion, with release. I can be frank with you, because you're my brother. I adore your cock."
On top of that confession she admitted that she had always got her own climaxes best when watching Mom sucking on men.
"I learned how to do it watching her," she continued. "They always seemed to get such pleasure and even Mom seems to enjoy it. It makes a girl really feel like she is needed. Was I good?"
The urgency in her voice as much as the magnificent blowjob she had just pulled-off made me hug her as I gave her an affirmative answer.
"It was my first time," she said simply, "I wanted it to be good for you. I wasn't clumsy, was I? I did everything right, didn't I?"
Again I assured her she was nothing short of wonderful and that she knew how to give a blowjob that would do credit to any woman in the world.
She was like a little girl she was so happy. Then she hunched up into a sitting position beside me and looked very seriously at me.
"Jeff," she said a tone of worry in her voice. "I really love you. No, don't worry. I don't love you like a man and wife, I just love you because you're my brother and you're kind enough to let me do the things I want with you.
"But there's something wrong with me when it comes to sex. I've got a real hang-up on cruelty. I don't want to be cruel to you, do you understand. But that's not to say that this streak in me won't pop out. Please forgive me now, that is if I'm ever cruel to you-or even seem to be. I can't help it now."
Then she told me how she had made slaves out of Mom and Dad; how she had tortured Mom by supplying her with the most depraved men she could find; how she now had gotten control of Mrs. Ashley next door.
"And I'm going to get her kids, too," she leered at me. "I'm going to have that whole family in my control. They're going for a sex-ride like no one has ever thought of before. And you're going to help me."
The way she said it was the same way she had so firmly put to me the idea, only minutes ago, that she was going to suck my cock. I knew from the tone that there wasn't any other out. I was going to help. Maybe she didn't know it, but she already had me pretty well under her domination.
A guy will do a lot of things for a girl who blows him-even if it is his own sister. Besides, I haven't got anything against sex and a good orgy once in a while. The idea sounded kind of good to me and I just nodded my head that I would help her out in whatever she had planned for the Ashleys.
"Good," She smiled at me when I gave her the silent confirmation she had hoped to get out of me. "We're supposed to meet her children tomorrow afternoon after school. She already knows about me, but there isn't much she can do to turn me off now with the photos I have of her-and Mom.
"Oh, we're going to meet them alright ... aren't we, Jeff?"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE GROWING GAME OF DEPRAVITY
Now that we had established the nymphet's brother's role in the widening cast of characters in the sexually perverted production, we decided to conduct the next interview with Mrs. Ashley, the next door neighbor who had already been firmly fitted into the pattern. The decision was also based upon the fact admitted by the brother, Jeff, that the woman's family was soon totally involved in his sister's growing game of depravity. The following is how Mrs. Ashley reported to us the events of the meeting between her children and the Andover children-and few of the subsequent events.
* * *
Mary and Jeff came right after school the afternoon following my rape at her house. I really was shocked to see the girl. I could hardly face her, knowing that she knew-and had pictures to prove-about that degrading series of sexual bouts with her mother and her. But the boy seemed nice enough, and I simply imagined that he didn't know what his sister was pulling-off.
My children, Millie who is twelve, and Fred, who is seventeen, were already home and they came to the door when they heard Mary and Jeff's voices. We went into the living room and talked for a while and I served cookies and Cokes. After they started talking I left them and went to my sewing room where I was making some things for Millie. Everything seemed quite orderly and I really was beginning to accept the Andover children. Mary was really sweet and she bent over backward not to embarrass me or call to my mind any of the rape events that she had forced me to submit to the day before.
I know now that she had put on the show, and Jeff had gone along, to get me off my guard. As soon as I left the room the Andover children both started telling my kids stories about the school's torrid sex patterns-stories that turned my children on like a pair of minks. They also produced some pictures, none in which I appeared, but pictures that completely depicted the most diverse and abnormal sex acts.
I was sewing and only heard the laughter from the other room. I supposed they were having a good time and getting acquainted like children do. I was quite surprised then when Jeff Andover suddenly walked into my sewing room. His eyes were all shiny and he had an envelope in his hand.
"Hi, there, honey," he grinned at me. "I thought we'd better get more acquainted ourselves. Your kids and Mary are having a good time out in the living room. I thought maybe we could have a good time in here for a while."
The way he said that sent cold chills right down my spine. I started to get up to go to the living room to see what was happening, but he blocked my way to the door and held me in his arms.
"How about a nice kiss to start off," he said curtly holding my head so that I couldn't dodge his kiss. "I always like a little kiss first, don't you?"
He was very strong and he clutched my jaw so painfully that my mouth came open when he pressed his lips against me. His tongue thrust into my mouth and he plunged it clear to the back of my mouth. He was rough, but he knew what he was doing. I couldn't have got away anyway, so I stood there to let him have his way. When he stopped kissing me, I was gasping for air. But I managed to tell him not to do that again.
"Why?" he asked with that impertinent tone that reminded me of his sister. "You rather kiss pussies?"
It was then that he opened the envelope and let the photos spill on my sewing table. I didn't have to look. I knew what I would see-his mother, his sister and me performing oral copulation on one another. I slumped against him fully realizing now that whatever he wanted from me I had to give him.
Knowing his power over me, Jeff was straight and to the point. He put his arms around my waist letting his hands rub my ass. He rotated his body against mine and I could feel that stiff shaft between us pressing against my belly. He was ready for a good time, and wasn't going to waste a lot of effort in the preliminaries.
"Just raise your dress and take off your pants, honey," he said urgently. "I've had my eye on you ever since we came to the door. C'mon, off with the pants."
While he was ordering me about like that he had already unhitched his own trousers and let them, and his shorts, fall to the floor. He was built like a bull. His cock, an easy nine inches long, stood out from his belly like a weapon. I hiked up my skirt and tugged my panties down about my knees and then stepped out of them. If this was going to be the way it would have to be, at least, he was supplying a sex tool that would offset some of the humiliation, I could see that.
He reached for my legs and I thought he was going to finger fuck me while I stood there, but he grabbed my bare hips instead and tugged me downward. I asked him if we couldn't delay while I closed the door, but he didn't even answer. He just kept pulling me down in front of him. I started to ask again that the door be closed, but as I opened my mouth his plumb-shaped glans loomed before me and he pulled my mouth onto it.
"Suck a cock, honey," he hissed. "See if you like a man as much as you do a woman."
At the same time he said that he rammed one of his bare shins between my naked legs and rubbed it harshly against my cunt and belly. His cock buried in my mouth, his shin sharpening my own building passions. There was nothing to do but suck him. I did.
He was excited, but so grim about his sexual working me over. His cock was rigid, rock-like, but he never said a word once I started tonguing it and bobbing my head, cunt-fashion, on that blazing shaft. I wasn't sure whether he wanted me to blow him, or if this was just his way of getting one more added pleasure before fucking me. But kneeling like that, humbled and completely in his power, I wasn't going to ask any questions. I sucked and sucked, laving my oral attentions on his organ.
"Get up," he grunted after several minutes. "Stand with your back to me against the wall." , His cock flayed the inside of my cheeks as it popped out and I moved quickly to obey him. I had one look at what my oral handiwork had produced and, I must admit, I wasn't afraid to take what I knew was coming next. I glanced over my shoulder as he moved swiftly behind me and grabbed my thighs to spread them even wider than I had already positioned them.
Then, his arms were again around my waist and he was lifting me so that my toes hardly touched the ground. My legs were swinging freely and there was nothing between his massive prick and my wide open cunt except a few hairs-a hardly inpenetrable barrier.
He let me settle slowly down until I could feel that great bulbous head start to separate the lips of my pussy. He was on target from the start and the instant the head was firmly seated at the garden gate he relinquished his hold on my waist. I plunged downward impaling myself on the rigid cock with a little cry of pleasure. His earlier massaging me with his leg had produced all the lubricating juices I needed to supply him an easy route to the deepest point of my sexual turmoils.
"Fuck me, honey, fuck me," he ordered in my ear. "Really ride it now."
And ride I did. Forgotten was the proximity of my children, forgotten was everything except that maddening, pleasure-rending cock that slipped easily and mightily in and out of my pussy. I was completely had-the second Andover child was accomplishing a very masterful rape to my body, and I couldn't fight it. I loved it.
"Tell me you want to get fucked harder," he demanded.
I didn't say anything and his hands went to my breasts where he clutched them painfully. He repeated the order as he tore at my tits with his vise-like grip. He bit me on the neck, cruelly, and said it again, "Tell me to fuck you ... yell it ... damn it yell fuck me or I'll twist your tits right off you."
The pain, the anguish, the rapture, the pleasure. All these elements worked together at this peak of torture and desire, and I nearly screamed the words he told me to say. I begged, moaned, shrieked for him to fuck me. Soon I was saying it because I needed his fuck more than anything in the world. My climax was growing in me and I could feel his tearing cock probing the tender inroads that would cause my sexual release.
I shrieked "Fuck meeeeeeeeeeeeee!" just as he stabbed home with his ultimate penetration-and just as I came completely riding his hard-on like a mare. Our climaxes rushed together, like some torrential rainstorm. My eyes were squeezed tight as the great waves of climax came over me, and it was only as I rode out the last, sweet pumping actions of his ending emission that I looked about me once more.
It was horrible what I saw. He had somehow managed to walk me into the living room and I was not only having intercourse, but the actual culmination of the act right before the startled eyes of my children. They were on the sofa staring at me, their eyes wide as they watched me writhe on his tool and hearing me yell those mad demands for more fucking.
But that was only part of the sight. The three children added to the horror of the situation themselves-they were all in various stages of undress and Mary Andover was completely nude sitting between my own children on the sofa.
"Oooooh," moaned Mary, "that ought to get us over the top, hadn't it?"
She reached for my son's cock which was standing rigidly at attention, projecting tree-like from his unzipped trousers. He was kneeling beside her on the sofa. The prick was only inches away from her mouth. As she reached for it-her tongue closed the distance completely and half the pale, white shaft disappeared into her mouth.
Millie gasped at that awesome sight and gasped-her attention completely diverted by it from the last spasms of my own sexual act with Mary's brother. Her eyes opened even wider and her hands dropped to her own bare breasts-her blouse was completley unbuttoned, her bra wrapped about her waist-and she began pumping them in slow rotating movements that matched the rhythmical bobbing of Fred's cock slipping in and out of the amorous oral sex-pit of Mary's mouth.
Millie moaned slowly, deep in her throat, as she watched the young girl's head bobbing more and more rapidly. The curly hair now partially hiding from her view the perverted sexuality of sex organ and mouth. Millie's one hand slid from her breast to her own exposed vagina. Her skirt was well above her hips, her panties caught around her ankles where they had fallen in her haste to not quite successfully remove them entirely. A child-like finger lingered at the pink opening, massaging one lip and then the other. Then it disappeared slowly into the sweet slit, knuckle at a time until the entire digit was hidden from view.
Her eyes swooned half-closed at the delicate penetration. Slowly, languorously, she removed a small portion of the finger, whipped it about in a gentle arc and then slid it in again. She repeated the motion, gaining speed as her body tensed to the pressure at the fountainhead of her passion. Her legs stretched wide so that more of the finger, if that were possible, could be admitted. The white finger, the reddening lips of her pussy and darkness of the tunnel's depth were framed by the feathery pattern of her now moistened pubic hairs. The pace became more frantic and her eyes opened wide again to watch Mary and Fred worshipping orally the stag's horn erection my son was thrusting into Mary's mouth freely.
It was easy to see how my son and daughter would achieve their sexual releases, but I wondered about Mary. Her flushed face, rapidly working jaws and sweating body told completely the passionate peaks to which she had brought herself, but still she was not doing anything-anything visual-to bring about her own needed climax.
Then, her eyes closed in rapture, her mouth still laving its moist ministrations to the probing cock, Mary twisted her body slightly and raised an arm so that it rested about Millie's soft, bare shoulders. The arm stiffened as the muscles pulled Millie's blonde head forward-and down.
I stiffened, too, when I saw the movement. The rape of my own mouth the day before pinpointed all too vividly what Mary was about to force my daughter to do for her.
Oh, no, I cried aloud pulling to free myself from Jeff's arms. I wanted to stop it but he held me as if I were chained to his body by clasping arms. I implored him with my eyes, but he only smiled and nodded toward the sofa.
I turned. It was too late to stop the sexually unnatural act. Mary's wide-spread legs were partially hidden by my daughter's hip-length blonde hair, her heaving shoulders and one arm resting on a silken thigh. Millie's other hand, now hidden from view since she was turned facing the proffered sexual entry flitted occasionally into sight between her own spraddled legs as she continued the masturbation that was bringing her to the brink of her ecstasy.
The sensual cadence of the threesome's progress toward complete fulfillment picked up steadily-paced under the directorship of Mary's mouth pumping, tonguing, sliding on my son's distended cock. She called the final beat of the processional by jamming Millie's head full into the silken nest at the V of her splayed legs. In a writhing, twisting, enuring mesh of arms, legs and turning torsos, the many-faceted sex act rang down a curtain to the echo of sighs and moans from the participants.
A few final, slow jerks or bendings of soft young limbs and the sofa's spent partners drifted into a heaving, hard-breathing conglomeration of resting youths.
My daughter, stretching to her full length, turned and smiled at me. From her soft, puffed lips drizzled a white, creamy strand or two of Mary's massive release. She stretched an arm and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. The smile never faded. If there had been rape at the start of the wild sexual scenario, she showed no evidence of it now. She was blissfully happy and relishing in her sex-drowsy mind every moment of the events.
My son, spent in the deepest cavities of Mary's yearning, hungry mouth, flopped on his back idly stroking a still hard nipple on that girl's shining breast.
Mary, the evidence of my son's emission also oozing from the comers of her well-used mouth, fell to one side so that his plying finger tip could better bring back to earth the slowly dipping nipple to which he was applying himself.
The three produced a patina of complete sexuality-completion, fulfillment, spent rapture.
I was drowzy myself watching them. The reclining bodies, the obvious satisfaction lulled me into a sense of well being-along with the fact that Jeff had put one bitch of a screw into me. Somehow the aura of relaxation cast a spell on me, mesmerizing me into the same state of well-being even though I had just watched my son and daughter partaking of what could only honestly be termed the goo from the bottom of depravity's deepest, darkest pit.
That's probably why I screamed once more when Jeff roughly shoved me to the floor in front of them. Although the landing on my hands and knees was a jolt it wasn't pain or fear that wrenched the cry from my throat-it was the suddenness of the act, the sharp change of pace.
I looked over my shoulder to see what had prompted Jeff to this new violence-it was easy to see. His prick, even larger than it had been when he attacked me in the sewing room, stood ramroad stiff, perpendicular to his hairy belly. He was actually ripping off his shirt and undershirt, kicking away his loafers.
"Off with the top stuff, babe," he ordered as he divested himself of his every stitch of clothing. "Get stripped, we're going to show these three some real tricks."
I was appalled at this sudden renewal on his part, but not so much so that I didn't hurriedly comply with his command. I peeled like any bought-and-paid-for whore would-quickly. The sexual rage fermenting in his mind as he watched the others would not brook any barrier in its search for release, I knew that by the wild gleam in his eyes as he let them flit over every nude morsel of my body.
I was still crouched upon hands and knees as he stepped quickly to me. He tangled his fingers in my hair and knelt before me, his monstrous cock held firmly at the level of my gaping mouth. He had me orally, savagely. He drove the shaft deep into my throat, bashing it against the soft inner areas of my cheeks, slapping it against my pallet, gagging me with the stupendous penetrations his thrusts achieved.
Just as suddenly he jerked upon my head, twisting my neck so that I had either to suffer a broken neck or fall over on my back. His massive organ never missed a stroke or shortened its thrust as my pain-wracked body responded to his imperious demands.
When I fell to my back he lunged forward burying his own face in the unfettered, wide range of my crotch and performed cunnilingus with a savagely stroking tongue that matched the inflamed plungjngs of his prick in my mouth. We went at a mad sixty-nine, silently, grimly. We each attempted to pull from the other's sexual chasms both pain and pleasure, rapture and torture, payment and repayment.
It ended for me in a mind-rending, cunt-twisting contortion as I pulled his head tighter to give myself the benefit of the ultimate length of his rasping tongue in that tenderest offerings of a woman's sexuality. I came and came and came. I would have shrieked my delight, my rapture, but his own emission was nearly drowning me. The flow, the ebb, the tide of the pinnacle we reached together was too much for human sound anyway. We merely grunted our mutual acceptance of the other's seemingly unending flood.
Our mutual oral efforts terminated with wet, smacking sounds of organs being released from the moist, tacky mouths that shackled them to the moment of deliverance from the tense, strained course of passion. He fell upon me and only with the greatest effort of my tired muscles could I shove him to the side to rid myself of his now immense weight. As he flopped to the floor, he turned cat-like and planted hot, juicy kisses with his wide-open mouth upon mine. We were bent upon the others total engulfment in the finalities of a bestial display-so engulfed and single-minded that we hardly noticed as the threesome on the sofa fell to the carpeting to join our mad wrestling.
Millie, Mary and Fred-able to replenish their strength from their vast youthful reservoirs of vitality-were aroused again and eager to join in sexual play. Suddenly my late partner and I were both inundated in a crushing network of youthful arms, legs, breasts, lips and puffed or rigid sex organs. My daughter's face blurred before me and she kissed me hotly on the mouth sliding upward quickly to present her cunt to my face.
Good Lord, I thought, eat my own daughter-never! But before I had to make that decision, before this degradation was forced upon me, a massive male organ took the answer out of my hands-or at least away from my almost ready mouth. It shot forward out of the melee. The red head, more purplish than red, split asunder the tender lips and disappeared in amongst the curled hairs and protruding offering. An almost unending shaft followed the path of the glans that slipped easily out of sight into her young body and then the dark hairs of the man's crotch tangled with the willowy, blonde nest. The copulation was directly over my face and I watched fascinated admiring the depth, the totality of the joining. Then the shaft began a slow, seemingly unending withdrawal as inch after inch once more came into view. The cord at the base of the red knob appeared, held steady for a moment and then the savage thrust penetrated the totally accessible young cunt.
The sight held my attention so that the appearance of a second male organ near my mouth caught me by surprise. Rough hands twisted my head so that I had to once again accept orally. But the roughness was more than offset by a tongue which plunged coarsely into my own widespread passage to passion's delights. I hadn't realized how ready I was for another go-around, but the tongue told me even better than if it had been used to speak of my needs.
My eyes fixed upon the hairy belly behind the shaft I was taking in my mouth, I could see out of the comer of my vision feminine legs widespread and a male head pumping more oral delights into the firm V-whoever I was blowing was handling the girl who was taking care of me in a mad swirling daisy-chain that must have produced a weird, unworldly portrait.
Although all of us took longer to achieve the sexual peaks to which we aspired, after all no one had climaxed less than twice, the flexible, flittering intermingling of bodies and pounding, pumping sex organs finally took us to the end of the path. My own voice was unrecognizable-both from the wild passions I was spending in great tidal waves onto the prodding tongue buried in me and from the complete involvement of my mouth with that now giant, throbbing male organ.
THE END was the final expenditure of our energies for that day and we toppled apart in a pile of well-used bodies. I can't even now, honestly say who my partners were or identify who was doing what with whom. I'm fairly sure I saw my daughter fucked, but whether by her brother or Jeff I couldn't swear. Whose cock I had sucked is a mystery, too-was it my son's or Jeff's. I'm sure it was Mary who performed her oral wonders upon my own body. But then was it Jeff or Fred who was drawing those precious, hot juices from her?
All I can really say for sure was that as we slowly drug ourselves apart, shifted limbs so that we could scramble to our disheveled clothing, we were completely spent. Mumbles were the only sources of conversation, leering laughter the most direct form of communication.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE SEX CRUSH
Again, we were astounded by depraved depths-and the seemingly all-encompassing trap, this young girl had sprung upon ever-growing numbers of participants in her wildly contrived sex net work. All the stories had checked out, however. Her appetite for entrapping more and more persons seemed to know no boundaries. She craved to plunge everyone she knew into the abysmal pits in which her mind now thrived. But her own appetites, her building lusts, were also chaining her to this sensuous world. We talked again to the nymphet.
* * *
I didn't realize just how much I was beginning to need all this promiscuity myself until the day that Al, the photo technician, called me to say my films were ready.
"You've got some pretty good stuff there, kid," he laughed over the telephone. I felt anger that he had looked at my movies before I had the chance, but then I reminded myself that he would naturally see them since he was the one who developed the reels. I told him I would be down after school that day to pick them up and that I had the money to pay him.
"You get the cheapie rate," he laughed. "I'm keeping some of the prints for my own collection."
That meant, according to our original deal, that the films must have been pretty great. He was, I was sure, knowing in the field of just how valuable pornographic movies must be. He wouldn't give me a price break unless he was sure that he would make plenty from the prints he would retain.
School was really hell that day. I could hardly wait to get down to the photo shop. The delay sexually aroused me as I imagined how my parents would look fucking around with each other. I had all sorts of torrid pictures in my mind and I hoped the reality would be as good as what I dreamed of.
But if it hadn't been for Millie Ashley, I don't think I could have gotten through the day. Since the orgy at her house that first day, there had been more and we had come to enjoy some of the mutual abberations which we showed off to our brothers once in a while.
We had the same class just before lunch hour and I hinted broadly that I was going to really have something going later in the afternoon-something she might enjoy sharing with me. It had been about three days since she had had any and her face flushed with excitement at the thought I planted with my tease.
"Tell me about it at lunch," she whispered before the class bell rang. "Fred's car is out in the parking lot and we can talk privately there."
The way she said "privately" I knew she might not be able to keep her passions in check until later in the day. To my sadistic mind the thought of putting her under emotional sexual strain for a time appeared to be a happy one. I told her we'd eat together in the car-carefully emphasizing the word "eat" just to watch her reaction. She nearly buckled at the knees and her fingers closed claw-like on my arm. It was just the reaction I wanted.
During class, our seats were arranged so we could see one another's face clearly, I did a lot of winking and smiling at her. At each facial movement Millie would scootch in her seat or twist uncomfortably to apply pressure between her legs. I don't think she heard a word of the lecture-I didn't either. I was beginning to think what we might be able to do together in Fred's car beside eat sandwiches.
At the class-ending bell we both headed to our lockers for our lunches. We rubbed arms as we walked quickly down the hall and to the parking lot. I let my hips swing against hers and she was visibly shaking by the time we got to the car. I had really turned her on sexually, but the emotional involvement was taking a toll of me, too. My belly was absolutely quivering with anticipation and I could feel that heat wave building up in the pit of my stomach.
Millie opened the back door of Fred's old sedan rather than the front door when we got to the car. Her thighs flashed nearly to the globes of her ass as she leaped inside. She was wearing white panties and the blur of her fast action blended thigh and panty into one hue so that she looked bare-assed-my own overworked imagination made me see it that way anyway. I got in quickly behind her, pinching the full mound of her butt hard enough to bring a little squeak of pain out of her.
"Now Mary," she moaned, writhing on the backseat. "Now, right now, please."
I laughed scornfully at her haste, I wanted to add to my pleasure by seeing her suffer first with the torments of her unleashed desire. But, the whole day's upheaval was working on me too, and I told her to get out of her panties as I knelt on the floor before her. She moved swiftly, cat-like, her supple legs twisting to get rid of the hindering undergarment. One instant I was staring at her panties and the next the full spread of her pink-lipped pussy was displayed for me. The sight brought me to full heat immediately and I lunged forward to swamp the puffed lips of her cunt with those of my mouth. I didn't waste time tonguing the lips or the first crevices of the entrance to her grotto of desire. I mentally aimed the pointed tip of my tongue at the luscious sack of juices deep in her well and struck for it with the first plunging thrust.
The thrust seemed to unloose the whole bouquet of her sweet body and it flooded my nostrils. The feel of her cunt, succulent about my tongue flew me like a bird to the peak I wanted. I came with what seemed to me an ocean's deep flood with just that first strike.
The result couldn't have fit my cruel planning any better. I was relieved while Millie was still ablaze with the start of our oral copulation. I just pulled my mouth away from her vagina and moved to sit down beside her. She stared frozen-faced at my withdrawal.
"Mary, please," she wailed. "I've got to have it. I'm ready. Please, Mary ... eat me ... eat me."
For an answer, I unfolded the wrapping from my sandwich and started to eat it. I made contorted motions with my mouth as I ate and licked my lips with tongue often so that she could see the make-believe oral play. When she saw that I wasn't about to give her any more of what she needed she reached toward the juncture of her firm thighs to take care of her needs by herself.
I told her to leave herself alone-that her desires would be well taken care of later that afternoon. She wasn't going to obey, but she stopped just short of plunging her fingers into her cunt when I told her I might be tempted to spread around the school some of the prize pictures I now had of her and her brother paired off in some wild pornography.
I knew she wouldn't need panties where I was going to take her that afternoon, anyway. Ruth, the photographer's wife who had introduced me to the pleasures of Lesbos, would probably enjoy a little free gift from me-a gift in the form of Millie's young and ready body.
When the bell rang for the end of the school day we met and started the six block walk to the studio. I kept up a steady patter of sex-oriented talk all the way and Millie nearly stumbled as she walked. Her breath was coming in deep, hard gasps by the time we reached Al's studio and she was openly perplexed when I guided her through the door. She seemed to have gotten the idea we were headed for her house or mine where a bed and wet mouths would still the passions that were renting her mind and body.
"What are we going to go in here for?" she asked quizzically.
I didn't give her an out-and-out answer. I wanted each subsequent scene in this day's passion-packed play to come as a surprise to her. So I just said I had to stop off for some films and we walked in.
Ruth was standing behind the counter. There was no one in the shop so she was quite open in her more than warm greeting.
"Mmmmmm," she said to me, "I thought you'd never get here, Mary. C'mon in back. Al's got some stuff for you-and so have I."
I was a little taken back that she hardly seemed to notice Millie who was standing right beside me. I had thought that Ruth would take more than passing note of my little present. It was flattering in a way that Ruth seemed so much more interested in me even when a possible new morsel for her sexual appetite had been served up to her.
The three of us went into the dimly lit back shop. I glanced at the chair near the desk where Ruth had brought to me the rapturous pleasures of her mouth. Now it was my turn to feel weak in the knees. I knew I wanted to return to that symbol of my Lesbian introduction in the worst way. The memory of Ruth's laving tongue, her knowledgeable handling of my body's most private-and deepest-parts worked me into a feverish pitch.
Only Al's appearance in the shadowy room saved me from falling into the wide-legged stance that had once provided his wife with all the target she needed to satisfy her unnatural lusts-and, significantly, my own.
But he did appear and his hasty walk indicated that he was looking forward to something special also. He was the first one who took any real notice of Millie for quite a while since Ruth had never even asked her name and now she and I were holding hands and exchanging feverish glances.
"Who's the kid?" Al asked gruffly stopping short as he approached us. I told him she was a very good friend of mine and she wanted to join me for some photo fun.
"Ohhh," beamed Al now thoroughly studying Millie's figure in the dimly lit room. "Well, now, if Millie wants to get in the swing of things around here, I'm sure as hell not going to stand in her way."
Al was always direct, crude and coarse in his approach to any subject and sex was no different, I discovered. You always knew when Al wanted to fuck you-he told you so. So now he told Millie.
"Listen, Millie," he said bluntly. "While these two gals are getting ready for each other let's you and me toss off a good fuck over there on the studio couch."
Al, unaware that I had spent all day filing to raw edges Millie's nerves by continual sex talk and play, was caught up in a flash of action that I doubt even he could have hoped for when he asked the question.
Millie, who was quite tall for her age, wrapped her lucious body about him like a snake with every limb writhing to make contact with him as she Frenched him full on the mouth. She didn't even step forward to reach him-she leaped. Her feet were off the ground and she lowered and raised her lower torso to bump and grind upon his shirt and trousers. Her tits, still cupped up in her bra and hidden by her blouse were pushed into a grotesque distortion which finally began to look like enormous balls that nearly spilled out of their fetters as she plied her body against his.
I'll say for Al that he recovered quickly. Swapping her tongue for tongue as they kissed his hands undid the buttons on her blouse, slipped her bra straps down so that both tits now bounced openly and freely-and still managed to unzip and drop his own trousers.
With these essential preliminaries out of the way, Al next groped to raise her skirt. That was when he discovered she had no panties barring the way. His hands, doing the normal thing of feeling for her ass, clutched damp pubic hairs. A finger extended to explore the trembling lips of the desire-puffed cunt. The exploratory operation sufficed his inquisitiveness and he let each hand cup a bared white buttock. With a tug, he spread the moist area and pulled Millie down onto his immense cock.
I knew the sounds that Millie made as she came to the peaks of her climax-I had taken her there several times with my mouth and watched both my brother and hers screwing her or going sixty-nine often enough-and she moaned that animal groan on the first impalement. Al's single thrust released all the nerve jangled desire she had had to hold back since before lunch time. Her legs locked tightly about his back as she helped his plunge by driving her own body onto his sexual spike.
Her mouth, a puckered O now, let the sounds of her expending passion rumble through into the room. Her eyes rolled upward into the drooping eyelids. Every fiber of her body, from the tiniest nerve ending to the rounded globes of her flailing breasts and pumping ass exuded the picture of her complete release.
A single stroke into that young cunt wasn't going to take care of Al though. He walked slowly toward the couch, Milie's legs still locked to his slowly pumping cock. He bent slightly and lowered her onto the couch-never letting his organ slip from its warm, moist nest. Once on her back he fully mounted her and began the long strokes he enjoyed in a slow movement which at one time bared most of the shaft, and at another hid it completely from view in the deep valley of passion Millie continued to spread for his use.
He was still pumping her when that guttural noise arose in her throat again clearly announcing her attaining another climax.
Before Al ended the session with a grunting, pile-driving series of jerks some time later, Millie came at least five times I could tell. She could hardly hold anything against me for not taking her off with my mouth during our little party in the car that noon time.
Crude, uncouth Al may not have been much at leading a girl to bed, but once he got her there she would get all the fucking she would need. It would take me a long time to realize that the frills weren't so damned important as the act, but Al was to be one of my best instructors in learning this lesson. Only that was to come later.
Ruth and I had not been completely idle while her husband and Millie had their go-arounds on the couch. While I was fascinated watching them and listening to Millie's audible announcements of her passionate turmoils, Ruth hardly noticed the copulating couple. She had once again undressed herself, quietly, unnoticed almost. And now, completely nude, she stood behind me working my own clothing off deftly, pleasurably. She never just unhooked a button-she manipulated all the flesh near the button with her ginger fingers until the material opened and the button simply popped out of the restraining fabric at the button hole. Each unfastening therefore was like a small rape that ended with the victim becoming a willing accomplice. When she was rolling the last stocking down over the calf of my leg she lavished attention on each new area of bared flesh with fingers and kisses. As I stepped out of the stocking I was ready for my own bout of pleasure seeking. So was Ruth.
Still kneeling before me she planted a moist, open mouthed kiss full on my pushed out belly. Her tongue made long, raspy sweeps over the smooth skin ending with needlepoint drives into my navel-a motion clearly meant to remind me of this same stabbing inside my cunt. The reminder worked wonderfully well and my body sagged as I opened my legs to receive this ultimate devotion I knew Ruth would soon be laving upon-and in-me.
Millie and Al had relinquished their hold on the couch, and Ruth took me by the arm and led me to the makeshift boudoir. She helped me onto it carefully cradling one of my now aching tits in her soft hand as she did. The palming worked wonders for the emotional tension in the tit and I responded by rubbing, nestling against Ruth as she continued to position me on the couch.
I was on my back and she trailed her hands from my arm and tit down my sides, over my belly, under my hips. She always managed to pleasantly squeeze, mold, ply each new portion of flesh which her hands contacted so that the trail left a path of arousal over each morsel of my body.
When her hands joined, palms together at the V of her search, I didn't feel her spread my legs at all-they just moved in a dream-like quality to answer her bidding.
Her bidding could just as well have been mine-in fact, it was. She wanted to explore that wide-spread orifice, to tingle it with her tongue, to fill every nook and cranny with well-placed licks. And that was precisely what I wanted.
But before she could start I gently lifted her from her kneeling stance and pulled her body towards mine-only reversing her direction so that although we faced each other we didn't see each other's face. We stared at the puffed lips of one another's cunts.
"Darling," she said excitedly, "you want me?"
Mmmmmmmm, I muttered in response, isn't that better for both of us?
Her answer was to pull my head down to make contact with her cunt. It was the first awkward thing she had ever done with me and my cheeks rather than my opened mouth made the first contact. I could feel the warmth of her cunt press against my cheek. I could feel the sweet lips rolling about, contorting to achieve the most satisfying contact. Then I turned my face slightly to press lips to lips-she jerked in response to the kiss and my hot tongue plunging into the inner linings of her cunt.
She also fell to returning the favor, and we were off on a mad race to bring about-and receive-pleasure. My own sexual network, from the little nerve endings in my pussy to the flaming muscles in my belly, went off like an electric gong with only a few of those wonderful, washing licks of hers.
But Ruth was still heading for her own pinnacles. She was kind, because she kept pumping her tongue, drawing even the most infinitesimal dregs of joy from the farthest part of the pit, even after I had cascaded my release upon her. Her tongue kept me working on her as I sucked, chewed and licked to give her the same satisfaction.
Perhaps because my own passions were no longer sending turbulent tremors through my mind I was better able to concentrate on my oral portion of our effort. I held her hips in my hands and could feel each tremor wrack her body as I performed some new trick. She gave a magnificent series of bed-shaking shudders when my tongue would glue itself to the deepest part of her. I held it there for what seemed minutes then flicked it back to the lips of her vagina to lash both with minute flicks.
Then I just let my tongue lick into that pink-gated tunnel, forcing an opening with its pressure. I let my breath blow on the silky inner skin of her almost groveling thighs. With my tongue again buried to the hilt, I nibbled with my lips at the entrance to the passageway. I had once more withdrawn to titillate the lips with the point of my tongue when she suddenly clawed her fingers into my hair and pulled me full upon her. I knew this was the second of her climax. The final probe of my tongue spilled its contents and I could feel the heat build up on my tongue. Then it rolled down my tongue and I worked her over ecstatically to let her have the fullest possible joy. Her hands worked through my hair in rhythmn with the now rolling action of her hips. Her arms stroked my back and, when I could steal a glance, her legs sprawled openly on the bed or drew slowly up as the tension in her belly made her body react automatically to the intimate lavishments of my mouth.
Expended, we kissed each others thighs and bellies, rubbed our hands over all the warm curves in one last flurry of our lesbian lovemaking. It was only as we gave those last, greatful kisses that we both realized that Ruth's husband had been setting up a movie screen and projector during the final moments of our rapture.
"You girls do a pretty good show," he said adjusting the screen, "but you might like to see some other shows, how about it?"
Ruth and I managed to pop apart, our bare skin separating reluctantly as the sweat of our bodies provided an almost adhesive quality to the flesh that had been so long in contact. Only Millie, aroused again after watching Ruth and me perform our feminine sixty-nine, was active. Nude now, she bounced onto the sofa with us and laughed giddily at what she hoped to see-and what she had seen.
Ruth cast a baleful eye at Millie's naked body touching mine on one side, but settled herself snugly against my other side and relaxed with an arm about my shoulder to watch Al's movies.
The first reels he showed were of my own Mom and Dad. The ones I had forced them to become actors in. Because I knew what was in the scenario, I guess I wasn't too interested except in the technical aspects of the production. I was pleased to see that I had adjusted the lighting properly and that the camera setting was correct. This I saw in the delicate shades of pink about mom's cunt which contrasted so deliciously with the masculine purple of dad's glans as he approached her feminine offering to satisfy his masculine needs. Another shot of her tits just as dad slipped toward them to suckle them also showed that my technical work was correct. The nipples were distended and deep brown while the area about them glowed with the roseate pink that blended away into the gleaming whiteness of her well mounded breasts. Dad's lips were darker red and you could even see the whiteness of the little drops of spittle coming from his excited mouth. Contrasting completely with these red values was the blueness of his beard-he had been forced to stay mounted for quite some time that day and his usually smooth-shaven face had a stubble on these last scenes.
But while I was engrossed in a study of the flashing pictures, my two feminine partners on the sofa were enjoying them for a more down-to-earth reason. Both Ruth and Millie were writhing slowly as they watched the perverted acts on the screen. The movie's arousal was added to by the touching of our skin. I could feel arms and legs on either side of me slipping up and down on the bed as tension mounted and desire flamed up again.
As for Al he, too, was nude sitting on the floor before us. His shoulders glistened with perspiration making the hair mat into curly, glistening designs. He had leaned back so that his arms rested on Millie's and Ruth's straining legs. He had put a hand under each thigh and was manipulating the flesh into rising mounds and then releasing the hold so that the thighs rounded to their natural shape.
It was only out of the comer of my eye that I saw his head slowly turn. He glanced at Ruth, satisfied himself that she was engrossed in the swinging sexual action on the screen, and moved his face slowly to that tender area of skin about midway up my thigh. He rubbed his rough stubbly jaw against it.
The coarse, short whiskers irritated the tender skin and made me move my leg away from the scratching. He scratched the other thigh and I moved my other leg away from the rasping, grating sensation.
Still idly rubbing Ruth's thigh, he twisted more and repeated the scraping action higher on each thigh. I thought of saying something to make him stop, but the rapt expressions on Millie's and Ruth's faces, the whirr of the projector and the intensity of the violent sexual depravities being depicted upon the screen made me keep my silence. I just kept moving my legs away.
But in moving them I was spreading them further and further apart and this made it easier for Al too scrape that irritating stubble higher and higher on my tender thighs.
It was also beginning to stir up some pretty hot reactions on my part. I suddenly found myself voluntarily spreading my legs even wider. The itching between my thighs was not only that of his beard-it was a growing demand just inside the entrance to my vagina-it was a sexual itch that only some form of outside force could satisfy.
Casting another glance at Ruth to make sure she didn't see our little scene, Al stretched his neck and scraped the rasping beard across my belly two or three times. I pulled in my belly to get away from this new attack. When I did my ass slid down, my legs shot up in the air and Al's stubbly face grated across the little, coiled hairs at the entrance to my slit.
The stubble snagged in the hairs, pulling painfully on them. As he struggled to disengage our tangled hairs the pulling became more painful and I could feel the lips of my cunt being tugged about roughly by the snarl of hair. I couldn't help it then. I yelled!
Smack!
There was the loudest whack of bare skin getting hit that I had ever heard and with one last searing yank of pain Al's beard ripped away from my cunt.
Ruth had delivered a tremenduous flat-of-the-hand blow to Al's naked back when I had screamed and called her attention to what was going on right at her side.
"You son-of-a-bitch," she snarled. "I told you to leave her alone until I told you. Get out of that girl's snatch with your crumby face."
Al laughed harshly-but, I noticed, he moved. Obviously, he hadn't relished that blow and he probably knew, too, that there were more, and more painful, blows in store if he didn't do what his wife said.
But even though he left me he wasn't going to give up his quest for sexual gratification-it was Millie who found that out.
He merely rolled over from between my legs to the same spot between hers. Millie had been entranced with the movies of mom and dad and had been idly stroking her own tender private parts as the movie had progressed from debauched scene to depraved act. She stiffened just for a moment when that grating stubble raked across her belly and the her legs, too, shot into the air. Her bare ass slid forward and her shooting legs arched with a loud plop onto Al's sweat-covered back.
He was into her with his tongue in a flash. The whole violent action had positioned her perfectly for the act and she could only flay her arms about above her wildly as his passion took the form of an oral sex act. Her whole body shook and shuddered to the forceful venting of his lust. Her tits bounced and jiggled as did her belly and her head was tossed back in a state of rapture. From her lips came loose unformed words that ended in deep gasps as that lashing tongue practiced some new blissful twist in her demanding body.
Her legs flexed, opening and closing on Al's now sweat-slick shoulders, demanding deeper and deeper penetrations as her need mounted to demoniacal proportions.
"E-e-e-eat it-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!" she demanded. "Oooooohhhhhhh,!"
His head now locked firmly at the apex of squirming thighs, Al could be seen responding to her cries as Ruth and I watched his jaw working in great sweeps telling how his tongue was ripping great elliptical swabs in her volcanic cunt.
"A-a-a-a-g-g-g-g-ghhhhhhhhhhh," Millie's final spasm wrenched from her throat. "You've got it ... you've got it ... got it ... got...."
Al, less kind to Millie than his wife, Ruth, had been to me, pulled his tongue out with the first heat of Millie's pounding belly. She churned and writhed on the wrinkled bed.
She plunged a finger into her cunt to bring to completion the act. One finger wasn't enough so she rammed in two, then three. She pulled at the lips of her swollen cunt with the fingers of her other hand as she made mad attempts to bring off a full release. Her lovely body was arched magnificently almost into a "U" with her finger-filled cunt rammed forward, her sweet, glistening tits swept upward, her long hair flailing from side to side sending the chords in her neck in stark distortion against the full, white throat.
Al, potently aroused as he watched the girl stringing out the evidence of her flood on her long fingers, the palms of her hand, now stood tensely before her. His rod, immense when in use, was even more erect and huge as he glared at Millie's contorting body. The distended organ, pointing directly at my face seemed to be totally composed of that shiny, taut-stretched purple plumb of a head. Suddenly, I had to have it in my mouth.
I lunged up from sitting position and flung myself-mouth agape-to have that wonderful thing. It slid in my mouth so easily as I plunged onto it. It tightened quickly as I wrapped my tongue nearly around it, constricting it and then bobbing my head with it. It was trapped not only by my tongue, but also by my mouth. His rough hands closed about my ears, holding them like handlebars. I was as much trapped now as he. We bucked and reared against each other for only moments and then that massive organ began to tremble like a tuning fork, the head swelled until it filled my mouth, the thick, reddening skin on the shaft puffed-and then he came.
The first discharge was like a hot ball splattering against the back of my throat. Whack!
Now it was my turn to feel Ruth's angered blow.
"You little slut," she yelled. "You damned little slut. You'll do anything for a man. You're no damned different than most of these two-bit little broads. Suck ... fuck ... play with them ... all you want is a damned man, don't you? Fill your sweet little cunt with a big cock and you're happy as a pig at the trough. Suck a man till he's hard enough to do a job in your pussy and you think you're having a great party."
She poured this stream of invective matching the cutting remarks with repeated slaps to my head and bare shoulders. Al's cock had long since slithered from my mouth as I jerked trying to avoid the almost unending rain of blows she scatter-gunned on my blistering body.
"All right, sweetie," she hissed between clenched teeth. "You want a man ... I'll give you one-my husband!"
She nodded her head at Al sending him to the back of the shop for something-something which he knew from that simple nod she wanted him to get.
Then she pulled me roughly back to the couch pinning my shoulders to the wrinkled material so that the lumps and bumps hurt where my body pressed heavily against them.
"Get over here, Millie," she snarled. "Give cutie here a good feel on that tit while I tackle this one."
Millie, frightened by the violence of Ruth's reaction to my having sucked her husband off, scampered to obey. She lay on my arm, began pumping my tit in her hand, making it squeeze into a great, constricted ball, tickling the nipple, pulling it upwards with her thumb and forefinger. Ruth was working me in the same manner on the other tit.
It was great. I had never had two persons playing with my breasts before in my life and it was wonderful. If this was Ruth's idea of torturing me, all I could say was have at it. They took turns kissing me on the mouth, in the mouth, around the mouth. Their mouths sucked and glued to my swollen tits. Lips nibbled sweetly on the nipples drawing them upward into tiny, pink, twin erections. I moaned at the lavish attentions. My legs, hanging out over the edge of the bed were steel-spring taut and my feet pounded the floor, stamping out the maddening cadences electrifying my brain.
Somewhere in this chaos of passionate arousal Al's voice came dimly through to me as he said, "I'm all ready, Ruth."
I twisted my mouth away from Millie's rapine French kiss and glanced downward to see how he was already. I shrieked at the sight.
He had strapped on-yes, actually strapped on-to his once again swollen cock a device that bristled with what seemed to be hundreds of tiny rubber stingers. Later I was to discover it was an Asiatic sensual tool devised to add pleasure to the act of copulation. But right then he couldn't have frightened me more if he had been preparing to shove a branding iron into my organ.
I screamed and screamed for mercy. I implored Ruth not to let him fuck me with that thing. I cried I was still a virgin. I pleaded for some rescue from the all too apparent horror of what he would rack from me.
"So you want to keep cherry?" chuckled Ruth evilly. "Okay, kid, we can do that much for you. But I think Al's past the playtime mood!"
"You bet your damned boots Al's ready to go," his harsh voice, made husky with passion, chimed in. "Get the hell out of the way and let me at her."
"Wait a minute, Al, baby," Ruth cooed, menace still lingering in the timbre of tone, "remember she wants to save her cherry."
With that she yanked my shoulder powerfully, pulling me from my back to my front. Now it was my tits which were crushed into the uneven ridges and valleys of the rumpled bedding. My legs still dangled loosely over the edge so that my toes scuffed the rough floor.
"Sit on her back," Ruth commanded Millie. I felt the smoothness of her legs, the weight of her body as she complied quickly. I was pinned down, but I still wiggled frantically trying to put off whatever debauched pleasure I knew I would be forced to supply soon.
Ruth quickly got down to the meat-my meat-of the plan. She began pinching my bared ass sharply forcing me to squirm away from gouging fingers. But once again the attempt to win freedom from the pain opened any possible barrier I might have been able to provide with my legs-they spread wider and wider.
When they were at their widest, the dark aperture of my slit protected again only by that lacy network of wet curls. Ruth ground a finger into my rectum.
You have to have had a rodding in the ass-hole to know what terror and pain it can cause. Even administered lovingly it is the most outrageous rape there can be-and the most painful. And Ruth, angered because she had come to know that I wanted men as well as women, was not being tender. Her knuckle rent the tight slot and her massaging was savage rather than tender.
Once again I pleaded, begged for mercy, cried for rescue. But, again, it didn't have any effect upon my tormentors. Now I knew how Millie's mother had felt when Mom and I raped her mouth with our bodies. No matter what the pain, submission was the only answer. Take it, and get it over.
While he gored my rectum I could feel a weight moving from my back. It was Ruth and she moved around to a sitting position in front of me. She yanked my hair until my face, stretched at an awkward, cruel angle on my stretched throat, faced her wide spread slit head on. I could see that bud trembling at the entrance to her orifice. Then she released my hair and my mouth fell forward onto the target she had set before it. I would have bit her cunt, but Al's shattering, ripping thrusts kept my mouth wide in a perpetual silent scream. It was the bottom of the pit, sodomized by a hairy ruffian who laughed as he watched me satisfying his wife's sexual needs orally.
They ordered us to get dressed and get out. We did!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PASSIONATE REVENGE
Mary's revealing to us her urge to retain her virginity posed one more perplexing element as our interviews continued with the Andovers. She had submitted herself to sodomy rather than have intercourse; we both wondered if there might not be some key to unlock the doors which we always seemed to discover blocking our query. Immoral as she was-voyeur, pseudo-pimp for a mother, performing fellatio on her own brother, rapist-she seemed to cling to her virginity as if it were the one rock in the stormy sea of her clouded mind.
Through all her own torments, and the torments she caused others, still ran that sadistic streak. It was powerful, we knew, and in her next interview she revealed how her sadism had been used to obtain revenge upon Ruth, the photographer's wife.
* * *
Millie and I got the hell out of that studio and tore to our homes. This ordeal of being sodomized by Al and that horrible instrument he had attached to his sex organ had left my rectum a ball of fire. I needed rest-and some time to think how I would repay them.
Millie left me at her house and I didn't even say goodbye. We had walked without saying a word from the studio. If she had said anything about what had happened I would have hit her-and she knew it. She hadn't done a thing to help me. In fact, she had aided in the rape of my asshole and it was only because I knew she, too, had been forced into the situation that I could find any forgiveness for her at all.
At my own house I was quite subdued. I went into my room early and lay upon my bed for hours thinking of how I would get even with that bitch Ruth. The plan was a long time forming, because I wanted my revenge to be complete. No little detail could be overlooked. When Ruth paid back for what she had done to me, she would suffer-and suffer magnificiently.
By the time I went to sleep that night the plan was perfected in my mind, and I dreamed happily of Ruth's face contorted in anguish, her body wracked with the most debased sexual pains. She begged and moaned in the dream the same way I had that afternoon when it was I who had been in her hands. I awakened refreshed in the morning and started the plan in operation just after Dad left for work.
Mom was fussing with the dishes after breakfast and I started one of those talks about sex that drove her right up the wall. Without really telling her what happened to me at the photo studio, I did tell her how Millie had reacted to the photographic stimulus. I hinted about Ruth and me and our oral arrangements. Mom was trembling with desire by the time I got finished. I put my arm around her and squeezed her through the little, sheer housecoat she was wearing and said I might be tempted to head to the little park that afternoon.
"Oh, do, honey," she whimpered. "You've nearly made a wreck out of me, the way you've been talking. Bring home a man this afternoon."
I said it would all depend. I told her to arrange for Mrs. Ashley to come to the house, too. When Mom balked a bit at the thought of having to share her sexual satisfactions, I teased her pointedly about the new rolls of film I had. I also suggested that if Mrs. Ashley were to prove reluctant, Mom might mention some of the better photos to her, too.
On the way to school, assured that Mom and Mrs. Ashley would be on hand for the afternoon's entertainments, I called Ruth from a phone booth. I told her I was so sorry about the way I had acted and that if she would forgive me I would like her to drop by my house that afternoon to pick up some fresh filming I had done. Her voice was still reproving, but she also knew now that the movies I was shooting had great monetary value for the little business deals she and her husband had as a sideline of their business. She agreed to come.
At school I made the last arrangement during another lunchtime session with Millie in the backseat of her brother's automobile. By the time I rose up from the floor in the backseat and she had reluctantly put her panties back on she was more than willing to come by my house for an intimate visit that afternoon. Once again I had nibbled and played just enough to bring her to a state of hopeless desire-a desire I pointedly promised to fulfill for her later.
Millie was just dressed when her brother walked over to the car with Jeff.
"Anything good to eat in there?" laughed Fred who knew that Millie and I were sharing a lot more than just food during our lunch time breaks. He had caught us once and-quite uncomplainingly-had watched one of our sessions.
I sent Millie scampering and told the boys to hop in the backseat with me. I had suddenly become completely aware that all my evil planning had drawn forth a true desire for sexual gratification. The savagery and cruelty that I had planned had aroused me as much as any active sex play could have and I needed a little relieving myself. Beside that, I wanted to be in full control of what was to happen later in the day and there was the very real danger that I might become a full-scale participant rather than the director of things if I let my passions get out of hand.
It was almost mechanical with my brother and Fred. I needed the maleness of them and that was all, but I needed it quickly and badly. I had them sit on either side of me and I unbuttoned my own blouse, unhooked my bar and took care of the preliminaries in a rapid, immodest fashion.
I kissed Fred first. A full, open-mouthed kiss that had him thrashing in the seat trying to pull me snug against him. His pants bulged with the arousal I had inspired with my kisses and short striptease. My brother was behind me, pressed hard against my back pumping himself like a dog at the nice broad expanse of my rear. His hands cupped my tits from behind and I pressed Fred's face down so that he could suckle the nipples of my squeezed-up tits. With Fred driving from the front and Jeff from the rear my searing body was crammed to the stuffing point with their jabbing movements. It was the kind of working over I had hoped to obtain, and the boys didn't fail me. It was time to give them thenrewards-and to bring-off my own climax.
I unzipped Fred first because he was the nearest my now clawing hands. I had trouble getting his cock out of his pants it was so swollen and stiff. But finally it sprung out. In the mechanical means of my passion I just lowered my head and sucked at its bulbous head.
I grasped my brother's hand and ran it up the back of my dress until his fingers nudged the dampened area of my panties hiding the little playground which both had shared from time to time with masturbation. Jeff tensed as his fingertips sank into the mound then twisted the covering aside to insert them in my vagina. He twanged on the upright clit masterfully, switching the pattern of titillation by a series of ravenous plunges up the tunnel. The effect was exhilarating and I fell upon Fred's cock with even more desire.
I couldn't forget Jeff, my brother. His arousal was also apparent as he drove a staff-like, rock-hard cock into the meat of my thighs. He had unzipped and was riding my leg to achieve some measure of pleasure. I reached back and played with his cock with my hand, tickling the head, sending my fingertips down to the hairs inside his trousers, reaching deep to cradle his diamond-hard balls tenderly.
But masturbation, I soon discovered, is only a poor substitute for the more active sexual stimulants, such as the blowjob I was laving on Fred. My mouth was suddenly being rammed with hammering blows. His legs, stiff for an instant, trembled with the weakening strokes of his cock.
I let his now softening prick slip from my mouth. I took off my own panties and ordered him to repay the oral favor I had just granted him. And then I turned my attention to ending Jeff's frustrations in a more satisfactory manner-with my mouth.
My hand tooling hadn't been altogether unsuccessful, however. I had no sooner licked his glans a few times and let his whole prick ride the tunnel of my throat and mouth than he, too, began the final trip to the peak. Knowing by the rapid series of pulsations of his head that his load was near the traveling point, I reached both hands to Fred's head and crammed his mouth full against the nest of my own arriving passions. His tongue thrust deep, deeper than it had been plunging without the forceful guidance of my fingers embedded in his hair. The timing was exquisitely executed. The thrusting tongue started my own joy, and my brother's cock was now the one pounding into my mouth. I just rode the physical and mental waves to their final culmination, as if I were on a cloud being sent along over a turbulent volume of air. As my belly rose to caress Fred's face, my head would lower to lick at the sweet stick rammed in my mouth. When my crotch fell from Fred, it was Jeff's cock that would slip tantalizingly away from the abyss of my mouth. I rocked and rolled on the doubled rapture until there was nothing left to drain from either my own body or my brother's.
The three of us lay motionless, spent, ended. Matter-of-factly, I complimented both my partners for their efforts and pulled my clothing back into shape. What I had needed, I had gotten. Now I was ready for the rest of the day's work.
Millie rushed up to me at the end of the school day. Her eyes were flashing as she tugged on my waist and urged that we head home quickly. I smiled at her obvious need. Inwardly I laughed, because what she had in mind was the furthest thing from my mind. But I snuggled my hips against hers when we were alone to keep her warmed up. She was going to play a big part in the rest of my plan even though she didn't know what part.
When we got home her mother and mine were already in the house. Millie looked a little amazed, but shrugged noncommitally at the enlargement of the party's guest list. After all, she knew that all of us were dallying with the debasements I had set out over the weeks and she was unembarrassed at finding the older women there.
I assembled them in my big bedroom.
I ordered them all to strip off and went over to the bed which was once again adorned with my leather restraining thongs. I didn't even look at them, because the noises of zippers being pulled down, buttons popping out of fabric and sheer underthings dropping to the floor told me they were doing as I had bid. I made a few final adjustments in the thongs and then slipped out of my own clothing.
I went to my closet where the fishnet top was and slipped it on to peek-a-boo hide my own nudity. I got the boots out of the back of the closet and put them on carefully, one at a time and slowly. Someone whimpered ecstatically at my show and I knew that all of the women were wondering-both fearfully and hopefully-just what I had in mind. The final piece of my costume that I put on was the leather belt I used to wrap around the fishnet jacket. I cinched it tightly so that the flesh swelled out from either side of its glistening fettering hold. It seemed to broaden my hips and swell the size of my tits as it squeezed in my already thin waistline.
They were standing about the bed waiting for whatever was to come next when the doorbell rang. I told them to stay there-that I would be right back with the main participant in the upcoming debauchery.
When I answered the door it was Ruth. She stood there in the porticoe for a moment confounded by my attire. The harsh look in her eyes quickly faded to a complacent smile as she looked me over from head to toe.
"You do want to make up with me, don't you Mary?" she smiled questioningly at me. "You're actually sorry, aren't you."
I took her hand and gently pulled her into the hallway assuring her that my dressing in this manner had been because I wanted to regain her ... friendship. She understood completely what my pause had intended to convey and she smiled again.
"I think we can be friends again if you're all this willing," she said.
We were in the living room by then and I noticed she had a small paper bag in her hand. She sat down and seemed to be trying to hide it from my sight. I asked her what it was and she said it was nothing, but I pressed her for an answer and finally she shrugged.
"It's that 'thorn' Al used on you yesterday. I was going to toss it in your face as a reminder, but now I'm truly ashamed for thinking of such a thing," Ruth told me. "I want to be your friend. I should have realized how aroused you were yesterday and that you couldn't help yourself when you sucked Al.
"Seeing you dressed like you are, nearly nude and just tantalizing that way, I know you know how I feel about you. And you proved yesterday that you really haven't ever had a man before when you were begging us not to fuck you.
"I'm just awfully sorry I brought the thing with me now. Can you forgive me for being so jealous that I lost my good sense?"
I asked to have the bag and she handed it to me. I reached inside and could feel the rubbery pine-needly thing that had tortured my asshole only twenty-four hours ago. I pulled it out and looked at it once more. It was a cruel device, more given to sadism than to giving pleasure. I sat beside Ruth, pulled open the lacy web of fabric and held a tit to her mouth. As she ravished kisses on it I told her I forgave her.
As she kissed and fondled the soft globe I had freely given her the nipple began to stand upright in the tension of passion. Ruth thought it was her attentions that were arousing me, but they were not. I had planned this too well, and so far as Ruth was concerned I had full control of my emotions.
What was giving me pleasure was the sight of the spiked instrument that had rent my rectum augmented by the devastating thrusts of Al's gargantuan cock. That would provide an added bonus to my revenge plans ... a welcome addition, indeed.
Surreptitiously picking up the device, I again tugged Ruth's arm and nodded toward my bedroom. We could be alone-and much more comfortable. I smiled at her. As she stood I made one last request. Tasked her to strip, to let me see how beautiful she was. Her eyes were fiery with desire and she swiftly removed her clothing as I watched. As she wiggled out of the man-like trousers she was wearing she also pulled down her panties. The last protection was gone now and I was ready to entrap this latest victim.
I let her hold me, run her hands over my breasts, hips and ass as we walked slowly down the hall to my room. She was looking forward to renewing our friendship in the most satiating of ways. I licked my lips wetly with my tongue, letting its pinkness stand out in the way I knew would be irresistible and desireable to her. We passed little kisses during the walk and as we reached the door she was bending slightly to suck on my tits again. It was a slightly awkward stance and she was off-balance enough so that when I shoved her roughly she plunged through the doorway and did a staggering stumble to the bed. When her legs hit the low bed she fell upon it.
I screamed at the three waiting feminine partners in this demented revenge to hold her on the bed-and they jumped to my bidding. My voice had lost all the honey-toned cooings that had led Ruth to this jumping off place. My voice, flecked with revenge, now gave the commands that would take her over the brink and into my sadistic pit of retaliation.
While the women held her I strapped all of her limbs to the bed posts. I cinched the fettering straps so tight that her ankles and wrists reddened and swelled from the pressure. I drew the post ends taut, too, so that she stretched as though she were on a medieval torture rack-that, too, had been one of my ideas.
Spread-eagled, flat on her back, Ruth was now completely in my power. The raw fear showing in her eyes told me more than any words that she dreaded what I would have done to her now.
The reversing of our positions made me laugh and I wondered why Millie, her mother and mom all looked so strangely at me. I wondered until I heard the shrill laughter coming from my throat. It sounded demented even to me, but I couldn't stop. This moment was what I had been building to for nearly a day and the tension was having its effect upon my mind. I stopped laughing and although all the women relaxed a little they still cast careful glances at me and seemed to want to avert drawing my attentions to any one of them in particular.
Smiling evilly at them I then walked to one of my new gadgets. It was a slide projector which I had mounted beside my bed. It faced upward so that the slides it showed would show on the ceiling above my bed. I had found it relaxing to go to bed at night masturbating myself while lying upon my back looking at the projected sex scenes before my eyes.
Now I clicked on the projector and inserted the first slide. It had two performers, my brother and Mis. Ashley. He had mounted her dog-fashion and was just in the final rutting stages when I had snapped the color slide. Lying on her back he had impaled her to the hilt with a cannon-ball last shot and his body was stiff as the relief shot from his cock. Mrs. Ashley, too, was coming and her eyes were partially hidden by her heavy lids, her face a picture of rapt acceptance of his juices. Tendrils of hair at her forehead struck sweatily to her smooth brow.
Even trussed and hopeless as she was Ruth frowned at the picture of a man and woman joined in copulation. She frowned even more when, after letting her stare at the slide for a moment or so, I informed that the woman in the picture was Mrs. Ashley-and that she was here in the bedroom.
All of our eyes had grown adjusted to the darkness and the light from the screen above the bed reflected just enough onto the bed and its adjacent area so that Ruth could look about and see Jane Ashley standing nude beside the bed.
I commanded Jane to tell Ruth how she had felt at the moment I had snapped the photo of she and Jeff.
"Like it was the end of the world," murmured Jane who was now caught up in these events. "I can still feel that cock. The head swelled and swelled with each round of his load. The whole inside of my cunt was filled with his cock. I let go myself. It was almost like he was brushing my cunt with his cock like you would brush your teeth. The juice just rolled about and his tool prodded every crevice, found every centimeter of skin inside me there ... mmmmmm, he can fuck."
"That's it, you dumb cunt," hissed Ruth. Jane's description, the woman's obvious enjoyment of having sex with a man had stirred Ruth's deep-seated hatred of men and the way they used those tender parts of a woman's body that a lesbian thought belonged only to another woman. "That's it. Give your femininity to some lousy man so he can ram his sweaty, hairy cock into you. Fucking is the crowning insult, you're held down, torn apart, ripped up-and you beg some son-of-a-bitch to do it to you again."
Ruth's fury was the trigger I needed. I laughed again and informed Ruth that now Jane was going to use her. I icily said that a woman who enjoyed men was now going to enjoy Ruth's body. Ruth twisted her head quickly to stare with frightened eyes at me.
"No, please, no, Mary." she whimpered. "I don't want that sort of a woman to have me. I wanted you because you still don't know about men. You haven't fucked. You can be safe with me, with women. Please, Mary, no ... no ... no!"
Mrs. Ashley looked at me for a lead and I gave her an answer by nodding my head slowly at Ruth's widespread crotch. She got onto the bed, kneeling before the slit that was completely open to attack. She looked up once at Ruth as the trussed woman moaned for rescue again and then Mrs. Ashley did as she had been ordered.
While she licked and stormed orally at Ruth's jerking body, I kept reminding the prisoner that the woman who was performing the rite wasn't a lesbian-that she really only enjoyed men. I forced Ruth to keep looking at that picture of Mrs. Ashley and Jeff knocking off their rapacious piece of ass together. I told Ruth that I doubted Mrs. Ashley would come herself while eating pussy-that she had no enjoyment of it all. But, I said, Mrs. Ashley would stay positioned on Ruth's cunt until Ruth came. The reminders, torturing her; Mrs. Ashley's tongue, laving attention on her; Ruth was torn between the two worlds of men-and-women and women-and-women so that it took her a long time to go off-but finally she did.
She moaned outlandishly, as the tonguing finally brought about the climax which had been delayed by the sordid, cruel remarks I had continued to make throughout the act.
Jane Ashley backed away from Ruth's gyrating hips. Her feet edged off the bed, and she quickly stepped away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Ruth was still straining to pump her hips for one last release, when I flicked on the next special slide I had set up for this afternoon's vindictive tormenting. It depicted Millie with her brother as she performed fellatio upon him. It had happened shortly after our brother and sister foursome had got started. Fred had been watching me sucking off my brother and he had asked Millie to try the same trick. At first unwilling, she had warmed to her work; when the picture had been taken the girl had been lavishing her whole-hearted attention to the job. Both her hands were working, one stroking that part of his shaft not impaled in her glistening lips and the other fondling his great, hairy balls. Her tits, the nipples stiffened with her own desire, were pushed into swelling mounds against his thighs. The expression on her face was one of contorted desire and she was obviously relishing her new-found oral capacities.
"Oooooooh," moaned Millie looking up at the scene, "It was wonderful. Your brother had just fucked me, remember, Mary. I thought I was through for the day with that ramming he had given me, but once I got sucking on Fred I came again. He was so big. The head was so smooth in my mouth. It glided everywhere, it slipped all over when he came. Oh, that heat. That hot blazing heat all over the inside of my mouth. When he shot I shot. It was just as if he had been fucking my cunt rather than my mouth. Mmmmmmm, I never knew before what a blow job could do even for the woman."
Her voluntary description of the act fired Ruth's eyes with anger once again and she scowled at Millie. Ruth was about to say something when I ordered Millie down to that valley between the restrained woman's legs. Millie attempted to go sixty-nine by placing her own cunt over Ruth's mouth, but I ordered her off the ready oral cavity and down in the same kneeling position her mother had just relinquished.
Again, it was the same. I intruded on Ruth's oral ravishment with constant reminders of how Millie had found rapture and sexual release with a cock, how she had fucked my brother just before the scene flashing on the ceiling. The interruptions delayed Ruth's climax, broke constantly into her enjoyment of Millie's tongue ravaging that moist, dark tunnel held open to any depravity I chose to have practiced upon her. But the probing, thrusting tongue finally accomplished the act once again for Ruth and she groaned in relief and rapture as the oral stabbings brought her off again.
Millie had hardly pulled away when I flicked the switch again to show Ruth yet another male-female sexual go round. This one was of mother when both Dad and that drunken bum had pinioned her body between their piston-like pricks and taken her both orally and dog-fashion at the same time. Once more my picture had captured the ultimate rapture of all three in a boiling cauldron of orgiastic passion-with Mom at the center.
Ruth groaned when I said that the woman in the picture was here and would soon be between her legs practicing the art of lesbian lovemaking. The groan was two-fold by this time. She hated still the idea of a woman who could accept a man's jabbing cock instead of the more tender blandishments and subtleties of a woman's tongue. She was also spent by her two prolonged oral bouts with scraping, rasping tongues delivered by Millie and her mother.
"No!" she yelled. "N-n-no more. I can't take it again. P-p-p-pulleeezzze, Mary ... no more."
But mother was already at her post and even as Ruth's plaintive beg for mercy ended mother's tongue was making the first tenuous darting stabs into the swollen cunt. Stabs that penetrated deeper and deeper grinding out a tattoo of passion down the tunnel. The constant grating was now like sandpaper in Ruth's tortured slit and again my cutting remarks delayed the culmination-but again Ruth was brought over the top. Reluctantly she started down the trail, but rapturously she entered the final stages once more. When Mom backed off, only Ruth's climax was in evidence.
Ruth was still grinding her ass into the bedding, writhing in the last spasms of her climax, when I turned on the bedroom lights. I walked back to the bed and slowly, dramatically began undoing the thongs which held Ruth in her position. Stretched taut for so long, bedraggled by the non-stop oral go-arounds, she simply lay there sprawled when the leather bonds were released. She was in as complete state of exhaustion as I had ever seen. Probably for anyone else her condition would be the end of her torment-revenge was obviously complete. But in my mind there was still more to wrench from her wracked body.
I rolled her over on her belly and began to re-do the thongs. Once again she was being readied and she knew it, but couldn't bring forth the strength to fight. Her voice husky with tiredness, she groaned into the bedding which hid her face, "Noooo, noooo, noooo."
I just kept on strapping her. The soft moans were music to me accenting the pleasure I was drawing from this entire mad event. I buckled the final strap about her ankle and lay my hand on the steaming globe of her bared ass, pressing tenderly upon it, rubbing it, churning the meaty morsel into voluptuous shapes-and then I moved away to remove the leather belt that held my own garment on.
Ruth had turned her head so she could face me. She plead silently with her eyes for release. All she saw was my laying the length of the belt across the bed before her face. The fish net was now hanging open revealing my complete nakedness. My legs, muscles tightening, were flexed down to my boots, I drew the belt across the bedding in front of Ruth's frightened eyes, let it's leathery warmth glide over bare shoulders, slithered it down her back until the end rested on the cheek of her ass. I just let it lay there.
"No, Mary, no!" screamed Ruth, finding strength now that the full realization of what I had next in mind for her dawned upon her. "Don't beat me ... oh, Mary ... no. Please no...."
Her voice trailed away piteously muffled as she turned her head full into the rumpled bedding again as if she could, like an ostrich, hide her head in the sand and avoid her fate. She was actually sobbing when I delivered the first blow. It made an exciting combination of sounds-the sobs, the whish of the belt through the air, the crack as it lashed the bare mound of flesh, and the scream of anguish it drew from Ruth.
I flipped the belt beside Ruth's face again and repeated the route I had trailed down her body before. She hunched her shoulders and blubbered helplessly trying to make me forego another lash. The stroke, this time completely across her quivering ass, drew another shriek.
I changed the pattern from time to time as I administered the flogging. Once I let the belt ease up between her legs, tickling the dark hairs that shown so clearly between the splayed legs, then cracked her with a flicking motion right on the cunt. Soon I was no longer leading up to the blows with tortuous draggings of the belt over her body. I was cutting her whereever I chose: her back, her legs, her arms, her waist, her ass. Then I was raining blows on her body, lashing her with the feeling of my own growing passion. Tiny trickles of blood seeped from some of the red welts. This was revenge!
As the torrent of blows reached a crescendo a man's hand grasped mine. I fought to strike again, but the grasp was too strong. I was hysterical with desire to deliver more lashes to the woman who had had me accept sodomy, but I couldn't.
"Stop it, Mary," said Dad's voice in my ear. "Stop it. She's had enough."
It was then I decided upon one final degradation for all the participants. I ordered them all to find something of Dad's they could use for sex.
Mom was first to react. She jumped astraddle his face grinding her pussy into his mouth in fanatical demand for release of her own charged up body. Millie, standing beside the bed, grabbed a lose hand and crammed the fingers into her young body. It was Mrs. Adley, standing alone at the foot of the bed who suddenly reached forward to grab his ankle and insert his toes in her slit. I laughed again at the frenetic action, but it wasn't yet enough torture for Ruth. I grabbed her roughly and, twisting her by the neck and shoulders, forced her to twist about on the tearing cock until she was no longer facing Dad, but facing Mrs. Ashley who was attempting to get her goodies on Dad's foot.
You've seen that photograph. I set the timer on my camera and got into it myself. You know about that, but you don't know what took place afterward.
Why don't you ask Dad to tell you about that?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ATTACKED IN SKIDROW
The chilling directness in the nymphet's suggestion that we ask her father, Harry Andover, about the final scene concerning the child's revenge upon Ruth was, to me at least, the final straw that forced me to reach my decision of the child's problem.
She was an incurable sadist, enjoying every debasement to which she put her victims. But could she keep herself from falling into the trap she set for others. Already she had had a near scare and only her submission to sodomy had preserved her virginity.
Jim, the marriage counselor, and I concurred that we should, however, ask her father just what had happened to Ruth. Chain-smoking cigarettes, nervously gesturing-altogether a picture of a man breaking apart at the seams, he told us....
* * *
You saw the photograph Mary took of that first part of the orgy. She took it on a Polaroid so we could all see it as soon as we fell off one another. I'll never forget Ruth's dejected face as she looked at it. She was subjugated completely by the photo and Mary's domineering manner of displaying it to all of us. Mary made the cruel point over and over that each of the women who had performed cunnilingus upon her was obviously enjoying what I had to give the females more than what they had given Ruth. And, of course, Ruth squatting there upon me while I rammed that horny thing on my cock into her-that part of the picture really got her. Being had by a man just wasn't her bag.
Anyway, we rested a while, had some drinks and then Mary ordered each of the women, my wife, Jane Ashley and her daughter, Millie to give me a trip round-the-world. Lord, they started all over my body, licking, kissing, smacking their lips upon every part of me. Even that little Millie, when she topped her trip up my tower, was a wild bitch. Her mother actually fought her at one point to get my cock in her mouth and Jean, my wife, shoved them both away and we went at it sixty-nine for a few strokes.
I was completely aroused, steaming, sweating, pumping at each mouth when Mary ordered the three off of me. I thought I was going to be in for some sort of a sadistic stunt the way she brought the three-way oral orgy to a halt, but that wasn't what she had in mind. I hadn't noticed, but she had been strapping that poor beaten lesbian down to the bed again. Her arms were outstretched, her legs hobbled over the bed so that her big, bare ass was pointing right up into the air.
"Put this back on," Mary ordered, handing me the prickery, rubber device, I fumbled quite a bit, my prick was slick with all those tongues working on it, and it was quivering with the last throes before coming. I got into it finally and Mary pulled me around behind Ruth. I figured she wanted to have me give her one dog-fashion so I moved in to mount up-but I was wrong about it.
"In her ass, daddy," Mary commanded. I looked at Mary. The girl I saw wasn't my daughter at all. She was mad! Her eyes were blazing and that fisnet jacket was heaving and falling on her tits matching the rising the falling of her breathing. She was nearly gasping she was so hot. She glared at me and repeated, "In her ass!"
I didn't know about Mary's rectal episode at Ruth's hands then, and I doubt if it would have made any difference. I had to get my cock into something and there were Ruth's smooth hips, the dark tantalizing hairs hanging moistly down-and my own throbbing prick.
I dug my fingers into each globe and pulled them apart to spot that tiny pink target that I had been commanded to ravage. It was puckered like a pair of pouting lips, tiny, moist and a dark inviting O right in the center. I couldn't wait once I saw it. I went half home on my first thrust-the little rubber tips on the device flicking savagely inward.
Ruth yelled like a rutted hog, and she screamed when I rammed the rest of the shaft to the hilt when I bulled my way past her first rectal barrier. The damned thing was, for me, like a rubber. It delayed me getting my gun so I had to ride her for quite a few minutes before I could feel the head beginning to throb with that pre-ejaculation quiver. Then, I was letting fly and only the pleasure I was feeling drowned out the screams coming from Ruth's twisted, contorted mouth. Honestly, watching those notched rubber cones driving in and out, as I drained myself in her bowels, actually made the act better for me. I was enjoying her torment as much as my daughter.
When I felt the last shake spill my final emission into her, I stood still for a minute. Then, giving her a loud slap on the ass, I yanked it out. Those thorny barbs, laying back from the penetration, must have ripped her ass-hole like fire when I pulled out, but we all laughed now at her pitiful sobbing, her screams had turned to blubbering sounds that were completely unintelligible.
Ruth simply fell forward on the bed. She whimpered and moaned. The cheeks of her shiny, round ass contracted into tight lumps as if she were attempting to massage the fiery pain from her raped rectum.
Again, Mary took charge. She disappeared into the bathroom and came out fully clothed only minutes later. She told the rest of us to get dressed-that the party was over. Then she walked over to the bed and unlashed Ruth's trembling body from those leather thongs attached to the bedposts.
"Here," she spat out at Ruth, "put your dress on. We're going to take a little ride-maybe even air out your asshole for you."
She laughed that maniacal laugh again and watched as Ruth struggled to get into the dress. The woman's muscles were jerking in anguish and tiredness. I've never seen a human being so completely in agony-and fear.
Once dressed, Mary sent Jane Ashley and daughter, Millie, on their way and then she turned to me and my wife saying, "C'mon, you two, we're going to take Ruthie for a little trip to celebrate her getting out of here alive."
We half-carried, half-dragged the woman to her auto and Mary told me to drive. She and my wife would follow in our car. When I asked where we were supposed to go she laughed and said, "Skid Row!"
You know our town has, like just every community, its rough part of town. Ours is a little three-block stretch on the west end. Gaudy lights, beer bars, tough customers-and tough times for even its own denizens if caught unaware. It was certainly no place for a woman-and I knew that Mary meant to dump Ruth down there to see if she could survive in the jungle of lust and empty jugs. I told her I wasn't having any part of it. Ruth might be killed if we did what Mary was planning to do.
"Just shut up and do as you're told," my daughter jeered at me. She saw that I was going to be stubborn about this still. Raping a woman for her was one thing, but participating in an act that would lead to at least more horrible violations of her body than were imaginable-and at most to her violent death-that was too much even if the child did dominate me.
Mary softened her voice then and told me why she was so bent upon venting her vengeance upon Ruth. She told me about the sodomy that had been violently practiced upon her the day before while Ruth directed the depraved actions of her husband. I saw red. To think of that ghastly device ripping, rending, raping her rectum....
I grabbed Ruth curtly by the arm and threw her into the car. I knew just which bar to stop off at to find the kind of men who would reduce her to a ruined pulp. I drove straight to it ... the lights of my own car, carrying my wife and daughter, reflecting in the rearview mirror all the way.
I stopped in the alley behind the bar. There was a painted door, gaudily adorned with the twisted bodies of naked women and men embracing. The sign which blinked garishly in the darkened alley and announced the name of the establishment flashed its message on and off-"Fuck Inn ... Fuck Inn ... Fuck Inn."
I pushed, shoved and hauled Ruth's helpless form into the back seat where she sprawled in a semi-conscious state. Her skirt had hiked up well over her hips and the dark triangle of hair between her splayed legs was illuminated starkly by the blinking sign in a twitching display which was first in the shadows and then brilliantly apparent. She tried once to move, but fell back upon the seat. I went through the door and into the bar.
The room was fairly crowded with men. A half dozen barmaids, attired only in bikini bottoms swung through the crowd delivering rounds of beer and dodging rough hands that rubbed the nearly bare cheeks of their round, glistening asses. On a pedestal a topless dancer twisted her long-limbed body to the blaring tunes of a jukebox. Her tits, big bouncy ones swung almost separately to the rhythms and she smiled down at the crowd of leering eyes as she ran her hands up her thighs excitingly pausing just before she came to the wide-spread gyrating crotch she continually presented to view. Behind the bar a topless girl bent low at the counter each time she served a glass of beer, sometimes letting a nipple dip into the foamy head to sweeten the contents for a particularly big tipper-sometimes even letting a customer lick the frothy brew from her heaving breast.
I sized up the men and spotted a pair sitting at a dinky table who were really steamed up watching the various exhibits of pulchritude. Rough sailors' sweaters, dungarees, gnarled hands, they looked through rheumy eyes at the display with slackened jaws that barely trapped spittle above stubbly beards. They were just what I had in mind.
"How much?" one of them asked when I told them I had a woman available out in back. I could see they wouldn't believe my real reason for having her there-they would be suspicious of anything rare as a feminine morsel if it didn't cost anything. I said ten dollars a throw; they greedily reached into their wallets to take up the bargain price. I took the money and told them I would show them where the woman was.
"You bet you will, bub," said one looking craftily at me. "I ain't letting you walk no place without me right at your hip pocket-not until I see this cunt you're talking about, anyway."
I laughed and assured him I had the woman. We walked back out of the bar into the alley-and to the parked car where Ruth still lay, subdued, beaten and unable to move.
The men looked into the back seat and nearly shouted at what they saw. They wrenched open the back door and fought like wild animals to get into the car with Ruth. For a moment all I could hear was their drunken, cackling laughter and the sound of clothing being ripped. Then a wild shriek from Ruth told me that the curtain had rung up on this obscene finale to my daughter's revenge.
I looked closely through the window and saw Ruth's legs were propped over the back of the front seat and one man's pumping body was firmly inbedded between her angularly sprawled legs. The other man was absolutely devouring the breasts which mounded fully above the torn down top of her dress. He squeezed one tit coarsely with one hand, while his head bobbed up and down in the shadowy realm of the other. Wet sucking sounds proclaimed his crude suckling actions. Ruth's mouth quivered, trying to bring a cry up from the pain-wracked depths of her body. Her eyes were wide with terror as she looked down at the uses to which the two beasts were putting her body.
Suddenly, I felt two bodies squeezing against mine and I started. It was my daughter and wife. They had come from their parked auto to watch Ruth's submission and were packed tight against the window with me to best view the act.
"She sucks cock good," hissed Mary through the open window. "Have her suck you off, fellow."
The man who had been feeding at Ruth's raw-nerved nipples looked up when he heard my daughter's voice and laughed. He pulled himself up to a kneeling position on the seat beside the woman and flayed her mouth with his stallion-like cock. He had taken off his trousers so that he would be ready when his buddy had finished using her cunt. He grabbed Ruth's jaw and twisted her mouth cruelly into the position where she would have to accept orally, what he had intended to put into another part of her body later. Her head lolled about as he pumped the beaming, purple-hued glans into her gaping mouth. His hands worked on his shaft as he half-masturbated, half had her blow him.
By this time the three of us were not only enjoying Ruth's degradation-we were also beginning to get a sexual rise out of the sordid scene. I had my hand on my wife's ass and was rubbing up and down, slipping her skirt higher with each movement. Soon I was fondling the hot, tender, bare flesh at the base of her panties. I turned sideways so I could bring her warm, full thigh into contact with the erection that was burgeoning inside my trousers.
Mary, her eyes glistening with excitement, was pressing her own belly against the car door and manipulating both her breasts as she watched the wholesale attack on the remnants of Ruth's tortured form.
We were so engrossed in the scene that we all jumped when we heard rough voices say, almost in unison, "Hey, there's a fuck party going on back here."
I spun, just in time to see four or five men spill out into the alley from the garish door of the inn, then I was caught up in a melee of squirming, twisting, fighting human forms. I lashed a fist at a tough looking face, and then felt a knee-bending clout on my forehead. I stumbled down to my knees, nearly retching as a foot caught me in the stomach on the way down. I was turned around roughly. I could feel hands pulling my belt off and then it was being used to truss me so that I couldn't move.
"Make one yelp, Mac, and you've got a shiv in your gut," hissed a weasely little character standing over me. They picked me up and shoved me against the wall. A brute of a man clasped my throat in his ham-sized hand and held me there.
"You were enjoying the show before, mate," laughed another man harshly, "we're just going to act it out a little bit better for you-with three broads instead of only one."
I had to stand there and watch while the drunken crowd made good the promise of "a better show."
My wife fell victim first. They had been watching as I had gone into the privacy of her body with my hands while we had been watching Ruth's debasement. The sight of her bare thighs, her hips swinging freely to meet my wandering hands, had pinpointed her as an immediate target for their lusts.
Maybe she really wasn't a victim, however. They had taken her panties down while I was being worked-over, and when I saw her she was leaning over the front of the car. A man, his trousers sagging about his ankles, was rammed close to her and her ass gyrated in great swings as she accepted her first massive fuck. She only flinched when his immense, hairy hands dug fingers into the soft curves of her flanks as he attempted to jab clear through her with his thrusting cock. Her head drooped down and she pounded on the hood of the car in time to the pace his rapidly pounding prick was creating. She hadn't screamed or attempted to fight that I could see and her back arched to present her attacker with as accessible as possible a target of his drives into her slit.
It was Mary who would suffer rape. I could see it in the terror that glazed her eyes, made the whites stand out even when the inn's glaring light dimmed intermittently. She was being held by two men with her back against the car, and they were running their hands freely over her young body. Her blouse bunched where hands manipulated her young, tender breasts in a coarse fashion. One man dropped a hand down to her knee, squeezed it lovingly, and then let it travel slowly up her quivering thigh until it disappeared at the front of her dark mini-skirt. She started when the arm had all but disappeared-as his probing fingers reached her tender, inexperienced privacy.
"Nooooo, n-n-noooooo," she whimpered like a wounded animal. "D-d-don't. Don't, please."
The sound of her voice was lost in the sharp tearing sound of her blouse. The other men had grabbed the sheer garment at the collar and ripped it diagonally away from her creamy, full chest. A white bra strap fell away with the torn garment, and "I could see a melon-shaped breast fall into view. The nipple was erect, the area about roseate, the pinkness spreading to engulf more of the firm, naked tit.
Cries of admiration went up from the crowd. Even the rough bull who was taking his pleasure with my wife paused in his strokes to gawk at my daughter's bared tit. He laughed, gave a sigh and then rammed a massive thrust into my wife's unprotesting body. Jean moaned ecstatically at the thoroughness of the plunge.
But it was still Mary who had drawn the crowd's attention. Her miniskirt was now well above her hips, the other tit had fallen into the night air to be lighted sporadically by the glittering sign of the inn. Her panties had been rolled down until they were only bikini-shaped-barely covering the sweet triangle that was soon to be ravished. A man's hand, resting on her belly, explored the tendrils of pubic hair with swift, knowledgeable strokes.
The hand studdenly ripped the panties down to her mid-thigh and the fingers were forcefully rammed into her vagina. She jumped at the violence, the quickness of the act. As she did her tits bounced up and down, shaking slowly back to their firm shape.
Her arms pinioned at her sides, she stood there taking the finger-fuck almost as if she were beyond feeling. She didn't fight. She didn't scream. It was as though she knew her moment had arrived and, like Jane Ashley had days-or was it weeks-earlier, she was going to have to accept her ravishment.
Her panties were tugged and yanked until they fell at her thin, slim ankles. A man grasped her behind one bare knee and raised her leg so that the garment slipped entirely off and lay in a nylon pool in the littered alley.
The man's trousers were also down and he held her leg up at a distended angle. He moved forward, between the lithe young limbs. I watched, horrified, as he dipped his body and then came up.
"Oh, no-ooooohhhh," Mary gasped. The leg upon which she was still standing sagged at the knee. The calf showing beside the man's naked hip stiffened. "Oh, no-ooohhhhh!"
"Open the door, one of you guys," the man grunted as he began to twist his hips between the child's bare legs. The door was opened and he grasped her tightly by the waist and shoulders and lowered her onto the front seat of the car. His hairy ass twisted and churned more rapidly and Mary's leg slowly came up from the alley to wrap around his waist. The other leg swung over. Her ankles crossed.
The entwined bodies pumped harder at each other. Muscles stood out in mounting sexual tension. The man gave a series of trip hammer blows, his buttocks blurring with the rapidity of his delivery. Suddenly, I heard my daughter cry out, her voice violent with rapture.
"Oh, I love it! I love it! I love it! "Fuck meeeee! Fuck meeeee! Fuck meeee!" she howled.
Her arms rose to clasp him as her legs had. She dug her nails into his back, grabbed his bare ass and pulled him tighter. Her face appeared over his sweater-covered shoulder. She pulled his ear into her mouth and I could see her jaws working as she laved her tongue in it. Her head fell away and her lips were parted in the last deep sense of rapture. Her eyes rolled upward until only the whites showed beneath her half-drooped lids.
"Why was I afraid," she whispered loud enough so that we could all hear. "Ohhhlih, it's wonderful! Fuck me! Oh, ram that big thing home ... do it ... do it ... do it!"
With one ultimate stabbing thrust the man did it!
He ground at her as the spasms of pleasure twisted his body-and Mary, obviously reaching her climax-ground back at him. The tight young muscles in her legs stood out as she pulled him into her with the rapturous embrace.
When the man finally lifted himself from her, she squirmed into the car and I could see her taking off her skirt, ripping away at the last shreds of her rent blouse, unhooking the bra strap so that the last restrictive garments were gone. She laughed at me when she saw me and then, her arms spread, she beckoned a second man into the car.
Naked from the waist down, he sat beside her and reached over to kiss her. She brushed him aside impatiently and swung astraddle of his cock. She clutched it in her hand and then plunged down, impaling herself on the rigid organ. As she moaned and swayed her body, she leaned forward and crammed a bare tit into his gawking mouth. He sucked hard upon it, his hands rose to her smooth hips and he guided her along the path of arousal they were sharing-guided her to yet another shattering, pleasing, climax.
She kissed him long and hard as their bellies socked together. Then they flipped his deflated manhood from her and made ready for another man.
She disappeared into the front seat as the third man jumped in to partake of her passion-driven body and I lost sight of her except for an occasional glimpse of a flailing white leg. Men entered and came back from the dark seat in a never-ending stream. Each went in savagely and came back out, round-eyed, glowing with the treatment rendered him by my daughter.
Other men flowed in and out of the backseat where Ruth was still limply complying to any demands they made on her. First seen sucking a man off, she spent much of her time passing out oral favors among the crowd.
As for my wife, she, too, was a center of sexual interest. She was still standing when I caught sight of her-standing between two men. One was in front of her now nude body and the other behind. She was dangling in the air between them as they both took her at the same time. One driving cock was plunging in and out of her widespread cunt while the second was wrecking havoc with her anal channel. She didn't mind either abrasive, slashing into the orifices of her body. The man at her ass had hoisted both her full-booming breasts into the face of the man standing before her and he, in turn, was nibbling at the nipples or cramming his mouth full of the globular delights.
As I watched, the three-some accomplished what they had set for themselves and their legs became starchy with the juices of their eruptions. My wife swung her hips mightily to and fro so that each man could have the pleasure of her particular tunnel to the deepest extent possible as he spent in waves of pleasure.
I was shivering as much with the cold as with horror at what I was observing when a couple of the men shoved me back through the door of the inn.
"Go get a beer, buddy," one said. "We'll let you know when the party's over."
The shove set me reeling through the opened door and I stumbled from side to side down the dim hallway trying to get my balance. I would have fallen had I not finally banged into one of the barmaids walking down the hall to take a break. I clutched at her to stop my fall-firm, warm flesh met my groping hands. My cheek fell between the firm mounds of her tits and I slid down the length of her pale, exquisitely rounded belly.
The closeness of the delightful feminine form told me that there had been one other reason for my shivering and shaking in the alley-sexually, I was completely aroused. The alley orgy, even though my wife and daughter were participants, had stirred the hell out of me and now, I, too, needed a good fuck.
I yanked at the barmaid's bikini bottom to open a gaping area between the sleek, nylon and the bare pussy I could just barely see hidden in the fabric's shadow. I licked it with my tongue, squeezing the cheeks of her ass to force the portals open further.
"Jeeezzzt, Mister," yelped the girl. "Don't waste a job like that here. C'mon out in front."
She jerked a little snap at the back of the tiny covering and it fell completely away. She expertly reached forward and unzipped my fly, her hand deftly drawing forth my own distended prick.
"Ooooooh," she giggled, "that's a big one, honey. Come on now hurry, before you shoot-off back here."
There was no thinking, no logic, no nothing but the sight of the great globes of her bare ass rising and falling as she went toward the lights at the other end of the hallway-lights that came from the main bar room. She was tugging me along by the cock and I wasn't going to do anything to stop getting soaked in something sweet. I followed, hastily.
She jumped up on the pedestal where earlier I had seen the near-naked girl dancing. Still holding me by my sex organ, she looked down at that sea of upturned faces.
"Who's gonna lay down fifty bucks to watch a sixty-nine," the girl hollered at the crowd over the noisy blare of the juke box. "We are going to do the most magnificent sixty-nine in the world and it's only going to cost fifty bucks to watch."
She was stripping my trousers off me while she called for the crowd to pay up. She pulled my shirt off and then my T-shirt.
"Bare-assed, the both of us," she hooted at the now milling crowd. "Bare-assed and in love for fifty bucks, boys."
Dollar bills began to drop on the little stage and she scooped them up clutching them graspingly in her one hand while she pumped on my cock with the other.
She knelt before me and kissed the base of my shaft and cried once again, "Fifty bucks, come on you bastards, shell out."
More money was flipped onto the stage and, still kissing my shaft, she turned her eyes so she could spot and pick up the growing numbers of bills. I wasn't interested in money, or how she was going to make a few bucks, anymore. I wanted those sweet lips on my cock and I grabbed her by the hair to get her into position.
Her lips, parted in a wet kiss at the base of my organ slipped up over the head of my cock as I tugged at her head. She giggled as she scooped up one final bill and then slipped her free hand onto my prick to guide it into her mouth. She sucked the long, sweet sucks of an experienced woman, constricting the shaft with her tongue when it was buried and tickling the head when she let it slip back up from the moist, hot depths of her mouth.
She bent my knees so that I sat down; then she crouched between my widespread legs, lunging up and down on my quivering cock as she worked her mouth like a cunt. She pushed me on to my back and, with cat-like grace, swung her legs and ass about so that her slit draped tantalizingly above my mouth. I reached up with my tongue to return the favors she was planting on my imbedded cock-when to my surprise she moved away with her hips. The movement was ever so slight, but she wasn't going to let me get into her. I tried again and although she kept her pussy near my mouth she never let me enter it. When I finally decided to give up trying to get at her and just lay back to enjoy the fondling fellatio she was performing she let her hips slip forward so that she was still near my head.
It dawned on me she was just putting on a show for the excited crowd, making the audience believe they were watching a sixty-nine while not actually pulling it off. How much hokus-pocus she was pulling off became even more obvious to me when she suddenly began moaning and pulled her mouth away for my unspent organ. I hadn't ejaculated, but she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and got up quickly-as if to prove she had got us both over the top. The crowd roared approval at what they thought they had seen-and I stared dumbly at my unspent, still erect cock.
She pulled me up, nuzzled her head against my chest as if to shower some final adoration on me for my part in the slight-of-hand sixty-nine.
"Get the hell out of here," she hissed under her breath and she squirmed against me, "or I'll have the bouncer hang your jewels up on the fireplace mantle."
Amazed, perplexed-and horny as hell-I stumbled off the little stage. I had been victimized again. But a glance at the club's employees told any arguing would be worthless. I got my clothes on again and walked out that back door of the inn.
Outside I glanced at the auto where the three women were still undergoing the brutalized rapings that must have started over an hour ago. I was still trying to get my cock back into my pants when I saw that one of the women was being held spread-eagled over a pile of boxes while one of the group of men was taking his pleasure stallion-like from the rear. Her body was nearly out of sight in the crush of men who were holding her down and the stud who was servicing her.
Suddenly, his legs tightened, the muscles standing out in the shadows and lights of the flashing sign. He rammed home to his hilt and then, following a quick series of shuddering jammings, he backed off.
The simulated blow job, the wild animal aspects of the evenings run of orgies, the sight of the woman's up-ended bare ass spread to display the dark pubic hairs-all these factors governed my next action.
I yelled for the man who was moving in for a run with the woman to get out of the way-and dashed forward myself. I actually never stopped running. It was a sex dash of sorts. It ended not with the breaking of a tape at the finish line, but with the splitting of that twat. I sank in to the base of my belly in one thrust and the feminine partner groaned with pleasure.
Her pussy was soft, moist and clinging as I felt it engulf my cock. She had apparently been aroused by her last rapist, but had failed to get her own gun when he pulled out quickly after getting what he had wanted from her. My thrust, cunt-splitting as it was, must have brought her own desires to their peak. We rocked rapidly to and fro and her ass tightened and reared to meet my strokes with that intensity a woman's body exudes just before she achieves her own climax.
"Oh, baby," she moaned ecstatically. "Screw me ... twist it ... ram it ... MMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ... good ... good ... good!"
Her cries of delight and demand added to my own enjoyment of the use of her body and I hunched to produce longer strokes and greater grinding of the churning volcano of her pit. I lay close to her back, reaching in front of her to ply her tits with my hands. I rubbed my rough trouser leg against her soft flesh. Her head leaned forward and I licked the soft curve of her neck with my tongue, letting it flick over the hollow of her shoulder and then washed her back as best I could while holding to the pace of the strokes I was delivering to her cunt.
"Lick me ... Ooo-o-o-o-o-hhhhh," she whimpered. "Make me wet ... o-o-o-o-ohhhhh, I'm wet inside and outside ... Fuckk-kk-kk-k me-e-e-e-e-e."
Her final plea for release of her passion, the sweet vocalizing of the fiery need of her body, the churning and tossing of her hot, pale body-I came in a blistering, pounding series of throbbing strikes that penetrated to the deepest part of that sweet trail to pleasure.
A ball of flaming liquid shot over my imbedded cock. I plunged into the waves like a swimmer seeking refreshment. We pumped and ground, spread and tightened, gasped and yelled. It was the most satisfying fuck I had ever had in my life.
I soaked in her slit for moments. She tightened those powerful muscles of her vagina to milk the last drops from me, and I swelled the head of my cock. I rubbed her bare shoulders, caressed the full, rounded globes of her ass and tits, squeezed her quivering belly ... Her shoulder bent down as she extended a hand to grab one cheek of my ass. Reaching it, she pulled hard to implant my prick to its fullest measure in a self-satisfying last usage of my body for her delights.
"Oh, honey," she whispered tugging strongly on my ass, "that was good!"
I assured her she was the greatest, too. We held to our locked-on position until finally my cock, completely satisfied, slipped lingeringly from her cunt.
I glanced at the auto, as I massaged her bare back, and pressed my hands over all the soft curves she so freely offered for exploration. In the back seat of the car I saw Ruth's face-at least what wasn't hidden by the man's body was was using her mouth as a make-believe cunt. She was haggard and her jaw barely moved as she sucked on him.
In the front seat, I could once more see those wildly flailing legs, the clawing hands pulling a man deeper into the V made by the spread legs. The woman's face suddenly lunged forward and the man yelp'ed as she bit him on the neck to make him move faster.
I gaped at the face of the woman who had bitten the man. Not because she was doing something so unusual-a bite after what I had seen and taken part in that night wasn't really what you could term unusual. What I was staring at was the woman herself-it was my wife.
Stunned, I slowly turned the face of the girl in my arms up so that I could see her in the light. Demurely, she raised her face. The light of the inn blinked on just as she raised her face fully to mine.
It was my daughter!
While I was stricken for the moment, she only smiled at me with a happy, dreamy smile. Obviously, she didn't give a damn that the man who had just screwed her was her father. It had been satiating to her, fulfilling every requirement the passions of her young, sweet body had demanded.
"Don't leave me, daddy," she whispered softly. "You were wonderful."
And I didn't leave her. I, too, had found the ultimate satisfaction with her and I loved her-not as a father, but as a lover.
"We're the same as married now, aren't we, daddy," she asked hungrily pushing her naked body fully against mine. "We are, aren't we?"
Yes, I responded, lost in this strange love she was offering me. Yes, we were the same as married. I held her closely in my arms and picked up the torn fragments of her clothing as we walked slowly about. My love for her gave me new strength and, as one of the gang moved forward to take her, I ordered him off. If he wanted to fuck someone there were still women available in the car-Ruth and my wife, I told him.
Holding Mary, as you would a new bride, I walked to my own car and we got in and drove away. We made love again when we got home and she slept in my bed that night.
EPILOGUE
Jim, the marriage counselor, and I studied the final words of Harry Andover's last interview closely. Harry had come to us complaining that his nymphet daughter, Mary, was breaking up his marriage. Still, he had just revealed to us that he had actually left his wife to enter a mock marriage with his daughter after he had found not only sexual pleasure, but real love with the child.
Perplexed, we both now looked at Harry and asked him just how he had arrived at the idea the girl was breaking up his marriage since he apparently no longer shared connubial relationships with his legal wife.
"That picture you saw at the very first," he stated urgently as if we had lost the whole threat of his story. "Didn't you see how she is forcing me to partake in those grotesque sexual atrocities with all those women?"
I answered yes we certainly did recall it, but what had that to do with his complaint that his marriage was breaking up because of the child?
"Don't you see?" he almost wailed. "She's still forcing me to do those things. She is becoming more cruel and vile with me every day. There's no depravity she won't command me to submit to."
Jim and I still stared questioningly at him. What answer had he given to our question. None, so far as I was concerned.
"You don't understand," Harry said dejectedly. "You just can't see it can you?"
See what, I asked.
"How can Mary respect me if I do all these things? She'll leave me someday, I know. She's breaking up our marriage!"
