Without giving away any of the plot, we can say that Fran certainly undergoes many new experiences, experiences that few women could possibly be prepared for by any kind of previous life. She learns a great deal-lessons that should be helpful to the reader even as they are to our heroine. And while she may seem to suffer more defeats than triumphs, by the end of the book she has also discovered new reasons for living. Her story, like Faye's, is frequently a sad one, but in the end we believe it is also an inspirational one-and one that could give every reader new reasons for living.
The Publishers
Chapter One
Her first night on the houseboat, Fran stepped from the shower and gasped, doing a frightened double-take at the strange naked body as she reached blindly for a towel in those few quick seconds before she caught her breath again and smiled at her own stupidity. Gazing at her own reflection in the mirror, she felt quite silly at having spooked herself. She had no idea that there was a mirror on the back of the door. She guessed one of the boys must have put it up sometime during the afternoon, while she and Vivian were cleaning the old house. But what surprised her more than the mere presence of the mirror was her failure to recognize her own body. The mirror was a new one of course, and that made a difference, enhancing color and giving a sharper image. Fran took a step closer, frowning. She did not properly credit the displayed feminine attributes. Fran was an honest thirty-nine (and kidded herself that next year she would stay this age like Jack Benny) yet didn't show it. Her plump breasts settled an inch or two lower on her ribcage and her rump was fuller, but otherwise she had the same girlish figure she'd had at seventeen. Her breasts still wobbled more than they swayed and her buttocks undulated when she walked; her trim waist tapered, her belly was flat and sloped into her pubic bush, and her legs were long and downy soft. Only the most minute inspection would turn up tiny hints of striations, evidence that she'd borne children.
Fran cupped her breasts in her hands and lifted them as if weighing their merits. She found herself wondering if they could still turn on a man; in her more objective moments she could find no reason why they wouldn't, but as a woman she harbored a large load of self-doubt. She squeezed and her brown-red nipples erected achingly in her hands. She sucked in her tummy and ran her hand over it, down to the bushy honey blond triangle at her belly's base. A finger nestled into the curls where her thighs met. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips. Her eyes closed briefly and then opened on her contorted features reflected in front of her. She withdrew her hand and began briskly toweling herself: she didn't want to stir up that hornet's nest! She knew all too well that she had no way to stop it. She had found from ten years' experience that the best way she had of coping with her sex drive was, insofar as possible, to ignore it.
Dressed only in her bathrobe, Fran stepped into the main living area of her houseboat. Carpenter's tools were piled here and there. Sheet-rock which would be used to finish the interior walls was stacked near the door, opening onto the dock. Boxes containing kitchen utensils were lined up along the kitchen wall; their living room furniture and other assorted boxes of belongings were stacked almost to the ceiling on one side of the living room.
Admittedly, her houseboat was just half-finished. As soon as the frame was up and the exterior walls had been nailed on, Fran had decided to begin moving in. While it may have been a foolish idea-too much junk in the way would impede progress-Fran had been anxious to get out of the suburbs.
No one had complained, however. The kids had looked on building the houseboat as an adventure, as a family project, perhaps the last family project before they began building lives of their own, and they had accepted moving in prematurely as part of the adventure, the spice. Fran had said she wanted a houseboat, and they had all pitched in. They were wonderful kids-all of them, not just her own. At twenty-two, Ted had just gotten married and had one year of law school left before taking his bar exam. He'd said that with what his wife Ellen earned and his scholarship, he'd have enough money to get by on, and had seemed eager to start the project. And Vivian, who was seventeen and had just graduated from high school, had worked like a trooper. Ted's buddy Bob, who'd dropped out of school and was at loose ends, volunteered to help, saying he could use the experience. They had great fun together.
Fran was so happy to get away from Orinda. After her divorce, it had seemed like a good place to raise the children, and she had gotten a job there, but with the children raised, it was time to get out. She had sensed that it was now or never, that this was her last chance to begin a new life, a life of her own. And the children's demented father no longer had anything to threaten her with. How could he take them away from her now? She had been stifled long enough. Where could she find a nicer place to make a new beginning than in a houseboat on the bay?
The kids had gone to a movie-the Lord knew they deserved a night off. Alone with her hopes, Fran stepped around a toolbox and over to the bay window, which appropriately enough faced the bay. She looked out on the bay, hugging her bathrobe around her in spite of the heat. She loved the wash of the tide, the gentle creaking of the dock. The subtle constant motion of the water was like a life force, something she was about to tap.
Over the door of the houseboat, visible from the dock, Ted had neatly lettered in gold paint: MAMA'S WHIM.
Chapter Two
Usually a breeze swept in from the ocean and the nights were cool in Tiburon in summer, but this night was as still and sultry as any in Orinda. Fran awoke from a deep slumber, drenched with perspiration, her throat painfully dry. After drinking two and a half glasses of water at the kitchen tap, she returned to bed to discover that Vivian was wide awake.
"Hi, dear. I didn't hear you come in. You must have been very quiet."
"No, Mama. I think you were zonked."
"What time is it?" Fran asked, looking at the luminous dial of the alarm clock and then answering herself, "Twenty after one."
Viv giggled. "I think it's more like five after four!"
"Good Lord! I guess it is, at that," she said. "Well, what's kept you awake? Is it the heat?"
"No."
"Moving to a new place? When I was young, that always kept me awake."
"No, I don't think that's it"
"What is it then?"
"Oh, I dunno."
"Viv!" Fran said, her tone just imperative enough to indicate that she wanted an answer. Fran considered herself close to her daughter, and expected honesty.
"Oh Mama, I don't know ... It's ... it's just ... Well, it's Bob, if you really want to know."
"Bob?" Fran said, frowning. "Has he done something to you?"
"No!" Viv said, impatient with this unfamiliar density in her mother. And then the girl giggled, "At least, he hasn't done anything to me yet!"
"Oh!" Fran said, suddenly catching on. "My darling's lovesick!"
"I don't know if it's love or not," Viv said. "It's just that he turns me on."
"Does he feel the same way?"
"I don't know. Neither of us has said anything about it."
"Well, how does he act?"
"He acts fine."
Fran sighed in exasperation and Viv said, "Okay, he seems to be, but not all the time. Like maybe, he doesn't want to make it too obvious or something like that."
"Well, after all, he's living with us, your family."
"Do you object to him or something?"
"No, not at all. But it might inhibit him."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure that it's quite possible."
"I have a hard time telling what's on his mind-he's older than me and he's been around. He scares me. The idea of falling in love with him scares me."
"Well, you've been around a little bit, too. You don't have anything to really be afraid of."
"Come on now, Mother. You can't call those silly boys I went out with in high school getting around!"
"You were pretty thick, with Jimmy Harper, your senior year," Fran said. "As I recall, that's when you started taking the pill!"
"Oh Mom! You mean you thought I wanted those pills for... for birth control!"
"Didn't you? I thought that's why all the girls were taking them."
"I told you I wanted them to regularize my period!"
"I know dear," Fran said, soothingly, "and I believed you. I just thought, well, with you seeing Jimmy every day, it was best to play it safe."
"Oh."
"You mean nothing ever happened?"
"Well, uh, I wouldn't say nothing exactly, but nothing that could have made me pregnant or anything."
"You're a virgin?"
"Yes."
"Well, what'd you do with him?"
"Oh, we petted..." Vivian said, and even in the dark Fran could see that her face was flushed.
"Yes?" Fran said.
"And, uh, I sucked his, uhhh ..."
"His cock," Fran finished up her sentence for her.
"Yeah, Christ, he seemed to want to do that more than anything else. I mean, for a while there, for about a month before we broke up, I was sucking him off every day, some days two or three times."
"You must have gotten your fill of that."
Viv giggled, "Kind of. As a steady diet, anyway."
"Didn't he ever want to, uh ..."
"Well, when we first started going together he said that he 'respected' me too much to want to do that. Then when we started getting pretty heavy he wanted to screw me, but I always managed to suck him off first."
"What made you want to avoid it? I'm just curious."
Vivian thought for a minute. "I don't know, really. He was awfully awkward and didn't seem to know what it was all about-I mean, he didn't seem to care very much about me, about what turned me on. So I guess it always seemed best to try to get out of it. But I was enough in love with him that I probably would have anyway if it hadn't been so easy to bring him off with my mouth."
"You must be good at it," Fran said.
"Practice, I guess."
"You sucked your thumb until you were five; you always were an oral child," Fran said.
"Bob's a different matter, though," Vivian said. "Sometimes I get the feeling that if he so much as touched me, I'd turn to mush."
"Well, maybe he'll touch you soon, and you can find out," Fran volunteered after a moment's hesitation.
"You'd approve?"
"Sex is certainly one of the most powerful of human instincts," Fran said, musing. "And I think that sexual fulfillment is necessary to happiness. The problem is that you never know when or where you'll find it, or if the circumstances of your life might prevent you from having it."
"Yeah?" Viv said, after a moment.
"So I'd say grab whatever chance you have while you can. It's better to make a mistake living than to regret never having lived."
"That's a nice philosophy," Vivian said. "That makes sense."
Both mother and daughter were silent. It was after five and they had talked themselves to sleepfulness. Fran said, "Good-night, dear," and rolled to the side.
After a few minutes, Viv said, "Mom, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course. What would you like to know?"
"Well, if you think this way-I mean you seem to like sex and everything-why is it you never, um, you know, got married again or anything after Dad left."
Fran bit her lip. That question had been asked by numerous relatives and well-intentioned friends over the years, and Fran had always given the same answer-"I've never met anyone"-and her answer had always been a bald-faced lie, because she had met men, attractive men who had seemed interested in her. Had the time come to be honest with her daughter? She was almost grown now, and Fran had never been guilty of trying to turn her children against their father: they had seen for themselves what a low-down mean bastard he could be. "Well," Fran began, "your father didn't love me. I think you know that. He never had room in his heart to love anyone."
"Yeah?" Vivian said, knowing this somehow, having sensed it even as a little girl.
"He'd treated me like dirt for years-he hadn't even been to bed with me in over a year-but when I asked for a divorce he acted insulted, like it crushed his ego, and then he went almost insane. He wanted to kill me at first, then when I took my black eye to a lawyer and filed papers and got a restraining order to keep him from coming near me, he left-he had to-swearing that he would get even with me."
"What did he do then?" Vivian asked when Fran paused.
"Well, his only hold on me was you kids, the fact that he'd fathered you and Ted, and so he tried to get at me through you. Well I won the custody case-in spite of all the lawyers he hired-and there didn't seem to be anything he could do ..." Fran was quiet for a moment as she remembered, and she described how she'd met another man about six months after her divorce was final, a man she'd liked named George Webster.
"I remember him," Vivian said. "Even as a kid I thought he was a nice guy."
"You might," Fran said. "He seemed to like you kids. He took us all on a picnic one time, remember? Anyway, your father found out about it and he hired a detective to follow us around. Well, he called me up one afternoon, a Saturday afternoon, and told me he knew I was 'going into business' as he put it, that various men had been seen leaving our house in the middle of the night. He claimed to have proof that I was a 'lewd and dissolute' woman and an improper mother. He swore that Monday morning he wound initiate proceedings to have you children taken away from me."
"Did he?"
"No, but he scared hell out of me. He scared me enough so that I broke it off with George. He was bluffing and I fell for it-I was a bit more naive then."
"How did George feel?"
"Oh, he came by several times, but I refused to talk to him. He was confused and downhearted, but about a year later he married someone else," Fran said. "Anyway, that was how your father got even with me. He had me followed around from time to time after that, always threatening to have you kids taken away if I saw another man. You remember that creepy man who used to sit in his car all day just down the street-I think you were in about fifth grade, and he used to ask you questions after school? About me and my activities? You thought he was strange?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, he was one of the punks your father had watching us for awhile. He had me so spooked that I was afraid to speak to men who might have had an interest in me," Fran said, her voice bitter.
"Well, Mama, it's never too late," Vivian said.
"You think so?"
"Of course not! You're still quite a chick!" Vivian said, and her terminology made Fran giggle.
"Well, all I can say is that I will not be bullied like that any longer. I was a fool to have let it happen in the first place," Fran said, full of resolve.
Dawn had broken, the first faint rays of the sun were creasing the sky when the two women fell asleep side by side, the wash of the tide hurrying their dreams.
Fran awoke about ten in the morning and decided to let Vivian sleep. As soon as she had gotten herself together for the day and had a cup of coffee, she began sanding the kitchen woodwork to ready it for painting. Bob and Ted had begun nailing Sheetrock on the bedroom walls (the walls of the other two bedrooms, Fran's having been the first to be walled in). As she sanded, out of the corner of her eye Fran watched the boys work. They were handsome boys, she thought. Her son Ted was a bit thin-at least, he had always seemed so to her mother's eye-but he was a well-molded youth, lean-muscled and wiry. Bob was heftier and had obviously lifted weights sometime during his youth, his bulging biceps and pectorals rippling when he moved. Both worked without their shirts.
Fran's thoughts kept drifting back to Bob, whatever else she tried to think of, and she found herself sizing him up with her daughter's eye: she was well aware of his masculine appeal, although, having no excuse, she had never let herself concentrate on it. She found herself wondering what it would be like with a younger man.
Where Ted's brow furrowed when he worked, as if he was incapable of movement without fierce concentration, Bob was always on the verge of a smile. He was quick to point out the humor in any situation. All his movements had an easy rhythm.
"Christ, how can anyone sleep with all that racket!"
The voice was Vivian's, coming from the door of the bedroom.
"So sorry to have disturbed you," Ted chided, "if you'd have just said so, we could have put all this off until tomorrow."
When Bob glanced up, his eyes stayed riveted. Fran looked back over her shoulder: there her daughter was, poised in the doorway, dressed, or rather undressed, in her new bikini. Vivian worked in her bikini everyday, but in her old one which was by all standards a sturdier garment than this, which was one layer of nylon without any reinforcements whatsoever. The scantiness of her new outfit was evidenced by the inches of white skin visible between her tan line and where the new thing stopped short, the milky skin exposed being that on her breasts and around her waist. Through the thin material Fran detected the outlines of her daughter's nipples, surprisingly pointed for such a warm day. Fran made a mental note to suggest to Vivian that, if she continued to wear the thing, she shave the upper portion of her pubic triangle, which was the same orange-red as her hair, and a few wisps of which strayed above her "waist"-band.
Bob turned back to his Sheetrock, lifting a piece with Ted and holding it steady against the joists while Ted got the first two tacks in before tacking up his side of the sheet. Vivian put some ice in the tea which had been cooling on the stove and, since it was almost noon, began making sandwiches for lunch. While Bob glanced in Vivian's direction often enough, he kept his cool and if he had any interest beyond the casual in the girl's near naked young body he did not let it become obvious until late afternoon, when she would probably have succeeded in holding the attention of any male. Her exhibition even held Fran's eye, although undoubtedly for a different reason. Ted had walked on up the dock to sharpen a linoleum knife somewhere and Bob was having a glass of iced tea, leaning against the kitchen counter talking to Fran, when Vivian began to saw the end off a two-by-four.
Now, Vivian had sawed boards before, and no one questioned her when she began to saw this one. She carried the sawhorse to the middle of the living room and laid the two-by-four lengthways along the top of it. Fran almost cautioned the girl not to saw there because it had just been swept, but after a minute began to suspect that Vivian knew all too well exactly what she was up to. Vivian picked up the saw and put her knee on the two-by-four to hold it still. She then began to saw, seeming to be totally absorbed in what she was doing, frowning in concentration and never once glancing up at Fran and Bob. The two watched in silence as she sawed with great vigor and as if she'd never done it before, using up altogether too much energy-if her grandma had been alive, she'd have said to slow down or else she'd never make it-except that it was the wrong kind of energy: no one needed to swing their torso that much just to draw a saw back and forth in the groove. Fran and Bob stared, both equally engrossed as Vivian's full young breasts wobbled back and forth, straining at her bikini, about to pop out with each swing of her torso. Her straps kept slipping, and just before the flimsy cups slipped away from her swinging breasts entirely, Vivian would briefly stop her motion to adjust it, and then her breasts would sway and bobble and show their stuff, their milk white skin with a hint of freckles.
The girl sawed so hard she broke into a sweat: perspiration beaded unnoticed on her upper lip and glistened damply between her breasts. Fran noted that Bob was breathing a bit more deeply, without looking at him. The laboring girl might have sawed all day, or so it seemed, giving it more and more (both straps were now slipping at once) when she suddenly sawed clean through her two-by-four: a foot long section of it fell toward the floor and hit her square on the toe. Vivian yelped, grabbed her toe with both hands and began dancing up and down on her other foot, jumping this way and that as she cried, "Ouch! Ouch! Goddamn fucker! Ouch! Jesus!" Her straps slipped unchecked, her breasts jiggled free and bounced nakedly, in unison, each time she hopped, her pink nipples for some reason stiffening.
Vivian sat down on the sawhorse, cursing angrily as she adjusted one bikini strap and inspected her toe closely for damage, her right breast hanging free for a quiet fraction of a minute before she thought to adjust that strap too. Bob looked away and, when he saw Fran looking at him, blushed.
"That girl's getting ripe," Fran said, musingly, "one of these days some bright boy is going to pick her off."
When Bob didn't answer, she added, "Don't you think?"
"Kinda looks that way," he said, laughing, fixing his gaze on her for a moment.
"What in hell are you doing cutting that two-by-four!" Ted said, coming through the door.
"I was going to use it," Vivian said.
"Well it was just cut to fit one of the door-jambs," Ted said. "What were you going to use it for?"
"Over there," Vivian said.
"Where?" he demanded.
"Christ! Can't you see I hurt my toe!" Vivian yelled as she stood and then limped out of the room.
"What the hell got into her?" Ted asked, and when he got no answer he asked again, "Hey, what got into l'il sis?"
Fran shrugged and picked up a piece of sandpaper to go back to work on the cabinets; staring up at the ceiling, Bob began whistling as Ted glanced back and forth between them in curiosity, until Bob was no longer able to contain himself, when he cackled for a moment before downing the rest of his iced tea and saying, "What-say, buddy? Let's get back to work."
It was Ted's turn to shrug, since he had no way of knowing that he'd exposed Vivian's hand for her-that is, after she'd sawed so hard her tits popped out, Ted had happened along to point out to one and all that she didn't have any reason to cut off the end of that two-by-four in the first place, that whatever use she had in mind for the act of cutting it, she had no use for the board itself.
The boys finished tacking up the Sheetrock before dinner, all of it except for the pieces they would have to cut, the odd sections between the next-to-last joist and the outside wall. With only those few gaps remaining, they had put in a good day's work.
Dinner was eaten pretty much in silence. Too embarrassed to put in an appearance, Vivian pretended a fever and moped in the bedroom, while both Fran and Bob were strangely preoccupied. After dinner, in innocent solicitude, Ted's wife Ellen walked in and told Vivian that she was sorry she wasn't feeling well, then asked, "Which toe did you hurt?"
"That one."
"Which? They all look the same to me."
"Well, it hurts like hell!" Vivian screamed. "Just leave me alone! Please!"
Not being privy to the social undercurrents, Ted and Ellen withdrew to their own room soon after dishes were done. Most newlyweds have resources they can fall back on. Ted and Ellen were like that in spite of the fact that they'd gone together for about three years before tying the knot.
Being old hands, Ted and Ellen went about their business quietly. Since their mattress rested on the floor, there were no bedsprings to creak, and the only sounds were pants and croons and satisfied murmurs. Which was quite enough to suggest sex to their housemates, as if it hadn't been on their minds already ...
Had the time come for a concerned mother to step in on her daughter's behalf to gracefully smooth over a situation which had inadvertantly become difficult? Fran leaned across the kitchen table and whispered something in Bob's ear. He nodded and after a minute stood and walked into the bedroom where the embarrassed girl moped.
"A breath of fresh air would work wonders," Fran heard him say, "Why don't you let me help you out onto the dock for a few minutes?"
She didn't hear what Vivian said, but Bob was saying, "I won't take 'no.' You're coming along whether you like it or not!" his voice pleasantly teasing.
There were sounds of a minor struggle, Vivian giggled and a moment later came gimping out on Bob's sturdy arm.
"I think I'll turn in early," Fran said. "I'm awfully tired tonight for some reason. Try not to wake me up when you get into bed, okay, pet?"
"Sure, Mom," she replied, perfunctorily, on her way out the door.
Fran was at least half lying: she wasn't really tired; she was, in fact, somewhat excited for her daughter by the turn of events. But she went into the bedroom and undressed, dropping her clothes on the floor. The night suddenly seemed hot and lonely. Naked, she climbed into bed, knowing she wouldn't be able to go to sleep yet willing to sacrifice her own comfort so that her daughter wouldn't feel restrained, so Bob wouldn't feel restrained. It was just like the many other sacrifices she'd gladly made over the years.
After half an hour's tossing and turning, she got up and looked out the window. There the two were, sitting on the pier, their backs to her. She gazed upon them remembering her own youth, her own romantic youth. She was thankful for her youth; otherwise, it would have become unbearable, her life. She had had her hour of bloom, was it all over for her?
The moon had begun to rise over the bay. The two got up and began to walk back towards the houseboat, self-absorbed. Quickly, Fran darted into the kitchen for a glass of water before returning to her bedroom and shutting the door. She sat on the foot of the bed, wondering if she should try to lose herself in a book but knowing that she didn't have the patience to read.
From her room Fran heard the door open and close, then Vivian's giggle, then another door. Alone and consciously trying not to listen for any more sounds, Fran tapped her foot, thinking maybe she had better take a sleeping pill. Before half an hour passed Fran's throat became unaccountably dry again. She opened the door a crack and peeked out and, even though the living room and kitchen were empty and dark, considered putting on her nightgown before venturing forth, but decided what the hell: if everyone else was making love, there was no reason she had to stay covered up at all times.
From the kitchen sink Fran could not help but see that Bob's light was on, wafting through the unsheetrocked gap in the wall. Fran tiptoed over, intending to listen just long enough to ascertain what stage they had reached. She heard a murmur, a low masculine "mmmm!" and then nothing. Without thinking about it, she edged forward and peeked in. They lay pressed together on the mattress, Vivian half on top Bob and slightly above him, her weight on her elbow as she fed her tits into his mouth and ground her pelvis into his stomach. Fran couldn't see his face, but guessed Bob was sucking; her daughter's bikini pants were caught in the cleft of her buttocks, her smooth young behind quivering. Horrified with herself, in utter fascination Fran watched Bob's hand snake over Vivian's hip and down to grasp one of her throbbing buttocks, squeezing it vigorously before dipping his index finger into the cloth-covered crevice at the juncture of Vivian's thighs and running it up and down there. Vivian's thighs parted and she began to rotate her entire rear end.
Bob suddenly sat up and began to unbutton his Levi's. Fran drew back and only then became aware of the effect the sight she had just witnessed was having on her body. Her nipples had swollen achingly and elongated and she felt a tingling warmth down below which signified that the folds of her pussy had begun moistening. She shut her eyes and made an effort to catch her breath as quietly as possible.
When she looked back in Bob was just stepping out of his undershorts and when he straightened up she had to restrain a gasp, while Vivian blinked and licked her lips at the sight of his massive prick, stiff and blue-veined, sticking straight out from the thick curly mat of his pubic hair. The minute he sat back down beside Vivian the girl was on her knees in front of him. With one hand she cradled his huge sperm-filled balls while with her other she slowly peeled back his foreskin to reveal the red knob on the end of his pillar. Reverently, Vivian wetly licked the velvety head of the shaft, her tongue stretching to trace all around it, and she then began nibbling at it, nipping its underside all the way from tip to base and back again. Bob sighed and lay back.
Vivian opened she mouth to admit the shaft and Fran thrilled with her as its pulsing length slid over her tongue and its throbbing head filled the back of her mouth. Craning her neck like a sword swallower and rocking forward slightly on her knees, Vivian managed to slowly admit the entire length of it into her mouth and throat, whereupon she clamped her lips into a firm circle and sucked vigorously, her nose buried in his sweet-smelling pubic mat. Vivian shut her eyes and went about her work with singular intensity.
"Ohh! Oh Lord!" Bob moaned, whipping his head and thrashing his shoulders.
Working her mouth and tongue feverishly, Vivian seemed about to gag on joy as she stroked his buttocks and petted his balls and mashed her tits against his muscular hairy thighs.
"Arggghhh!" Bob yelped as he felt the first pent-up spasm coming on. Fran knew Vivian had successfully worked her feminine wiles again when, eyes wide-open now, she began gulping greedily, her throat working overtime in her attempt to swallow the impossible load of cum as she continued to lick the underside of Bob's twitching cock like a madwoman, while spasms wracked his spine and her tits jiggled along with his flexed thigh muscles as jism began to dribble from the corners of her mouth.
"Baby, you're great! I never known anyone who could suck like that!" Bob enthused, easing his sorely dwindling cock out of her mouth. "Where did a young thing like you learn how to do that?"
A thread of semen connected Vivian's lips to his cock in a thin line which glistened briefly in the light before breaking. She licked her lips to get it and then smacked them and swallowed a few times before saying, "I invented it," and smiling.
Fran stood transfixed in the shadows, knowing she should beat a hasty exit to her room, but unable to move. She felt strange, mesmerized by this first carnal act between two human beings she'd been involved in, however indirectly, for years. Too many years; she felt strange, as if she were viewing herself and the human condition objectively, as if the rational part of her mind had removed itself from her body and now looked on.
"Get those pants off and let me get a good look at your pussy," Bob said.
Vivian blushed and said, stammering, "I don't know, I ... I mean, you can't do anything right now and... well, I'm a virgin anyway."
"You sucked me. Now I get to suck you," he said, lasciviousness written all over him, "Get 'em off!"
Blushing beet red from her temples clear to her shoulders, Vivian hooked her thumbs in her waistband and, taking a deep breath, skimmed off her bottoms. She lay on the mattress with her knees tightly together and slightly raised.
"Spread your legs."
"You won't, uh, hurt me or anything, will you?"
"I never fuck a virgin unless she begs for it," he said, shoving gently on her knee. Vivian's legs flopped apart to reveal in the center of her orange-red diadem, the hot pink crinkle of her quim, slick and puffy.
"Wider."
Not knowing quite what to make of this and never having felt-in fact, never having been-more nakedly exposed in her life, Vivian spread her legs to their utmost, the tendons in her thighs standing out as her fur-lips pulled tight and her puffy inner lips parted. Her delicate button of a clitoris stood out visibly.
She felt like meat on a rack. She cringed inside and felt herself tingle down there. While she was familiar with what that peculiar intimate tingle meant, she had never tingled so damn uncontrollably and so damn nakedly!
Bob doubled Vivian's knees back against her chest, keeping them quite spread, and Fran saw, just beneath her daughter's glistening delicacy and just as exposed, the pink-brown ring of her tightly puckered anus. Kneeling on all fours before the girl's pussy, Bob rocked forward and ... and it was as if he'd applied his hot wet mouth to Fran, as if he'd opened his mouth wide and seized her pussy just as she watched him seize her daughter's, engulfing her as he caught her labia in a long sucking bite. Vivian moaned and Fran feared she would faint. His whole mouth oscillating, Bob tongued the girl's pulsing clitoris and slowly sucked her labia into his mouth, the breadth of his tongue slithering around.
"Ahhhhh!" she moaned.
Between her clenched thighs Fran felt her own pussy tingling, throbbing as only in long-lost memory. She didn't understand it. Hypnotized now, unable to turn away if she'd wanted to, Fran's hand like someone else's slid down her side and across her quivering stomach to rest on her bush, then nestling in to rub her fingertips back and forth and back and forth in her highly lubricated vaginal slit. Her juice flowed onto her thighs, as if spurting from her enflamed pussy. Her right hand rose to squeeze her breast, to feel her aching nipple throb in her palm.
Vivian thought: I am a fruit, a plump ripe fruit and Bob is sucking the pulp out of me, my center-I'm being eaten! She had never been more completely, more sensually alive, more thoroughly charged with delicious swooning tension.
Bob's cock had begun to revive the moment he began eating her, and as her scent rose to permeate his consciousness and as all of him focused on this pliantly yielding yet throbbing burst of sweetness, his cock continued to grow. Now, he could have sworn that it had never been harder or bigger or ached more.
Bob rose, then crawled forward, hovering over her until his rigid manhood was centered on the girl's throbbing center, when he took her hand and guided it to the base of his poised shaft, saying, "Ask me to fuck you," his voice soft.
A tremor of sympathetic anticipation jolted Fran's cunt as her daughter gingerly gripped the base of the turgid tool with both hands, her eyes popping open as she cried, "Oh yes! Fuck me! Please fuck me!"
Her eyes painedly intense, Vivian sobbed as she lifted her hips off the mattress, holding herself there, offering herself up to be split open like the ripe fruit she was, holding the base of the wicked shaft with all ten fingers. Her delicately puffed labia stretched and parted as the broad head of Bob's cock slid past and his cock gave an involuntary twitch when, its tip just inside her, the membrane of her hymen stretched tautly. There was a moment of quiet, of stillness, of suspense even, hearts beating wildly.
He lunged heavily.
Three sets of ears heard the membrane pop like a quiet, far-off noise, and that was the last thought any of them ever gave to Vivian's maidenhead, because the momentum of Bob's lunge carried him several inches into the girl's tight slick vagina, burying the velvety knob of his glans in her.
She moaned and, throwing her ankles onto his shoulders and using that for leverage, began swiveling her tight socket on the head of his cock. She continued to swivel as he slowly dropped the weight of his hips, his broad cock slowly widening her unused channel, reaming it out until she gasped and thought she'd been split in two.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered.
She was too out of breath to answer him. The pupils of her eyes rolled back under her half-closed lids. Then, taking a deep breath, she began to move her pussy on this shaft that penetrated her insanely, reaching to the core of her and making every fiber tingle. Fran's eyes bulged when Bob pulled his shaft almost all the way out of her daughter and she could see that the base of the ungodly thing was red with blood. Her cunt ached. She rubbed herself harder and harder, powerless to stop herself, her middle finger sliding along her wet cunt lips, finding her clitoris and bringing pressure to bear, waves of electricity rippling through her. She dropped her finger to insinuate it into her vagina and probed briskly as a jolt shot through her, and withdrew, and probed, and withdrew, and probed, working her clitoris with her thumb.
She saw Bob thrusting in and out, ravaging the hole between her daughter's legs, Vivian's cunt lining clinging to him as if he was going to pull her inside out. He lunged more and more rapidly until his hips became a blur, Vivian's bouncing quivering in unison. Both bodies glistened with sweat.
In spite of the buzzing in her ears, Fran realized that the loud slap-slap echoing in the room was Bob's heavy balls slapping Vivian's anus.
Caught in the frenzy of the moment, Fran sank to the floor, her back sliding down the wall until she was squatting, her glistening thighs widespread. Her cunt with its uncontrollable fever now more accessible, she gouged two fingers so deeply into herself that she touched her cervix and shuddered. The houseboat's cooling evening air wafting over her steaming cuntmouth helped bring the promise of release to her throat where it remained like a lump as she began to whip her fingers in and out of her sorely throbbing pussy, the wet sucking noise of her own masturbation becoming clearly discernible to her and working in counterpoint to the slapping balls as her body heaved and jerked to the rhythms. Whole years of Fran's life had gone by when she had not secreted as much cuntal fluid as at this moment: her breath labored in time with the "slap, slap" from the other room and the "slush, slush... squish, squish" of her own hand slapping into the folds of her cunt, sliding on the slick flesh and forming a suction of its own.
With her other hand, she cupped her breasts now almost brutally, going from one to the other, milking them like udders and pinching her nipples with complete animalistic abandon.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Vivian cried as she bit her lower lip and felt a muscle deep in her pussy begin to contract. At first she didn't know quite what was happening: it was as if her battered womb had begun to rebel, to fight Bob's shaft. And then she felt every muscle, every fiber in her cunt go stiff in one big contraction and grasp Bob's shaft. She tasted blood from her lips and her nipples felt so stiff and swollen she thought they might pop. One moment she writhed madly in a vain attempt to get away from that cruel cock, like a fish fighting the hook or gaff, and the next moment when the entire length of it began to twitch and quake within her she wanted every inch of it, wanted the skewering monster to plunder her so thoroughly there would be nothing left. She dug all ten fingernails into his ass, then felt herself begin to explode as, first her cunt muscles and then her entire nervous system went haywire.
"Ah... Ah... aiiiieeeeee!" she screamed as she felt the first giant spurt of Bob's cum boil into her. "I'm ... I'm cumming!" she cried, realizing that's what must be happening to her. And it kept happening and Bob's churning cock kept spewing fire and her tongue dropped into the back of her throat and she made loud sucking noises as she gasped.
"Agghhhh!" Bob groaned as spasms spread from his cock and balls up his spine and he began to whip his body, almost pulling her legs from their sockets as he writhed, his chest smacking her tits.
Fran wanted to wail, to cry out in unison with the joined lovers as she became almost delirious with her maddened passion. The simultaneous ejaculations of Vivian and Bob triggered Fran. She strained and splayed her legs wider in convulsion as the bottom seemed to fall out of the houseboat, dropping her into the tide. She lifted herself from the floor in a spasmodic arch, grasped the bone wall of her cunt and squeezed and squeezed... then suddenly collapsed, sliding forward onto the floor. She felt totally exhausted, and her body seemed momentarily at peace with itself.
The sounds from the other room were those of contentment. Bob lay limply atop Vivian for a few moments, both of them drenched with sweat, before he roused himself enough to roll off, saying, "You're a goddamn hot piece of tail."
"That was nice," Vivian said. Then, almost as an afterthought, she touched her tender pussy with her fingertips inspecting for damage. There was dried blood in the hollows of her thighs, beginning to flake. She inspected Bob's cock and found a ring of blood admixed with their mingled juices about the base of it. It was beginning to dwindle. She lifted it and saw that he had more on his balls, that they were almost covered with red. She had literally been broken in, she realized.
It was nice, Fran thought as she looked on the contented couple one last time and then drew herself up to slither stealthily away, it was nice for them! They had each other. Or, more specifically, Vivian had Bob's cock, and a handsome sturdy cock at that.
Wobbling slightly, Fran made it to bed. Luckily, the fury of her orgasm left her exhausted enough so that she soon found sleep. She slept deeply, a vivid-hued organ, red-tipped and blue-veined, slithered in and out of her dreams like the rabbit in a magician's hat act. When she awoke in the morning she was as drenched with sweat as if she'd labored all the night long, and before she had a conscious thought she recognized that tingling glow. She cupped her breasts with her hands to find them painfully swollen from her night's desire, her nipples startlingly stiff and pressing into her hands like diamond chips.
Taking the ends of her aching breasts between her thumbs and middle fingers, she pinched tightly and rubbed her nipples with her forefingers, rapidly, mercilessly. She pinched and rolled those tender twists of flesh, flicking rapidly at their long red tips until she groaned and felt lubricating juice bubbling in her enflamed pussy, when she turned over and, both hands in her crotch, writhing on her stomach, she held her breath and diddled her clitoris until she was quickly overtaken by her lonely orgasm.
This was why she tried to avoid entirely thoughts of sex, why she had not masturbated in half a year or more. Once started, she had no way of satisfying herself. It went on and on, obsessing her. Before it slaked off, she would feel totally depraved, demented.
After she had gotten up, she shuddered at the sight of a large dark stain on the floor where she had squatted and dribbled onto the wood. It was dry to the touch, however, and before long she decided that it looked enough like natural sap, wood sap rather than the human sap that it was, not to have to worry. Within a week, it was covered over with linoleum.
Chapter Three
Fran could never pull into the Pier Two parking lot without looking out at the houseboat. It had been hers, and had been docked in the same spot, sandwiched between two others, for several months now, and she still searched it out every time she parked her car on the gravel facing the bay, and felt the pride of ownership beat briefly in her chest. Had this been the answer? Or had it merely symbolized her ideological move from Orinda, something that had not quite materialized in the spirit when she moved her household?
Seeing Bob's VW with its dented fender was still in the parking lot, Fran picked up the bag of groceries from the seat beside her and hurried in. She suspected that they might be waiting for her in spite of the fact that she'd declined their invitation to go on the picnic with them. She'd spent over an hour in the market, something one would never suspect from the medium-sized bag of groceries she carried home. But she had had a brief conversation with the produce clerk and, noting that he didn't seem to be able to take his eyes away from her, she had dawdled over the freestone peaches. Being discreetly ogled was one of life's minor pleasures, she was discovering; developing a taste for it, she had begun to dress to invite it and today had worn a good old-fashioned pair of short-shorts, otherwise known as hotpants. They showed off her legs to perfection, as well as, when she had bent over slightly to reach for the farthest away freestones, the curve of her smooth plump buttocks.
When she entered her floating home and shut the front door a hand whisked out unseen to slap the exposed portion of her left buttock with a resounding "smack."
"Bob!" she squealed, and as an afterthought tugged at the back of each leg of her shorts, pulling them out of the crease between her womanly buttocks, where they'd gathered while she stood over the peaches in the market.
"We were waiting for you," Vivian said from within Bob's and her bedroom.
"You shouldn't have," Fran said. "It's a nice enough day here; I think I'll stay."
"Don't you think Ted and Ellen would like to see you?"
"They've just been gone two weeks. He's been away longer than that lots of times."
"So?"
"You kids go ahead," Fran said, resolutely. "I'm sure you can get by without me."
"Mom!" Vivian said. "You don't get out enough! I think you should come."
"I don't quite feel up to it," Fran said. "It's a long trek over to Tilden. Let's plan a picnic in a week or two on this side of the bay-then I'll come along."
"Okay," Vivian said, having done her best. She and Bob carried the picnic basket out to the car and drove out to the freeway to catch the San Rafael bridge across the bay.
"I worry about Mom sometimes," Vivian said, once they were in the car. "She really doesn't get out enough."
"I know," Bob said.
"I wish she'd meet a man or something. Since we finished the houseboat she's just sat around and mooned. I think she figures she's over the hill or something."
"I don't think so," Bob said.
"Well, I don't either."
"Sometimes I think she's damn fuckable."
"What?" Vivian yelled. "You mean you'd fuck my mother?"
"Christ," Bob said. "I didn't say that. I just said that she's fuckable, that's all, and she is, she's an attractive woman."
"Does that mean she attracts you?"
"She makes a basic appeal to the male in me," Bob said, "just like any other attractive woman. It's entirely normal."
Vivian was silent for a few minutes and, after awhile Bob broke the silence saying, "What bothers you, anyway? The fact that I said fuckable? Does it bother you to imagine your old lady fucking?"
"No, that's not it at all," Vivian said. "I was just saying I wished she would fuck someone-I think she'd be a lot happier."
"Then what is it?"
"The idea that you're attracted to other women," Vivian said.
"Oh."
"Do you want to fuck other girls?"
"No," Bob said. "For chris' sake. Not now, anyway. I mean, I'm happy with you."
"Well, when will you want to fuck someone else?"
"Oh, give me a week or two."
"Creep!" Vivian yelled.
"Come on, climb off it," Bob said. "I love you. I'm happy with you, happy as I've ever been with a girl. Still, that doesn't keep me from recognizing that other girls have sex appeal-it's like saying they have black hair or something, or red hair. That doesn't mean I want to go out and fuck them. And with your getting the hots three times a day, I wouldn't be able to even if I did."
Vivian was quiet for another few minutes, until they had passed the toll plaza, when she said, "Well, I haven't wanted to fuck anyone else. I haven't given another guy a thought since I met you."
"You will," Bob said.
"What makes you so sure?" she asked, caressing the inside of his thigh as he drove.
"Human nature," he said.
"Would you fuck Mom if you didn't know me?"
"Christ, you're getting morbid," Bob said.
"Well, would you?"
"Possibly," he said with an exasperated sigh.
There the matter rested when they arrived at Ted and Ellen's in Berkeley. They had rented a one-bedroom apartment not too far from campus.
More than anything Fran guessed she needed a respite from Bob, from his male presence, his sexual presence. There were frustrations inherent in living with a pair of happy lovers, especially if one of the lovers is your daughter whom you would never hurt and the other aroused you. Not that she had let on to either of them, to Vivian that she was envious or to Bob that he turned her on. But he was aware of it anyway; he knew it in his confident masculine way-of that, Fran was sure, as sure as she was of the fact that Bob in turn was aware of her essential femaleness. She caught that speculative look in his eye sometimes. It was a strain on her, since she knew that if Bob ever touched her, if he ever broke down or cut loose or whatever and touched her, she would melt. If he had caressed her rump rather slapping it, if his hard cool fingers had slowly slid across the smooth globe of her ass, well ... the tingle would have been so acute that she would have had to change panties. She needed a rest, an opportunity to fixate her mind on something else, and that was why she had stayed home from the picnic.
Putting her groceries away, wondering how the three of them were going to eat eight pounds of peaches before they rotted, Fran looked up and a tremor shot through her as she gasped in surprise. There, standing on the dock was the produce clerk! He gazed absently at the door of her houseboat, his ebony skin glistening in the sun. Then he turned away and walked down the dock and out of sight where the dock made an "L." What a funny coincidence, she thought. Did he know somebody in one of the houseboats, or what? She decided to make some peach pies.
She recalled that the boy's supermarket name tag had read "Gene." She began to blend shortening, flour and water for the piecrust when she saw him come back around the corner, ambling aimlessly as if he had nothing else to do except walk up and down the dock a bit, casually looking all around. He paused to roll up his shirt sleeves, then stood there, feet planted, arms akimbo, staring in her direction, his eyes alighting on her window just as she drew back from the slit in the curtain. What had pleased her about her brief exchange with the boy in the market was that it was the type of thing she rarely carried off. She'd asked what was fresh today besides the peaches and he'd replied, "Just me."
It was the type of comment that usually unnerved her, and shut her up as well, but she'd come back as flippantly as he: "Well, how fresh are you?"
"Pinch me and see," he said, smiling.
"How would I tell?"
"I'm afraid it would be obvious... might cost me my job if it happened while I was handling the lettuce."
She had blushed, thinking what he had probably wanted her to think, and turned away knowing his eyes were upon her. It had been harmless enough.
When she heard the knock on the door, it came as a surprise, since she had been standing there rolling out the crust avoiding speculation about what Gene's purpose might be. Suddenly worried, after a long minute gathering her courage she answered the door to find him standing there, an arm on the doorjamb, seeming to hover darkly over her as she squeaked a tentative hello.
He grinned broadly.
She frowned, not knowing what to expect.
"Thought I'd say hello," he said.
"Hello," she stammered again, waiting.
"Can I talk to you for awhile?"
"Sure," she said, standing firm in the doorway, half behind the door, which she'd only opened a crack.
"Do I get invited in?" he asked. "Or do I have to stand out on the doorstep?"
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I was on my way to visit a friend when I happened to see you peek through the curtains at me," he said, and Fran knew that he was at least half lying, sensing that his friend was fictitious. "And I thought I'd stop by and socialize for a minute. I remembered that you had seemed like a nice lady."
"Oh," Fran said, knowing she didn't want to hurt his feelings and that it would be easy to do so, he seemed so vulnerable somehow at the moment, and yet...
"Of course if you have some sort of color bar in this neighborhood," he said when she made no move to admit him, "maybe I'd better hightail it out of here ... before those fellows with the hoods come get me."
He raised his eyebrows and half-turned to go before Fran could bring herself to say, "Don't be silly," and open the door to admit him, stepping aside to let him pass and catching, when she inhaled, a faint musky scent, masculine and resembling ginger. After a moment she recognized it as English Leather Aftershave, the same as Ted used.
"Nice place," he said, giving it a once-over and inspecting the view of the bay.
"We like it, too," Fran said. "Built it ourselves."
"Husband and you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Son, daughter, some friends, and myself," she said.
"You've got a son and daughter old enough to be any real help?" he said, mildly surprised.
"They did most of the work," she said.
"Live with you?"
"Yes," she said, not wanting to go into detail, not at the moment. "Would you like a beer?"
"Sounds good.".
"Why don't you sit here at the kitchen table," she suggested. "I have to get these pies in the oven."
"I wondered what you were going to do with all those peaches," he said.
He grinned broadly with a white flash of teeth and as Fran turned away to begin peeling the fruit she felt herself blushing madly.
"What do you do?" she asked, without turning around. "Besides working in the store?"
He told her briefly about himself as she prepared her pies. In his early twenties, he attended Marin Junior College part time without quite knowing what he wanted to do but intending to finish up his education. His family-his mother and three siblings-lived in West Oakland; his father had run off somewhere and hadn't been seen in years. And as he sketched himself in for her in his casually laconic manner she pitted and sliced her peaches, sugaring them and arranging them in the pie shells, glancing at him every few moments out of the corner of her eye and knowing full well that all the while he stared at her legs and fanny, her hotpants having again crept into the cleft between her buttocks which were too full to be adequately contained by the garment. Because her legs were nicely tanned, considering that in absolute terms not very much of her was actually showing, the white skin of her hind cheeks seemed absurdly suggestive... one couldn't look at her without thinking of nakedness.
With deft practiced movements Fran feathered the edges of the pies, pinching the top and bottom crusts together all around and then bent, hotpants creeping, to stick both pies in the preheated oven, frowning as she turned the dial down, trying to remember exactly how much hotter this oven was than showed on the dial and thinking she should have bought an oven thermometer.
"Well, can I stick around for a piece?"
"Piece?" she said, deciding it was about sixty degrees too hot.
"Pie is what I had in mind," he said with a brief deep-throated chuckle. "But I guess we can knock off another piece while we're waitin'."
"Sure," she said, adjusting the temperature gauge to her satisfaction, then standing. "I mean no!" she cried as the second meaning of "piece" sank in, her face flushing.
"You'll have to make up your mind," he cackled.
"Yes to pie, no to, uh, anything else you might have in mind," she said, thinking quickly. She couldn't stop a small smile from fleeting across her lips.
Gene stood, rinsed his beer glass at the tap, downed half a glass of water in two gulps, and said, "Well, we have to do something while we wait for pie," all wide-eyed, child-like innocence when she frowned menacingly.
Fran was many things at once. She was rattled by his innuendoes. She was somewhat amused by his look of assumed innocence. She was firm about the fact that she had to discourage the attentions of a man she hardly knew. Thus her lips were firmly pursed yet her eyes were twinkling when she walked past where he stood leaning against the sink, and she was surprised when he grasped her arm.
He spun her to him and both of his strong arms went around her waist as he attempted to kiss her. When she held her lips firm and pushed against his chest with both hands-with both hands but with just enough force to prevent her breasts from being crushed against him-he planted a kiss on her neck, a warm, slightly wet, nibbly kiss on the delicate skin at the base of her neck. She gritted her teeth against the sensation and against the notion of being seduced by sensation and she did not realize that he had slipped his fingertips into the backs of her hotpants until he suddenly wrenched upwards with both hands, almost rending the material as he freed her buttocks in their quivering entirety. She unconsciously tightened her anal sphincter and pushed a little harder against his chest when he spread the cheeks of her ass, simply rolling them apart as if to split her at the seam. He covered her soft globes as well as he was able with his hands, squeezing them, her flesh rippling as it was manipulated by his hard cool-to-the-touch hands which soon began to trace light circles about the circumference of her plump globes. However uncomfortably her panties and shorts were crammed into her crotch, she felt her pussy begin to tingle. She cursed silently.
When he kissed her lips again she responded, her full lips opening beneath his and the underside of her tongue melting as his began to probe. She felt herself swaying, caught up in the rhythm of his hands and tongue, and she began to squirm, her chest now flush with his, her breasts crushed softly between them.
Her thighs responding to the pressure of his hands, she spread her knees slightly as he forced his between them. A voice inside her cried, STOP! Stop him! She suddenly stiffened her spine, trying to ward off swooning.
She's a hot little honey. She ain't had a piece in some time, Gene was thinking when he felt her go stiff, just as he was caressing the hollows at the insides of her thighs with the two forefingers of each hand. Knowing that if he could only get to her little button he could press it and make her go, he held her firm and began working his fingers into the crotch of her pants. But with her pants so tight she was not easily accessible, and he began pulling at her fur-covered lips, tugging them apart to try to get at the core of her.
Feeling her inflamed now-spread pussy bubble cuntal cream onto her panties with his fingers so near, so near! the source, Fran wrenched free and stepped back, saying, "Stop it!" She tugged the legs of her shorts back into place and shoved him off when he tried to put his arms around her, and walked around the kitchen table into the living room.
He followed, saying, "What's the matter? Come on, baby, don't be stuck up."
"Leave me alone," she said, just wanting to catch her breath and sit down for a minute. Rejecting the couch on moral grounds, she sat in the Windsor chair by the window.
"What's wrong?" Gene asked.
"I don't want to have sex with you," Fran said in a surprisingly (even to her) Orinda matron manner, huffing slightly, "it's that simple. I don't know you well enough."
"But baby, I like you! I groove with you! Doesn't that make up some for not knowin'?"
"Not quite."
"C'mon now. You it does!"
"I know it doesn't!"
"I feel it baby, I felt it," he said, ostentatiously sniffing his fingers. "I know you know it does."
"I know..."
"Deep inside," he drawled.
"I know I know you have to know somebody..."
"All you can say is 'no,' he bellowed. "I 'no,' you 'no,' everybody 'no-no,'" he mimicked.
Fran had to laugh.
"Is it because I'm black?" he said.
"No. Of course not! Don't be silly," she said, dismayed.
"Better check on that," he said, waggling a finger at her.
"I'm positive," she said, thinking, / didn't have to leave Orinda to sleep with a grocery clerk.
"If I was white, you'd probably be layin' on the floor beggin' for it," he said.
"I would not!" she said, offended.
"I got something a white boy doesn't have," he said. "No white boy has this!"
Gene fumbled with his fly for a moment before pulling out one of the biggest and certainly the blackest prick Fran had ever seen. Its coloration ranged from ebony to molasses and it stood semi-erect. "Now doesn't that turn you on? 'Fess up, honey!"
"No!" Fran said, conscious only that the situation was getting out of control and of the big cock being waved in the air in front of her.
"Here I am, I'm being honest," he said. "I'm turned on and I admit it. Now you admit it!"
"No!"
"Liar!"
"I am not turned on," she insisted, panicked.
"If you touch it, you won't be so afraid of it," he suggested.
"I'm not afraid of it," she yelled. "But I didn't ask to see it, I don't want to touch it, so why don't you put it back?"
"Okay, anything you say," he said, somewhat too easily, Fran thought. "I wouldn't let you touch it now for anything," he said, and then, his voice soothing, "I'm sorry that I got a little carried away there. I didn't mean you no harm; I just got a little too enthused about that ass you been showin' off all over town."
As he spoke he dropped to his knees beside her chair, like a supplicant, by voice and gesture indicating regret, a mime almost totally ignored by Fran who pierced him with her eyes and said, "I was not showing my ass off all over town!"
"That may be," he conceded, taking her hand, "you just showed it to the poor nigger in the produce section, wanting him to make a fool of himself." He touched his cheek to her hand and then simply held it, engulfing it in his own larger paw.
"That's not what I had in mind at all!" Fran said calmly, determined not to rise to the bait but feeling some objection was in order. It didn't matter whether she rose to the verbal bait or not, however, smokescreen that it was, because as she spoke he smoothly lowered her hand to his cock: she was gripping it tightly before she admitted to herself what it was. She gave a start and tried to let go, but he held her hand firm while he gave his growing cock a twitch or two and before thirty seconds passed she was returning squeeze-for-squeeze, or squeeze-for-thrust.
My God, Fran thought, unable to get her hand entirely around it, it's so big! so hard! yet it's limber and its skin is soft. I can feel it throb with his heartbeat.
Fran's erect nipples pointed, the fact of their erection visible through the flimsy bra and the blouse she wore. Gene seized one, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Fran grunted silently and, with three snaps of his fingers, Gene unbuttoned the top of her blouse and then gathered one of her swelling mounds into his hand, jiggling it free from her bra to marvel at its whiteness, its smoothness, its total kneadable pliancy. He lowered his head, letting go of her hand since she now fondled his massive prick willingly, to glue his thick wet lips to the sensate red-brown point, nipping it between his teeth and rolling it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. "Ohhh," Fran moaned softly, feeling her head begin to spin as she traced circles on the velvety glans of his penis with the ball of her thumb.
Her blouse now fully unbuttoned and her bra loosened, Fran shivered when he slid his hand over her tummy and into the waistband of her hotpants. His cock emitted a droplet of seepage onto her thumb as Fran's heart fluttered into her throat. "No more! Please!" she cried, able to cry it even as her breath quickened because of the force of habit of years of denial.
His head on her loudly thumping chest as he sucked her titties with merciless fervor, Gene may not even have heard her, because as she spoke he entwined his fingers in her curly muff, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind if these thick tendrils were the same honey-blond as her hair. Forming a cup, his hand slid down and around, into the damp crotch of her hot-pants.
"No! No!" Fran cried weakly as he cupped her enflamed puffy cuntlips and began rhythmically to run his hand back and forth. She was wet as a washrag and felt herself begin to gush juice uncontrollably as Gene parted her sensitive lips to glide a finger smoothly into her thermal suction cup to the second joint and began working it gently around, his knuckle butting her clitoris lightly, rubbing it with smooth friction. Her pulsing pussy was like sponge-cake, or sponge-cake batter.
Feeling weak and unexpectedly nauseated in her lower abdomen as if a circuit were overloaded and just about to short-out any second now, Fran clamped her knees together and squirmed to get away, but Gene held her firm and her wild panicked squirming only enabled him to drive his finger more deeply into her salivating cuntmouth, belaboring every quaking cuntal ridge and tickling her cervix.
"Ah, ah, AH!" Fran gasped, aware that very much against her will her vagina was beginning to constrict tightly on the madly probing finger. Gene held her tightly and felt first her clitoris begin to twitch and then her entire overheated pussy begin to contract on his hand, digging his rough finger deeply into her snatch as her orgasm beset her, her whole body going limp as she moaned helplessly through her nose and for just a moment forgot her chagrin that her most intimate parts were being made to shudder, her slick puffy vagina made to throb, on the hand of a stranger.
Afterwards, she was embarrassed. She bit a knuckle and refused to look him in the eye. She refused to look up as he disengaged his finger from her relaxed gaping twat and stood up to strip off his own clothes. She stared steadily at the floor as his shirt dropped and then his pants fell about his feet. He stepped out of them and kicked off his shoes, forgetting for the moment his socks.
Her eyes still downcast, she bit her lip and allowed him to peel the clothes off her like she was a limp Raggedy Ann, her arms flopping as he flicked her blouse back and off and her bra forward and off. He found the zipper on her shorts and, rolling her butt from side to side, inched them over her hips and drew them off, throwing the stained, stretched hotpants to the side. Both hands on the elastic of her panties, he whisked them off and stared for a contented moment at the first nearly blond snatch he'd ever seen.
He picked her up and lay her out on the floor. Her legs stayed as he put them, spread obscenely wide, her sopping pussy naked as could be before his lascivious eyes. He knelt down, staring at her soft honey-colored hair, fluffy except where it was stuck down with her own juice on either side of her winking gash.
Eyes closed, Fran was petrified with shame as he placed a thumb on each of her bedewed hairlips and slowly spread them with a slow deliberate motion, drawing her tender lips apart until they would stretch no further. Smiling, he stared on the puffy lips of her wide-open cunt, forming an "O" like a mouth open in surprise, slick with cuntal seepage, her budding clitoris peeping, looking beyond the delicately wrinkled labia and into the orifice itself, the deep red walls of her sex channel until the shadows darkened the rear of the cringing cavern. He blew and when she felt hot air graze her myriad sensitive nerve endings, the pace of Fran's heartbeat doubled.
He plunged his lustful tongue into the core of her with a suddenness that took the breath from her, as he delighted in tasting the source of the sweet womanly musk that had had his nostrils a-twitch for some time now. The tongue slithered at will, reaming Fran's pussy and bringing it quickly to life again, every nerve a-jangle. Her clitoris captured between his thick upper lip and the back of his long tongue which he began to swish from side to side, Fran moaned, "Oh ... oh my God!" as he continued his attack on her defenseless cunt. She ground her butt into the floor in her attempt to escape the hot worming tongue, and she wailed in animal passion.
Gene's hands slipped beneath Fran's buttocks and he brutally spread the flesh of her cheeks. His mouth continued to grind deeper and deeper into her pussy and sucking sounds filled the room as she raised her loins to his plundering mouth. His hands split the crack between her cheeks and he ran a hard finger over the sensitive brown ring of her anus. He pressed his fingertip into the pucker and Fran clenched her fists, her vibrant naked flesh overcome by the young black stranger's raw lust.
When his finger shot past her tiring sphincter, Fran's posterior spasmed and she cried out in pained delirium as he probed the opening. Then, suddenly, he was no longer fucking her orally with his rapier tongue ... moving downward, he closed in on the puckered brown hole. She thought she would scream but instead moaned in rapture as his tongue flicked wetly against her tingling anus.
"Don't ... don't ... Gene... Please," she cried even as she pushed her thighs closer to his mouth in an ungodly attempt to rape her tingling rectum with his tongue. She felt the flesh of her breasts and stomach turn suddenly to goose bumps as she began to toss her head from side to side, overwhelmed by her degradation, Gene's tongue now snaking from anus to vagina and back again in wild abandon as her body began to seethe.
"Lady, you really move your ass when you get turned on just a little," Gene said, drawing back, thinking, My God this in just about the hottest, horniest piece, the sexiest goddamn bitch I've ever found. Put it to her just a little and she goes wild. She says 'no,' but she's easy. "Now I'm going to fuck you until you go out of your mind, until you lose your head," he said, raising to his knees and with just a note of the menacing in his voice. He touched his upthrusting ungodly shaft and said, "I put this to you, and you won't be able to walk straight, you won't be able to think for a week!"
"No, please no, I can't ... I'll never be able to," Fran wailed, honest fear welling up at the sight of his huge throbbing cock and, just beneath, his hairy black balls.
"You're going to love every minute of this, and you'll never be able to forget it," he said, crawling forward and lowering himself upon her.
"No! No!" Fran cried, trying to get away, trying to scoot out from beneath this raging animal, scraping her ass and elbows on the carpet.
But he flattened her, his forearm across her chest, his elbow on her breast and threatening to dig in even deeper if she didn't hold still. And so she held still, her gushing pussy cringing as he leveled his cannon at it, her rawly sensitive clitoris shivering helplessly as he nuzzled it. Paralyzed by both fear and his weight, Fran gasped when the bulbous head of his thick shaft parted her delicate lips, sending electrical chills coursing through her. Anticipating complete violation if not ruination, she could not move as he heaved a bit and then groaned, "Ohhhh!"
When, holding both of her shoulders, he lunged, lodging the head of his meaty shaft in her pulsating opening, the sudden stretching of her sex organ pained her sharply, "No! No! Please ... I can't.... bear it!" she sobbed.
But that first sharp stabbing of entry numbed her enough so that as her impalement continued she became curious how this growing bloated feeling between her legs and extending deeply into her abdomen was going to relate to, what precise effect it was going to have on her excitement, for with his expert tongue Gene had brought her to the edge of abandon: her nipples were so swollen she feared they'd pop, her anus tingled even yet, and her pussy throbbed in spite of its being temporarily numbed by sheer size, by overwhelming maleness.
Before he had entered her completely, the steady pulsing throb in every ironed-out pore in her vagina reached near crescendo proportions, and when he finally reamed her to the depths of her cunt she was suddenly able to sense the vibes from every corrugation in his massive shaft through her stretched membranes. He lay still for a minute, soaking her up, soaking in this marvelous twat, then flexed his cock and lurched even more deeply into her belly. She groaned helplessly, "Aaaaahhhgggh!"
Nothing can beat this, Gene thought, remembering that an hour ago he'd stood out on the dock fearing that he might get his head kicked in if he knocked on the wrong door, and now here he was, luxuriating in one of the most totally mesmerized cunts he'd ever come across, ever plundered. Christ, she was all set to go off her rocker any minute, whether she cared to admit it to herself or not. His nuts had been aching since she first sashayed down the aisle in the store, her ass undulating unbelievably.
The softly palpitating flesh of her pussy sheathed him tighter than his natural skin and the moment he began to bang around in it with a tattoo of hard thrusts sucking sounds filled the room as he pounded in and out of her and her breath rasped in her throat as she made the dimly remembered connection between cock and excitement, and she began to rotate her hips against him as her whimpers of pain became those of pleasure. She ground her pussy up against him and her legs quivered on either side of the thick impaling cock.
Gene stopped short, abruptly, his nuts having ached so long that he was on the verge of blowing it, of shooting before he subjected her. He cooled it for a minute, collecting himself.
"Do it! Do it!" she urged, waggling her hips at him and quivering in abandon.
"Do what?" he asked. "Say exactly."
"Oh, fuck me!" Fran cried, not knowing what was happening to her, knowing only what she had to have this minute. "Fuck me! Fuck me!"
"Fuck you 'til what happens?" he asked, coolly.
"Oh ... Oh fuck me! Fuck me 'til I go crazy!" Fran cried, admitting to herself that that was exactly what she wanted. And as he began to carry out her wish, she continued to croon sweet music to his ears, "Fuck me! Fuck me crazy! Ohhhhhh... fuck it hard! Fuck me crazy! Fuck my pussy blue!" and as she crooned, she writhed her cunt up to him, his huge cock violating her to the depths of her womb and filling her with insane pleasure.
Gene jammed her with building force, drawing nearly out of her gushing sucking sheath and then ramming downwards with ever more rapid strokes as her long-starved pussy clasped hungrily. She was beginning to explode beneath him. He sensed she was on the verge as she grunted and hurtled her overheated twat back and forth on his twitching prick.
She gurgled rapturously in her throat as she found his mouth with hers and slithered her tongue into his throat, her pleasure now greater than she'd ever dreamed it could be as she lay masturbating herself all those lonely nights. The tension in her, her body's mainspring had been overwound for far too long ... one more thrust of that huge ramming...
"Aiiiiieeeeeee!" Fran screamed as her whole body went into one giant seizure and her tongue fell back into her throat and she began to yip like a dog, "Arrggh! Arrggh! Arggk!"
For one split second Gene opened his eyes on the woman, on the total sensation of her spending, sweat dripping from her face which was contorted as if in pain as she wrapped her legs around him and ground her breasts into him and clutched him so tightly with her clasping cunt that he feared his next thrust would pull it out of her, or pull his cock out by the roots, as he felt it begin to explode, to shoot out one bolt of cum after another, his spine twitching as he curled his toes and boiled sperm into the hungry suction cup, moaning softly, "Ohhhh ... ahhhhh...ahhhhhh!"
"Oh God!" Fran screamed, just before collapsing, her mind puddling as every muscle in her body relaxed, deflated, at once.
Fran's senses didn't return until Gene had caught his breath again and rolled off, when she opened her eyes and at the same moment she focused them she heard the pinging of the oven bell. "Damn!" she said. "The pies have burned to a crisp!"
She jumped up and ran to the stove, breasts bouncing as she rounded the table and threw open the oven door. No smoke billowed forth and after an anxious moment she said, "They're a little brown around the edges, but I think they'll be edible."
Gene sighed and rolled back.
"Like your pie hot?" she asked.
"I like everything hot."
"Oh," she said. "Well, was that hot enough for you?"
"Oh," he said lazily, "just about."
"Just about!" she cried.
He laughed and she said, "Well, I think we ought to let them set for awhile, anyway."
A mixture of cum and her own cream had begun to run down Fran's thighs and had almost reached her knees before she grabbed a paper towel and stopped it, wiping up the in-sides of her thighs to her pussy, which she touched gingerly. "Christ, you may be right. It might be a week before I can walk comfortably again."
"Ah, you'll be all right," he said.
"What'll we do while we wait for the pie?" she said.
"Oh, relax," he said, totally relaxed.
Fran sat on the floor beside him, her legs folded in front of her. He could see their mingled juices matting down the hair at her snatch, small rivulets of white dribbling out of her puffy reddened overworked center and onto her fine honey blond muff. His cock and balls were covered with a similar mixture, now drying and beginning to flake.
Taking her first good look at his body, Fran found that she admired it. He was about Bob's size and perhaps better developed. His skin was smooth and dusky. His chest hair seemed to grow in little knots. Fran wondered if his cock was bigger than Bob's ... in its flaccid state it looked bigger, but erect and raging for action? She was no judge, having just seen Bob's the one time. She gazed on his body until the pie cooled, marveling at it, at the wonder it had created in her body, and out of dim memory she recognized her euphoric well-being as a state that was dependent on sexual congress, sex achieved with a man, not alone. Her vagina was sore from its abuse, it had been so stretched that she could feel the cooling evening air wafting into it, tingling her nerve ends, but she had to admit that it was a pleasant, itching hurt.
Later, Gene lay on his back on her bed, hands folded behind his head, accepting her ministrations like a lazy man. His body, at least, was no longer that of a stranger; by the time Fran had kissed him from head to toe she felt she had intimate knowledge of the man. She nibbled, sucked, nipped, and wherever she focused her attention in the dimming light, it returned to his manhood, which, taking her courage in hand and taking a lesson from her daughter, she opened her mouth to admit, fastening onto it like a baby calf onto a milch cow's teat. Taking care not to use her teeth, yet using her lips and tongue as vigorously as nature would allow, she brought it to life again, bravely, never flinching as she felt it grow, keeping her lips firm about its base as it swelled in her mouth, depressing her tongue and nearly wrenching her jaws as it began to poke into her throat. Dare she? she wondered. Dare she further punish her sore itching cunt? The cunt is the most resilient organ in the body, she knew.... The itch became feverish and palpitant, she could feel the walls of her enflamed pussy begin to ooze....
Lying immobile, face frozen in an inscrutable half-smile, Gene watched with a certain pride as she straddled him, her weight on her knees as she fumblingly aimed his massive shaft at the redhot center of herself, his eyes focusing on her blond snatch as she spread her opening with two fingers to fit herself on the bulbous head of his massive black shaft and sank down half an inch needing to cover him with as much of her puffy slackness as she could to make her impalement possible. She remained poised like that for a minute, her leg tendons quivering as she caught her breath, the hair lips of her snatch stretched in a ring around his knob, before she lowered herself in one slow steady dropping of her body onto the impaling shaft, which filled the hollows between her widespread thighs as it disappeared from view.
Fran sat on him helplessly for a moment, out of breath and unable to move, skewered to the depths of her belly, every puff and wrinkle in the walls of her cunt ironed flat. And then she began to move rapidly up and down, lifting herself halfway off him and dropping back on as she went, "Uh... uh ... uh" with each stroke, her abdomen flexing and her breasts swaying as she moved. She fucked her pussy on the huge shaft with building tempo, rotating her hips maddeningly as she ground down on it with increasing hunger, her breasts bouncing with her effort, the two red eyes of her stiff nipples blinking at him as they swayed, as they began to swing in small circles from the tiring woman's effort, until Gene reached up and filled his hands with her soft gyrating mounds, squeezing them and holding them still in huge handfuls as Fran humped, falling forward slightly to press herself more firmly into his hands.
She stopped abruptly, on the upswing, unable to push herself over the ledge into shattered nothingness as her whole body went tense. Gene grabbed her by the hips with both hands to steady her, lifting his knees to plant his feet more firmly to pound up into her. If he hadn't held her he would have sent her flying into the air with the ramrod force of his thrusts. Fran's hands shot to her face and she shuddered from head to toe as she felt her pussy clutch vainly at the rampaging prick; it seemed the walls of her cunt went rigid as he socked it to her, and then, something deep inside breaking, totally enspasmed on the impaling shaft. "Yes! Yes! Fuck my pussy! Oh! Oh! It's happppenning! Yeowww ... Fuck, fuck ... Ay, ah, AH!" she gibbered.
Gene felt cum boiling out of his balls as she dropped completely, falling forward onto him, her sweaty breasts smacking his chest as she waggled her pelvis in the air, clutching at the twitching spewing cock, the hot sperm balm on the ravaged walls of her cunt, her sore womb, as Gene moaned beneath her, his body shuddering, "Aiieee! Agghhh!"
They were lying in the dark in each other's arms, pleasantly exhausted after a hard day's work, when Fran heard the kids come in, slamming the front door and clomping into the kitchen.
"Mom made a pie!" Vivian said.
"I wonder if she's up?" Bob said.
"Why don't you see?"
"I don't want to wake her."
"Let's have some pie."
"That's Vivian and Bob," Fran said. "Why don't we get dressed so I can introduce you to them."
"Shee-it-no!
"Why not?" Fran asked, offended.
"Don't want to."
"That's not very sociable."
"Look, lady, I just gave you the two best fucks you ever had. You ought to be thankful enough without wanting to lay a family scene on me, too."
"Well, okay," Fran said, barely controlling her voice. After a moment, she said, "Tomorrow I'll show my ass off to the clerk in Frozen Foods, maybe he'll be willing to be polite to my family."
"Crap," Gene said, and that was all he said for a minute or two. This was his chance to get out of the thing with no complications. That was usually the best way, anyway. On the other hand, this lady threw a damn fine fuck. He weighed the pros and cons. "Come on, baby," he said. "I'm just a bit too tuckered right now. You know how to tire a man out. Later in the week I'll come back, and if you still want, maybe I can meet 'em then."
"That'll be fine," Fran said, snuggling closer to him, her heart speeding with the thought of another session with this marvelous animal.
Chapter Four
In an open space among the redwoods in Muir Woods a frisbee spun, seeming to hover motionless mid-air for a moment before Vivian snatched it and threw it out again with a fling of her forearm. It arched up and then curved to the side. Ted made a running leap to catch it and with a snap of his wrist sent it back to Bob. While the three played, Fran cooked hamburgers on the grill and Ellen unloaded a wicker picnic basket. Gene sat at the far end of the nearby picnic table, no longer reading the Sunday Chronicle, stacked messed-up in front of him. He sipped a Budweiser and stared off into the woods, tapping his foot on the ground, tapping out some internal rhythm or expressing impatience.
Having been glancing over her shoulder every few minutes in a furtive effort to tell what was on her lover's mind, Fran poked one of her burgers with the corner of a spatula to see how long they had to go, turned them for a final minute or so and skipped over to her lover.
"Hungry?" she asked.
Gene shrugged and grimaced and said, "Mmmm ... so-so."
"Well, what's wrong?" she whispered. "Aren't you having a good time?"
Gene shrugged again and gave her a seconds-long penetrating look before saying, "So-so."
"Well, is something wrong?"
"Don't fret about it," he said, almost snapping, "Your hamburgers'll burn."
"There's no reason to sit here and sulk," she said, leaving and going back to the grill. Honestly, she didn't know what got into him sometimes; he acted so unfriendly. But it had been so long since she had related to a man intimately that she had almost forgotten her feminine wiles: she felt awkward whenever she tried to get him out of one of his bad moods; yet she always felt guilty whenever he was in a bad mood, fearing that maybe she wasn't quite measuring up, that she was letting him down somehow.
Ellen called the others and everyone sat down to eat. Dinner was somehow unpleasant, and Fran couldn't quite pinpoint the reason, in part because she didn't know anything about cars and that's what the boys had talked about. Ted had said that he wished he knew something about cars so that he could fix his, since his universal joints were going out. Bob then volunteered to help him with it, since his old car had been the same model, a '63 Chevy, and he'd once had to do the same thing to it.
"Hell, it's simple," Gene said. "Even if you haven't done it before it's no big deal. All you do is climb under it and unscrew four nuts and then you can pull out the drive shaft. No problem."
"You and I know that," Bob said, "but I don't think Ted's ever looked under a car before."
"And there's just two U-joints to replace once you got the thing out."
"I think there's three U-joints," Bob said.
"Naw, a '63 Chevy just has two," Gene said.
"I'm positive," Bob said. "I recall quite clearly..."
"Bullshit!" Gene roared, and Fran couldn't clearly remember what happened after that, exactly what had been said, just that Bob had withdrawn and become more and more silent-and Fran could tell from his manner that he knew he was right-while Gene became livid with rage that Bob wouldn't admit that a '63 Chevy only had two U-joints. The whole thing was insane. Gene was like a bull seeing red; he seemed to assume that he was personally under attack.
Something else had troubled Fran: As they were getting ready to leave, putting everything back into the cars, Ted goosed Vivian. And rather than one of his playful pats or tweaks, it had seemed like an absolutely ferocious goose. Vivian had been an inviting enough target, Fran supposed, (she always was!), leaning way over to get something out of the back of the trunk, her panties stretched over her buttocks as her dress rose tightly covering her mound of Venus. And coming up behind her, Ted had dug his hand into his sister's helpless crotch, and dug and dug ... squirming his fingers God knew where before Vivian managed to get her head free from the trunk and straighten up, but even once she had stood up she lurched and jumped and danced for what seemed like a full minute as her brother dug his stiffened fingers into her thinly pantied honeypot before she managed to shake her ass free.
"Holy Jee-sus!" she cried.
Ted grinned leeringly and Vivian blushed as she reached down to pull her panties out of her crack.
What bothered Fran was that such sex-play seemed totally unnecessary. They had been raised in a liberal environment, had always been natural about their bodies, had seen each other nude and thought nothing of it until Ted had gone to law school. So why did Ted now need to attack his sister's crotch?
But while Fran found that vaguely troublesome, she was far more troubled by Gene. In the car he was grimly sullen and she knew there would be trouble when they got home. She began preparing to try to smooth it over.
As the day wore on Gene said nothing and did not appear disturbed by the incident, and by nightfall Fran had almost convinced herself that nothing had really happened, that it had just been one of those momentarily unpleasant situations that are best forgotten-there had been a whole string of them lately between Gene and the kids and she was always on edge, hoping to make the best of it. Gene seemed to think everyone had it in for him, yet there was nothing specific to point to, just half-imagined insults and petty annoyances.
Not until they got into bed that night did the bomb fall.-
"I think it's time I left," Gene said.
"You mean leave me?" Fran said, calmly.
"That's right."
"Oh," she said, fighting to keep a stiff upper lip, "Is there any reason?"
"I'm tired of this."
"Oh," she said. "Well, I suppose if you get tired of a woman after two weeks, there isn't any other way, is there? You just pack up and leave."
In spite of her apparent calmness, the look on Fran's face was one of incredible hurt, and whether from sympathy or because it was how he really felt, Gene touched his fingers to her cheek and said, "Why shit-no, baby, I'm not tired of you. Not at all. You're the best pussycat in the world," he purred, and relief flooded up in Fran's heart.
"You got a good sense of how to keep a man happy," he continued, running his hand to her shoulder and on down to her hip, giving her a squeeze before pulling up her nightgown. "You're a real fine piece and sometimes I think you really care about me," he said.
"I do," she said, parting her thighs as he slid his hand into the hairy vortex at her belly's base. She always began to slaver the minute he touched her and he teased her dampening puffy pussy lips for a minute before sliding his middle finger between them, burying it to the second joint in her slick, tingling vagina. She clamped her legs shut again, imprisoning his hand on her crotch.
"What's the problem, then?" she asked. "Why do you want to leave?"
"Shit, lady, you got too many relatives, that's all. The way I figure it, you've either got a lovin' scene or a family scene ... a woman either wants a lover or a papa for her kids," he drawled, and if she hadn't known in her heart what he was leading up to Fran would have smiled to hear him talk like this, since he wasn't that much older than Ted. "Now, sometimes you can get both," he continued, "but the way I see it is like this: I've got just a little bit too much of the dog in me yet to put up with a heavy family scene, that's all. I don't have time for it and it takes too much out of the lovin'."
"I'm ... I'm sorry you see it that way," was all she managed to say.
"It isn't just the way I see it," he said. "It's the way it is. I can't hack the scene-not the way it is ..."
She knew what he wanted her to say but steeled herself against the impulse to say it-what had her ten years of self-sacrifice been for, anyway?-her will power hardening and suffusing throughout her being ... until he swished his finger. He straightened his finger and began poking it stiffly in and out her clammy pussy, flicking every cuntal cranny within reach, each swirling jab-like a butter knife in a mayonnaise jar, she thought-sending electric jolts pulsing through her cunt, setting her spine a-tingle.
"Of course, if you want me to go, you don't have to say anything," he said, as he began to withdraw his hand. "I wouldn't want to ask you to do anything you didn't want to do."
"No!" she gasped, grabbing his hand with both of hers and holding it firmly to her pussy as her legs shot apart. On her back now, she began wiggling her hips and in urgency tried to pull his not-entirely-cooperative hand back into her twat. She succeeded in twisting his fingers enough to get two of them into the seething orifice of her vagina and proceeded to use them to fuck herself, panting now.
He grazed her nipples lightly with his knuckles and they sprang immediately to life, achingly filled with blood. Idly, he squeezed one of the hard throbbing points with his thumb and forefinger, saying, "This isn't fair to you, to get you all worked up like this. One of us, at least, has to be firm and make up his mind."
"I'll... I'll speak ... to Vivian... tomorrow," Fran panted, making up her mind, rather her body making up her mind for her as perspiration broke out on her brow. "Oh," she groaned, "please fuck me now!"
Gene's cock was ramrod stiff and he needed no further prompting. He moved in between her parted legs and, taking each in a hand, doubled them back against her chest. Fran's finger-frictioned love nest pouted up at him from the midst of damp, blond pussy hair, and he lowered his head and ran his tongue along her passion-reddened slit. "Ahhhhhhhh!" she exclaimed, stretching her thighs still farther apart. "I go wild when you eat me!"
"But that's not what you want most right now, is it?" Gene said. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do. I want to hear it."
"I want your cock in me!" she said feverishly. "I want you to ram your big black cock into my cunt as far as you can. I want you to fuck me so hard I won't be able to walk for a week!"
In the back of Fran's fevered mind churned the thought that since she was abandoning her children, essentially, for sex, pain should rightfully accompany her pleasure.
Gene shuffled closer to her on his knees and Fran groped for his hard-standing love tool. "Let me put it in," she begged. "I love to put it in me!"
She bumped the swollen head against her cranny in search of her cuntal entrance. Her hand steadied and then she bucked her hips, her opening stretching to admit the thick bluntness. Her breath whistled between her teeth, "Ohhhh, that divine feeling," she moaned.
Gene immersed his thick cock in her upthrust quim with steady pressure. His black-veined rigidity was engulfed in Fran's straining twat an inch at a time. He joggled his hips to widen her slick passage. When he was belly-to-belly with her he lowered his head to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and then began to pump with fury. Fran gasped as his cock powerdived into her tight-clasping cunt, all her soft womanliness in motion. Belly, breasts and buttocks jiggled gelatinously as Gene plunged with rapid deep thrusts into the hungry receptacle.
"MMMMMmmmmm" Fran moaned through her nose as her cunt was buffeted deliciously by the deep-lodged ramrod. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she gibbered, raising her legs higher and clasping Gene's waist tightly with her thighs, her upraised bare bottom wiggling passionately as Gene continued to churn her pussy into a lather.
A hot spark, ignited in her interior, suddenly liquefied. "Gene!" Fran screamed as the spark became a blaze. Her thighs trembled as she writhed beneath her lover's steady poking. "Oh! I'm-ohhhhh-it's good! It's-I'm-'m cummming! OHHHhhh!"
Her convulsing cunt deluged Gene's fleshy wedge, piercing her to her body's depths. Fran's behind sank back to the bed as the huge cock plummeted her juicy cavern with high abandon, his balls slapping her anus with loud smacks as he grunted from the exertion. Her hands strayed down his muscled back to his buttocks as she urged him on, as he continued to pound her oozing, no-longer twitching twat. His hard stomach resounded noisily on her soft one and she wiggled her punished pussy beneath him as her teeth began to rattle from the increased force of his fucking. She couldn't catch her breath and panted in time with the slaps and squishes from below.
And then a shudder rippled through her and it was followed by another quick flame, fomenting dizzy excitement in her hard-pounding depths, "Ohh! Ohhh! Gene, just a minute longer-I'm ... I'm ..."
His fierce lunges steadied into slow-grinding thrusts as Fran's pearly, wide-spanned rump climbed from the bed again and jiggled in fleshy abandonment. Her hips spiraled in feverish frantic movement as her breath stopped coming completely and she gurgled deep in her throat, her body wrenched by uncontrollable interior forces while his prick strokes into her returned to their former resounding intensity. His shoulders hunched and his knees dug into the bed for additional leverage. His teeth nipped at Fran's neck as he pounded her creaming twat for all he was worth, and then he bellowed hoarsely as his hands slipped beneath her to compress her hind cheeks while hot jets of sperm traveled the length of his shuddering cock and inundated her twitching sex chute.
After a moment Gene's abated erection slipped gently from Fran's ruby-red pussylips and he moved out from between her legs and rolled onto his back. Fran flexed her legs several times, savoring the diminishing sensation still lodged in her cooling cunt. Then she turned and whispered in Gene's ear, "You throw a wonderful fuck. Just wonderful."
It was wonderful and Fran lay awake thinking about it long after the form in bed beside her had begun to snore lightly. Her mind worked: To get something good in life, you have to sacrifice for it, you-you have to give something else up sometimes. Thus she rationalized her decision, attempting to come up with a mental framework in support of it so that she would not feel guilty. She remembered her spells, her periods of seeming sexual insanity during the past ten years when she couldn't get it off her mind, when she would lie on her bed without her panties and play with her pussy by the hour-suddenly, the thought of sticking her hand into her own pussy (unless her lover watched, since he seemed to get turned on by the sight of her doing that to herself) made her want to vomit. Never again. Never would she be that hard-up again.
She spoke to Vivian late the next morning, her first opportunity. Vivian was breakfasting-branching really, since it was after eleven-on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, grape jelly, Fran noted as it dripped from the sides of the sandwich onto the table. The girl was not at her most approachable.
"Do you and Bob ever feel that you would like more privacy?" Fran asked, somewhat deviously.
"Uh, what do you mean?"
"Don't you ever think you would like to be alone together more often."
"We can just go into the bedroom if we do."
"Don't you get tired of having me around all the time?"
"Uh, no. You don't bother us. I mean, gee whiz, we like having you around, Mom."
"I like having you around, too, dear. But, well, as a woman grows older she has to adjust, uh, she goes through what you might call changes."
Vivian frowned as she licked jelly from her fingers. "You're not entering menopause already, are you, Mom?"
"Good Lord no!" Fran said, aghast at the thought. She was silent for a moment as she watched her daughter cram the last of the sandwich into her mouth, the "last" being fully one fourth of it which she stuffed in with her fingers. As soon as she had the gob wadded into her mouth, two or three chews and a gulp, she proceeded to lick her fingers clean. Fran had spoken to her too many times in the past about "scarfing" down her food to want to go into it now.
"The love that a person has for his family is somewhat different from the love he feels for others, usually one specific other, who sometimes can be the answer to, uh, loneliness."
"You mean sex?" Vivian said as she rubbed her napkin in circles on the formica, mopping up the excess jelly. "Yeah, sex is great."
"What I'm saying, dear," Fran said, forging ahead, determined now that she had a start, "is that while the two kinds of love aren't mutually exclusive or anything like that, one of them can sometimes impede the progress of the other, or it can seem to."
Fran paused, suddenly at a loss for words. Vivian sat frowning. "Oh," she said, finally, "you mean we're getting in your way, is that it?"
"Well, I hadn't quite meant..."
"Is that what you're sneaking around trying to say?
"Please, Vivian! I'm not being sneaky!"
"Oh. Okay. Then what exactly did you mean to say?"
Fran had the distinct feeling that Vivian was bullying her. She almost wanted to cry, "All right, have it your way!" but she loved her daughter and did not want to alienate her. Fran merely wanted to be understood.
"You're still young, quite young," Fran began.
"Don't pull that kind of rank on me now," Vivian huffed. "You've never done that."
"What I was going to say," Fran burst out, a helpless edge in her voice, "was that you're young and your whole life is ahead of you, your life is full of possibilities. I am not young and my life is not so full of possibilities. I have few options and have to take pretty much what comes my way."
"Oh, bull. You have fabulous legs, your waist is tiny, and your boobs are bigger than mine. What are you complaining about?"
"But I won't be that way much longer! I have to get what I can while I still have time!"
"Okay, so we're getting in your way. What do you want us to do about it?"
Fran took a deep breath. "Well, if, if Gene and I just had some time to ourselves, we could discover what we can achieve together. We won't know what kind of love we have until then. That's all I'm asking you for-that you try to understand and give us a chance. That's all..." Fran trembled, her mouth half open, her eyes beseeching and about to emit tears.
"What do you want us to do about it?" Vivian repeated, her mouth set in a tight firm line as she stared expressionlessly down at the table-top.
"Well, isn't there someplace else you could go for awhile? Couldn't you take a vacation somewhere?"
"We don't have much money. You know that."
"You could go stay with Ted, maybe."
"He's just got a one bedroom place, y'know. And he has to study a lot."
"I don't think he'd mind, not for awhile. Why don't you call him and ask?"
"Anything you say."
"Don't look so glum; I'm not deserting you or anything."
"True," Vivian said. "You're kicking me out-there's a distinction." She tossed her wadded napkin into the waste basket and stood up.
"Please try to understand," Fran said, hugging her daughter with both arms.
"I'll call Ted," Vivian said, breaking free of her mother's grasp.
Fran remained in her room long after the sounds of feet tramping and doors banging had ceased. When she was sure they weren't coming back she went out, looked into the room they had shared which was now empty of personal effects and turned away, firmly shutting the door. She sat in a chair in the living room looking out over the bay. The fog was coming in. It was a dreary day and being in a houseboat on the water made it no less dreary. The houseboat was empty, strangely empty of life. Fran had always had her children around her and now they were gone.
She went back into the bedroom and removed her clothes, folding each item of attire as she removed it. Once naked, she lay on her back in the waning daylight Without moving she listened to the creaking of the houseboat at its moorings as the tide came in. Everything became grey as the sun set and a chill grew in the air. Fran did nothing to protect herself, but lay naked even as her body broke into goose bumps, the more conscious of her nakedness because of the chill as darkness engulfed her.
Aware only of the gentle rocking of the houseboat with the tide, and not quite asleep, Fran dreamt. As she lay in an almost comatose state, her mind drifted. She dreamt she was on a raft adrift in a sea of darkness, no stars to light the sky, a mystic ebony shaft glimmering in the distance...
Bathed suddenly in light, she sat up, shielding her eyes with her hands.
Standing at the foot of the bed, Gene stared down on his woman, thinking, She got rid of them, just like I said. She's lying here naked just like I told her to....
She had looked so prim all those months in her street clothes when she came into the supermarket, never giving him a second glance. And then she had come in one day half-dressed, begging for attention, acting like a goddamn prick-tease, and she'd thought she was going to get away with it. Well, old Gene had showed her a thing or two. Like most white women, she had been secretly screaming to be dominated by a real man. This was one female who was never going to act uppity around him again. He wasn't going to let her forget who was boss.
Her eyes having adjusted to the light, Fran smiled just then and maybe that was a mistake. She smiled and patted the bed beside her-it was a natural enough gesture, one made by a woman who wanted her lover to come to her. But Gene scowled. She was acting too damn proud of herself, just a bit too pleased with herself, like she expected him to get down on his knees and thank her for something.
"The kitchen's a mess," he said. "That's a hell of a thing for a man to have to come home to. You're going to get your butt paddled."
"What?" She said, frowning, her mouth dropping open.
"I said you're going to get your butt paddled, just like anybody else who misbehaves," he said.
Fran was aghast, her mouth hanging open empty of speech. She tried to remember the kitchen's being a mess. A few dishes in the sink maybe...
"Come here," he barked. "Lie down here across my knees."
He picked a hairbrush off the dresser and sat down in the straight chair at the foot of the bed. The edge in his voice sparked Fran to motion. Uncomprehendingly, she slowly rose from the bed and stepped over to him. Roughly, he pulled her down across his legs. Fran felt so awkward that it was silly. Her feet touched the floor on one side of Gene and her face would have almost reached the floor on the other if she hadn't held herself up with her hands. She was going to be spanked! What a silly idea! She stifled a giggle-Gene gazed down upon the ample buttocks of the woman resting across his lap, a thick tuft of blonde hair visible between her thighs. Fran wiggled, trying to get comfortable, and as she unclenched her buttocks and shifted her thighs she revealed a flashing glimpse of her pink-lipped pussy nestled in its furry embrasure. This gave Gene pause to think for a moment, as countless generations of men before him had paused to think when presented with the same sight. He licked his lips, then dropped the hairbrush onto the floor.
Fran felt herself being tugged up: he was nudging her hip and pulling on her shoulder. What was this? Not even so much as a playful slap on the fanny? Only too glad to get down from her awkward perch, Fran righted herself and stood.
But no sooner had she stood than Gene began to position her anew. With no idea what he had in mind for her, she had all the coordination of a rag doll as he adjusted his chair, then had her straddle him, facing the bed, then toppled her forward. She now lay with her pelvis and lower abdomen on his knees, her thighs parted with one on either side of his hips and the back of the chair he sat in. Her breasts dangled in the air next to the baseboard at the foot of the bed, upon which rested her head and shoulders. Her face was turned to the side, her cheek on the satin bedspread.
All this had the effect merely of unfolding her snatch a bit. Her hairlips had parted to expose the ragged pink edges of her pussy. Gene seized her generous buttocks with his hands, squeezing them for a moment before his thumbs dipped between her wide-spread thighs to stretch the sensitive ridges of her twat. At the moment of contact, the pink gaping hole began to bubble its lubricant. He spread the thick liquid over the surface of the small, soft folds with his thumb. Her clitoris thrust to attention, and stood quiveringly. When he smoothly slid two fingers into her dripping chute, Fran squirmed deliciously. When he began to twist his fingers back and forth and flick her clitoris with his thumb, Fran moaned, gasping for breath as she closed her eyes.
When she canted her pelvis and began to rotate her hips, Gene abruptly withdrew his hand. Emptied too suddenly, Fran felt slightly nauseated, but her ass was still canted up at him when the first blow fell, smarting one globe, followed quickly by a second open-handed slap, leaving a hand-print in scarlet on the other globe.
"Ow! Ow! Ouch!" Fran yelped as the blows rained onto her hapless posterior. Both quivering quaking masses turned bright red as Gene slapped them without mercy. Fran writhed and wiggled her ass from side to side in an effort to the blows; she bit her lip and tears began to fall from her eyes. But in her heart, choked-up and confused though it was, she knew that there was a tightness in this, that for having been cruel to her daughter she deserved punishment of some kind and this was it. And since she had abandoned her child for lust, it was poetically just that she have her desire aroused first But she had had all she could bear: she wailed openly, "Ahhhh! Ohhh! Wahhhh! It hurts!"
"What hurts?"
"My ASS! MY ASS HURRRTS!" she wailed.
Heedless of her pleas, Gene redoubled his efforts, smacking her frantically contorted buttocks so that his own hand burned, flailing her with loud-sounding salutes. Between her abused dancing buttocks the brown berry of her anus winked at him, as did the pink flesh of her gaping twat: his prick had risen like a sword. He poured another hail of explosive wallops upon her almost brick-red rear as her shrieks died away to strangled sobs and low moaning gasps as the hot flame built up in her revolving posterior. Gene stopped abruptly, shaking his hand to get the sting out of it, watching curiously as Fran's seething backside continued to writhe. With his other hand, he gently stroked the heated flesh. Fran sobbed convulsively as her florid buttocks slowed from their unseemly dance.
When she had slowed just enough so that he could get a bead on her, he pressed two fingers into her seething pussy. Fran gasped and her tears stopped. Sobs became moans as fingers gouged the walls of her cunt and a thumb diddled her clit. The unseemly dance of her ass began again more rapidly than it had slowed.
"Yes! Yes!" she cried. She wanted this. Her pussy was enflamed and her buttocks blazed and she needed release. Her contortions of pained pleasure were even more extreme than those of pure hurt. Her whole helpless body wiggled and humped as Gene's hard fingers swished briskly in and out her pussy. With loud smacks her breasts slapped against the baseboard of the bed as she bucked, her whole highly charged body shuddering on the brink. She held her breath, ground her upthrust blindly-clasping pussy onto the ramming fingers, and came, gurgling, "Ah! Ah ... arghh!"
When she collapsed, visibly sagging as soon as her twitchings had subsided on his fingers, Gene tested the rubbery brown ring of her anus with his forefinger, tracing the outline of the tight orifice with his fingertip before dragging the woman to her feet and lowering her onto her face on the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom.
He reappeared, a moment later, with a jar of cold cream. "Now I'm going to fuck you in the ass," he said.
Not sure that she had heard correctly, Fran looked around to see Gene smearing white cream on his stiff black cock. She thought he looked silly and was about to giggle until his words sank in and she realized what he was going to do with his cold-creamed cock.
"No! No! Please!" she pleaded. "Not now! Not today! My ass is sore enough."
"You're not that sore," he said, giving her already-abused fanny a stiff thwack.
Fran grimaced when he raised his hand, but the blow didn't hurt anywhere near as much as she anticipated, since her buttocks were now only mildly sunkissed pink, the fire having gone out of them. She looked over her shoulder as, his stiff-standing prick now covered liberally with cold cream, he got an additional gob on his fingers.
"Spread your legs," he barked.
Against her better judgment, Fran did, and two seconds later the unpleasantly cold gob of cold cream had been deposited smack dab on her anus.
"Noooo," she moaned, clenching her buttock muscles as tightly as she could. "You're hurting me."
"Relax, damn it," he said, "or I'll give you another hiding."
But there was no more chance of her relaxing than of hell freezing over. Before she knew it he had pushed his finger into her tiny opening to the first knuckle. He grinned as Fran's squirming behind resisted, her knees clawing the bed as the stubborn finger slowly pierced her. With a final thrust Gene inserted his finger all the way until his palm was pressed flat against the wriggling cheeks of her abused backside. "Www! Owwww! It hurts! Noo!" she gasped, hardly able to get her breath through the exquisite pain lancing her anus.
"Come on, sweetheart, you ain't felt nothin' yet," Gene said with a tiny malicious smile. "Just wait until I get my cock in there."
Fran feared she would faint on the spot. Buggering, she had heard it called-it was something homosexuals did. The thought that it could happen to her boggled her mind. Gene was being more of a brute than she'd ever imagined he could be. He might seriously injure her. That giant cock of his thrust into her tight little asshole ... it was a manifest impossibility.
But Gene began to rotate his finger deep inside her anus to loosen the passage. There was a strange grin on his face as he felt the soft, buttery smoothness inside her rectum as he skewered her. Fran, writhing under this ruthless penetration of her, thought her whole bottom was afire for a second time that evening. A second later she shrieked as she thought his finger had doubled in size only to realize that a second finger had been urged into the passage alongside the first.
She sobbed openly, just as she had when she'd been spanked. The piercing pain tore at her interior like a fiery dart. Rage mingled with her pain, rage that she was unable to prevent this cruel exploitation of her flesh (after all she'd sacrificed!) but then the pain became so acute that it drove everything else out of her mind. "Ow! Ohhhh! Ouch! NO! Oh God, stop! You son of a bitch!"
There, the words were out before she quite realized she'd said them. For a moment she thought she'd hurt his feelings. The fingers pulled out of her aching rectum with a loud popping sound. "Oh, thank God!" she moaned, sorry she'd offended him, but indeed grateful to have him cease, then her voice suddenly soared almost to a scream as she felt Gene lowering his weight on her back and his long, thick cock gliding up the damp crevice of her buttocks to her aching asshole. "NO!" she wailed, feverishly, "No! No! No!"
"You'll love this," Gene told her confidently. "It'll only hurt for a few seconds. Then you're gonna go off your nut."
Fran's eyes bulged in terror as she flinched from the great prong digging at her shrinking, puckered anus. Gene worked his way forward slightly on her perspiring back and pushed against her sphincter with which she fought to keep him out. But the finger-penetration had left the muscle tired and sore. "Ahhhhhh!" she screeched as she felt the black-crowned head of the big prick lunge its way into her agonized rectum. She thought she was being split in two.
Above her Gene grunted noisily as he thrust with his hips to force his cock into her straining rectum in quarter-inch increments. The pressure on the head of his fleshy rod was driving him half out of his mind with pleasure. He gained more ground with short lunges that buried him more deeply between her rouged-looking hind cheeks.
Fran pounded on the bed with the flat of her hands as the fiery dagger forced its way farther and farther inside her alimentary canal. She seemed to have no voice left. It hurts so, it hurts so, it hurts so, her brain screamed tiredly over and over again. Her entire body ached with the effort-the unavailing effort-of repelling the ravaging prick in her distended anus.
And then there was a pause... what a miserable day this has been, she thought. I've been spanked and buggered.
She raised her head inquiringly, hoping from the lack of movement that it was over. Gene hadn't pulled out of her ass, she knew; she still felt stuffed beyond belief back there. While the pain hadn't gone, it seemed to have moved to the background while a strange half-expectant, anticipatory sensation took over.
Then Gene began to move upon her, sliding his godless cock inches in and out of her loosened passage. Was she actually at this moment being fucked in the ass, she thought wonderingly. The impossible was happening. The big cock massaged hidden areas of virgin flesh in an almost snuggling manner. She felt the palpitations of her mildly glowing buttocks under the weight of Gene's body at each thrust he made into her ass. A hot coal suddenly ignited in Fran's reawakened cunt. Was she losing her mind? Was her body beginning to respond to this foul use of it?
Gene fucked her expanding flesh steadily, and Fran raised her hips tentatively. She was at once flattened on her belly again by his next surge which seemed to penetrate even more thoroughly. She thrust her glowing bottom upwards again to meet his next plunge. "Ohhh!" she grunted as the big cock smacked into her rear. It was half painful, half stimulating. "Ohhh! Oh! Ohhhhh!" she murmured as her ass-fucking continued.
Gene's body dripped sweat on her own lathered flesh as they both worked harder. Fran couldn't understand herself. She was being used as she had thought only animals were used, and here she was beginning to enjoy it. The prick in her anus was now moving in and out almost freely. She'd been spanked mercilessly, she'd had one orgasm, and now the friction of a cock in her rectum was so stimulating her that she could feel the coal of her cunt glowing a deep red and knew, incredibly, that she was going to have another orgasm. She reached under her up-thrusting hips with both hands to clasp Gene's giant throbbing balls and to hold them tightly against her ignited cunt.
Gene's movements began to quicken and she sensed that the tight constriction afforded his cock by her asshole was about to take its toll. His weight pounded her as he plunged frenziedly in and out of her rectum. Fran heard herself squealing in mingled pain and pleasure as his frantic efforts pierced new depths. He jerked spastically upon her back as hot sperm burst from his cock, rocketing into her pierced rectum. "Ahhhhhhh" he yelled in her ear as he came in throbbing bursts.
The thick semen felt soothing to Fran's lacerated flesh. For an instant she felt she was standing on tiptoe, and then she was flinging her hips upward onto the prick still impaling her rear while she ground her pelvis lasciviously against the bed. Lightning bolts coursed through her flesh as she writhed furiously. "Ohh! Ohh! Ohh!" she cried out as convulsions wrenched her pussy for a second time that night. "There-there!" Humping her middle up and down, she came with a blinding force that threatened to leave her senseless. She had never known such a climax.
She fell forward on the bed with a man, exhausted. With the cessation of tactile sensibility in connection with her immense arousal, the pain in her rectum returned. Not nearly like before, but it was definitely sore. Gene's prick, still not fully subdued, remained inside her. She whimpered when he started to withdraw it despite his sperm-lubricating deluge of her interior.
With a yank Gene pulled his deflating penis from her ass with a whooshing sound. "Ouch!" she cried as she rolled onto her side, once free from his weight. She extended a hand behind her to tenderly explore her ravaged asshole. It felt wet and slippery to her examining finger, and very, very tender.
Fran was one very tired, very sore woman. This was one night in her life when she'd gotten a hell of a lot more than she'd bargained for and in a way she'd never have chosen to have it.
"Well, now I know," Gene said, his voice melodious and affectionate.
"Know what," she murmured.
"You not only got the sweetest cunt, you got the sweetest asshole I ever found," he said, half meaning it.
"Uh," she grunted, thinking that that second distinction was one she'd never have prayed for.
Chapter Five
"I don't like the idea of it," Ellen said, feeling quite firm about it. Her feelings weren't going to have any effect on the situation anyway, so she figured she might as well make them known.
"We don't have any choice," Ted said, rather wearily. "I don't think it's such a bad idea; it would even be fun for a while."
"We've only got one bedroom!" Ellen cried. "And where are you going to study while they're here? Don't you think they'll interfere?"
"I told you," Ted said, weary because they'd already been over these particular points three or four times, "I can always study in the library if I have to. They know I have to study; I'm sure they'll be considerate."
"Well, it's still an imposition."
"Having them here will be something of an imposition, sure, but so what? Bob's my best friend-and one of yours, too-hell, if I hadn't been in the picture, you mighta' ended up married to him. You know that."
"Don't be so sure."
"You like him, don't you?"
"Of course I like him."
"Okay, he needs a place to stay for a while. I wouldn't turn him down even if I could."
Ellen was silent for a minute; she knew this to be fact.
"And Vivian's my sister," Ted added as an afterthought. "I couldn't turn her down, either."
"Well, I think I could," Ellen said.
"Why?" Ted demanded. "What's she ever done to you?"
"I find her a little hard to take, sometimes, that's all," she said.
"Why? What are you imagining now?"
"Oh, she's so damn sex-conscious, that's all. Ever since she began growing boobs she hasn't been able to think about anything except showing them off."
"You weren't around when she began growing boobs," Ted snapped, annoyed.
"No, but I was around when she became conscious that she had them-that's what I meant," she said.
"Okay, I'll tell Vivian that her boobs annoy you," Ted said.
"For God's sake don't tell her that," Ellen said. Ellen had developed a tendency to gripe a lot, but she never tried to hurt anybody's feelings.
"You don't have anything to complain about in that department, anyway," Ted said, reaching out casually to twist the end of one of his wife's tits through her dress. Ellen was skinny except for a broad pelvis and very large breasts. In her middle teens she had had to take hormones to get them to stop growing. She had to be careful what she wore lest she look overblown, blousy.
"It's not just her tendency to show off her breasts, anyway," she said. "It's her whole manner-you know, the way she tries to act like a sex kitten all the time."
"Oh hell," Ted said. "It's just a phase she's going through. I imagine all girls go through a phase or something where they have to learn how to act sexy-otherwise, how are they ever going to know how to do it?"
"I'm different than she is, that's all. If I'm around her too much, we seem to get into these personality conflicts. You know that I basically like her; it's just that living in such close quarters we might get on each other's nerves."
"Well, try to keep it low-keyed, as long as we've got to do it," he said. "I'm sure Vivian doesn't feel any animosity towards you."
"Well, I don't feel any towards her."
"Okay, fine," he said, ending the discussion.
Ted kept his eyes open to try to ascertain if his sister Vivian was all that sex-conscious and in the first week she and Bob were there he could find nothing that pointed to that. True, she never wore a brassiere, and when she walked around, her tits wobbled quite a bit, but she wasn't the least bit self-conscious about them.
With the four of them, their quarters were close if not cramped. For a second bed, they hauled a mattress out of the basement and laid it on the floor for Bob and Vivian beside their own bed. Largely because of this, Ellen said "no" every night that first week-too discomforted by the other presences in the room to cut loose and have a go at it-and then, since she was the one with a job and consequently had to get up first in the mornings, she'd fall asleep first. By the end of that week of forced abstinence, Ted felt like the horniest s.o.b. in Christendom, and, needless to say, the most sex-conscious.
Toward the end of the week, Ted lay awake after Ellen had gone to sleep, his mind buzzing as he tried to come up with a sex fantasy that would compare with his wife's flesh. Hearing Ellen's heavy, regular breathing, and most likely figuring that Ted was asleep too, Bob and Vivian would make love. Ted was soon privy to the fact that, far from play-acting or being kittenish, his sister put out like a real trooper.
One night Vivian was somehow aware that Ted was still awake-sensing it from the currents in the room-when Bob reached over and began to fondle her rump. She didn't move for a moment. Her first impulse was to whisper, "Don't, Ted's awake," but she knew that, just above her and not three feet away, he would hear her and that his feelings would be hurt if he took it as an indication that she thought he was trying to be awake and watch them, or something. Her second impulse was to shove Rob's hand away, which she promptly proceeded to do. But the hand came right back, only not to her rump-Bob's thought being that if her secondary sexual paraphernalia weren't quite responsive enough he'd have to attack the problem directly: his hand cupped her buns and his middle finger shot straight to the juncture of her thighs to tickle the pouting lips of her pussy.
When she still failed to respond properly, clamping her thighs tight rather than spreading them, Bob threw the covers back, pried her legs apart and proceeded to eat her pussy.
Vivian was horribly embarrassed, but what could she do? His nose buried in her muff, Bob had a firm bite on her clitoris, so to speak, having captured it between teeth and tongue, holding it against the back of his upper teeth and licking as if to take off a layer of skin. Ted shifted positions up on the bed, and, sure now that his eyes were on then and who could blame him? Vivian broke into a cold sweat. Her brother Ted had always been so critical of her. If you listened to him talk, his little sister couldn't ever do anything right-and if he had always criticized everything she'd done, Vivian thought, what would he think of this?
But jolts were pulsing through her body. His hands on the insides of her thighs, Bob spread her legs to their utmost and plunged his bristly snaking tongue into her seething thermal pudding. Vivian gasped. Her nipples, untouched by hands, stiffened achingly. She began to writhe, holding back her moans until she thought she would burst, and as her brother looked down on her heaving chest and wobbling teats she began to buck her hips, thinking, Hell with him, I'll throw Bob the best fuck possible and if he wants to think something critical, let him... suddenly, Vivian felt that she wanted her brother to admit to himself that even if she couldn't do anything else she could certainly screw. "Fuck me!" she cried, half unconsciously, seizing her lover's hair with both her hands and pulling him up onto her, "Fuck my cunt! Give me all of it! Oh! Oh! Hard! Fuck me hard!"
On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, Ted was in the habit of studying at home since his first class wasn't until two in the afternoon, and on the morning that Bob woke up with a violent toothache (which turned out to be an abscess) and immediately left to go to a dentist, Ted happened to be at home. Vivian grunted in groggy acknowledgement when Bob told her he was going and continued to sleep, since she never got up before ten-thirty or eleven. Ted studied distractedly, sitting at his desk in the living room. Shortly after eleven Vivian called out what time was it? and he told her. Several minutes later she asked for a cup of coffee. She had recently taken to drinking it and liked to wrangle a cup in bed if she could.
"Bob's not here."
"Well, why don't you bring me a cup?"
"And encourage your sloth?" Ted said. "Hah!" However, he wanted a cup himself and decided to take her one just to have the opportunity to point out what a lazy, spoiled brat she was. Which he did, although she failed to appreciate his saying it and told him to get out of the room.
Long after he'd finished his own coffee, Vivian again asked the time.
"It's eleven twenty-five. Why the hell don't you get up?"
"Why should I?"
"It's getting late," he said, as if that was reason enough.
Vivian didn't bother to answer and, getting a bit annoyed now, although only in part seriousness, Ted said, "If you're not out of there in three minutes, I'm going to come get you up."
"My ass," she said coolly.
Now, however much he raged or criticized or just plain bitched, Vivian was not exactly scared of Ted and when he appeared at the door of the room she merely said, "Get out of here." She didn't tense up but lay there in the same languor, flat on her back, her hands folded behind her head, even as he approached. Thus when he pulled the covers from her with one heave, she was caught unawares. Pretending nonchalance, she said, "When you've had an eyeful you can cover me back up."
His lips pursed, Ted stared at his sister's nakedness. He had one goddamn curvaceous sister, he had to admit. Her armpits formed hollows, filled with orange-red fluff which she had decided to let grow, and her breasts, full and womanly, had rolled to the side of her rib cage, pointing out at angles. Her violently colored muff glared at him like the sun, surprisingly fluffed-out as if she'd been lying there running her fingers through it.
"Not bad," he said.
Vivian couldn't tell by the tone in her brother's voice if he was being sarcastic or not. He looked at her with an oddly intent look in his eye, and it began to unnerve her. "Nothing you haven't seen before," she said, bravely, her heart fluttering into her throat. "When you've finished looking at it you can cover it back up."
"No," he said, his pursed lips playing into a devilish grin, "It's time for you to get up, I said." And just as his gaze got to her and Vivian pressed her knees together to hide the moist pink crinkle of her quim from him, Ted grasped one of her ankles with both hands and began to drag her off the mattress. Trying in vain to keep her legs together, Vivian grasped the corner of the mattress with one hand and reached for a pillow with the other. Kicking violently with her free foot, Vivian succeeded finally in making him let go, then she hopped to her feet arid began walloping him with her pillow, using all her might.
Now, what does one do when someone is hitting them with a pillow? When a panting and indignant female, her breasts wobbling in her exertion, tries to jar some of your teeth loose? You fight back. Fighting back, Ted seized one of his sister's pliant breasts in each hand and squeezed for all he was worth as the squirming fury beat him with great whomps on the head and shoulders.
Knocking his hand off her with her right, Vivian swung at him with the pillow which barely grazed the top of his head as the girl continued on around in a circle, leading with the pillow. Ted tripped her as she spun around, maintaining his clutch on her left tit, but failed to see the haymaker of a swing coming from the side It caught him in the head as the off-balance Vivian fell. He fell beside her, half atop her still clutching a poor mauled teat.
They lay side-by-side, panting. He got his breath back a bit before she did and had the presence of mind to tease her young nipple to turgid life before thinking he'd better let go of her.
"You didn't need to bruise my goddamn boobs," she said.
"You deserved it," he said.
"Like hell," she said, trying to elbow him in the balls. She missed and got him in the hip, figuring out just then from the position of his body just what that stiff object was, poking her in the side. Without further ado Vivian reached into her brother's trousers and squeezed his pecker. It was stiff. Vivian had never dreamed that her brother had such a big one, having never seen or felt it before in this state. Actually, it was a fairly average-sized one, which he wielded well.
"I guess I really turn you on, don't I?" she said.
"Naw," he said. "I'm just in a horny mood."
"No," Vivian said, craning her neck to look him in the eye, "I think I turn you on."
So saying, she did a half flip and was facing him, cuddled up in front of him as if in challenge, unzipping his pants to free his blood-swelled cock, handling it gingerly like an injured bird.
Vivian sensed that she had an advantage over her brother, for the first time since she could remember. "Admit it," she demanded. "I saw that look in your eye."
"Of course you turn me on," he said. "You have an absolutely gorgeous body and you know it."
Lying facing him, Vivian had thrown one of her legs over his hip and was idly rubbing the felt-tipped head of his cock up and down her slit, using it as a sort of sponge to spread the moisture around. "If I turn you on," she said. "How come you're always so mean to me?"
"I'm not mean to you," he said, rather too quickly.
"You are," she said, here removing his throbbing glans from her moistened cranny and rubbing the smooth now-slickened tip of it with her thumb. "You're always critical of me."
"I don't mean it," he said, truthfully, on the verge of fainting from what she was doing to his cock, afraid he might cream at any moment.
They were looking each other in the eye, faces flushed, neither of them shifting gaze: it was not a time to be shifty-eyed. He touched her cheek with his fingertips and then moved his hand to her shoulder, squeezing her gently. "I love you, Vivian, I'm quite fond of you-you should know that-older brothers aren't expected to be that demonstrative, that's all. Society doesn't allow it. There are a lot of things society doesn't allow.
"But I'm grown up now," she said. "I have adult feelings. To hell with society, anyway." She grinned suggestively.
"Well, you certainly have all the proper womanly attributes," he said, smiling wanly as he fondled her erect nipple with his thumb, "and they don't look bruised."
"My nipples are very sensitive," she said. "You don't know what that does."
"Mmm, I think I do," he said.
"Ted," she said, narrowing her eyes as if to pierce him, "Would you like to fuck me?"
Even if he hadn't swallowed heavily and looked a bit startled to have her put it to him so bluntly, she knew that he did, knowing it from the sticky driblets of sperm that had seeped from his cock if not from everything else he'd said and done lately. Without waiting an answer to her first question, she asked a second, a glint in her eye, perhaps wanting to maintain whatever upper hand in the matter she still had: "Well, do you think you can do a decent job of it?"
"If you don't jack me off first," he said, grinning.
But even as he spoke, Vivian was lifting her upper leg, which had been resting on his hip, and, her knee pointed at the ceiling, began to center his cock on her steaming pussy. She found the hole and hunched her hips when the pulsing head of his cock was properly pointed, but it snagged on something. She reached down with her other hand to pull a tuft of her hair out of the way, then stretched her hairlips apart with her thumb and forefinger in order to position her brother's cock at her creamy center, when she again hunched her hips, pulling the tip of his swelling cock into her with one hand. With the glans lodged and beginning to stretch her tight slick passage, she let go and began rocking her hips.
Ted began rocking his hips, too, and both bodies became smoothly undulant as his rockhard prong forced its way into his sister's tight goodie. It entered her bit by bit, the two coming together with naturalness and ease, Ted thinking, My God, she's a sensuous woman. With each new and tender prickthrust into her tingling pussy, Vivian murmured, "Mmmmmmm," as she rocked her hips, lying side-by-side with her sibling, her one knee pointed directly up at the ceiling.
When his cock was fully into her, his glans touched her cervix and their pubic mats intertwined: a perfect fit. Vivian began to work the muscle in her cunt that she'd recently learned how to use, making her cuntal folds nibble at her brother's dreamy cock. "Mmmm," she murmured. "You have a dreamy cock."
Ted gave his cock several large twitches, saying, "I don't remember ever dipping it into a nicer honeypot."
Vivian clasped his cock with her vaginal muscle she could use and tugged at him: in unison, they rolled over, Vivian onto her back. She shoved his trousers down over his hips and she began to caress his buttocks, feeling the muscles work as Ted began to grind slowly in and out of her. Her impulse was to ask him to fuck her nice and easy for a while first, but she sensed that he would anyway and so didn't ask. Her legs splayed out, she held his buttocks and ground her pussy slowly up and down on his slowly skewering cock, while he massaged her breasts and nibbled her earlobe, thinking what a sweet puss she has. It occurred to Vivian that Ted had never kissed her on the lips,-and kissed her on the cheek maybe once a year-and she suddenly wanted to be kissed on the lips. A swooning sensation suffused her being. She blinked and licked her lips. "Ted," she whispered, "kiss me.
He kissed her cheek, her brow, and then, his lips slightly parted, he touched her lips. Vivian opened her mouth and gobbled at his tongue, sucking at it and wanting to swallow it just as her twat was sucking at and wanting to swallow his slowly churning pecker. As her mouth became more feverish so did her cunt in her desire to be gagged and filled with Ted at both ends. One of her hands went to the back of Ted's neck as with her other she continued to caress his buttocks. She panted through her nose and rolled her head in circles as she began to buck her hips in fury, wanting it hard now, wanting to be fucked hard. Ted's balls slapped her anus as his thrusts became rapid, and her hips left the bed completely as she tried to grind herself up onto the plunger.
Their kiss ended as both began to gasp for breath. "You're doing a pretty good job so far," Vivian panted, clasping him tightly with her thighs.
"Just 'pretty good'?" he asked, and his feelings would have been hurt if he hadn't been enjoying it so much, and if Vivian's urgently undulant body hadn't told him that she was at the same place he was.
"There's still more," she murmured, and feeling blissfully giddy, added, "The best part's at the end."
From the way she clasped him and the way she had begun to buck at him, her slick twat tightly gripping his churning cock, Ted knew that she was tightly wound, that tension had fully charged her eager young body. He began to slam into his sister's foaming cunt with everything he could muster.
"Yes! Yes!" she gurgled. "Hard! Nice and hard!"
Further urging would have been redundant, for Ted, gasping, pounded her pulsating pussy, ironing out its folds with his ramrod cock. Vivian had been at a dizzy plateau for some time now and Ted drove into her in his aching determination to knock utterly aside whatever vestige of self-control she still had, grunting through his nose as he battered her quaking quim.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Vivian moaned as she neared the breaking point, tense and electrified as the coal of excitement glowed red-hot in her about-to-explode cunt. She squeezed Ted with every muscle she had and felt his piledriving cock give a mighty twitch and then another before his overload of jism boiled over and blasted into her shattering her. "Ahhhh! AHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!" she yelped as she felt herself dissolving into a mindless puddle.
"Aggh ... arrhhggg ... ufff," Ted groaned, collapsing atop her, utterly depleted, yet rosily aglow with the knowledge that his sister had become a finer woman than he'd ever dreamed.
After a few minutes he eased his sorely dwindled pecker out of her gushing twat and rolled off. Vivian picked up a corner of the bedsheet and wiped her brow and then her chest.
"Well, was that decent?" he asked, knowing full well that it had been, but wanting her to admit it.
"It was first-rate!" she said, then, with a devilish grin added, "Of course, I don't have a whole hell of a lot to compare it with."
"Well, I do have a lot to compare yon to," he said. "You'll never be second string to anyone."
Vivian smiled in acknowledgement of the most sincere compliment he'd ever paid her, then reached for some tissues, which she wadded between her legs. "Good lord," she said. "You really dumped a load into me." She lifted herself to see what had happened underneath her, then said, "We'd better change the bedsheets."
There were no clean sheets, so Vivian decided to do a wash in the basement laundry. Ted dressed hurriedly and took off for his two o'clock seminar. When Vivian had ripped off the bedding she saw that there was a big wet spot on the mattress, so she turned it over. The other side looked different to her, a bit more worn, and she hoped Bob wouldn't notice the difference. But Bob came home too knocked out to notice much of anything. His jaw was swollen from having had his abscessed molar removed. He lay down without even noticing Vivian's note telling him where she was, and that if he had any wash she hadn't found to bring it on down.
Chapter Six
There was a change in Ted's treatment of Vivian which she was afraid might arouse someone's curiosity. But while Ted was generally more appreciative of her he was still the same old Ted and no one noticed. Bob moped around for several days with a swollen jaw and a headache and most likely wouldn't have noticed a wart on someone's nose, if they'd had one. And Ellen seemed dour and funky and none too alert. Neither of the mates picked up on Ted's or Vivian's glow.
And they did glow back and forth quite a bit, but privacy was either not to be had or came in small doses and they didn't have another opportunity to make love. Ted had always been one to cop a feel whenever he could and the only way that changed was that the feels he copped were more intimate and lingered longer-if you could call his finger-fucking her when she tried to wash dishes copping a feel.
One evening they were both in the living room when Ellen went into the bathroom to wash her hair and Bob was lying on the mattress in the bedroom. Sitting behind his desk as he studied, Ted looked up and eyed his sister for a few minutes, then scribbled out a sign which he held up for her to see, waving it in the air until he caught her attention.
"SHOW ME YOUR PUSSY" Vivian read, squinting.
She grimaced and shook her head and continued to read her magazine, but Ted waved his sign emphatically and finally she pulled up her skirt and spread her legs, letting them fall apart as she sat slouched on the divan. Then, looking at him for a reaction, she pulled her panties aside to exhibit her flame-colored muff. Then she went back to her magazine.
"More," Ted said aloud.
Vivian shushed him and got up to look into the bedroom. Bob appeared to be sleeping. Vivian shut the door and walked over to her brother. Before he could make a grab for her, she said, "Wait a minute. We have to talk about this."
"Why? You don't feel guilty or anything, do you?"
"Don't be silly. I don't think we ever had as much fun together as children," she said, wryly.
"Then what's there to talk about?"
"It can't go on."
"Then you must have some second thoughts."
"No, no. I mean it can't go on like this!"
"Oh. You mean no privacy."
"Yeah," she said, "that and deceiving every body-"
"Well, he said, we can't exactly announce it to the world, now, can we?"
"Would it make you less uncomfortable if Bob and Ellen made it together?"
"Yes," she said, frowning, as if that idea hadn't occurred to her.
"Maybe we can do something about it," he said. "I've been thinking about this, too."
"Would they go for it?"
"They might," he said, "if they're given the right circumstances."
"We could have orgies," she said, stating the obvious.
"I don't know if a foursome is an orgy," he said, "but you've got the idea. In the meantime, take off your panties and come a bit closer."
"No," she said, frowning. "It makes me nervous with both of them in the house."
"Bob wouldn't notice if we did it under his nose-he's been out of it lately-and Ellen won't be out of the bathroom for another fifteen minutes," he said, unzipping his fly and hauling out his swollen blue-veined stiff-standing cock.
Frowning, fingering the waistband of her panties, Vivian hesitated, but Ted flexed his cock a few times and its ruby head seemed to Vivian to grow before her eyes and that convinced her, convinced her to take off her underpants if she didn't know quite what else.
Ted positioned her with her butt on the desk in front of him and then bent forward in his seat, spreading her snatch with his thumbs. Ringed with her red fluff, Vivian's pussy glistened wetly: she was already juiced up. Ted abruptly bent forward and burrowed his tongue into her oozing vagina. She had a nice, womanly musk. He mouthed her until she moaned, "Ohhh!"
Tugging on her hips, he slid her ass off the desk and pulled her forward, slouching down in his chair when she was poised over him. Vivian reached between her legs to seize his thrusting prong, her thigh tendons standing out as she half squatted over him. She centered the shaft and stuffed the head of it into her tingling cranny, whereupon he flexed it firmly, lodging it just inside her and bringing a startled gasp to her lips. She hesitated for a moment as Ted squeezed her buttocks and then as her legs were beginning to weaken she dropped her full weight onto it, spearing herself to the core with one lunge.
Ted held her steady as she shuddered for a moment and then, using his grip on her buttocks as a lever, he began to rock her gently back and forth. Her spirits rising, Vivian began to bounce up and down, impaling herself on the upthrust organ.
"You have such an angelic look on your face when you're fucking me," she said. "It's the only time I've ever seen you that way."
"I'm fucking an angel," he said, blissfully.
Noting that his eyes focused on her bouncing breasts and suddenly aware that her nipples stood out painfully erect, Vivian pulled her sweater out of her skirt-waist and, holding it up with her chin, began feeding her tits into his mouth. Ted gobbled voraciously, plying her ass as he churned her rapidly lathering pussy to butter with his staff.
Simultaneously, both froze, holding their breath: the bathroom door had banged open. A look of total panic swept across Ted's face and his cock began to twitch uncontrollably, ejaculating prematurely.
"Ted!" Ellen yelled shrilly. "Would you come in here for a minute!"
With a split-second realization that they weren't going to be walked in on, Vivian dropped her full weight into her brother's lap, grinding fiercely against him as he erupted. His face turned beet red in his effort to hold back his groans as Vivian's slick rubbery cunt tightened incredibly on his enspasmed manhood.
When, after no more than a long thirty seconds, his cock stopped twitching Vivian hopped off as Ted hastily pulled himself together, buttoning up on the run.
"Ted!"
"Never again," Vivian whispered harshly as he took off, her face grim and her entire body tense with frustration. "Never like this again."
"Ted," Ellen said, somewhat more softly when he stepped into the bathroom, "would you mind bringing me a clean towel for my hair?"
They succeeded in making it together again a mere two days later and were able to go about it somewhat more calmly, even though having sex was not their purpose in driving, just the two of them, up to Tiburon to see their mother. But she wasn't home and there was no sign of her, so to what better use could they put an hour in the late afternoon?
The two of them had announced that they thought they should venture up to see how their mother was faring, adding that due to the situation it might be better if they went alone. Since both Ellen and Bob were concerned about Fran if not worried about her, they saw their point-family business and all that, although they didn't suspect that the only "business" conducted would be entirely between Ted and Vivian, naked together on a mattress.
"Ellen hasn't been anywhere except work all week," Ted said, suggesting to Bob, "Why don't you take her out somewhere this afternoon?"
He had gone out of his way the day before to get some hashish, and had then gone home with it, pretending to have come by it by fluke. The hash was in the hashbox on the coffee table, and he'd made sure Bob knew about it, that it was there and that he was welcome to try it any time. Ted figured the hash might intensify their mood, whatever their mood, and when left together at three in the afternoon their mood was pleasantly expectant. Ellen had begun to think aloud about what kind of treat to have for dinner, and Bob had said he felt like taking a drive, and why not swing over to the coast for an hour or so.
"Do you think this will accomplish anything?" Vivian asked, once they were in the car.
"It won't exactly get them to bed together," Ted said. "That would be just a bit too dramatic."
"What'll it do?"
"They've always been fond of each other. If I hadn't gotten Ellen I think Bob might have-we both met her at the same time and I happened to grab her first and hardest, that's all. Anyway, I think that in the backs of their minds maybe they've wondered how they would have been together?"
"So why won't they hit the hay?"
"Bob wouldn't do that to me," Ted said, "not without giving me advance warning."
"Oh."
"What I hope'll happen is just that being alone together for awhile they'll be thinking about each other. It's setting them up, and then we can come back and give them a nudge in the direction we want them to go."
"You're awfully conniving," she said.
"Aren't we all?"
The best-laid plans of mice and men ...
Ted's hope-and he spent most of the day actively imagining it-was that they would return to find Bob and Ellen reminiscing, perhaps sharing fond memories, at least that they would be in a good mood. Instead, the moment they stepped in the door, Ted sensed that the two of them had had some kind of fight. Ellen was in the kitchen doing dishes, looking more sullen than usual, and Bob was in the living room about to light up a pipe of hash all by himself.
"How was your mother?" Ellen asked.
"She wasn't there," he said.
"We waited around thinking she might come back," Vivian offered, "but she didn't show."
"Well, that's too bad," Ellen said. "An all-around wasted day."
"Why say that?"
She grimaced and turned back to her dishes.
Bob had lit up the pipe and taken a drag on it. Vivian toked and gave it to Ted who carried it into the kitchen and, after rubbing her ass for a moment, convinced Ellen to have some. Her hands in the dishwater, she turned her head and puffed while Ted held the pipe and match, the small chunk of hash glowing coal-like when the flame touched it.
No one seemed to have anything to say. Each had a slight buzz from the dope, but buzzed in his own head. When his wife finished the dishes and walked on through the living room to the bedroom, Ted followed her.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Are you mad at Bob or something?"
"Ah," she shrugged. "He pissed me off."
"Why? What'd he do?"
"Told me I was getting fat and complacent."
"Why'd he say that?"
"I don't know."
"Well, I'm sure he didn't just say it out of the blue."
"Oh, we were talking. I can't remember. Then he told me I'd turned into a sullen bitch."
"Oh."
"Do you think I'm a sullen bitch?" she asked, her voice menacing.
"Well, you're moody quite a bit," he said.
"Since they got here? Or all the time?"
"Mainly since they got here."
"Uhm," she said, musing. "Well, I'm sorry about it."
"Don't worry.
"I think it's because I'm horny," she said. "We haven't done it in two weeks almost, and I ache."
"It's not my fault," he said.
"We haven't had any privacy."
"Let's find some."
"Let's kick them out of here tonight," she said, "into the living room. I want to screw."
"That sounds like a good idea," Ted said, amenable to the last part of it, anyway.
Taking in his smile, she raised her eyebrows quizzically, then said, "Now?"
He nodded and she arose to take off her clothes, unzipping her dress and then stepping out of it. When she'd hung it on a hanger, she removed her underthings, pulling her slip off over her head, unfastening her brassiere, then leaning forward slightly to ease her breasts out of the cups. Her breasts were pendulous and predictably sagged, but they were surprisingly firm. The size of cantaloupes, they jutted proudly from her skinny torso. She inevitably had bra-marks on her shoulders, which she paused to scratch for a moment before stepping out of her panties and donning her terrycloth robe. She lay down on the bed beside Ted and touched her hand lightly to his chest.
"That thing with Bob bothers me-I want to get it straightened out," he said. "Bob! Come in here, would you?"
Bob soon poked his head in, looked them over and said, "What can I do ya for?"
"Come in here. We want to talk to you."
Bob came in as bade and then sat on the edge of the bed when bade. "Now what's all this petty squabbling you guys have been doing today?"
"Well, I don't guess it was one of our better days."
"Why'd you tell her she was fat?"
"Well crap!" Bob said. "She told me I was going to be a lazy bum all my life if I kept it up. From that I could only infer that she thought I was a lazy bum now. What would you have done?"
"I would have told her she was getting fat, I guess."
Bob smiled, half gloating.
"I'm not fat," Ellen said emphatically.
Vivian stuck her head in the door and Ted held up five fingers, meaning give them five minutes, and she ducked back out.
"I want you to kiss and make up," Ted said.
Ellen snorted and Bob pursed his lips, dubious about it.
"I'm serious," Ted said.
"If that's the answer," Bob said, falling back on his elbow and dipping his head to peck Ellen. If she puckered her lips it was not discernible to Ted.
"That was a bullshit kiss," Ted said. "Come on, I'm serious. We have to get rid of our hostilities. If you won't kiss each other like you mean it, let's all three hug."
Ted pulled Bob closer and after some hesitation Ellen put an arm around both of them. All three squeezed. "There, isn't that better?" Ted said, his voice jocular.
"I'm not fat!" Ellen said.
Ted saw his opening and seized it. "She really isn't fat," he said, pulling the belt of her bathrobe, "She has a very firm tummy."
Ellen squirmed, wanting to stop him whatever he was doing, but her arms were around each of their necks and there was not much she could do besides squirm.
"Here," Ted said, guiding Bob's hand into her bathrobe and onto her tummy, holding it there. Ellen tensed her muscles and Bob gave her a massaging pinch. "Yup," he said. "Not an ounce of fat."
Bob began to withdraw his hand, but Ted held onto it and quickly slid it up onto Ellen's breast and began squeezing both Bob's hand and his wife's rubbery teat, saying, "Now this is fat, but it's not what you refer to when you talk about a woman's being fat. When you talk about this, it's known as 'built.'"
"I know," Bob said.
With the initial contact he had glanced at Ellen in surprise, as if the last thing in the world he'd expected to be doing was touching her breast, but he didn't need much encouragement before he began to massage it of his own accord. Ted opened the front of her robe completely.
"Stop it!" Ellen hissed.
Basically a gentleman and not knowing what the hell was coming off, Bob stopped. But Ted said, "Don't you dare stop." Ellen had begun wiggling to free her arms and cover her nakedness. "If she wouldn't give you a kiss," Ted said, "the only thing we can do is suck her tits."
"I don't know..." Bob said.
"Bullshit!" Ellen yelled.
Ellen had succeeded in half sitting up now, but her husband caught both her wrists and pointed one in Bob's direction, saying, "I need your help. She gets sullen and bitchy and has these fits, and the only thing that calms her down is playing with her tits a little."
"She's been sullen, has she?"
"Don't you dare!" Ellen yelled.
"Now," Ted said. "Since you moved in, I haven't been able to get near her to play with her tits and calm her down. As my houseguest the least you can do is help me, man to man." He lowered his head and began to suckle at his wife's nipple, a large rosebud with a puckered areola.
"Bullshit!" Ellen cried, wiggling like mad to get free. But Bob had taken her other wrist and held it firmly. He had a steely glint in his eye.
"Well, if it's the only way to keep her from being sullen," he said, looking her square in the face before lowering his head to play Romulous to Ted's Remus. Each of them mouthed one of her tits, massaging it with his free hand while Ellen writhed.
Ellen's frantic squirming merely served to mash her breasts into the faces of the avidly sucking men. She tried kicking with her knees, but her husband captured and held her legs between his. When Ted moved his hand to her tight black nest she rubbed her knees together and thrashed her hips, but all to no avail: her legs were so wide-spaced at her pelvis that it was never difficult to explore the base of her belly. Ted's hand soon played havoc with the peeping bud of her clitoris.
Where Ellen had been confused she was now dizzy. She had been embarrassed and outraged, but the all-out assault on her nerve endings was affecting her mind. Catching Ted's eye, she frowned, her eyes half glazed. She had an air of pathos about her and her husband said, "You need this. Relax and enjoy it." Her mind reeled as, whether she willed it or not, her body's sex mechanism wound up like a spring. Her writhing to avoid her persecutors became in subtle degrees an undulant rolling with the tide of sensation.
"You've probably never had a good look at her pussy," Ted said.
Bob drew back and frowned a minute, "I don't recall ever having had any kind of look at her pussy," he said.
"A bit overdue, don't you think?"
"I guess it is."
Ellen spread her legs when told to but didn't spread them quite far enough, and each of the boys took hold of one and doubled it back against her chest, quartering her and tearing her at her seam, revealing the gleaming ragged edges of her pink slit, tight black curls on either side of it and, nude of hair, the tight pucker of her anus in her buttock's soft furrow.
"A nice little twat," Ted said.
"A delicate little yummy," Bob said.
"Rugged, though," Ted said.
"Smells like cinnamon," Bob said, sniffing.
"Why don't you taste it?" Ted suggested.
Bob lapped at Ellen's cuntmouth for a moment, his tongue licking doglike from one end of her gash to the other before he drew back, going, "Hmmmm." Acutely embarrassed, Ellen could have sworn she was blushing down there. The casual way they were talking about her most intimate parts seemed quite coarse.
"It's usually a bit stiff when you first put it to her," an aghast Ellen heard her husband describe her, "but you jostle her for awhile and ream her out good and then she starts purring like a kitten, juices up real nice ..." Embarrassed as she was, Ellen felt her pussy begin to tingle at the way it was being discussed. "... and then you take it easy with her for a while, and then, when she begins to go off, if you fuck her like a pile driver you can usually get her to come again-if you last long enough she can come several times."
"Multiple orgasms."
"Yep."
"You never told me, you dog," Bob grinned.
"Well, this is your opportunity to find out for yourself."
More than an open invitation, Ted's seemingly offhand hospitableness was almost a command; he kissed his wife on the lips while Bob raced to undo his pants. Ellen's legs had flopped back to the mattress but she kept them spread as if in acquiescence. Ellen hadn't gotten a look at Bob's massive cock, several sizes larger than her husband's, and as Ted probed her mouth with his tongue, knowing what kind of surprise was in store for her he kept an eye open to watch the mirror of her face.
Bob had peeled back his foreskin and was centering his raw-looking knob on his friend's wife's vagina, slicking it up in her slit before wedging it in, mercilessly stretching her delicate labia....
Ted saw his wife's eyes pop open in surprise and kept his mouth clamped on hers as, unable to gasp, she whinnied through flaring nostrils when Bob, grasping her hips to hold her down, slowly pushed his bludgeon into her gushing delicacy. Her self-protective instincts coming to the fore, wanting to avoid being cruelly split in two, Ellen pushed against Bob's abdomen with her hand, but with his next grunting lunge her hand slipped to his groin. Her fingers encircled the base of his shaft as best they could, and the moment she perceived its true girth Ted saw terror in her eyes and she turned her head to the side to bark, "No! No!" and began to try to wiggle away, flailing with her arms. But with her husband laying across her chest and Bob holding her hips, she was well-enough pinned so they could work their will with her. By the time her body became soaked with perspiration, which might have helped her, she was virtually stiff with grim fright.
"Aggh! You'll kill me!" she cried, her body going rigid as Bob gave an insistent lunge, entering her to the hilt with a smack-her mouth went open as if to scream, but at that moment Ted, grinning impishly, began kissing her again. Christ, Bob thought, she was a stiff cunt. Only one thing to do ... he banged into her with several quick sharp thrusts, jarring her so that she bit Ted's tongue.
Ted bit back; he quickly suctioned his wife's lower lip between his teeth and bit sharply enough to make her focus her glazed eyes on him, looking for a moment as if she would cry. Ted was getting a charge out of this. While he and Ellen had sex frequently, it had recently come to have a sameness about it. Ellen seemed to think there was nothing new they could try and sometimes seemed to perform rather automatically. Well, this was just what she needed to jolt her up a little.
Ellen's benumbed twat was beginning to tingle-like having your foot wake up after going to sleep-and she began to find Bob's steady lunges into her stretched vagina half pleasurable. She shut her eyes to concentrate on the massive cock which slowly churned her pussy to a lather, and when she opened them again her husband was pressing his own erect pecker to her lips. She opened her mouth to accept it and as she began to suck, rubbing its underside briskly with her tongue, she suddenly felt tremendously excited. Cock, she thought. Wasn't that what it was all about, in a way? Here she had two of them plugging her at both ends. She sucked with vigor and began, tentatively, to rotate her hips.
"Don't you like two cocks at once?" Ted asked.
Unable to speak with her husband's cock plugging the back of her throat, Ellen nodded her head even as she continued to work her jaws, cheeks forming hollows, a wisp of hair plastered to her damp brow.
Vivian, her temporary banishment over, had reentered the room and stood viewing the scene with mixed emotions. It was the first time she had ever objectively witnessed anyone screwing and she was a bit taken aback by the sheer animality of the act: that was what it looked like? even when she did it? She was also somewhat-irrationally, she knew-jealous, thinking that Bob might like Ellen better than he liked her. Ellen's boobs were bigger; maybe Bob had a secret fascination with giant tits. She watched his taut buttocks move up and down as he lunged in and out of Ellen's clasping cunt. Ted withdrew his cock from his wife's mouth and lay on his back, holding a hand out to Vivian in invitation, his prick thrusting rigidly, covered with saliva and shining.
"Fuck me! Oh yes! Fuck me!" Ellen cried, finding her voice as she hooked her heels onto the small of Bob's back and strained to grind her pulsing cunt up at the plowing shaft.
"I never ... knew you were... such a great screw," Bob grunted into Ellen's ear between pants.
"Fuck... fuck ..." Ellen gibbered, hoarse-voiced.
Vivian wasn't really excited-that is, her excitement was not immediate-the unaccustomed sight of animal lust put her in a frame of mind philosophical rather than carnal, but she was turned on in an abstract sort of way: her body wasn't primed for the act, but sure, she wanted to do it. Her brother waved his slick wand at her and without undressing she climbed onto the bed, straddled him, grasping his stiff cock with one hand while with her other she deftly pulled her panties aside (with her two small fingers) and pulled her pussy lips apart (with her two big fingers, forming a "V"). Without hesitation, with only a determined grunt, she sat down full on her brother's saliva-slick pecker, taking it into her to the hilt with the one lunge.
Ted's spine twitched and he saw stars. His sister's cunt was dry and unready for the act; every ridge, every fissure in that hole scraped roughly over his sensitized glans. He thought he would faint from pained pleasure; then, when she began to move around, twisting his poor cock in her vise, he thought he would come at once and grabbed her hips with both hands to slow her down.
Vivian looked at her brother's drawn features and realized she'd better slow down. She rocked gently back and forth as she felt her pussy begin to emit fluid. Curious, watching the now furiously copulating couple, she reached out to touch Ellen's breast-tentatively at first, then squeezing it and rolling the puckered nipple, thinking, Mine are softer and maybe nicer, as Ellen grasped Bob's buttocks with both hands as he wrenched into her creaming twat, burbling, "Yes! Yes! Oh, that's it. Ahhh! Ahhiii! Oh, more! Harder!"
Bob plowed on, driving into her with thundering fury as her moans became more ecstatic. Ted had worked his hands into his sister's stretched panties and clutched her buttocks, gripping her tightly as he moved her hips back and forth, working her tight channel around on his cock. Since he now demanded more of her in the way of performance, Vivian began rotating her hips, gliding off and on her brother's thrusting cock. Suddenly, as if by delayed reaction, everything catching up with her at once, she was terribly excited. She kissed Ted's cheeks and said, "I love having your cock inside me-it's such a nice thing for us to do together-I love you."
"Ohhhh... Ohhhhh! ..." Ellen moaned, her body tensing again as Bob belabored her cunt with mercilessly rapid thrusts, his toes curling as sperm began to bubble in his balls and then boil over. When the first hot blast seared into Ellen's quim she squealed, "Aiiiieeeeee!" and shuddered from head to toe as her own second orgasm overtook her. "Argh! Arrggghhhh!" Bob panted as Ellen ground her pulsating pussy onto his enspasmed pecker.
His feet planted on the bed for leverage, Ted drove up into his sister's pussy, holding her steady by the hips as he lunged, lunged.... Vivian held her breath for a moment and then felt a solitary muscle begin to twitch almost involuntarily, when she clamped tightly onto her brother and rode him bravely as he bucked at her, tearing into her as he began to groan and twitch, jets of sperm hitting her cervix as he panted, "Uh, uh, uh," with each spasm. A tide of well-being washed over Vivian as the deep paroxysm of shuddering overtook her own body and she mewled quietly in the back of her throat, head on her brother's shoulder. When she caught her breath, she opened her eyes to find Ellen staring at her, frowning critically as if she didn't think Vivian had performed very well. Vivian was momentarily disconcerted, then thought, Hell with her, let her think anything she wants. She didn't give it another thought for a day, and remembered it only fleetingly when Ellen and Ted made love the next night, when Ellen rode him like an epileptic, shaking her tits all over the place and wiggling like a gaffed fish as if to say, "See, this is how it should be done."
The idea of getting into a sexual competition with Ellen bored Vivian and she tried to forget it, hoping that maybe Ellen would just let it drop.
Chapter Seven
It was a funny turn of events, Ted was thinking as he walked down the pier to his mother's, everything that had happened recently seemed so unusual, extraordinary even. What was funny was how you went along for a long time, for years sometimes, with nothing happening, and then everything seemed to start happening at once. All of it surprised him, deep down. First, his mother's taking a lover; second, the fact that he was black, third, his mother's kicking Vivian out in order to be alone with him; fourth, his own new feeling for his sister, and the ease with which the four of them had begun to make it together. He didn't know how many more turns of events he could absorb, and hoped things slowed down for awhile, that they could maintain the status quo. The only cloud in their sky was being estranged from their mother, and he was intending to do what he could to remedy that right now.
There was no answer when he knocked on the door, which was odd since he thought he'd heard hi-fi music from the side of the house, so he let himself in with thoughts of waiting for awhile or leaving a note. The moment he shut the door behind him he realized that the stereo was indeed on, and the music seemed to be coming from the direction of his mother's bedroom. As he was about to knock on the door, he heard voices from within, and a certain unfamiliar tenor in his mother's caused him to stop and listen.
"No, don't do that, not that way," she was saying. "Please don't." Ted recognized fear in her voice.
"Kneel down here," a gruff male voice was saying.
"Not the belt! Not tonight!"
"Shut up and bend over."
"No! No! No!" she was pleading, but Ted heard a sharp thwack, followed by another. "Ah! Ah! Ouch! Ow-ouch!" she wailed, but there was a steady thwack, thwack audible above or between squeals as leather bit flesh. Trembling, not believing his ears, Ted opened the door a crack and peeked in.
The sight took the breath from him. There his mother was, ass in the air as she knelt on the edge of the bed, grotesquely bound hand and foot, a panting Gene flailing away at her helpless hindquarters which quivered, crisscrossed as they were with red lashmarks. Between her wide-spaced thighs he saw her furry blond embrasure, its red eye blinking at him as she writhed.
The sight seared itself into Ted's brain; it was a sight he saw clearly for one split second before his sight blurred. His first impulse was to strangle Gene, but a voice told him that, furious as he was, he might not succeed. Strangulation was not a sure thing. Stab him, the voice said, cut his throat! Thinking clearly now, teeth gritted with a certain perverse pleasure at how clearly he was thinking, he thought of the old hunting knife he kept beneath the seat of his car. With that knife he would cut Gene's throat, then cut off his balls. Thinking, Yes! Yes! he shut the door as quietly as possible and stole out of the houseboat.
When he stepped onto the dock the waft of sea breeze made him realize that his shirt was soaked with sweat. He realized that his face was twisted maniacally, and that anyone seeing him would know he was hellbent on murder. He straightened up, forced himself to compose his features, then walked down the dock to his car, stepping at a quick pace, proud of himself for thinking so clearly, knowing that if he kept his wits, this was something he could carry off.
But was he that clearheaded? There were knives in the kitchen, knives that were both bigger and sharper than his old hunting knife, but he had thought, Kill him, and at the same time had thought of his hunting knife, and so had gone to fetch it. For that matter, if the welts rising on his mother's buttocks and the red eye of her pussy hadn't so unnerved him, if he had been able to survey the scene a bit more casually, more objectively, he may have seen that she was not tied, that bonds did not twist her body into that position, that when all was said and done she knelt like that of her own volition.
A steely-nerved Ted stepped calmly from the dock and through the door as he re-entered the houseboat, opening and closing the front door without a sound. He then unsheathed the knife and, holding it tightly in his fist, face set in grim determination, crept to the door of the bedroom. He took several deep breaths and put his hand on the doorknob: it was not a crime which he was about to commit; he was about to commit justice. Just then, his mother screamed, an entirely new tone in her voice.
"Yes! Yes! Fuck me!" she screamed, her voice containing the quintessential quality of en-flamed lust. "Fuck me in the ass! Oh! Oh! Yes, lover! Stick that great big prick into my asshole! Ohhh yes! That feels sooo-ooe good! Fuck my ass! Fuck my ass! Oh! Oh-uhh fuck!" His mother's voice trailed off into a meaningless incoherent jibber.
A weak-kneed Ted clutched the doorknob for support, almost stabbing himself as he lurched shoulder-first into the doorjamb. The lust so naked in his mother's voice ripped the determination from him. His jaw opened and closed as if he were trying to ask, voiceless, "What's going on here?" For a second time in ten minutes he couldn't believe his ears. With slippery palm he managed to crack the door to view the most depraved sight he'd ever seen.
His mother lay face down in the middle of the bed, a pillow doubled beneath her to lift her posterior into the air, while Gene hovered over her, pumping furiously in and out her anus, his ball's slapping her pussy with each thrust. His mother's face was to him and he observed that her features were contorted into the most frenzied expression he'd ever seen. Her eyes were tightly closed, her nostrils flared, and her lips were drawn tightly back from her teeth. She moaned and reached between her legs with both hands to clasp Gene's balls, then proceeded to rub his scrotum on her pussy, gibbering, Yass, yass ...
He could kill both of them, he knew that. He bit his tongue and realized that he couldn't kill anyone, that any second now he was going to choke on either tears or vomit.
"Oh! OH! OH!" His mother's voice rose shrilly and her body began to convulse, on the verge of orgasm. Ted shut the door and fled. He ran across the living room and out the front door. His mother's climactic squeals chased him out of her house and up the dock. He started his car and sprayed gravel in the parking lot as he sped away, his mother's depraved ghostly wail-aiiieeeeee-following him onto the freeway as he headed north. He cut over to the coast and drove blindly up it, the squeal of his tires on mountain curves failing to help him forget that depraved pig-stuck wail, the wind whistling about the car through the night only to remind him: Aiiiieeeeee!!
Ellen hung up the phone and sighed, then began playing with her earlobe. Vivian frowned questioningly but didn't speak. After a minute Ellen said, "Well, Fran hasn't seen him. She said she's been half expecting him for the last hour or so."
"He should have been there a couple of hours ago!" Vivian said.
"Yeah. Well, anyway, Fran said she's been there all day and he hasn't called and hasn't come by." Ellen sighed again.
"Well maybe he got a flat tire or ran out of gas or something," Vivian said, helpfully.
"I don't know," Ellen said.
Neither of them knew, and both of them knew it was best not to fret about it. Nevertheless, the possibility that something might have happened to Ted entered their minds. The remainder of the evening-there wasn't much of it left, although it seemed like a long time-passed quietly. Bob came home and, informed of the situation, tried to make light of it:
"Hell, if I know Ted he's probably stopped in San Francisco to see one of his old girlfriends."
"They're all married and have kids," Vivian said.
"Well, he probably picked up a ravishing hitchhiker-female-and is spending the night in a motel with her."
"Can't afford it," Ellen said.
"Okay, they're either at her place or they ran off to Mexico. Anyway, I'm sure old Ted-babes is okay, so let's all calm down."
Ellen did not appreciate Bob's jocularity; in fact, although she didn't get mad at him, she resented his effort to make light of something so potentially serious. She brooded in silence until one a.m. when she again called Fran, waking her only to have the same conversation they'd had hours earlier. She sat there for a moment afterwards while her face grew grimmer and grimmer, fiddling with the fringe on her shawl. "Crap!" she said. "Something's happened to him! I know it!"
"Now, now," said Bob, who'd been leaning against the doorjamb watching her since she'd hung up the phone and wondering what she was going to do. "Nothing's happened to him. You don't know quite where he is-that's all."
"No!" she cried. "I feel it. I know something's happened."
"Well, if that's what you want to believe," he said.
"He's never done this before," she said heatedly, "I know that if he was able to get to a phone, he'd call me. And if he can't get to a phone, something must have happened."
"That's not very good reasoning," he said.
"It's the way he's always been."
"Don't you think you're going to feel a bit silly when he pops up safe and sound?" he asked, annoyed at her for refusing to be comforted.
"No, I'll be relieved," she said.
"You will be relieved," he said with emphasis, smiling somewhat sardonically.
"Yes!" she roared.
"Well, if you're so sure you're going to be relieved in the near future, why let yourself get so goddamn upset now?" he said.
Her lips trembling, livid with outrage, Ellen managed to mutter, "You smart ass."
And then when Bob just sat there smiling at her, she screamed, "Fuck off!"
As Bob left the room he muttered, "Hysterical bitch," shaking his head, as he passed Vivian, who was coming into the living room to see what the ruckus was about.
When a puzzled Vivian sat down on the sofa beside Ellen, she didn't quite know what to say. Ellen was so visibly shaken that Vivian put her arm around her, feeling motherly.
"Dumb shit," Ellen began muttering, "he can really be a dumb shit sometimes."
"I'm sure he didn't mean anything," Vivian said, not at all sure.
"It doesn't matter," Ellen said. "I'm wo-wor-ried about Ted."
"Oh," said Vivian, who had heard part of the phone call. "Has something happened to him?"
"I'm afraid it has," Ellen sobbed. "Why else would he ... it's not like him not to call."
As the immensity of her fears descended full weight on her, Ellen began sobbing helplessly. Her arm around the quaking girl's shoulders, Vivian tried to comfort her. She hugged her and picked up the corner of her shawl to wipe the tears from her eyes. There was not much more to be done for her. When she had cried herself out, Vivian walked her into the bedroom and helped her into bed.
"Can you go to sleep?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"You'd best try," Vivian said. While obviously shaken, her sister-in-law did not look particularly sleepy. Still needed, Vivian crawled into bed beside her and, concerned, lay awake for a long time, listening to Bob on the mattress on the floor beside them, his breathing slowing and then becoming quite heavy.
Vivian rose to her elbow and peered closely into Ellen's face. The eyes stared back, sad dark pools, then blinked and looked away.
"You ought to sleep."
"I can't."
"It won't do any good to stay up. He'll be home in the morning."
"I can't help it. You don't have to stay awake with me," Ellen said, chuckling one long chuckle because it was a ludicrous thought.
"I'm worried about you."
"I'm worried about Ted."
"So am I."
"What can we do?" she asked, those big sad eyes blinking again.
"I don't know," Vivian said, and she really didn't, either. She reached over to brush the hair, damp to the touch, from Ellen's face, their eyes searching in each other's face shared concern. And then, without knowing her own true motives, perhaps only expressing sympathy, Vivian bent to kiss the distraught Ellen. Their lips met, then met again, Vivian's parting slightly as her tongue darted out. She found the underside of Ellen's tongue warmly sweet, a surprise. Maybe Vivian was curious without quite knowing it about Ellen's intimate responses, or maybe she was acting subconsciously with the assured knowledge that there was a time-honored if indirect way for a young lady to approach sleep even if it was something one usually did to one's self; at any rate, as her hand slid up Ellen's leg she was in no sense preying on the wrought-up, emotionally tense woman.
Without further ado, with more tenderness than she would have used on herself, Vivian's long slender fingers parted the soft moist crevice between Ellen's legs, parted it so gently, spreading it apart. One sharp fingernail touched the bud of Ellen's clitoris to bring it immediately erect, stroking it with care. All was still for a breathless instant before Vivian asked, "Do you like that?"
Vivian's movements had been so sure, so deft, and had so taken Ellen by surprise that she gave a straightforward response: "Yes," she whispered, automatically, without thinking ahead to what "yes" might mean.
"Lift up," Vivian said, and without thinking about it, Ellen raised her hips for the few seconds it took Vivian to slide her nightgown up past her hips. With a tug, Vivian pulled the other girl's gown on up in front, depositing it beneath her chin. Vivian surveyed the naked white body beside her, eyes drinking the creamy smooth skin covering a body thin save for those heavy twin mounds, rolling to the sides of the ribcage, and Vivian rubbed her knees together as she felt her pussy begin to secrete the first anticipatory juices of lust. Thus it was with some unaccustomed personal confusion that she began to caress the other girl, watching the nipples rise under her tender ministrations, growing firm and pouty, and she brushed her hand across first one nipple then the other, stroking, stroking shoulders and sides and breasts, stroking rigid nipples and then sliding her hands across the flat belly and to the velvet on the in-sides of the thighs. Her hand found Ellen's delicate pussy lips again, found them slicker, and she began to rub her finger rhythmically up and down the hot moist slit as she lowered her head to affix her lips to a pouting nipple, her hand circling and plying the softness of the breast.
Their movements were on the surface slow and dreamlike, as if entranced they proceeded ... Ellen had begun to rock her hips slowly up and down on the mildly crazed finger working in her now-pulsing slit, while Vivian's lips nibbled an erratic path from tit to tummy to tit, then pausing as tongue probed belly-button only to have her nostrils enticed by the musk rising from Ellen's fevered slit. She moved between the wide-spread legs and tongue replaced finger in the pulsing slit, tongue outstretched and head bobbing slowly as Ellen continued to rock her hips, moaning silently.
Vivian clamped her mouth onto the seething little Etna, sucking the labia between her lips as her tongue played havoc with the clitoris. A sharp throb of raw wild lust shot through Ellen. Both hands went to Vivian's head, holding either side of it, holding that hot sucking mouth firmly on her quim as her spine went absolutely stiff, pulses shooting through her, rippling like a tide from the twitching point of her clitoris caught in a firm bite, and her breath came in grunts as she went, "Uh-uh-uh ..." until she collapsed.
Vivian held her sister-in-law's sex in her mouth until the twitching stopped, and then drew dazedly back from it, staring at its glistening wetness closely, as if in surprise, for a long minute before she wiped the slick goop from her chin with her hand and rose to lie beside the recently spent girl. Vivian realized that she was hot as hell, that her nipples had erected achingly and her pussy tingled to beat the band, its juice having overflowed onto her thighs.
She lifted her own nightgown and picked up Ellen's hand to pull it to her cunt. Ellen took a tentative feel, pressing the wet puffy lips with three fingertips before withdrawing her hand, saying, "Uh-uh."
"I just don't have any lesbian tendencies, that's all."
"I don't either," Vivian said. "I mean, I wasn't thinking of it like that-I was just being human."
"You're sex-obsessed."
"Huh?"
"Sex-obsessed. All of you are sex-obsessed."
"You get plenty juiced-up."
"I'm not a Lesbian, though."
"I'm not a Lesbian, either."
"I can't force myself to act like one, though."
"You sure can act like a bitch, though," Vivian said, throwing back the covers and going into the bathroom to wash her mouth out.
Chapter Eight
The first time Gene brought a friend home with him Fran was quite pleased. Here she'd been going with him for four months and living alone with him for two and she didn't even know he had friends; he never spoke of them if he did. The man he brought home with him somehow wasn't the sort of friend she would have expected him to have. He was a little over forty, wasn't dressed any too well, had a sad look about his eyes, and said his name was Eustace. Gene brought him in one evening after he'd worked late and then, apparently, gone out for a beer. She was already in her nightie preparing for bed, but Gene said never mind, just throw on a robe and come out, and she was so pleased that he had brought someone home to meet her that she did just that.
Gene fixed them all some drinks, whiskey sours, and they sat on the couch to drink them. Fran was so nervous lest she fail to make a good impression on her man's friend that she downed hers quickly, and Gene right away got up to fix her another.
"What do you do, Eustace?" she asked.
"Oh, nothin' much," Eustace said with a nervous look in Gene's direction. "Just mess around mostly."
"Oh," Fran said. It seemed odd to her that a middle-aged man would just mess around, but she accepted it knowing that some blacks were sensitive about their form of employment. "Are you married?" she asked in her most social manner.
"No, I was, once, but we split up."
"Oh, that's too bad," she said.
"I don't know," he said. "I guess I just had a little bit too much of the dog in me to settle down properly."
Here, he chortled, and, as Gene had come back with her second drink, he chortled too.
"Dog?" she said.
"Never mind," Gene said. "He just likes the women."
"Oh," Fran said, frowning, "that's nice."
But before Fran could begin to worry about her ability to hit it off conversationally with Eustace, the party livened up. By the time she had half finished her second drink, things were downright convivial with both men telling stories and laughing it up. The stories were off-color and Fran didn't quite catch everything, but she laughed along with the men anyway, glad that they were all having a good time. Sitting between the two of them on the couch, each of them nudging her whenever he said something she was supposed to laugh at and both of them half leaning on her, she began to feel quite giddy.
Eustace nudged her with his elbow just as she was downing the last gulp of her drink. The glass left her lips just in time to dump its con-tents unceremoniously onto her chin, and the sticky liquor ran in quick rivulets down her neck, soaking the top of her nightie and robe. "Damn!" she said, wiping her chin with her hand.
"Sorry about that, baby," Eustace said.
"Oh'" she squealed, suddenly aware of the full extent of the damage, pulling her sopping garments a few inches away from her chest. "I need a towel!"
She started to hop up, but Gene, thinking quickly, said, "Here," and he grabbed a doily from the arm of the couch and wiped her neck with it. Quick as a wink he unbuttoned the three buttons at the top of her gown and tucked the doily in, wiping away.
"She spilled it all over herself, Eustace. Why don't you grab yourself a doily and help mop her up?"
Eustace did not need to be asked for assistance again. Stifling a giggle, he picked up his doily Fran started to take it from him, thinking she could wipe herself far more effectively, but when he refused to relinquish it, she deferred, not wanting to seem impolite. She looked down at her chest quizzically as both men rubbed her collarbones with their doilies. Both doilies now too damp to do any good, she started up again to go get a towel, which had been her intention in the first place, but Gene gripped her shoulder and immediately began to wipe her left breast, reaching his hand far into her nightie to envelope it. Eustace quickly followed suite.
"Oh!" she squealed, taken aback at their combined forwardness and feeling her nipples stiffen as they were rubbed with the damp doilies. "Stop it!"
"Relax, sweetheart, we'll take care of it!" Gene said, holding her down.
Feeling nervous about the wild tickling of her titties, Fran giggled helplessly. Gene abruptly pulled her gown and robe off her shoulder and when Eustace quickly pulled the other her arms were pinned at her sides. Each man reached in to lift out one of her bursting ripe tits and after giving it one or two cursory swipes with the wet doily, began plying it, a mauling which rapidly gave way, on the part of both men, to violent suckling of her tenderly elongated nipples. "Stop it!" she hollered, feeling panicked now that the situation had gotten totally out of hand.
As blithely as if he hadn't heard her, Gene pulled up her clothes, denuding her to the waist, saying, "Have a look at her pussy."
Fran couldn't believe her ears! Had her lover really just now invited his friend, whom she hardly knew, to look at her most intimate parts? She suddenly came soberly to her senses: what was this relative stranger doing, for that matter, sucking on her breast, mauling it feverishly? At the mention of her pussy, a mention which directed the attention of all three of them to it, Fran realized from the familiar tingle that the men's dual labors at her breasts had had their effect, that her pussy had emitted its lubricating fluid, that to her embarrassment and chagrin, her pussy was slick with excitement.
"No!" she said. "Goddamn it, no!" But as she tried to cross her legs, each man grabbed a knee and pried them violently apart to reveal her gash at the center of her fluffy blond muff.
"Just as blond as you said it was," Eustace said.
Both men reached for the glimmering delicacy at once, but before they could touch it, the panicked woman began kicking with her feet, kicking at the air to free her knees-she also scratched with her hands, but with her arms pinned at the elbows she had no reach-and with her knees free she twisted from the waist to knee Eustace stiffly in the solar plexus.
With an "Oooff!" and assorted groans, Eustace doubled up in the corner of the couch.
Fran stood, turning on Gene at a half crouch, poised for the moment like a lady wrestler, one who was half-cat, poised for the kill, eyes glinting, threatening except for the fact that her tits wobbled so nakedly as her chest heaved and the fact that with her arms pinned she wasn't able to reach out to kill anything.
With a weary sigh, Gene stood, grabbed a fistful of hair right at the top of her head and lifted, both holding her at arm's length and pulling her onto tiptoe as he drew back his other hand to give the recalcitrant woman a haymaker of an open-handed slap across the face, catching her with the back of his hand on his backswing and then swinging again. Fran's jaw dropped open in horrified stupor even as she was being struck. This had never happened to her before! She gagged on outrage, was stunned speechless, and huge tears formed in her eyes.
"You didn't have to ..." she began, as soon as she found her tongue.
"Look," he said, menacingly, "as long as you're my woman, you'll do what I say, and be damned happy I asked you to do it. Dig?"
Fran nodded, stunned, somewhat scared, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Okay, suck my cock," he said, unzipping his pants to pull it out. It stood at half-mast.
Fran did not want to lose her man and she had no objections to sucking his cock, not under normal circumstances anyway. She glanced over her shoulder at Eustace who was still doubled up on the corner of the couch, oblivious to them.
"For a little while," she said, her eyes beseeching, trying to strike a bargain.
"You'll suck it as long as it takes!" Gene said, taking hold of her hair again.
Fran nodded dumbly and dropped to her knees. She took her man's broad pecker in one hand, licking all around its velvety head as she held it like a lollipop before opening her crimson mouth wide to receive it. Her jaws formed hollows as she began to suck it. Grown to full size, it depressed her tongue and shoved against her uvula, utterly filling her mouth; her lips formed a tight ring midway down the length of the shaft. Both hands on the back of her head, Gene pulled her head more firmly onto himself, watching as another two inches of his massive cock slowly sank into her mouth. Fran gagged, nearly vomited, then canted her head to direct the prodding rubbery head of the shaft into her throat rather than into her windpipe. She had never been so brutally filled, and sucked with wild fervor.
Gene gasped heavily. Holding her firm behind the ears, he slowly sank to a squat, then dropped onto his ass so that he was sitting on the floor. To avoid gagging, Fran followed head-first his every shift of position with care. Once sitting, he tucked his legs between hers then spread them, forcing hers apart as she knelt, head down. Eustace had caught his breath and was watching them. Gene pulled Fran's robe and nightie up over her hips, letting them settle about her waist before laying back, keeping hold of Fran's head.
On her knees with her head held down, Fran's ass stuck up into the air; and with her knees spread, her pussy was all too vulnerable. On his knees behind her, Eustace undid his pants as he looked into the center of her, where, puffing out beyond the tightly stretched hair-lips with their yellow fluff, her wrinkled pussy lips glistened wetly, were slightly spread. Her vagina gaped open maybe a quarter of an inch and was actively secreting its off-white lubricant.
Eustace dug his thumbtips into the folds of stretched skin on either side of the orifice, then spread them. Fran groaned, wiggling her head a bit in protest as a blissful look stole over Gene's face. His cock standing out achingly and almost as large as Gene's, Eustace flexed it and then guided it by sight to Fran's creamy center, peering down as he nudged his glans into her primed aperture. As soon as he was surely lodged, he grasped her hips with both hands and slammed into her with such force that she squealed through her nose and almost bit Gene's thrusting cock. Then, fully enveloped in sweet pussy, Eustace relaxed for a moment.
Fran's mouth was too full for her to protest verbally, though she squealed and waggled her hips and tried to twist off the impaling spike. She tried to draw her head back from Gene to give voice to her protest, but Gene maintained his grip on her head. Tears began to roll from Fran's eyes as Eustace, holding her hips steady, pulled his own hips back and then rammed her, marveling at the sweetly gushing suction cup and at the round globes of her ass, which smacked delightfully as he rammed her. Each time his hips shot forward, her body likewise shot forward-like a pinball hit by the plunger in a pinball machine-ramming Gene's cock farther into her throat, further gagging her and numbing her mind.
Fran had stiff pricks sticking mercilessly into each end of her. She was being brutalized and was powerless to do anything about it. Would she survive physically? she wondered, and if that, would she survive the humiliation? With one compartment of her mind, she had been wondering how she might get out of this and what she could say later, but now her full attention was focused on the two cocks, first on one then on the other, her mind working like an alternating circuit, an over-loaded circuit. Heat began to build inexorably in her cunt and she had no control over it. Saliva drooled out of one corner of her mouth and dripped into Gene's tight black curls.
"Well, she an all right cunt, after all," Eustace said.
"She can give a decent fuck," Gene admitted.
"Urgg," Fran moaned. She was beginning to anticipate the stresses-Gene's prick plowing her mouth and Eustace's her cunt, churning her canal as his balls slapped her pubic triangle each time he pinballed her. Fran's toes tingled, her mind reeled, and she felt shocks all up and down her spine. Partly in reaction to the shocks and the growing ache in her cunt, and partly in self-defense against the double battering, she began to buck her body. She arched her back suddenly with each thrust from the rear. She found herself gripping Gene's cock more firmly with her mouth to prevent its sliding quite so far down her hapless throat, tightening her lips into a thinly compressed ring and wiggling her tongue as wildly as possible with her mouth so full; and at the same time she ground her cunt with increasing force against Eustace's prong as if that might be a way of getting a better grip on what was happening behind her.
Before long, mind and body buzzing in unison, Fran began to snap her waist rapidly from side to side, gyrating her pussy on the cock behind as her mouth twisted in semi-circles as she sucked Gene, her breasts flopping with audible smacks back and forth across his thighs.
Two over-heated cocks at once was almost too much for the poor woman to bear. Groaning, "Ummmhh! Ummmhh! Ummmhh!" through her nose, knowing that she couldn't keep it up for a minute longer without exploding inside or being able to let out a scream, she arched her belly toward the floor, leaning forward to put all the tongue-tingling pressure she could on the one cock and whipping her head wildly from side to side as if using only her sucking mouth and her fury she was going to rip it out by the roots while her aching breasts went smash smash smash rubbing in one place on his thighs; all the while she kept her belly arched toward the floor canting her cunt up for Eustace and spreading her legs even more to allow him to plunder her hurtful throbbing pussy with greater ease. He pounded into her with enough force to send her over the threshold; when she felt her orgasm beginning to wrack her, she cradled Gene's balls with one hand and reached her other through her legs to grab Eustace's scrotum. She moaned mindlessly through her nose as she squeezed both men's balls, grinding her hips down hard on Eustace with his next thrust, clenching her cunt-muscles and not letting go: both men came at once.
"Ahh! Ahhh! Ahhhh!" Gene moaned as she gobbled at him, her cheeks filling as he emptied one spurt after another into her too fast for her to swallow, filling her cheek chipmunklike with jism as she refused to spill any.
"Ohhhuuu... argh! Sheee-it, fuck!" Eustace exclaimed as she stayed determinedly clenched on him, her buttocks clenched as she pumped back while he rode her almost to the floor as with one back-breaking lunge after another he spewed a load of cum into her pulsating twat.
"Well," Eustace said, after he'd caught his breath, gone to the John and put his coat on, "I guess that was worth the twenty."
"Damn right," Gene said.
Having only heard him with half her benumbed mind, Fran watched Eustace hand Gene a bill.
"See ya 'round," he said.
"Yup, see ya 'round," Gene said.
"Why'd he give you money?" Fran asked when he'd shut the door.
After a second's pause, with a contemptuous smirk, Gene said, "Owed it to me."
Puzzled, not recognizing his contempt, Fran frowned.
Gene mixed himself another drink.
Gene felt his contempt for this woman becoming more and more open. Where, at first, it had been an emotion he felt but rarely, now it was predominant among his varied feelings for her and it welled up and out into the open more and more often.
When it did, he made little attempt to hide it. It was as if he'd begun to throw her challenges, wanting her to recognize it yet knowing she would accept it. Ultimately, she would take anything he dished out, he felt, and his sureness of this sometimes frightened him. Dumb twat was so goddamn hard up that she'd never be able to break it off with him. She needed a man around to lavish love on ... or more than that, she needed a cock and found his more than adequate. She was so unsure of herself-emotionally, she was so hard up-she was so grasping that if he didn't now and then express contempt for her he would suffocate, and would never know anything of life besides what she had to offer.
At the same time and by extreme paradox, she sometimes managed to castrate him, and when she did she accomplished it with singular ease. He could see it coming ... he could see the wheels turning in her head those times she thought, It's okay, because he's black, or He just acts like that because of his environmental and racial background. And then she'd say something to demonstrate, if indirectly, that she had made allowances for him or was excusing him too easily.
And so the contempt welled-up, and so he demonstrated to himself, to her, and now to other people his mastery, his absolute mastery over her.
The second time Gene brought someone home to meet her Fran was not pleased for an instant, knowing at once that this man was not the sort Gene would have as a friend, although he introduced him as such. Introduced as John, the man was about fifty-five, white, weighed two-fifty if he weighed an ounce, was totally bald and looked like a giant slug. The only lively thing about him was his eyes, which were small and dark and danced around over her body as if he had x-ray vision. Before Fran had even learned his name, his John Doe as it were, he had managed to comment on her tits, and as soon as he'd said, "Pleased ter meet cher" he was commenting on her ass and trying to goose her.
Fran darted around the table, confident she could at least outrun the freak, and paused to look at Gene, her mouth agape, demanding an answer to an unasked question.
Gene's face broke into one huge frown, he pointed at the two dinner plates on the table and roared, "I told you I was bringing a friend home to dinner. Wha'd'ya mean, not setting a place for him?"
"I'll set one right now!" Fran said, hurriedly.
"But you've already made him feel unwelcome!" Gene said. "You're going to get a spanking for that."
"I'll set a place for him," Fran said, her face crimsoning. Whenever Gene wanted to give her a spanking, he'd find some excuse, he'd find something she'd done wrong as a pretext. Fran had actually come to enjoy it if he just used his open hand-that is, she knew that if she let him slap her ass a little, he would make beautiful love to her afterwards and that was what she looked forward to, as if that activity energized him. It was about a once-per-week form of sex for them.
"Your fat little fanny is going to be so red," Gene was menacing, "that you won't be able to sit down for a week."
That threat was one of his favorites, but hearing it with this giant white slug in their kitchen made her want to retch. Composing herself quickly, Fran said, "Later, if you insist. Right now, I'll set another place, since I 'forgot' to do it sooner."
"Now," he said. But his eyes twinkled and he smiled as he said it, and so when he grabbed her by both wrists and tipped her head-first over the back of an easy chair, Fran knew that he wasn't really going to spank her now, that he was just going to play around a bit, and she wasn't afraid. And he didn't even give her one swat, although she wished he had, almost, when instead he lifted the back of her skirt and pulled the crotch of her panties way aside and said, "There, see," when she began to struggle. But John was right there to help hold her and her efforts to cover her snatch were to no avail. "See," Gene was saying, "just like I told you-when you tell her she's going to get her ass licked, her pussy juices right up. Excites the hell out of her."
"Hmmm," the fat man said, running his thick fingers up and down her admittedly slick slit. He ran one of his fat cold fingers into her cunt and then withdrew it, saying, "I guess it does. Juices her up real nice." His face began to twitch and his breathing quickened.
When Gene let go of her, Fran stood at once, pulling her skirt down with a yank. She began shaking violently; a voice in the back of her head said run!
"Well, sweetheart,' the slug said, cooing lecherously, "ready to have your fanny paddled?"
"Not on your life," she said, coldly.
"Ho, ho, ho," he said. "That makes it all the better!"
"Go to hell," she said.
"Now sweetie," Gene said, voice oozing as he enfolded her in his arms. "That any way to talk?" He kissed her on the mouth, probing her deeply with his tongue. In spite of herself, even as she frowned Fran kissed back.
"Get her ready," John said. "I'll go get my case."
Gene nodded and the fat man lumbered out and down the dock to his car. He opened his trunk and lifted out a guitar case. As he lumbered back, swinging the case, he presented a silly sight. This man had too much paunch to hold a guitar, for one thing. For another, he swung it too freely as he walked, as if the case were empty.
When he entered the bedroom Fran was done-up on the bed. Her head was on the pillow. Her wrists were tightly bound and the rope was fastened to the head of the bed, pulling her arms straight out above her head as she lay on her back. She was naked and her breasts thrust up tautly, full and round. There was a wide strap of adhesive tape across her mouth and, if her cheeks seemed puffed out, it was because a wet washrag had been stuffed inside. Her knees were crossed and slightly raised, giving her body the appearance of relaxation, but her eyes read fear.
John set his guitar case down and gazed with satisfaction on his victim.
"I can tie her feet, too," Gene offered.
"No, not yet," John said. "I want to see her writhe."
He opened his case to reveal a collection of whips which, had Fran been able to see them, would have made the hapless woman faint. There were birch rods, horsewhips, knotted chords and paddles of various shapes and sizes. He and Gene discussed the relative merits of each implement of torture and John finally selected a leather paddle about two and a half feet long, with a handle like a baseball bat. It was four inches wide and made of several layers of thin, tightly pressed grain leather. John swung it in the air to demonstrate its flex, which was considerable. Its chief merit, so far as Gene was concerned, was that it would leave no marks. "I call this one 'the stinger,'" John explained. "It's wide enough so that it doesn't mark the flesh, doesn't even leave welts, it... uh, it stings without inflicting any deep injury. In some ways it's probably the most effective-I'm not one of those slobs who has to mark a woman up to get his kicks."
"Okay, use that," Gene said, and then he stood waiting. John pulled out his wallet and counted out ten twenties. Gene pocketed the money and left the room.
Panting heavily, John put his hand to his chest to feel the palpitations of his heart; he cautioned himself to take it easy. He'd never had such a beautiful woman in this position before, since old whores were the ones who'd usually go along with this. He walked around to the side of the bed to show Fran the whip, waving it in front of her eyes until he got a reaction, until she turned those dilated irises on him in absolute horror.
"I'm sorry," he said. 'But this is the only way I can get it up anymore."
He touched her knee with the whip and lightly ran it up her thigh, across her tummy, over one thrusting breast, into her armpit and onto her throat... her flesh cringed in its wake. "Oh, you'll love this," he said.
Abruptly, he swatted her near breast, Fran's only forewarning being the singing of the whip, a thwicker-thwick just before the sharpest pain she'd ever felt covered the sensitive end of her upthrust breast. The top half of it turned a sudden crimson as her body went rigid in agony, her eyes bulging in their sockets. Humming to himself, John swatted her breasts several more times in rapid succession before Fran, her entire chest quivering, had the presence of mind to move. She rolled to the side, away from him. A swat stung her armpit, her hip, and she turned onto her tummy and scampered on her knees to the far edge of the bed and off it.
When he lumbered around the bed Fran kicked at him where he was most vulnerable-his paunch-but he caught her by the ankle and, with a strength that surprised her, held that leg in the air as he swatted her at the vortex of her thighs, then let go of her and stood back, watching with pursed lips as she shuddered, her entire body covered with a film of perspiration, rolling her head back and forth as she chewed on the gag in her mouth.
"Okay now," he said, "get back on that bed and get your ass up in the air."
Her body's central nervous system recoiling from shock, her numb mind reeling and containing only one thought-that this perverted beast had it in his power to seriously maim her-Fran dumbly complied. Pulling with her arms, using the attachment of her bound-together wrists to the headboard as leverage, she half pulled and half crawled to get her lower anatomy back onto the center of the bed and, her joints almost creaking, managed to lift her ass maybe a foot off the mattress. This put most of her weight on her knees and her chest beneath which her burning breasts were squashed.
Stepping to the foot of the bed, John gazed on her for a moment, admiring the expanse, the smooth rotundity of her marbled buttocks, which began to quake. He so admired their perfection that he felt it a shame to mar them... ssssss-thwicker-thwick! Where he had been using mere half swings of his forearm to make her squirm, he now drew his arm back over his head and swung with all his strength. Her hips bounced on the mattress as she reacted to the blow. She shrieked deep in her throat, the sound coming from her nose like a small animal's death-squeal. Her left buttock twitched, a red stripe covering the length of it.
John quickly caught her ankle, holding her as he swung, his lash burning brightly the skin on her other quivering buttock, then returning to the first, placing each blow well. Sweat dripped from his brow as he belabored her and the armpits of his shirt became soaked. He kept his eyes on target, watching the writhing woman as she tried vainly to evade the lash, rolling from side to side, kicking her free leg out, rubbing her knees together in mindless agony and then spreading her legs wide to expose a quim glistening wetly with its secretions, or humping crazedly up and down on the bed before holding stock still, holding quite still and even lifting her ass a little, her legs parting again in her attempt to steel herself against the blows raining upon her. Her entire buttocks glowed like overripe neon berries.
Then, abruptly, he stopped. Panting heavily, quite red in the face, he stopped to loosen his collar and catch his breath. After thirty seconds of rapid breathing, he loosened his pants and dropped them to the floor. They were so baggy that he was able to step right out of them, when he removed his underpants, stretching them out in front to get them past his upstanding cock, a short, rather slender cock for a man of his girth. Several drops of seepage were evident at its tip.
Holding his whip, he climbed onto the bed with the silently sobbing woman and turned her over. Tears streamed from her eyes and mucous ran from one of her nostrils. She immediately lifted her throbbing backside from the mattress. But, taking ahold of her just above the knees, he spread her legs and doubled them back. "Hold yourself just like this," he commanded. "If you don't, it will go very hard on you. Know what I mean?" He touched his whip lightly to her sopping pussy as a reminder and her eyes signaled mute acknowledgement.
Simultaneously, he pierced her and swatted her, sliding two fat cold fingers to the depths of her puffy vagina as he brought the whip down along the full length of the inside of her thigh, and then stung the length of the other thigh as he twisted his fingers in rapid semicircles in her snatch, lashing back and forth. Fran squealed nasally as her pelvis jerked in reaction to each lash, her legs stretching to their utmost as her lower spine jerked, grinding her cunt up onto the impaling fingers.
John dropped his whip and lunged forward onto the woman's straining body. His paunch draped over the V of her legs and pressed into her as he fumbled briefly between their legs, then found the steaming aperture and rammed into it. He thrust once, twice, and began to cum, holding the upper half of his body completely still as, buttocks clenched, he poured spurt on spurt of semen into the woman's tightly slick delicacy.
There was no expression in Fran's glazed eyes as he put his pants on, dropped his implement of torture into its case, shut it hurriedly, picked it up and lumbered, huffing and sweating, from the room. He did not glance back at Fran, who had turned to her side to lay in the most comfortable position she could find, knees slightly bent.
After awhile, Gene came into the room, untied her, untaped her mouth and removed her gag, wiped the tears and mucous from her face. Then, as he lay beside her, he undid his pants to draw out his erect cock. Careful not to clutch her ass, he eased it into her. After fucking her very slowly for over half an hour he succeeded in wringing an orgasm from her abused body.
It was a very weak climax which she acknowledged with a sigh. She sighed a second time when he had finished and withdrawn his dwindling cock, and said, "You rotten son of a bitch."
"It seems worse than it is," he said. "You'll be all right tomorrow."
"It's a hell of a lot worse than it seems," she said. "And I may never get over it."
"The female ass has great regenerative powers," he said.
"You're not going to use me this way," she said.
"Well," he said, "we'll try not to get too many like this one."
"No, I am not a prostitute-you will not use me like one again."
"It was two hundred bucks. No harm done. It was well worth it."
"I think you'll change your mind about that."
"I doubt it. I quit my job today. From now on, you're going to handle at least a couple of tricks a night. Right here at home. We're going to get rich."
"What makes you think I'll go along with that!" she roared, almost spitting at him. "What in God's name makes you think I'll go along with that? Just tell me, tell me why anyone..."
"Because you owe it to me."
"Owe it to you?" she sputtered. "How ..."
"Yes, because you and your grandfathers exploited me and my grandfathers, and because this is your only opportunity to right that wrong, because your body is the only thing you have to sell to repay the debt."
Fran didn't attempt to argue with him; she knew what she would do, but realized at that moment that it would accomplish nothing to argue with him. Gene took her silence as acceptance, and in the next two days elaborated on his plans, telling her how rich she would make him.
Two days later, forty-eight hours from the time she knew what she would do, she got silently out of bed and, careful not to waken the slumbering man, extracted her car keys from his pants pocket. She dressed in the bathroom, where she had thoughtfully hung the clothes she would wear. She had waited two days because it had taken that long for her to heal-only that afternoon had she been able to sit down without flinching.
As she left, as she climbed into her VW and headed towards Palo Alto, she had tears in her eyes. She had seen this coming but had refused to accept it. After Gene had brought Eustace home with him, she had told herself that it was an aberration on his part, a whim. With the hope that they could still make a life together she had been willing to overlook Eustace. But she could not forgive this. The tears in her eyes were not for Gene, they were in realization that she had been a fool, that she had been kidding herself for a long time now.
Chapter Nine
Fran was thankful Ted didn't make her go into too much detail. Since she woke him in the middle of the night and needed his help, she felt obliged to tell him something of her plight. She talked to him and Vivian both, actually. Vivian got up to answer the door and seemed genuinely pleased to see her, giving her a hug and a kiss as if nothing had happened. And although touched, Fran had immediately said, "Wake Ted. I have to talk to the two of you." And then when she had the both of them sitting with her at their kitchen table, she said, "I want to get rid of Gene and I don't know how to do it."
"Well, have you talked to him about it?" Ted asked.
"Sort of," she said. "But he won't listen to anything I say. That's part of the problem."
"You want to end your relationship with him?"
"Yes!"
"You've told him that?"
"There's not much point-it's already ended."
"But he's still there?"
"He's taking advantage of me."
"Hasn't he always?" Vivian interrupted.
"No ... well, uh, maybe, but what I mean is," Fran began to stammer: "You see, a few nights ago he brought a friend home with him and, uh, the man wasn't really a friend of his. I mean the man was simply hideous-he was white, fat, and perverted. And, well, he gave Gene two hundred dollars."
"He owed it to him?" Ted asked.
"No."
"Oh," Ted said frowning, and then from his mother's demeanor he got the idea. "You mean, for you?"
"Yes," she said, blushing.
Ted laughed. "You fetch a lot," he said.
"I earned it," she said, trying to make light of it.
"You told him you didn't approve of this?"
"Of course!"
"And now I suppose he won't clear out."
"Not on my say-so."
"Well, we can serve him with a warrant."
"No!" she exclaimed, eyes going wide in horror, and when Ted frowned she said, "I'll never testify in court!"
"Not that kind of warrant," he said. "Not an arrest warrant. We'll simply serve him a paper telling him that if he doesn't leave by a certain time, or if he ever returns, you'll have him arrested for trespassing. Don't worry about it. I'll get one of my professors to help draw it up in the morning."
"I appreciate this," she said.
"Ah, don't fret about it."
"I do," she said. "I feel just terrible. I've been ignoring you kids and, and I've been acting like a fool. An old fool!" she said, bursting into tears.
Both of her children, one of whom was on either side of her, put their arms around her as she struggled to hold back her tears, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, saying, "I don't know ha-how you can ever forgive me ... I've been sooo mean!"
"That's okay, Mama," Vivian said. "It's all over now."
They put their mother to bed with Ellen who didn't stir, and then, making a sleeping Bob move over, both lay on the mattress on the floor.
"This is cozy," Fran whispered.
"It's been very cozy," Ted whispered back. "Good night."
"Night-night."
As if to remind her brother exactly how cozy it had been, Vivian slipped her hand into his pajamas and ran it over his chest and down onto his stirring penis, gripping it lightly. Ted tried to push her hand away but she held on, adamant, as if wanting to affirm or reaffirm the intensity of true family feeling existing between them in their mother's presence. After a moment, remembering what his mother had put him through, Ted figured what the hell and as soon as she curled to her side, away from them, he let an eager breathless Vivian go down on him, taking his aching cock into her mouth. She would soothe it quietly with her tongue until their mother fell asleep.
Ted had never told any of the rest of them exactly what had sent him into a frenzy that day. He had said, simply, that he had arrived in Tiburon to overhear them making love, and had seemed so uncomfortable about it that no one had asked him for details. He had gotten as far north as Fort Bragg, had slept for three hours in his car and then driven back. Ellen for her part had apologized separately and in private to both Vivian and Bob for her irrational behavior that night. Vivian hadn't quite believed her but had accepted the apology and all were on good terms again.
Although Fran continued to worry about repercussions with Gene, Ted took care of everything. He had his professor help him with the paper and then had the Marin County Sheriff serve it-it wasn't necessary to have the sheriff do it, but Ted said that it might be a good idea to throw a scare into Gene-and everything went off without a hitch. When her son and Bob entered the houseboat at noon Wednesday, Gene and his belongings were nowhere to be found. Fran was on edge for two weeks or so-even though Bob and Vivian had moved back in with her just in case-but that was all there was to it.
There were repercussions for Fran, but they were all indirect. They began with a conversation between Vivian and her brother when he and Ellen came to stay the weekend on the boat:
"You can't really blame Mom for any of this you know," Vivian said.
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because she got so horny. Christ, she must have been without a lover for ten years. When a woman gets that horny she'll lay the first guy who shows any obvious interest in her."
"She didn't have to get so horny, for chris'sake," he said.
"She did it for us," Vivian said.
"I didn't ask her to get horny for me," Ted said.
"You fool," Vivian said, and she explained about her father's having frightened their mother after the divorce, threatening to take them away from her.
"I didn't know," Ted said. "I didn't know any of that. I thought maybe she just didn't like men very well."
"Don't you think we owe something to her?"
"Of course."
"I mean, we owe it to her to help prevent, uh, something like Gene from happening again."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Fucking her. You. Or you and Bob both."
"Christ," he said. "She'd never go along with it."
"We'll see," Vivian said, smiling knowingly.
Vivian got up from the kitchen table, glanced at Ellen and Bob, who were on the living room floor watching Dick Cavett-Ellen leaned back against the sofa and Bob had his head in her lap-and continued to her mother's room, opening the door and walking in. Fran had announced five minutes before that she was headed for bed, but she hadn't gotten very far along, was merely combing out her hair at the dresser.
"Mom," Vivian said without prelude, "Ted and I feel somewhat disturbed by your recent behavior."
Fran's face clouded, but she said, "I suspected so dear, and you have every right to feel that way-all I can do is promise that nothin remotely like that will ever happen again."
"Remotely?" Vivian said. "What do you mean by remotely?"
"I mean that I can't face the prospect of ever getting involved with a man again."
"Bullshit," Vivian said.
Fran shrugged and began to take off her dress, unzipping it in back and pulling it off over her head, saying, "No, it's all over for me. I've shown what an old fool I am."
"No, you just became incredibly horny over the years, and when someone becomes that frustrated their judgment is bound not to be too hot."
"No, dear, you don't know just how foolish I was," Fran said, unhooking her brassiere.
"The point I'm trying to make, Mom, is that if you don't let yourself get quite horny, you'll be able to make better judgments."
"Well," she said, stepping out of her panties, "I can appreciate that in principle, the idea of choosing wisely, but I'm afraid I've gotten to the point where it doesn't matter. I've lost my looks I had, my body's gone to pot, I'll be forty next month, and I don't think I'll have any men to choose from."
Fran turned to pick her nightgown from a hook behind the closet door and Vivian opened the bedroom door, beside which she stood, to motion to Ted.
"Mom thinks her body's gone to pot," she said. "I told her she's full of crap but she doesn't believe me."
Fran turned around, holding her gown in front of herself.
"I don't know," Ted said, "I can't see very much of it."
"Come on, Mom," Vivian said. "Think of it as Group Therapy."
Fran smiled slightly. When her daughter tugged at her gown, she held it a moment before thinking what the hell, it was just Ted, and letting go of it.
Fran flushed, giving a deep rich hue to her skin. Ted eyed her plump firm breasts with their handsome reddish-brown nipples, and his eye fell to her trim tapering tummy, her honey blond muff and her downy soft legs. He smiled fully and said, "Turn around. I have to see your ass."
Fran turned to exhibit briefly the smoothly rounded curves of her behind, privately thankful that it was not so red and wounded-looking as it had been a few days before, and quickly turned back.
"I'd say she's about the handsomest woman I've ever seen," Ted said. His mother looked somewhat touched that he'd stated it so strongly, and Ted reached out to touch her cheek, dropped his hand to caress her shoulder, then lightly squeezed her breast before looking down at the floor.
"There, see!" Vivian said.
"Well, he's my son!" Fran said, "of course he'd be gallant."
"Gallant, my foot! You've given him a hard-on," said Vivian, who looked at her brother's crotch, and knew just what to look for. Quick as a wink, she unzipped his fly and reached into his underwear to draw out his cock. It stood out fully erect, red-tipped and blue-veined, and Vivian proceeded to fondle it. Fran was amazed. She had no idea that her son had such a large cock, a handsome manly cock. Without thinking about it-partly out of disbelief and partly because it seemed to be an intimate family moment-Fran reached out to fondle Ted's cock, too, saying, "Why I had no idea you had such a nice one."
As his mother and sister stood fondling his cock, Ted caressed their asses, Vivian's through her skirt and his mother's plump naked buttock, squeezing it fervently.
"See what you've done to him?" Vivian said, letting go in order to leave the manipulation of the thrusting organ up to her mother.
But Fran immediately let go of it, saying, "Well, I'm sure that even at his age Ted has some Oedipal feelings left-why, I'd probably be disappointed if he didn't."
"It's not just Oedipal," Ted said, looking his mother intently in the eye as he reached again to fondle her breast, squeezing it more firmly now, quickly rubbing her nipple erect with his thumb.
"Oh, I know, Ted," she said, hugging his hand to her tit, "but you're hardly what I'd call an objective judge of my, uh, allure!" When she let go of his hand, Ted let go of her breast.
"Crap," Vivian said. "Let's show her to Bob."
"No you won't!" Fran said. But Vivian had already taken her hand and Ted quickly took the other. They proceeded to pull her into the living room. Fran tried to twist her hands free, but they pulled her so rapidly that she had to trot beside them to keep from being pulled off her feet, which was somehow less dignified than being nude. But she wailed, "No! No!" every step.
"Bob," Vivian said, "we need an objective judge. What do you think?" Both she and Ted stepped back, holding their mother's arms. Fran twisted for a moment to try to free herself, which only made her tits wobble all the more enticingly, but she realized that and stood still, one knee bent inward to prevent the exhibit of her pink slit, looking embarrassedly at the floor.
"This is insane," she said.
Carefully taking it all in, Bob said, "I'd fuck it."
"We know that," Vivian said. "But try to make an objective judgment of her body."
Bob looked at Ted. Ted winked. "It's ravishing. It's outstanding enough to put on the prow of a ship. I'd give her ten points on a ten-point scale. What else can I say?" he said. "I'd make love to her at the drop of a hat," he said, repeating himself somewhat, but wanting there to be no mistake.
"Good," Vivian said.
"May I go back to my room now?" Fran said.
"No," Vivian said, casting the die, "you've been an embarrassment to us, and we're going to make sure you don't get so damn horny again."
Fran's face clouded. She did not like having this discussed in front of Bob and Ellen, however close they might be. "You're being perverse."
"No," Vivian said. "I'm exhibiting great common sense."
"By humiliating me?"
"By giving you a realistic alternative," Vivian said.
"But I've already said that it won't ever happen again."
"Then we're giving you an alternative to abject self-denial," Vivian said.
"But you're not giving me any real choice," Fran said. "What good's an alternative if I don't choose it?"
Ted had left the room the minute the women had begun their argument, leaving Vivian there holding her mother's hand. He now returned with a jar of cold cream, and stood slightly behind his mother, rubbing it all over his cock. He had removed his pants.
"No," Vivian said. "All you have to do is reject us. You can say no, if that's what you really mean, and we'll take you at your word. You'll be estranging us, but that gives you the chance to choose loneliness, if that's what you really want."
"This is insane," Fran said.
"No," Bob said. "We're all fond of you. I think you're a grand person."
"Yes," Ellen said, "we love you."
Fran was totally confused. Her mind reeled and her emotions-embarrassment, love, fear of loneliness-were all jumbled together. "I, I don't know what I think," she stammered.
Vivian caught sight of Ted, his thrusting cock totally white, covered with a quarter-inch layer of cold cream. "What are you doing!" she asked.
"I'm going to fuck her in the ass," he said, quietly.
"Fuck her in the ass!" Vivian and Ellen chorused together.
"Bugger her?" Bob said, half under his breath.
"I, I don't know," Fran stammered.
Fran felt herself being pushed to her knees, then forward onto her hands so that she knelt like a dog. The others watched in puzzled fascination as Ted slowly spread her cheeks to reveal the light brown almost hairless skin between them and, somewhat browner, the tightly puckered ring of her anus. He centered his whitened thrusting cock on the ring and pushed. Fran held herself steady, her face tensing as she anticipated the ripping pain of entry. She shoved back with her hips, holding her arms quite stiff, as her son shoved forward. Everyone in the room held his breath as the pressure of cock against asshole mounted.
"Ah!" Fran exclaimed as the fleshy head of her son's prick broke through the resisting ring. Her heavy breathing became the only sound in the room. Sweat broke out on her underarms as she struggled to help complete the union.
"Aaaag, Jesus," Ted cried as his prick was engulfed in his mother's rectum. He reached around to grab her heavy breasts, which had been dangling in the air beneath her as she panted. Ted lunged suddenly, almost knocking Fran flat as his cock entered her to the hilt.
"Uhgg, ooh, ahhh," Fran cried, pierced to the depths of her bowels. And then, when Ted began to move easily in her loosened rectum, jostling her softly, she cried, "Ah Christ, that's nice!"
Vivian, Ellen, and Bob all looked back and forth at each other, mouths agape. Did Ted and Fran know something they didn't know? As if on signal, all three stood to begin taking off their clothes.
"Oh, that's sweet. Ah! You're a good boy, Teddy. Oh, how wonderful," Fran was burbling. She now lay on her side, back arched, legs bent, and Ted thrust rapidly from behind as she caressed his hip. Seeing that Bob had taken off his pants, Ted rolled over onto his back, pulling his mother on top without losing contact. She immediately began rotating her hips in a rapid circular motion, sort of bouncing on the impaling shaft. Ted gripped her tits tightly from the sides. "Fuck her cunt," he said.
"Yes, fuck my cunt, too!" she cried, reaching down with one hand to rub the gushing juice all around her folds. Thinking this one of the most lascivious sights he'd ever seen, Bob's cock swelled another inch or so. He knelt between Ted's legs, which were quite widely spread between his mother's which stuck almost straight out. Fran's quim was spread, dripping, the blonde fluff stuck down on either side of the salivating gee-gaw. But it was a gee-gaw with hot throbbing depths and rich folds. Bob touched the head of his cock to it and felt it emit heat. There could be nothing more dizzying than introducing your cock to a slobbering, hot, moist pussy, one you'd fantasized about but had never expected to fuck, one now right before you primed just so.
As if he was taking too damn much time about it, Fran grasped Bob's buttocks with both hands and pulled him into her, his prick churning her channel with a sucking noise as it impaled her and was engulfed in her dank depths, then began plundering her in unison with the first.
"Oh! Yes! Yes!" Fran gurgled, feeling her pussy pulsing on the one ramrodding shaft while her rectum gripped the other which probed her bowels from beneath, savoring both huge cruelly penetrating shafts as her body undulated smoothly between them.
Ellen and Vivian gaped at each other with some horror-if forced to recognize Fran by the twisted, ecstatic expression on her face, they would have failed-but with more envy: Why had their men never done this to either of them?
"Ohhhh!" she moaned, the pleasure in her voice undeniable.
Ellen could take it no longer. She crawled over to where Vivian stood and shouldered in between her knees. Vivian flinched in surprise when the alien lips began nibbling at the ragged edges of her pussy, but she didn't even look down. She merely canted her hips as she spread her knees a bit, and placed her hand on Ellen's head, her gaze all the while riveted on the sight before her: her boyfriend pounded into her mother's cunt, the pink edges drawing back with each outstroke, the cunt-wet cock then folding the glimmering lips in again as he rammed his prick into her belly, and she saw her brother violating her mother's asshole, grinning demoniacally with each long murderous stroke as he rammed splittingly between her buttocks. Had she, Vivian, brought all this on? A primitive life force given total vent here in this room?
The twin-fucked Fran's cries reached a new decibel level. Letting herself go, overindulged in cock, she howled and bucked and fucked back at each of the pounding penises. With each driving digging stroke, she counterpunched, taking everything they had. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah..." she chanted in step with the buildup inside her belly toward explosion, the climb inside her at a faster pace than the duo thrusting at her loins. All three groaned and panted and gasped a rendition of total oblivion to life or persons outside their triangle.
"I'm cumming ... ah, oh fuck, you're good!" Bob cried as he slobbered on her breasts, chewing her nipples as he fired a load of hot sperm into her steaming twat, his prick gripped by Fran's flailing, pulsating pussy as she reached her climax.
"Ohhhh! Ooh! I'm cumming! I'M CUM-MING! Oooh! ... My ass, my cunt! Oh! OHHHH! God!"
Vivian felt Ellen's tongue probe more deeply into her own pussy as she caught her clitoris in a sucking bite when Ted began to cum on the floor... and Fran was deliriously conscious of the spurting cock as the first molten burst of seminal fluid flooded her rectum, the quaking cock swelling as it fired salvo on salvo into her passage as her son again grabbed her slobbered-on tits and squeezed to hold her while he gave his best.
The three lay in a sticky wet oozing heap, breathing heavily as their heartbeats settled, hardly listening to the whispers of the girls.
"So, you do have lesbian tendencies."
"Not really, but I want to eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth."
Vivian lay on the floor. Ellen kissed her full on the mouth. Tasting herself on Ellen's lips, Vivian remembered how Ellen had tasted. "Shall we eat each other?"
At first, when Ted caught the movements of the girls out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't tell who was on whom, since, hair flying and grunting through their noses, they were a tangle of arms and legs. He began to try to wiggle out from beneath the pile of bodies atop him, and by then he had figured out that it was his wife who was on his sister. She had Vivian's doubled-back legs pinioned under her arms, Vivian's orange-crested snatch spread wide with her thumbs, and she gobbled lasciviously at the pink-red delicacies at its center, slurping noisily as she lapped up every drop of fluid that poured from Vivian's cunt. While Vivian had her arms around Ellen's hips, hanging on tightly, since Ellen's hips were high in the air and waggling, her knees two feet apart on the rug and her back flopping in involuntary humping motions as Vivian ate feverishly at Ellen, her jaws parted wide to cover her whole snatch, nose smack against her anus.
Ellen kept inching her knees back, seeming to want a firmer bite on Vivian's sopping snatch, and her breasts' ends rubbed back and forth on the carpet, her pendulous tits parted by Vivian's slender waist, as she inched along. Vivian clung to Ellen's hips for dear life, her face positively buried in the girl's crotch: they slowly inched across the mattress.
Now, it was Ted and Fran and Bob who looked back and forth aghast: this was lust as raw as any they'd ever felt or seen. All three moved closer, the better to see.
Both maddened girls murmured lustily and gurgled deep in their throats, their tongues trying to touch each other at the quick of their beings, each assaying to obtain the perfect impossible response from the center of the other and, from appearances, succeeding. Ellen alternately probed Vivian's passion pit, licking her cuntmouth clean with an unbelievably out-stretched tongue, then backed off to suck slurpingly at her puffed labia and clitoris; while Vivian hung onto Ellen's hips and engulfed her quim in a long sucking bite, never letting up.
Ellen, the soft underside of her tongue swishing over Vivian's clitoris, flicked her vaginal folds with the breadth of her tongue, her hands bearing down on the backs of Vivian's legs as if to split her in two. Vivian's body convulsed. Jerking spasmodically as her spine went haywire and her pussy began to contract, Vivian threw back her head to belch, "Aiiieegggh!" before clamping her mouth onto Ellen's pulsing pussy with a deep intake of breath and began whipping her head from side to side as if trying to suck her inside out.
Crying, "Ooof! Arghhh! Yeoww!" Ellen whipped her back, tightly held though it was, lifted first one buttock then the other as she rolled from side to side, nipples rubbing on the rug as she seemed to want nothing more than to shake Vivian off. But she spread her legs to their utmost and then reared up, Vivian's head pressed to the floor as she continued to gobble and tear at her sister-in-law's now twitching twat. Ellen's partially reared torso shuddered, her pendulous breasts swinging wildly as she screamed, "That's it! that's it! that's it! I'M... I've ..." and then collapsed, her body sagging visibly as she rolled to the side.
Everyone was speechless for a good three or four minutes: each knew what the others were thinking-that uninhibited lust brings joy to the hearts of men and women-and knew that it wasn't necessary to talk about it.
When she had caught her breath, Ellen said, "Okay, who wants to fuck me in the ass?"
"Who do you want to fuck you in the ass?" Ted asked.
"I don't care," she said, and without further ado she bent over, her tail to them as she spread her asscheeks with her hands to reveal the tight ring of her anus, crying, "Fuck me!"
We leave them like this and make no judgments. If the caveman hadn't created life in the bodies of mothers and sisters after the decimation of the tribe by plague and famine, how could the human race have survived?
Taboos were perhaps made to be broken, especially in the nonconformist present day. Ideas and morals are changing. If no one is hurt and no harm is done, can it be wrong? A refreshing breath of down-to-earth truth is sweeping away former barriers. How else, Fran thought as she watched Bob struggle to insert the knob of his glans into Ellen's rectum, could any of them survive the confusion?
Chapter Ten
Late one night when she was near sleep Ted entered his mother's room and woke her. "Do you remember when we were kids," he asked, "and we had done something willfully which exhibited bad judgment, something which either embarrassed or inconvenienced the rest of the family?"
Frowning, Fran said, "No."
"Well, I do," Ted said. "I remember two or three such occasions, anyway. And you always gave us a spanking."
"I don't remember giving you more than two or three spankings," she said. "All through your childhood."
"That's enough," he said.
"So?"
"So don't you think your affair with Gene falls into that category?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "But don't you think I suffered enough over it?"
"It's a matter of principle."
"Well," Fran said, licking her lips, "if you insist." So saying, she threw back the covers, sat up, and lifted her nightgown off over her head.
Ted unbuckled his belt and drew it out through the loops.
As she lay naked, still on her back, looking up at him, Fran said, "Do you remember, those few times I spanked you, you would try to bargain with me?"
"Yes." he said, hesitating.
"Well," she said, licking her lips, "if you spank me with your bare hand rather than with your belt, you can spank me again later."
"A two for one bargain?"
"Yes." Without saying another word, Fran rolled onto her face, presenting Ted her naked posterior, and folded her hands behind her head.
Ted looked down at the trembling twin globes for a minute, then said, "On your knees. On the side of the bed."
Scrambling on all fours, Fran so positioned herself. Ted sniffed as his mother's musk rose to his nostrils. Before striking her buttocks with his open hand, he dipped his fingers into her slit and, yes, it was slick.
