Trish could hear her father mumbling something in the living room, and it wasn't hard to tell, especially from where she was listening, that the words were dragged and slurred as he mumbled.
It was obvious to her that he was drunk again, and she tried to be as quiet as she could in the kitchen, being careful not to make any noise as she pulled the pots and pans out from the cabinet to make his supper.
She hated him, hated the idea of even having to do this for him, but ever since her mother had taken that night job to make up for the income lost when he had been laid off, she had taken on the official chore of cook and house-cleaner. Only she did know that when her father was drunk, he could do the most terrible, offensive things. She had heard the way he had been beating on her mother the night before, all because of the drunken stupor he had been in.
Suddenly, as she was carrying the frying pan over to the stove, she accidentally dropped it and the thing went crashing to the floor, making an echoing noise.
"What the fuck is that?" she heard her father mumble, and she could hear his footsteps approaching as he got closer and closer.
She watched as he flung the door open and then he seemed to be leering at her, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth. His eyes were reddened, his black hair, tossed in messed curls on his head. And as she looked down, she could see that his hand was moving toward his groin, rubbing the stiffening cock she knew was underneath.
She felt him moving closer, and she backed up, until her ass was pressed against the warm stove and she had nowhere else to go. By this time, her father was right next to her and he was rubbing his groin against her cunt, moving his hands to her tits and beginning to massage the nipples into hardness through her blouse.
"Daddy," she said, her voice cracking, "what are you doing?"
"You bitch. If your mother ain't gonna be here to satisfy my raging cock when I want her, then you're just gonna have to take her place in that department, too."
She could feel herself getting nauseous as he moved his lips to hers, reeking of scotch, and began to probe his tongue into her mouth ...
CHAPTER ONE
Fifteen-year-old Trish Hawkins hopped down the street, trying to avoid the cracks in order to avoid breaking her mother's back. So the game went. She couldn't help thinking though, in the back of her mind, somewhere deep and hidden, that had the game involved breaking her father's back if she stepped on the cracks, a conscious effort would have been made to hit each crack in the hopes that she would get home and find her father in the hospital, in traction.
It was all a game, though, all a fancy, but the youngster loved games. She had loved them ever since she had been younger and her father. Herb Hawkins, had given her horsie rides on his knee.
That was before she had realized, years later, that the reason her father had been willing to do that to her was because he was just drunk off his face. That was before she had realized that the reason his eyes were so red when he was doing it was because of the liquor, the reason his breath was harsh and disgusting, too.
It had taken her until at least the age of seven to realize that there was something most peculiar about the way her father acted. She had always thought, until then, that he was a most happy man. After all, Herb Hawkins was all smiles when his little girl was around.
But then, that facade of happiness, being the ideal family, the kind that she used to watch on television, always knowing that her family was just as happy, that facade finally had to break.
She remembered a fight that her parents had had when she was seven, the fight she remembered as the first ever (there were obviously more, she realized that, but this was the one she heard) between her mother and father where she was to learn that happiness was all a dream in her family, all a put-on. It was then that she had learned that her happy, happy father, was not happy at all.
"Goddamnit," her mother had yelled at him, and little seven-year-old Trish had been asleep already, but awakened by the screaming, "you're a fucking pig, do you know that? A goddamn, fucking pig."
She heard the sound of a smash, didn't know what it was. Later though, when she was to walk in the halls and see her mother, she would never forget the trickle of blood down the side of her mother's face,
"Then relish in the sty," her father had yelled back.
"Don't touch me," her mother, a petite woman named Harriet had screamed back.
"What's the matter, you don't like it anymore? Damn it, woman, you used to get on your fucking knees and pray to this fucking dick of mine. Now get back on your fucking knees and pray to it again."
"Never."
There was another smash, and another, and little Trish was trembling under the covers, wanting to help her mother, and maybe even her father (she had still loved him then, it wasn't until later in the fight when her hatred grew), but too scared and trembling to even be able to move.
"Suck it," her father had screamed,
"I wanted to once, that's right," her mother had said. "Once was a long time ago, however, before you let liquor run your whole life. Now you're nothing but a fucking drunk pig, and the thought of touching any part of you just makes my stomach so damn queasy and uneasy. I don't even think I can do it and ... "
There was a muffled noise then, and she didn't know what was happening at the time. In years to come, she had reasoned, knowing the sexual nature of a man and a woman by that time, that her father had just shoved his cock into her mother's mouth. And her mother had to be gagging on it because Trish could hear the choking sounds that came from her mother's throat.
Until finally, she heard her father yelling out.
"You fucking bitch, Jesus Christ, you almost bit the whole fucking thing off. You goddamn cunt."
"Good, if that's the way you feel, then I won't serve you."
There was a loud crack then, she was sure it was the slap of skin against skin, and later, when it had all calmed down and she was sure that her mother had left the room, little Trish decided to get herself a glass of water. With her long nightgown trailing along the ground, she walked down the carpeted hall, past her parent's room where there seemed to be the sound of her father's snoring, then to the bathroom.
She was surprised to see her mother sitting on the toilet, the seat down, still in her nightgown, her head in her hands and shoulders heaving up and down. She was crying, it was easy for the little girl to see.
"Mommy," Trish said.
Her mother had almost jumped through the ceiling then as she heard a voice, but then when she saw that it was her little girl and not her husband, she reached over and pulled little Trish over, hugging her tightly.
"Mommy, why did you and Daddy have a fight?" she asked.
"Sssh," her mother was going, but the little girl was all of seven and curiosity was one of her most natural traits.
"Is that blood there, Mommy? Did he hit you on the cheek?"
"Ssshh, baby," her mother was saying, and she was squeezing the little girl so hard that Trish could hardly breath. But even then she was bright enough to sense that her mother needed this kind of support, someone to cling to.
"Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce? Ginny Rogers parents got a divorce about a year ago, and Ginny seems like she's so happy now."
"Why honey?" her mother asked, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, "aren't you happy here?"
"I guess so, but not if you're not going to be happy. Not if Daddy is going to hit you again like he did tonight."
"He didn't hit me," her mother said to the little girl. When Trish first heard that, she remembered, she had believed her mother. It wasn't until later in life when she had actually witnessed a few fights that she knew her father had, in fact, hit her mother that night, hit her hard enough to make her bleed.
A few minutes after she and her mother had been clutching each other there was the sound of the bedroom door opening, and heavy footsteps coming down the hall. They both looked with wide, frightened eyes, as her father, all hairy and naked with a hard cock bobbing up and down between his legs stood in front of the doorway.
"What a tender scene," he said, and Trish was too young then to notice the sarcasm behind his words. Her mother, however, was not.
"Please, Herb, get away from me," she said. "Come on, Harriet, don't be like that. Look, I'm sorry for everything that happened and you know that it won't happen again."
"Hah!"
For a minute, it looked like he was about to pull his hand back to slap her across the face, but he realized in time what he was doing and checked himself.
He moved closer into the bathroom, obviously unconcerned with his nakedness and the effects that his hardened cock was going to have on his daughter, and was soon kneeling beside the two clinging bodies, trying to hug them both.
"Look," he said, more to her mother than to her, "I know that I sometimes go a little overboard with the booze, but still ... "
"What?" her mother had asked, so cold, heartless, something that Trish could easily understand now.
"I love you both, honey, I really do. It's just that I wanted to do so much for you, and I just couldn't give you everything that I wanted. It's so fucking frustrating and sometimes I just bury myself in booze. But I promise that it won't happen."
He was kissing her mother on the cheeks, and Trish could even see that he was rubbing his hardened cock against her mother's leg. She thought, for some reason that only a seven-year-old might think of, that her mother was going to remain triumphant and not go with him. Not that she had anything against him at the time. Not yet. But somehow, there had seemed to be such a bond, such a unity between her mother and herself as they sat there clinging to each other in the bathroom, and Trish wouldn't have minded if that unity had gone on for a few more hours.
Instead, her mother seemed to be getting herself carried away with the caresses of her father, the small kisses on the cheek and neck and ears, the heavy breathing that she noticed happening between them. In fact, as she skipped home and remembered it, she was actually caught in the middle of it all, caught in the middle of what she would learn later in life was called 'foreplay.' For her mother's hand wandered to her father's cock and she was soon rubbing it, and then, with the man's aid the two girls got up, or one rather. For as her mother stood, she lifted little Trish into her arms.
"Come on, honey," she heard her mother say, "we're going to put you back to sleep and then Mommy and Daddy have to go to bed."
She had wanted to beg her mother not to go back into the room with him, she didn't know why, but instead, let her parents tuck her in and kiss her. But Trish hadn't slept that night. She had been too busy listening to the heavy breathing and the squeaking of bed springs that had been going on in the room next to hers, the room where only about a half an hour before she had heard yelling, screaming, and the sounds of flesh being hit.
Now there was a little panting, a little moaning, and a lot of squeaking.
They were fucking, she said to herself as she continued to skip home. They were in there fucking, and it was just like her father to think that getting his rocks off was going to make things right. She had learned that over the years, as she started to understand that the love in her house, at least the love of the parents for each other, was being put-on for her sake. They acted like they were happy so that their little girl wouldn't be able to see anything.
But Trish, from the moment she had started talking, had always been considered a bright girl. Everyone said that about her, and although it was usually said in reference to most babies, particularly by their parents, in this case, with blonde little Trish, it was most definitely true.
She learned about sex fast, not actually partaking of the act. But two days after the first fight she could remember, she and her mother were talking in the kitchen. It was only natural for someone with a seven-year old mind to ask what Trish did.
"Mommy, what was that thing between Daddy's legs? You know? That night when he came to the bathroom and you were rubbing it?"
She could tell that her mother was uncomfortable, and the answer that she got even proved it a little.
"That's just his penis," her mother said, turning back to her cooking.
"What does he use it for?" she asked.
"You know that when a girl has to go to the bathroom, she usually just sits and goes. Well, a man has a penis for the same reason."
Even at the age of seven, she thought that there should be more of a reason than the one that her mother was giving to her. After all, she had been paying so much attention to the cock in the bathroom, and it hadn't been hard for the little girl to see the way her father seemed to shiver when her mother touched it.
And one other thing. She remembered that when she was about five and had been sitting and soaking in the bath, her father had come into the bathroom to urinate. Their family had always been rather open and free about nudity, so her father wasn't at all ashamed to pull out his limp cock and begin to piss into the toilet.
She had seen it limp. And she had seen it hard. Trish knew that there was quite a difference between the two stages and that's why she had been sure, all seven years of her, that her mother was not telling her all the facts.
"But how come it was so hard?" she asked her mother.
"What honey?" Harriet Hawkins had asked, trying to keep her mind occupied with something else. Trish had even realized that. She knew when her mother was trying to look busy to avoid talking about something.
"It was hard last night, Mommy. Daddy's penis. And how come when he touched you and then you touched him there, he started to shiver?"
She could see that her mother was beginning to sweat, and when she thought about it in later years, she could understand why. After all, Trish, even at age fifteen, now, thought sometimes about how, when she had children, she would tell them about sex.
You just couldn't come out and tell a little girl that a cock was used to fuck, that during the sex act the man inserted his cock into a woman's cunt and thrusted in and out. hopeful bringing them both sexual fulfillment.
And as she thought about it, still skipping home, but trying to take as long as possible for her own reasons, she knew that had her mother told her then about sex and fucking, she would have been scared of it. For at age seven, the slit that she had between her legs was small, her tunnel, when probed with her curious fingers was not all that wide or deep either.
Trish knew that she would have been scared, thinking about her father forcing that large thick cock into her cunt, her small seven-year-old cunt.
"That's something that you'll learn in years to come," was all her mother had eventually said to her about cocks.
But Trish learned fast.
The fights continued to happen between her mother and father, and the one she remembered at age seven was only the first one she remembered, which was why it stuck out in her mind. But there had just been so many fights after that, so many happening that she was aware of, that Trish just stopped thinking about them, stopped letting them worry her.
Of course, until the age of ten, she still would climb under her covers, but as she got older and matured, the fear in her subsided more and more, until their fights no longer scared her.
It was during one of her braver days, sometime when she was about eleven, that she actually saw what her father's wrath was like.
The man had been a blue collar worker, holding down all sorts of janitor and factory line jobs. She knew, even at age ten, that this all had a great deal to do with his drinking. After all, she had seen a film in one of her classes about car factories and the film had documented the actual piecing together of the car. As she had sat there watching she had thought that it might be so interesting to work there.
But then her friend Ginny had whispered something to her.
"God, could you imagine doing something like that all your life? Or even for a few months. Every single day placing the same piece on the ear, seven hours a day. I don't think that I can imagine anything more boring,"
That had made Trish start thinking in a different way, and this day when she was ten and she arrived home to witness the first actual blow by blow fight, she had been feeling some pity for her father.
For the anger behind the fight all had to do with the fact that Herb Hawkins had been drunk on the job again, and he had gotten himself laid off. When Trish opened the front door that day, she could hear her parents yelling in the bedroom again, and she quietly snuck upstairs to listen more, and possibly even see.
"Damn it," her mother was screaming, "can't you hold onto one fucking job for more than a goddamn year?"
"Look, I'm sorry about the job, but it was bullshit and there's others."
"You say that all the time. Goddamnit, Herb, when the hell are you going to stay with something long enough to make something of yourself?"
Trish was upstairs then, and she was happy to see that her parents hadn't closed their door. There had really been no reason, for they were thinking they were alone.
"Look," he said to her, "I just can't stand it anymore. Do you want to know what I have to do all day? You see, there's a little fucking screw that holds this mirror in place. I have one screwdriver and as the piece comes down the belt I turn it, and by the time I'm finished tightening it the piece should be on to the next man. You think that's interesting work?"
"I don't care," her mother had yelled. "You took it."
"Because I needed the money then."
"And what the hell are we supposed to do now? We need money still."
At that time, Trish was torn between both parents. She didn't know who the hell to side with because she could understand the point of view coming from each side. But it wasn't until she actually saw her father hit her mother that she began to, and still, to this day five years later, side with her mother.
"I don't know what we'll do right now," her father had said then, "but believe me, we'll manage."
"I've been believing you for years now," she said, her eyes tearing. "It's time that I stopped believing you and saw you for what you really are."
"Which is?" he asked, moving closer to her mother who was sitting on the bed.
"Nothing! You're nothing and you're never going to be anything."
Trish had to hold back a scream because she saw him pulling his hand back, readying the blow, before her mother ever did. Instead, her mother felt it when her father's fist actually smashed her across the face, and the force of it knocked her back down on the bed. Herb climbed on top of his wife and he started to hit her across the face again and again. Trish had to bite her hand to keep from screaming.
But she would never forget the way her mother's light brown hair was tossed back and forth on the bed as her father continued to hit the woman, and then, finally, he just seemed to stop.
Trish would never forget what happened then. Her father covered his eyes with his hands and he looked like he was crying, at least from the way his shoulders were heaving up and down that was the impression she got. Then, by the time he started to talk, she could tell from the choking in his voice that he was, in fact, crying.
"Jesus, Harriet," he was saying, "I can't believe all this. God, honey, I'm sorry that I did this to you. I'm sorry for everything that I've done to you."
And her mother lay there, and ever so slowly Trish could see the woman's hand beginning to inch up her husband's leg, until there was a distinct bulge in his pants and she was rubbing it hard with her hand.
"I know that it's hard," she said to him, "but still ... "
"As long as we love each other," he said to her.
Her mother hadn't said anything about that, but then she started to pull down her husband's fly and she was soon taking his hard cock out of his pants. She started to rub it with one hand while her other hand was working his belt buckle, opening the snap of his pants, and pushing them down so that his entire groin area was exposed.
For the first time, with a real intention, Trish had studied the male cock. She could see the way the thick root jutted out from the black triangular patch of hair, then the two swinging balls that were hanging below the root of his cock, covered too with just a little bit of pubic hair. But there seemed to be something dominating about the whole cock, something so commanding.
She watched as her father straddled her mother's chest, and then Harriet Hawkins was pulling her head up a little and beginning to lick the shaft. Trish couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was like her mother worshipped this thing, for she could hear the way her father and mother both were moaning.
She studied the swinging testicles as best she could from the position she was in, and she watched the way her mother cupped them in her hand and tried to lick them too at the same time that she was working the cock.
"You see, baby," her father was saying as he started to open her mother's dress down the front, "you see. As long as we have each other it's going to be okay."
Her mother seemed to moan and shake her head yes, and at the time, Trish thought that her mother believed it. She was to learn better a few years later.
Her father started to move his cock in and out of her mother's mouth then and Trish watched, fascinated. Nothing about the actual sex act was scaring her then. In fact, she couldn't help thinking, if something so natural and free as touching could calm her father down the way it was, then it had to be good.
That was all she could think of. Her father had opened her mother's dress at the time, and at the same moment, as she was trying to squeeze her way out of it, moving her body under his, she was still licking his cock with a satisfying relish. Soon she was completely naked under him, her bra and panties having been removed easily, and as he continued slowly and passionately, thrusting his hips back and forth, he was beginning to take off his shirt.
Irish remembered the drops of sweat that were running down her father's chest and she tried to figure out why.
Her mother had reached up then and started to stroke his nipples firmly, and there was a tremendous change in her father then. He started to moan louder and she could see, from the dim light, the way the sweat was glistening all over his body. He had his eyes closed, his mouth open, and if Trish could ever remember a time when her father had looked so totally at peace and so totally satisfied, it was that time when he was sitting on her mother's body with his cock in her mouth.
He seemed to remain calm for a long time after. For Irish had watched everything. At one point, he started to grunt louder than ever and she could see some kind of spasms occurring in his cock when it was pulled out of her mother's mouth. It seemed to be bulging, and then, he was breaking out in sweat and pumping harder as her mother sucked harder. After a few powerful looking thrusts his cock was pulled out of her mouth and she could see a few drops of white cream dripping from the tip.
Then her father had started to slide down her mother's body, and Trish watched as he sank between her legs and buried his head there. He started to lick and slurp and although she couldn't actually see what she was doing, she would watch her mother thrust her ass off the bed, see her brown bush triangle, and she her father's nose buried in it. She could only assume, even at age eleven, that he was licking her mother's cunt down there.
Her mother was pinching her own nipples then and Trish couldn't believe the way her mother seemed to be reacting. As if nothing was wrong. As if the argument they had just had was all forgotten. The only thing that seemed to matter was the pleasure that her mother was deriving from her own cunt, and soon she was thrusting her ass up and down off the bed even faster.
Again, there was something of a frenzy and it was only about a year later when she and Ginny were talking that she realized her mother had had an orgasm.
After that, her father climbed up her mother's body and she watched him slipping his cock, hard again, into her cunt. The first thrust was followed by a long groan and then he was thrusting even faster.
Trish just watched the look on both their faces, their eyes clenched tightly shut, their whole bodies seeming to be joined just because of the way they were united at the groin, and after a few minutes and a long groaning thrust, her father seemed to collapse right on top of her mother.
That was when Trish had left, snuck into her room, and she heard her mother and father moaning every so often from their room.
For the next few days, or so it seemed to her, happiness reigned in the household again and she thought of her family as the ideal one.
But then, just like always, another fight broke out. It happened about a week later after her father had been out every day looking for jobs. Being a child, and being secure in her world of family life and school life, she didn't have to worry about money. But that was what the fights always seemed to come down to.
"The telephone bill and electric bill came today," her mother said to her father when he had come home from looking for a job that day.
"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked her.
"That you got a job," she said. "How are we going to pay the bills? We don't have enough money in the bank."
"We won't pay them until we do."
Trish sat huddled in the bed, expecting that a fight was going to follow. She had heard the way they were usually led up to, and even at her young age of eleven, she knew that it was going to happen this time.
"How can we do that?" her mother asked.
She heard the familiar sound. It was her father lifting the scotch bottle off the bar and opening the rip. He always turned to his liquor when he got tense like that, she had been starting to realize.
She could hear the bottle hitting against the bar and she was sure that he had smashed it down hard, not only because of the sound, but because of the things that her mother started to yell when it happened.
"Look at the fucking mess you made," she said to him. "Look, we can't continue like this, you're going to have to realize that."
"What the hell do you want me to do?"
"Get a job."
"Jesus Christ," he screamed at her, "it all comes down to that in the end, doesn't it? Get a job this and get a job that. Goddamn it, we used to be happy."
"We could be again," her mother said.
"If I get a fucking job, get a fucking job. Why don't you make a goddamn tape recording of it and play it all the time? It would save your breath."
"You bastard," she screamed.
Then Trish heard the first slap, and she knew that he was hitting her again. She heard her mother crying out and she could hear the sound of her mother's body falling heavily on the floor.
There were more grunts and groans, and this time, young Trish didn't even feel the need to hide under the covers. She was just being reminded that things were back to the way that they used to be once before. The hitting, the fighting, the yelling and the screaming.
And so it went for the past years, she remembered as she skipped home. Only this time, she was more apprehensive than usual. Because, the past few years had seen her father hired and laid off a number of times, and she knew that it was because of the drinking. At least that's the way her mother always used to say it.
Recently, however, her mother had been the one to go out and get the job. She had talked to Trish about it a few days before she actually did it, and in some ways, it had scared the fifteen-year old girl. For her mother had been asking her all these questions that one would have normally asked an adult. The girl had just begun to realize the reason for all the problems. There were just so many things that you had to worry about when you were grown up.
"Trish," her mother had said, "I have to talk to you. What would you say if I told you that I was looking for a job?"
"I don't know," the girl had said. "What should I say?"
"Well, first of all, do you think you'd mind it too much if I was out of the house at times during the day?"
"Why should I mind that, mother? I'm used to taking care of myself."
"Good then. I can take it I have your approval. Now all I have to do is talk to your father about it."
"Oh God," Trish had said, and she and her mother had both smiled a little.
She would never forget the fight that they had over the job. She knew what they were arguing about because of what her mother had told her.
"You're not going to do anything like that," he had said.
"Why the hell not? If you can't keep a job in this family, someone's going to have to do it. I want to eat meat."
"I have some meat you can eat, my sweet," he said, garbling his words because he was just too, too drunk.
"Fuck you," she said to him. "What's it going to do to you if I get myself a job? Is it going to be a blow to your precious manhood or something like that?"
"You fucking bitch," he said.
Then there were the slaps. But this time, she could hear her mother fighting back, if not physically, then at least vocally. For most of the times he seemed to knock the air right out of her with the first blow and she would just take the rest of it. The whole beating, just panting and moaning.
But this time, she was yelling back.
"You're not going to change my mind about this," she was yelling at him. "You're going to have to kill me first before you do anything to change my mind. I've already lined up a job and I'm going to work."
"What the fuck did you get?" he asked, and there was another punch.
"I got myself a job as a waitress. It might not be the classiest thing in the world but at least there are the tips and that's gonna count for something."
"You'll be scum," he spit out at her.
"It might be better than this," she said.
Trish knew that her father was beating hard on her mother that time, and then they probably started to fuck because she heard the groans. She was sure that her father thought a good fucking would make her forget all about her idea for getting a job because of the passions he would bring out in her.
But not that time. After about ten minutes of groaning, all which the little girl heard coming up the stairs and into her room, she heard her mother yelling.
"That didn't change my mind," and then the woman seemed to be running up the stairs. There was a final crash of the liquor bottle, probably hurled at her by him Trish had to think.
But her mother was already up the stairs by that time and she had locked herself in her room. Trish fell asleep before hearing whether or not her mother let her father into the room to sleep that night or kept him locked out. Years before, she knew, she would have stayed up to hear a thing like that, but now it was all old hat and the arguments were the same.
What was something out of the normal, she once thought, had suddenly become part of her daily life so there was no reason to pay it any special attention.
However, the tension over the past few days, she thought now as she neared her house, had been unbearable. Her father had stopped looking for a job and he was always home when she got back from school. Drunk off his face.
Her mother didn't get back from work until eight at night, and Trish now had the honor of being the one to make her father dinner and being the one to serve it to him. She usually had to force herself to eat there because she knew he wanted her to. But she hated eating in front of him.
He disgusted her, she thought. Just his mere physical appearance.
For he was only a shadow of his former self, she thought. Once, she remembered him as being tall and handsome, his curly black hair making him look younger than his thirty-seven years. He had been trim and fit.
And now, although he still had the same fit body, it seemed to be hiding under his clothing and nasty appearance. His hair was usually messed, never combed, and he always had stubbles on his face. The tall proud figure was no longer there either, for he seemed to walk huddled over. He wore loose, baggy clothing that hung on him and did nothing for his appearance but make him look like a bum.
A bum, she thought.
If she hadn't known her father before, she would have thought that he was a bum. Just seeing him the way he always looked, sitting on a park bench, she would have thought that he was a bum.
He was always on edge, too, always being terse with her. He hadn't said anything nice to her in the longest time, because even when he did say something that he was intending as a compliment, there was a harshness in his voice that detracted from it completely and totally.
So it was with a great deal of tension and hesitation that she walked up the path of her house. She put the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door slowly so that she wouldn't make any noise. The last few days when she had come home he had been sleeping, and she seemed to feel more at ease when he was out.
She closed the door slowly, and suddenly, heard his voice.
"That you, baby?" he asked her.
"It's me, Trish, daddy," she said, not knowing if he had been thinking it was her in the first place, or her mother.
"What the fuck time is it?" he asked.
"Almost five," she said to him.
"Well where the hell have you been?" he asked her, and she could hear him approaching, hear his footsteps as he walked to the living room, drunk.
"I was out with Ginny for a while, Dad," she said. "Are you hungry? I can make you some supper now. It would be ready in a half an hour."
"Yeah," he said, turning back toward the living room, "make me something good. I haven't eaten a thing all day."
She walked to the kitchen, glad that he was back in the living room. She didn't want him coming in there because he always made her feel so uncomfortable. She thought about her father for a second. Once, she had had a sexual thought about him, when she was about twelve. During one of his tender times, she had thought about his making love to her, and she couldn't believe she had done that.
The thought of him now disgusted her.
She put her books down on the kitchen counter and then opened the refrigerator to see what she could find. Her mother usually left something out for her to make and she could see that there were some steaks lying on the bottom shelf.
She took out one. It would be a waste to make one for herself, she thought, because she just didn't feel like eating when she saw him. She walked over and took a frying pan from under the stove. Suddenly, as she was placing it on top, the pan seemed to slip from her hand.
She heard a loud, crashing, echoing sound, and then her father.
"What the fuck is that?" he asked her, and she could hear that his footsteps were getting closer and closer to her.
She watched as he flung open the door and then he seemed to be leering at her, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth. His eyes were reddened, his black hair tossed, his messed curls on his head. As she looked down, she could see that his hand was moving toward his groin, rubbing the stiffening cock she knew was underneath.
He moved closer to her and she backed up, until her ass was pressed against the warm stove and she had nowhere else to go. By this time, her father was right next to her and he was rubbing his groin against her cunt, moving his hand to her tits and beginning to massage her nipples into hardness through her blouse.
"Daddy," she said, her voice breaking, "what are you doing?"
"You bitch," he said to her. "If your mother isn't gonna be here to satisfy me when I need it, if she's gonna be out working, then you're just gonna have to take on some other duties besides the fucking cooking."
"Daddy, what are you doing? What are you saying? You're drunk."
He slapped her across the face hard. She heard the echo of flesh hitting flesh, ringing through her mind, all the memories of times when she had heard it from upstairs, when she knew he was hitting her mother. But this time she could feel the stinging on her cheek, and she moved her hand there to hold it. Suddenly, all her resistance seemed to fade. She didn't want him to hit her again.
Trish could feel herself getting nauseous as he moved his lips to hers, reeking of the scotch, and then he began to probe his tongue into her mouth ...
CHAPTER TWO
Her father seemed to be pressing all his weight against her, and she could feel his hand beginning to unbutton her blouse. Then he was touching her stiff naked nipple and he pinched it.
She could hardly breathe with his mouth pressed against her the way it was, and his breath smelling of the scotch. But he was moaning hard, just like she had heard hundreds of times.
Trish knew then that it was inevitable. She had heard them fighting too many times to know. If she tried to resist him, he would definitely beat her and then take her by force. She had seen it happen to her mother time and time again.
But the way he was moaning now was the way he usually acted at times when he was getting aroused. If she could keep him like that, maybe he wouldn't be so hard on her, she thought.
As he moved his hands over her small firm tits, fingering her stiff red nipples and plucking them out, she moved her hand to the swollen bulge of his pants. She started to massage him gently and she could hear the way he was moaning as she did that.
He pulled his mouth from hers and moved it to her tit, the one he had been fingering. She felt him starting to attack her nipple, opening his mouth and licking it and biting it at the same time. All she could feel was the bristly stubbles on his face scratching her tender flesh, but she tried not to think about it.
If there was any way out, she knew, she would have taken it.
But he had her in a position where she could do nothing but go along with him. As he licked her nipple, paying very little attention to Trish herself and making her wonder if he even knew it was her, he moved his hand down to her pants and pulled them open. Then he slid it into her panties and started to run his fingers through her blonde haired muff.
She moaned a little, more from fear than from anything else. As he moved his hand more, moving his fingers to her cunt lips and beginning to pull on them, she could feel the way he was also pushing her pants down at the same time.
Trish continued stroking his cock bulge, not knowing what else to really do to him. She didn't want to take his cock out, unless he insisted that she did. She was too scared of actually touching it, too scared of him fucking her.
But it's inevitable, she kept telling herself.
He started to open his fly with his other hand, and when she moved her hand away to let him, he slapped her across the face.
"This is what you're supposed to be doing," he said to her.
And then he took her hand and started to guide it to his cock. He had her pull him out, and she couldn't believe how thick he was.
She felt the heat from his cock blazing through her hand and she was quite surprised by the whole thing. From far back, she would have sworn that he looked much smaller, but now that she was actually feeling him, she was well aware of his weight.
He started to push her down, taking his mouth from her nipple. She knew what he was going to want her to do, and as she got closer to his cock, she could smell the strong musky manly odor.
He rubbed his cock head all over her face, and she just closed her eyes trying to think of anything else that she could. He was moaning louder as he did that, and then, she felt him rubbing his cock head against her lips, back and forth. She didn't want to open her mouth to take him in, but then it was a command.
"Suck it," he said to her.
When she heard the anger in his voice, she knew that she had better do as he said. She opened her mouth slowly, and once it was open a little he rammed himself into her. She could feel her mouth stretched wide to take him in and his cock head seemed to have ended up all the way in the back of her throat. She was sure that she could feel it hitting her tonsils, and she started to gag.
Herb pulled back just in time, just before she thought that she was going to get sick all over the place.
And then, he held her head and he started to thrust his cock in and out of her mouth. She did nothing. She didn't suck, nor did she use her tongue to stimulate his shaft. Instead, she just tried to keep her tongue out of the way and tried to keep her mouth wet enough so that he was enjoying it.
Each time he would thrust in all the way, she would find her nose buried in his pubic patch, and there were times when the odor was just too strong for her to handle. But he would always manage to pull back in time, before she gagged too much.
There was a taste to his cock, she noticed, but it was nothing special. Nothing that she would want to suck on for a long time, and all she was doing then was hoping that he would start to come in her mouth soon and get it over with.
"My fucking balls," he said to her, the anger rising again.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, questioning. She didn't know what the hell was going on or what he meant by that, what the hell he wanted her to do.
He glared down at her.
"Squeeze them you stupid bitch. Hold them. Love them."
She could see his two large egg shaped nuts right in front of her. He had had her pull them out of his pants along with his cock. She could see the sack and the fine black hairs that covered it. Trish didn't put too much effort into taking them. She just reached for them, felt the way they were burning in her hand, and then she started to squeeze them as hard as she could.
He started thrusting again. The harder she squeezed the more he seemed to be loving it, and she had to admit to herself that at least his balls weren't hitting her in the chin anymore. That was one saving grace.
She tickled his sack, tickled the area right underneath them, only because her finger had landed there and for no other reason. All of a sudden, she could feel his cock beginning to pulsate in her mouth and she found that she had even more trouble keeping it in, holding her mouth open wide enough.
After a few more seconds, the spasms getting fiercer, she felt his come beginning to ooze out of the tip of his cock. She could taste it on her tongue and she hated it, but she started to suck him hard then to pull it all out and get it over with.
He started to go limp in her mouth soon after that and she was glad about it. She was sure then that everything was going to be okay, and as he pulled out she felt his limp cock hitting her on the cheek. He raised her up and then moved his lips to hers again, pressing his tongue back into her mouth.
But that kiss, thank God, was a short one. Then he moved back to her tits. As he did, he started to raise her up on the stove and pull down her pants and panties. She felt so naked and vulnerable in front of him and wanted to cover herself. But there was nothing she could do.
He kissed his way down, running his tongue through her blonde muff. She could feel herself beginning to get a little excited, but his bristly stubbles seemed to be keeping her from getting more involved than she thought she should have. For she could even see how much he was scratching her skin, see the red marks.
He started to lick her cunt lips, pressing his tongue deep into her tunnel. She could feel it rubbing over her stiffened clit and that made her tingle all over. Yet with all the tingling sensations she had, the fear he was instilling in her remained. She didn't want anything like that to happen to her.
He moved his hands under her ass, cupping a cheek in each palm and he started to knead her flesh between his fingers. She was moaning loud then and her cunt was starting to spasm and get wetter as he worked her over. That made him even more aggressive and along with his increase in aggression, she noted, there was just as much an increase in the pleasure she was feeling.
She started to moan and she closed her eyes, seeing colors flashing before her. He started to bite and lick her clit at the same time, and she was in the middle of her first orgasm.
As it started to subside, she suddenly realized what had happened. She suddenly realized that this was her father who had done all these things to her, and the thought of it disgusted her more and more.
"Oh, Daddy," she said to him rather disgustedly with everything he had done to her, "how could you?"
He was beginning to stand up and when he looked right at her, she thought that he was going to be calm for a second. He had a rather passive look on his face at the time, and it wasn't until after he hit her that she realized the passive look was only because of the drunken stupor he was in.
For he did pull back his hand and then slap her across the face.
"Don't you talk down to me like that, you bitch," he said to her.
And then, she noted the way he was moving closer to her, moving his hips closer between her spread legs. She could see his cock, hard again, and he was beginning to press it into her cunt.
Her pussy lips were spreading to let his cock head in, and she started to whimper. She felt him pressing in harder, and then he stopped. He was against her virgin hymen and she thought that he was going to kill her. She could feel the pain as his cock head pressed against her more and more.
Then, he pulled back a little and with one swift thrust went plunging into her. She could feel her hymen being ripped through and then there was a trickle of cold blood in her cunt. He seemed to be paying very little attention to it, and as she looked at his face she could see that his eyes were closed and clenched.
He was looking just like he had that one time when he had been fucking her mother, the first time that she could ever remember seeing them together. In that sense then, there seemed to be a prevailing calmness coming over her and she started to relax a little bit into the fuck, realizing that she had no choice.
Any other protesting reaction would have been met with a slap across the face again, and that was the last thing in the world that she wanted. So she started to move her hips back and forth with him, remembering the way her mother had done it. She could feel her nerve endings, all seeming to be open to sensation, and she had to admit that there was something nice to this feeling of a cock inside of her. Yet it was knowing the man was her father that disgusted her.
Incest.
How could he do something like that to her, she thought?
It was just at that time she felt his cock beginning to pulsate in her cunt and she knew that he was going to be coming soon. He started to grunt louder than ever and all of a sudden, she felt his come beginning to spurt out of his cock with each thrusting gesture. She could feel it filling her cunt tunnel and mixing with her own vaginal juices, and the only relief in sight was the time when his cock would go limp.
When that happened, he pulled out of her and just flopped down on top of her for a second. He had his head on her tits and she could feel his warm body protecting her. The stove seat was not comfortable, but she managed to hold out there. For some reason though, all she could feel for him was pity as he lay on her lap.
She moved her fingers to his hair and started to pull at the curls, untangling them and trying to make them look a little neater.
"Oh, Daddy," she said to him. "Oh, Daddy."
She felt like she was the mother and he as her little boy. She pitied him. She wanted to hold him tight and reassure him that everything would be okay between her mother and himself. That everything would be okay in life.
But then, just as she was about to tell him all that, he raised his head and glared at her. She could see the hostility in his eyes, and suddenly, there was no more pity for him. Only the same kind of hatred he had to have in order to have done something like that to her, she thought.
He pulled away from her and she hopped off the stove.
She didn't even bother to put on her pants or button her blouse. Instead, she just started to walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
"Where the hell are you going?" he yelled after her, his voice still sounding fuzzy and drunk.
"To take a bath. To wash all this shit off me," she said, not even turning back.
"What about my dinner?"
She didn't even answer him. So far as she was concerned, if he was going to rape her and then ask her to make him dinner, he could go fuck himself. She wanted to tell him that also but she knew that he would start beating on her again. She ran up the stairs as fast as she could and then slammed the bathroom door closed behind her, making sure to turn the lock so he couldn't get in.
She looked at her reflection in the full length mirror behind the door. She started to cry as soon as she saw herself. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was just tattered all over her face and shoulders. Her blouse was ripped open and her tits looked like they had been mauled. She could see his teeth marks on her right breast, all over the fleshy area but mostly on the nipple.
She could see the bruises all over her body. The scratches on her legs from the stubbles on his face.
But worst of all was the blood that she could see dripping from between her legs, her cunt still bleeding. She reached for a washcloth and started to soak up the blood a little.
"You bastard," she said under her breath.
Then she turned to the tub and started the water, pouring in some bubble bath. She took off her open blouse and then sunk down into the tub. She could feel the way the soothing hot water was relaxing her, but still, burning her cuts.
It took a few seconds for her to get used to it and she eased herself down lower so that most of her body was under the water. She closed her eyes and started to think.
What the hell was she going to tell her mother? Or should she tell her mother anything? That was the main problem.
She knew that if she decided to say nothing, her mother might still ask her where she got the bruise on her face. So she would have to cover it. And, she also reasoned that if she didn't say anything, there was a chance of the whole incident happening again because she was going to be home alone with her father every afternoon. She couldn't stay oat until nine every day after school and wait for her mother to get home.
But there was another thing that she thought about, a reason not to tell her mother. It was true that her parents fought a lot, but she knew that somewhere deep down her mother had to still have some love for her father. She had to otherwise she would have left him a long time ago.
Telling her mother that something like this had occurred might be the flame to light the fuse, she knew. Her mother could turn on her father immediately and try to throw him out of the house.
Trish wondered what it would be like in the house without her father there. She wondered how her mother would be able to manage. Tire more she thought about it, the more she started to realize that her mother probably needed him for sex. That seemed to be when things went right for them. That seemed to be her only source of pleasure. Once he was gone, what would her mother do?
She started thinking in another direction. Not telling her mother again. She could always bring a different friend home with her from school every day and if her friend was there she was sure her father wouldn't try anything.
She would be embarrassed that her friends would see her father drunk off his face, but still, it was a way of making sure that he didn't attack her again. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps and then a pounding on the door.
"When are you gettin' out of there?" her father yelled to her.
She didn't answer. She was too scared. She watched the doorknob as he tried to turn it and was relieved that the lock was holding.
"Hey, you, when the fuck are you getting out of there? I have to take a piss and I want you to make my dinner."
Again she didn't answer, and she could tell that he was getting more aggressive. She jumped when she heard him kick the door, but then she managed to regain her control. She just sat there, trying to forget that he existed there outside the door, but soon he was banging on the door harder and harder.
"Trish, if you don't open this door right this very second I'm going to knock it down and then you'll have to pay."
She could feel her whole body shaking in the water, and when she did look at the actual level of the water, she could see that there were tiny little wave ripples reflecting the trembling fear.
"Daddy, please. I'm in the bath," she said, feeling the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She looked at the door hinges and they looked loose. He couldn't rape her again, twice in one day, he just couldn't.
"I gotta take a piss," he said to her, and then, she heard another powerful kick and along with the sound, watched the door rip off the bottom hinge. It was only being held on now by the top hinge and the lock, which looked like it would give way to the next kick Trish was sure.
She noticed that along with the broken bottom hinge were scattered pieces of plaster and paint from the wall.
Trish was too scared to even think of the practical thing to do, getting up and going to the door to answer. Instead, she was too afraid that once her father came into the bathroom and saw her naked in the tub, he was going to try to take her again and would most certainly succeed.
She looked at the sink, and she could see his razor sitting there, an old fashioned barber shop razor blade, long and ominous looking.
She sat up quickly, reached for it, then pulled it down under the water.
Just in time, too, for the next kick followed in a matter of seconds, and she ducked because she thought that the door was going to come flying at her. It didn't make it that far, and did, in fact, still hold on by the bottom hinge. But this time, Herb Hawkins had kicked the lock right through.
The door was now just hanging, and he managed to push it aside and walk into the bathroom.
She slid under the water a little bit more, trying to hide her breasts. Her father gave her a snide glance, snickered a little bit, and then stood in front of the toilet. He pulled out his limp cock, made sure that he could see it, then proudly began to piss into the bowl, a thick yellow stream.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "You tryin' to hide yourself under that water? Like I never seen what you look like? Those tits of yours. Well, honey, let me tell you. No matter how hard you try, I can still see those red little nipples there."
His talk was making her sick, not only because of what he was actually saying to her, but even more, because of the sound of his piss hitting the water. He was purposely doing it right into the water and not on the side of the bowl. Trish couldn't help thinking that he was a disgusting gross pig.
"You like lookin' at my cock as much as I like lookin' at your tits, honey?"
She didn't say anything. Just stayed there, not even moving, clutching the handle of his razor just in case he came near her and tried anything with her. She could feel the steel resting on her belly.
T asked you a question," he said to her.
"What was that?" she asked, suddenly seeming so cool, suddenly realizing that as long as she had the razor she also had the upper hand.
"Do you like lookin' at my cock?" he asked.
He was taking the longest piss in the world, she thought, and she didn't know when his bladder was going to drain.
"Your cock?" she asked, looking over at his limp member which he seemed to be displaying for her, going so far as to hold it with his left hand so that she could see it from the right. As she looked at it, she was trying to decide.
She hated the fact that it was his, number one. Her father's. She hated what he had done to her downstairs. But when she thought about how his cock had looked downstairs she had to admit that it had been nice. Nice and long and thick.
But now, she thought, it just looked small and ugly, his two balls just bobbing up and down there as he shook his cock to get all the piss off the tip. She thought that she'd tell him just what was on her mind.
"Your cock," she said again, this time not a question, "let me tell you about your cock. Now it looks hideous. Absolutely hideous, but then, what can I expect from a man who looks the same?"
He was grinning at her, so she knew that he must have slugged a few more drinks downstairs before he had even come up to piss. Between her rape and now, because he sure looked like he was more drunk than before. His words were more slurred, his eyes more red.
"What did you have to eat today?" she asked him.
"What does that have to do with anything?" he slurred.
"Because you look more like a drunken sop than ever," she said to him. "Worse than ever, and I was wondering if you even got anything solid into your stomach?"
He was still standing there, facing her, and she noticed that his hand, which had been pulling and rubbing his cock all the time he was talking to her, was now massaging him well enough to make him start stiffening.
She knew that he was looking at where her eyes were looking, which was right at his cock. The transformation from a limp dick to a nice sized erection was a fascinating one for her to see.
"I didn't eat anything," he said to her. "You're supposed to make it, so your mother tells me. While she's out working."
"What's wrong with that?" Trish asked. "Is she supposed to spend her whole life waiting for you to make money?"
"You stupid cunt," he said, getting angry, but he still hadn't approached her. He was still standing in front of the toilet, now facing her, and he reached over to finally flush his piss down.
"Be realistic, Daddy," she said to him, "we have to eat and if you're going to continue getting drunk all the time we can't count on you."
"You can count on me for some things," he said, and his cock was now fully hard. He moved his hand from it and just stood there with his hard cock bobbing in the air. It was then that he started to move a little closer to her. She clutched onto the razor handle tighter.
"Like what?" she asked him. "I don't think that we can count on you for anything."
"Your mother counts on me for one thing," he said, and she knew that he was talking about his cock, his one and only proud possession. "And now it seems that you might be able to count on me for that thing, too."
He walked right up to the tub and she started to tremble.
"I don't know what you mean," she said to him.
"Bullshit you don't, you stupid cunt."
"Daddy, why are you being like this? I don't understand? It used to be so good when I was little, at least from the way I remember it. But now, I don't know, it's just not the way it was."
She felt so strange trying to reason with him, but somehow she was thinking that he would be in a reasonable mood.
"I don't wanna hear all that shit," he said to her.
"Why not? Face up to responsibilities."
"The only responsibility I have is to me," he said. "And now me wants his fucking satisfaction from you. Suck it."
"What?" she asked.
"You heard what the fuck I told you to do. Suck it."
He was just about to reach out and grab her by the hair, pull her over, when suddenly she pulled the razor blade out, reached for his bobbing cock with her free hand and moved the razor right over, the blade touching his shaft.
Immediately, she felt the way he was withdrawing her hand, and she even got to feel what it was like for a man's erection to suddenly shrink in fear. Before she even started talking to him, his cock was limp in her hand but the blade was still close to it just in case.
"You hit me, or even try to touch me again," she said to him, "I swear that I'll cut your fucking prized possession right off."
She was hiding her fear deep inside of her as she spoke, trying to make him think that she was stable, calm, and confident. She seemed to sense from his apparent withdrawal and the way his cock had shrunk, that her act was working right.
"You wouldn't do that to me, baby, would you?" he asked.
"Just try me," she said, and just to show him that she meant business, she pushed the razor in just a tiny bit so that she cut his cock skin. Only like a paper cut. He watched as the blood began to trickle out, only a little, and slowly.
"The next time," Trish said, "I'll slice it right through. Now just get the fuck out of here and leave me alone."
He pulled back from her, pulling his cock from his hand and reaching for the toilet paper to start soaking up the blood. But they still continued to glare at each other, Trish holding the razor tightly in her hand to let her father know that she still meant business, and Herb holding his cock wrapped in the paper.
"All right," he said to her. "But you know you're not going to get away with this. You'd better understand that."
"Just get the fuck out," she said.
And she held up the blade higher, as if demonstrating that it would be very easy for her to lunge right at him and stick it in his gut.
He turned and left, almost knocking the door off its last hinge. But it still managed to hang on. Trish waited until she heard his retreating footsteps before she sunk back down in the water to try and relax.
But she knew that she would never be able to relax in that house again. And the inner fear that she had been suppressing started to ease out of her body, to the surface, until she was trembling hard.
For the last thing he had said to her was a threat, and Trish didn't know how she was going to live in a house where she would have to keep up her guard during all his waking hours.
CHAPTER THREE
"I need another order of fries," Harriet Hawkins said to Al Rabe, the young man behind the counter.
"I thought I gave you one," he said to her.
"You did," Harriet said, pushing her light brown hair off her face. "Jesus, don't you think you can do something about the air conditioning? It's hot in the damn place and the customers are complaining too."
"Don't bring those kind of complaints to me," he said. "That's management. Now about them fries, you said you wanted one order and now you say you want another."
"Al," Harriet said, "I know that I specifically told you I wanted two orders. I know that for a fact, I think."
"Aha, you think," he said.
She had to smile at him when he said that. There was something about his blonde boyish looks that she thought made him look more like a fifteen year old kid, rather than the twenty-five year old man he was.
"Al," she said, "I'm sorry. Maybe I'm wrong. Look, you know this is only my fourth day here and maybe I didn't tell you two. All I know is that there's some fucking broad out there screaming her ass off that I didn't bring her french fries and all I know is that if I don't get them fast, I might get angry enough at her to just plant them over her head when I do get them."
Al started to laugh, and she thought that he looked even cuter, more boyish.
"Hey, cut it out," she said. "It's not funny. That lady's getting mad."
"But you don't care," Al said to her.
"So far as getting my tip, I do. But so far as she's concerned, I don't think there's any sense in hoping for a big tip anyway now."
"You know something, Harriet," Al Rabe said to her, "the reason I like you so much here, more than all the other waitresses, is because you have a great attitude about this place."
"Shit, Al," she said to him, "it's my fucking work, not my life. I try to do it as well as I can, but if there are going to be assholes like that lady, what can I do? I can't let it get to me."
"Here," he said, suddenly putting up an order of fries on the counter, "this is the one that Flo ordered, but she's just going to have to wait."
"Thanks, Al," she said.
"I expect you to make it up to me," he said to her, and he winked.
She took the plate of fries, pushed her way through the swinging doors and immediately walked over to the table with the demanding french fries woman. As she placed the plate down, she started thinking that the bitch didn't even need them. She was too goddamn fat anyway and she would be better to go without potatoes during this meal. But that wasn't good policy to tell her. Especially the way Harriet was thinking of it.
"Here are your fucking fries, fatso, but you don't need them," was what she wanted to say, and because of it, she was smiling as she walked over to another table where some more customers had just walked in.
She knew she was going to get a big tip at this table.
She knew it from the minute they sat down and she ran over to hand them the menus. They seemed to like her. And now, as she went to take their orders she was smiling and thinking about the fat lady, very high, and as a result, most polite. She wrote down what they wanted, smiled again, then took the menus and headed for the kitchen.
"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Al asked her as she started to read off the order.
"Come on," she said, "old line."
"True," he winked again, "but the answers are always different. Come on, I'm really curious about you."
"Why?"
"Because you're older than most of the other waitresses here, no offense. I'm not saying that you look bad. Old. You look, in fact, like a spring day. For thou art more fair than any other maiden I have rested mine eyes on."
"Shakespeare?" she asked. "I don't know, but it sounds good. Don't you think?"
She started to laugh and she finished reading out her orders.
"Al, do you joke around with all the other girls like this?"
"No," he said, "absolutely not. I wouldn't want you to think that I just do this to everyone. Only the ones I think are special."
"Every other one?" she asked, laughing again. She felt so at ease with him.
"Yes," he said. "But really no. I'm just kidding. No, you interest me a lot, that's all, because, as I've said, you're ... "
"Older than the others?" she asked him.
"No, more mature," he said to her. "Forget about old. For age is nothing."
"Except when the years start to catch up with you. Then it's something."
"Anyway, you didn't answer my question," he said to her. "Whatever made you decide to take a job at the famous and tacky Fred's diner?"
"I needed the money, my husband's out of work."
"Oh," he said, and she knew that she had suddenly said the wrong thing. She could tell from the way he was acting that he hadn't known she was married. Usually, the minute a single man found out a girl was married, the pursuit was off. But there was something about Al that intrigued her, and she decided that she wanted the pursuit to continue. Even if nothing was to happen. Just for a game.
"But we're having problems," she said to him. "That's the reason I'm working. He can't hold down a job."
"Too bad," Al said.
"I have to get out there and check my tables. Ring me when the order's ready."
"I'd like to talk with you a little bit more," he said to her.
"Al, I can't right now. I have to get out there."
"Later then," he said to her, smiling and then taking a dirty hand and wiping it across his forehead, wiping off the sweat but rubbing on grease. She motioned for him to lean over and then took a napkin and wiped his forehead. She couldn't help but smell something sweet in his blond hair.
"When later?" she asked him.
"Let's go for a drink after work. We both get off at eight."
"Okay," she said. "But it'll have to be a short one."
She thought she heard him say "A quickie" as she turned to walk back out into the diner, but she wasn't all that sure.
In fact, she started thinking more about it. If that was what he meant, so far as a quickie fuck went, she was thinking that maybe she would like it. She needed something, that was for sure. She wondered if he was it.
For as she started to serve, Harriet Hawkins started thinking about the way things were working out for her at home, and she wasn't happy at all. Things were worse than they had ever been between herself and Herb, she knew, the last few nights being the most unbearable.
It was easy to sense that he resented her because she was working and he wasn't, but she thought he was stupid for taking that attitude. He had to be realistic in the matter. They needed the money and he wasn't doing much to secure it.
Worst of all, she knew, was their sex life. It had always been so good, good to the point where he could make her see his way all the time, just by fucking her. Even when he would be hard with her, the mere feel of his cock inside of her cunt seemed to put her under his complete control. She knew that.
And if it served any purpose at all, she knew, it was for a release of tension. There had always been tension between she and Herb. All the years of fighting between them. The last few nights however, although they had fucked, she hadn't felt any kind of tension release at all. In fact, she thought that there was more tension in their bedroom the last few nights than there had been ever before.
He still fucked her, that was true. But it seemed to her like he was only doing it because he felt that he was obligated to do it.
He would just pump it into her really hard until she was coming, then he would come very fast, too, and it would all be over. He would roll off her and then over on his side, his back to her. She would hear him breathing very heavily, but that would be all. He wasn't sleeping, she knew, because when he slept he snored. He just seemed to be steaming in his own self-pity, she thought.
The first night after she had worked and it had happened like that, she didn't say anything. She hadn't slept much that night, but still didn't find the need to say anything to him.
However, when it had happened again the second night, him fucking her hard until they both came and then him rolling over, she had touched his back, moving her hand all the way down to his ass and patting his buttocks.
"Herb," she had said, "we're going to have to talk."
"What's there to talk about?" he had asked her.
"Your attitude."
"I don't have a fucking attitude," he said to her, getting harsh. "So don't start with me about it."
She knew better than to go any further. For the one thing that she didn't warn to lead him into was beating on her again. She had once thought about going to a meeting for beaten housewives, but never quite convinced herself that she fell into that category. He would just get mad at her once in a while and hit her once in a while she always told herself.
But that night, she had the fear that he would start to beat her, she even feared the word. It had confirmed the fact in her mind that she was a beaten housewife.
The next night the same thing had happened, but this time she took her discussion further, forgetting about his attitude and just coming straight out with her questions.
"You don't like the fact that I'm working, do you?" she asked him.
"No," he said, "but what's the use of discussing it?"
"Because I don't like the tension that I'm feeling here, and that's why I think we should talk about it."
"What kind of tension?" he asked her.
"I don't know," she said. "But when we made love it used to seem to solve all our problems, but now all it does is make me more tense."
"That sounds like something you're going to have to work out by yourself," he said to her, and from his tone, she knew it was an end to the conversation.
So this fourth day at work had started out tense because when she had first started, all she could think about was what it would be like for them in the bedroom that night. That made her tense.
As she had gotten into her day though, she seemed to forget about her problems at home and just concentrate on her customers.
But Al Rabe, she knew, had been one of the main reasons she had been able to bear up during the day. For they both came on at the same time and ever since she had started working there, he had been flirting with her. But it wasn't until this fourth day that she started playing back with him, and she found that to be the most exciting part of the day.
She wondered what Herb would say when she came home late that night, but she didn't seem to care too much.
She thought about Al just as she was going into the kitchen to pick up her next order. This time she smiled at him first.
"You know," he said, picking up her good vibes, "I only live around the corner from here. Why don't we go there for a drink?"
That caught her off guard, but suddenly, she answered.
"Okay, that would be nice."
It was because of the way he had smiled back at her, she knew. There was something about his light hair and his dark tan that turned her on. Something about his blue eyes. She knew that he must have been from California, she just knew it. Probably, he had once been a California beach bum. He just had that kind of look.
But in his dungarees and T-shirt, all covered by a large white apron, he looked completely different than a surfer. He still had the body, the fine rippling muscles which she could see on his arms, but somehow, the white apron gave him the slop cook look. She wanted to laugh as she thought about it, but then she realized that her black waitress uniform with the red apron was nothing much to think about either. It made her look like a cheap slop waitress, and that was all.
She piled the dishes onto the tray, and as she walked out to serve, she glanced up at the clock. It was seven-thirty and that meant she would be leaving with him in a half an hour. The idea thrilled her as much as it scared her.
For in her sixteen years of marriage, she had never once thought of being unfaithful to her husband, and here she was, speculating on Al's motives, thinking that he might want to seduce her without actually knowing for a fact but wanting it to happen, too. Actually wanting him to try it and knowing that she would go along with it. She served the table fast and courteously, making sure to ask if there was anything else that they wanted before she walked away. She decided then to stay around until these people left because she was sure to get a nice tip from them. She liked them and they liked her.
She just hoped that they would eat fast and be out of there by eight.
By the time eight did roll around, she had finished serving all her tables, had gotten the checks from them all, except for that one. She waited until they finished their dessert before walking over with the check.
Al already had his coat on when she walked into the back of the kitchen. "Come on," he said, "let's go."
"Okay," she told him, "but through the front. I have to pick up my last tip and I hope it's a good one."
She pulled her coat on and the two of them walked back out, this time for the last time of the night. It was a reassuring feeling to know that you could just continue out the front door and not have to worry about going back to the kitchen. The day had ended. She walked past the table and scooped up the five dollar tip they had left her, stuffing it into her pocket.
"Very impressive," Al said as they walked out the front door. "A fiver for a small bill. What do you do for them?"
"Serve them," she said, laughing.
"Let's stop for a bottle of wine," he said to her.
"I thought you said you have drinks there already," she said.
"I will. When we bring the bottle of wine in."
She laughed again. There was just something so impish and exciting about his whole nature and attitude. After they got into the liquor store and he asked for the wine, he turned to her.
"Do you think you could lend me five until payday?" he asked.
"My treat," she said, pulling out the five dollar bill. Harriet knew that she couldn't afford it. That the money would have served a better purpose at home, but for some reason that was beginning to get clearer and clearer, she didn't mind.
They walked around the block and then down some stairs. He lived in a small one room basement apartment, and as soon as they walked in and he flicked on the light, she picked up a lot of things about him.
For instance, it was now apparent to her that he was a writer, his typewriter sitting on the desk with crumpled paper beside it and on the floor. Then there were shelves and shelves of books.
"Let me take your coat," he said, and he hung it on a small coat rack.
He walked over to the couch, pushed some books out of the way and made room for her to sit. Then he walked over to the small kitchen area, took out two glasses, opened the bottle and poured.
He walked back near the couch and handed it to her.
"Here's to us," he said.
"Us?"
"Sure. Why not? What else should we drink to?"
But she didn't even have time to answer because he raised his glass to his lips very fast and took a long gulp.
"You're a writer, so I see," she said to him, wanting to make conversation because of the long, uncomfortable pause.
"Yes," he said to her.
He sat down beside her on the couch and she noted the way he put his arm around her shoulder, the way he was looking right at her.
"Are you from California?" she asked him, smiling.
"Yes," he said to her, and she felt him beginning to pull her hair down out of the tight bun she usually had to keep it in while she was working. He pulled out each clip slowly, and she could feel her hair falling on her shoulders.
"I knew it," she said, suddenly. "I knew it. The minute I first saw you I knew that was where you were from."
"Hey," he said, and he turned her head toward his, "you seem a little edgy. Calm down some, okay?"
And then he moved his lips to hers. It was so unexpected in some ways, expected in others. Her overall feeling though was shock. It scared her to be doing something like this behind her husband's back, but as his lips touched her and she felt the heat of his presence nearing her, she could do nothing but go with it.
Their lips touched and he started to press his tongue into her mouth. She started to suck on it as if she was hungry for it. She could hear him moaning as their lips continued to touch, and he was soon trying to suck her tongue into his mouth, pressing his weight against hers at the same time.
By the time the kiss had ended, a good few minutes later, she was hornier than she could remember being in the longest time.
"I like you a lot," he said to her, "and we could have some wonderful times together if you want it that way."
He kissed her again slowly, then reached for her hand to take the wine glass and put it on the table in front of the couch, next to his.
"Come on," he said to her, taking her hand.
"Where are we going?" she asked him.
"To shower. Look, we're both filthy from the long day's work and we could both do each other a lot of good by cleaning each other."
She smiled. In all her years she had never done anything like that with a man. Her sex activities had usually been confined to the bedroom and the thought of doing it with him in the shower made her hornier.
As he flicked on the light in the bathroom, he also started to pull his T-shirt over his head. She noticed what a fine trim body he had, light blond hair under his arms but absolutely none on his chest. His nipples looked like they might have been pink once, but now, along with the tan on his chest, they seemed a darker brown.
She started to undress too, pulling down the zipper in back of her uniform and letting it fall. She reached for her bra strap in the back and pulled it open. He smiled at he saw her naked tits, with her stiffened brown nipples.
"You see," he said, reaching out to caress one for a second, "about that crack of your being old. You'd never know it from this firm set."
Then he moved his hand back to his dungarees, and as he kicked off his shoes he started to unzip his pants. She expected that he would be wearing shorts or something and was a little surprised to see his naked cock underneath.
He had a nice little patch of blond hair, then a cute cock, not yet hard and two round red balls, so it seemed. But the thing that turned her on the most was the small white patch of skin against the tanned line where he must have worn bathing suits.
She pulled down her panty hose and panties at the same time, revealing her tight ass and her furry brown patch. She smiled at him as he pulled the curtain aside and then watched the flex of his buttocks as he stepped into the tub. She was fast to follow, her whole body already tingling with excitement.
He pulled the curtain closed, then turned on the water, first so it was pouring into the tub and he could check the right temperature, and then turning the knob so it was spraying out of the shower.
She felt it wet her hair immediately, and then he was pulling her closer to him and pressing his whole body against hers as he kissed her. She could feel his smooth chest pressing in her nipples, but best of all, feel his cock pressing against her cunt hairs. She moved her hand between his legs and started to stroke him, feeling the stiff strong growth that was occurring.
"I think we should really wash first," he said. "I feel filthy."
He took the washcloth and a bar of soap, then rubbed some in. He started to wash her face, but didn't stay there for too long. When she felt him moving the cloth around her tits, she was in heaven. Then he put the cloth down, soaped up his hands and started to rub it into her tits.
His bare hands felt better than any cloth, she knew, but what was best of all was the fact that he was moving his hands around and around, never quite touching her nipple yet, but making them burst with anticipation.
When he finally did touch them, she could feel spasms in her cunt. Mild and most pleasing spasms. He kept one hand on her tit and started to move the other soapy one down between her legs, soaping her pubic patch until it was all bubbly, then sliding his fingers into her cunt.
She closed her eyes and moaned lightly. He only worked on her cunt for a few seconds, wiggling her clit, before she felt herself exploding inside, felt herself starting to spasm hard and peak in orgasm. When that happened he sunk to his knees and started to eat her, pressing his tongue into her cunt as he buried his nose in her soap-filled patch.
She could feel him pressing his tongue deep into her cunt and she leaned back against the wall for support, feeling her legs beginning to buckle underneath her. He moved his hands to her buttocks then, rubbing some soap on. But the water from the shower was enough to make her ass cheeks super-sensitive and as he caressed them and ate her, she thought she was in heaven.
He ate her until she came another time, and then he stood, still holding onto her tightly because he could tell that he had exhausted her. He moved his lips back to hers and as she kissed him she could taste her sweet cunt flavor in his mouth. She took the bar of soap from him as she pulled back.
"Now it's my turn," she said, and she soaped up her hands well.
She played with his nipples for a long time, noticing that after his cock was hard and she pinched his nipples, both at the same time, it seemed to pulse with anticipation and excitement. She looked at his cock the whole time, impressed with what she could do to it without actually touching it.
As she moved her soapy hand down to play with his pubic hairs, she decided that she just had to touch his cock once. She ran her hand over the length of the shaft and he closed his eyes.
She had to suck him, she knew, had to taste him, so she started to lower herself down, turning him a little so that the shower spray would wash the soap from his patch right away so she wouldn't have to taste it.
When she was near his cock, she sucked his two balls into her mouth and rubbed his cock shaft over her face. There was something so strong about it, she felt, and yet, something so weak. She could control him so well just by working him up to the point of orgasm. Have him begin her to bring him off.
She saw no reason to make him beg though. He was too beautiful. She sucked on his balls hard as she started to jerk his cock, but as she saw him begin to spasm, saw it all happening so fast, she dropped his balls and then took his cock into her mouth. Her tongue expertly played with the cock head, pried into the piss slit as much as it could, tasting a little bit of his pre emission come and smearing it over the entire cock head. She cupped his balls and squeezed them a little bit.
He started to thrust his hips back and forth and she could feel his cock moving all the way in the back of her throat. She knew that he was hot and reached for his ass cheeks, stroking them.
She wanted to explore him more, just the way she usually did with Herb. She moved her finger between his ass cheeks and started to stroke the fine line of his ass crack. When she massaged his hole enough so that it was loose, she started to slide her finger deep inside of him.
It was only then that his cock started to spasm hard and she could feel him emptying his come into her mouth. She tasted the smooth creamy flavor on her tongue, swallowing the first large ejaculation fast because she seemed to sense that there was going to be a lot more.
When it did follow then, she wasn't at all surprised. She just pulled her head back a little so that she could catch the next few spurts and it wouldn't be shooting so far back in her throat.
She was massaging his asshole the entire time, feeling how much looser he seemed to be getting because of it.
Finally, she had drained him, she could tell, and she sucked the last of his come from his cock tube and felt him starting to shrink in her mouth. She slowly pulled her finger from his asshole as she stood up, licking her way up his chest and licking each nipple before she moved her mouth back to his.
They both moved under the water and could feel it showering down on them, and for the first time in years, Harriet felt so very secure. She felt like she owned the world and could do anything, so long as she was with him.
"You are incredible," he said, moving his mouth to her ear and kissing her there.
"Maybe it's because I'm an older woman and pretty experienced," she said.
It was something of a lie. For Harriet had been a virgin when she married Herb and she didn't want Al to know that he was only the second man she had ever been with in all her thirty-five years.
"Or maybe," he said, moving his hand to her tit and cupping it, then moving his tongue down to lick her nipple, "it's because I'm a younger man, and pretty experienced in my own way."
CHAPTER FOUR
She walked into the house that night at ten, and heard silence. That scared her in some way, although, when she reasoned it out more, it was ridiculous to get scared because of silence.
Still, Herb was usually always waiting for her in the living room. At least that had been the way he had done it the first three nights. But this time he wasn't there. Of course, she told herself, it is more than an hour and a half later than I usually do get home.
Harriet hoped that he wouldn't ask her where she had been, although she already knew what she was going to tell him. Still, she didn't want to even have to lie to him because there were times when he could see through her lies.
Harriet sat down on the couch for a second to rest, kicking off her shoes. It had all been worth it as far as she was concerned. Everything. The whole evening. She started to think back to how it had been after the shower.
They had both dried each other off, and by that time, Al's cock had been nice and hard again. They walked back into the living room, both naked, sat there and talked for a while as they drank, but most of all, stroked each other tenderly.
"What did your husband do?" he asked her.
"He just worked various blue collar jobs, nothing special. But there reached a point where he just couldn't stay away from his booze and he would get fired from all his jobs after a few months."
"That's too bad," he had said "Still, you can't blame him at times. I've done the blue collar circuit. I've done a lot of things, but only for short times. All I know is if I had to work in a factory more than a few months, I would go insane."
Harriet thought about it as she opened her coat. Al had been defending what Herb did in some ways. His reasons for not wanting to hold one of those jobs.
"I could imagine." Al had said, "that the whole thing would be very frustrating and for that reason, I couldn't blame him for drinking."
It had only been then that Al had seen the bruise on her breast. The lighting had been low most of the night, and it still was. But as he spoke to her he moved his head closer to lay it on her breast and that was when he had seen the bruise.
He asked her about it.
"My husband sometimes beats me," she said, it was the first time she had ever said anything like that to someone and she felt good getting it off her chest.
"Why do you take it?" he asked her.
"I guess because I do love him, still. It's not like it was when we were first together. But when we were first together everything had been so beautiful. He had been a kind gentle man. It was only when we had the baby that ... "
"You mean you're a mother?" he asked.
"Yes. I have a fifteen year-old daughter named Trish. Believe it or not. Anyway, when it was just the two of us it was nice. We both wanted the baby, that was true, but along with the baby came a lot more responsibilities than Herb could handle and a lot of bills that had to be paid."
"Meaning, if he's a blue collar worker, he had to work overtime."
"Right," Harriet had said. "That's when he started to change."
"Could you blame him?" Al asked.
"What?"
"Look, it's bad enough having to do some of that shit eight hours a day, but when you have to work overtime and you're doing the most tedious shit only because you need the money, well, that's not such a nice feeling or a good position."
"I never thought about it that way," she said.
"Maybe you should have. I bet all you did was nag him all the time about you needing more money, and then all you were doing was laying a burden on his shoulders."
"Tell me something, Al Rabe," she had said, moving her hand down to his cock and starting to stroke it gently, watching the way his whole body seemed to shiver under her touch, "how does a man whose only twenty-five know so much?"
"Like I said, I've been around and I've seen a lot of people. That's why I want to be a famous writer one day. I've seen a lot of things, now all I have to do is write something about them."
"Interesting," she said, cupping his balls, feeling the light blond fuzz that coated his scrotal sack.
"But, to be more honest, it sounds just like the way it was in my family when I was younger and my mother always used to hassle my father."
"Did it bother you?" she asked, thinking about Trish. She had never really talked too much with her daughter about all the fights she must have heard going on while she grew up in the house. She wondered just how it was affecting her.
As she sat on the couch, she made a mental note to go up and ask her later.
"No," he had said. "I think that once a kid gets to be a certain age, maybe about eleven, they come to some kind of reality about the situation. I mean you have to face the fact eventually that your family is not going to be just like the Walton's, and even if there was a family like that, it's rare. You have to realize that there are problems that are going to occur."
"You know," she said to him, "you're so sweet."
"That's a condescending remark if I ever heard one," he said to her.
"I didn't mean it that way," she said, and just to prove it to him, she moved her mouth down to his nipple and kissed him.
That seemed to have gotten everything going, because most of the time, while they had been talking, she had been stroking his cock. As she kissed his nipple that seemed to turn him on more, make him more aggressive, and he started to push her back and climb on top of her.
She spread her legs for him and felt him rubbing his cock head against her cunt lips, and then, ever so slowly, he started to guide his way into her. She could feel her cunt lips grabbing onto his cock, almost kissing it and pulling it into her even more. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks and started to rub them as he moved all the way into her.
Once in, he started to thrust ever so gently. She could feel his cock bone working on her excited erect clit, and that was sending sensations through her entire body. In many ways, it started to remind her of days when Herb had been younger, their free and easy days when love was all they had and they would be so tender and gentle with each other.
His balls were hitting her buttocks with each inward thrust, and she could feel her cunt starting to spasm only seconds after he had entered her. There was something about the wine and the touching foreplay they had gone through that had made her cunt more responsive than ever before.
As he felt her cunt spasming he started to moan and slowed down probably because her cunt spasms were adding more sensations without his even having to bother with his thrusting. He lay there and she rubbed his ass cheeks even harder. He kissed her passionately on the lips and she felt his weight pressing in on her. But she loved it all, loved the comforting feelings she was getting from him.
After her orgasm started to subside he picked up his thrusting, but she had known even then that he wouldn't be able to hold out too much longer. He had seemed to be near his peak before and there was no way he would be able to hold back.
He had fooled her though. She couldn't even remember how long his cock was spasming for before he finally started ejaculating, but it seemed like it could have been at least ten minutes or so because the spasming cock was giving her clit such a workout that she started to moan as her pleasures built up again.
They came together that time, and when it was over, she walked to the bathroom, washed herself so that she wouldn't smell of sex, then went back in to dress. He just lay on the couch, a few drops of come dripping from his cock.
"Do you have to leave so soon?" he asked her.
"Yes," she said. "I'm going to be late as it is and my husband's going to be mad at me."
"I hope he won't beat you because of it."
She felt uncomfortable when he said that to her, but she knew that he was saying it in all earnestness. He really did care about what happened to her and she felt good thinking that someone did.
"I hope we can get together soon," she said as she kissed him then walked to the door.
"I'm sure that we will," she heard him say.
And now, as she sat downstairs in her own home, she was beginning to feel a little bit guilty about what she had done. She wondered what Herb was going to say to her when she went upstairs, if he was upstairs at all.
"Well, Harriet Hawkins," she said to herself, "there's only one way to find out and that's for you to go up there."
She bent down, picked up her shoes, then stood. She started to walk up the stairs and she could still hear silence. She walked into her bedroom, seeing the door wide open, and he wasn't there.
In some ways it relieved her. She walked over to Trish's room and saw the door closed, then rapped on it lightly.
"Who is it?" she heard her daughter as, sounding frightened.
"It's me, Mom. Can I come in?"
"Sure, Mom," she heard Trish say, and suddenly she seemed less scared. Harriet turned around for a second before she opened the door, and that was when she noticed the bathroom door, hanging sideways from one hinge. "Hey, what happened to the bathroom door?" was the first thing she asked when she stepped into the room.
"It accidentally got locked from the inside and Dad kicked it open."
She didn't know why but she thought that Trish was lying to her. Still, she didn't want to press it. She just walked over to the bed, sat down, and took her daughter in her arms to give her a big hug.
"So how was your day today?" she asked Trish.
"Fine. Nothing different."
"Where'd Daddy go?" Harriet asked. "And what time did he leave?"
"I don't really know where he went, nor do I care. But he left at about seven-thirty and he hasn't been back since. Probably at some bar drinking some more."
"Trish, that's a terrible thing to say about your father."
"Mom, we both know that it's true so there's no sense trying to hide it. He was awful today when I came home. Just awful."
"Why? What did he do?"
Trish had already decided that for now, she wasn't going to tell her mother anything about what her father had done to her. She was going to wait it out some time. She had the razor hidden in her night table drawer, had slipped it in there when she heard that it was her mother outside of the door instead of her father.
"He was just so drunk and he started yelling. He just made me very tense and I didn't particularly like being around him today."
"I'm sorry, honey," her mother said. "You have to understand though. I have to keep this job until Dad gets something else. Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something important. This guy who's the cook where I work was talking with me tonight and I just happened to tell him a little bit about Dad. He told me that he came from a family pretty similar. His parents sounded like they acted like Dad and I act now."
"What of it?" Trish asked her mother.
"He just said that it didn't affect him too much, but that it can and does affect other kids. I just wanted to find out how you feel about it."
"What, exactly?" she asked.
"About Dad. The way he's been acting. The things that he does. The drinking. The arguments we always have and I know you're either in here or downstairs and you hear everything that we say to each other. How does that make you feel?"
Trish wanted to break down and cry in her mother's arms. Wanted to tell her mother everything that had happened to her that afternoon. The way her father had raped her and then tried to assault her again in the bathroom. Tell her the real reason the door was the way it was and not some lie she had concocted.
But she had to ask something first.
"Do you love him?" she asked.
"Yes," her mother said. "I think that the only reason I stay with him right now is because I do love him. I keep thinking that he needs this help and I'm the only one who can give it to him."
"How much longer will it go on before you might start thinking he's beyond help?"
"What? What makes you ask me something like that?" Harriet Hawkins asked her young daughter as she stroked her hair.
"I don't know. It's just that it seems to be the same ever since I can remember. It doesn't get better, ever. Only worse."
Harriet thought about it for the longest time. Maybe Trish was right. Maybe Herb was definitely beyond help and it would be best to leave.
But then she thought about the things Al had been saying to her that night. Things about factory work and the way it affects some men. She knew that the answer was for Herb to get some kind of job where he would feel important, where he wouldn't just be another cog in the chain that kept the machinery running.
"Maybe it's worse because of times now," Harriet said to her. "I don't know. All I know is that there's always been all this responsibility that your father never could handle and ... "
"Today he said to me that the only one he's responsible for is himself."
That hit Harriet off guard.
"He couldn't have said anything like that," she told her daughter. "And if he did, he probably didn't mean it."
"He did say it anyway. Whether he meant it or not's another thing."
"Let's just believe that he didn't. I don't want to think that he did. Anyway, I just want you to know that I appreciate all you're doing while I'm working. I know that it's hard on you but one day I'll make it up to you."
Trish hugged her mother tight, this time holding on as if she didn't want to let go. Now she knew that she could never tell her mother about the rape. It would shatter the woman and cause a tremendous explosion in the house. Still, she wanted to be able to tell her mother that she had a tremendous fear for her father.
But she just couldn't.
"Remind me tomorrow morning to call a repairman to fix the bathroom door," her mother said as she stood up.
"Ask Dad to try. Maybe it'll make him feel like he's worth something."
"Good idea," her mother said.
She smiled at her daughter, blew her a kiss goodnight, then closed the door. She walked back to her own bedroom and started to undress. She knew that she wouldn't go to sleep until Herb came home that night, not only because she did want to talk to him, but even more, because her fears that he would be out drinking were going to keep her up all night anyway.
Or keep her up until she heard him coming.
She flicked on the television set at eleven and watched 'Mary Hartman.' In some ways she was glad Herb wasn't there because he always told her what a stupid show it was and he wouldn't let her watch it. But the few times she had managed to see it she had thought that it was funny and irreverent and she was glad to be able to see it again. It was during the second half of the show that she heard the front door opening, and she felt her heart beating fast.
She was trying to figure out if it was from fear or anticipation as she heard him locking up, then heard him starting to climb up the stairs and walk toward their room. She saw the door open and he was standing there.
He had shaved, she could tell, and in some ways, he looked as handsome as she always thought of him as being. It wasn't until he stumbled into the room that she knew he was drunk, and could smell the stench of the liquor.
"You're watching this shit," he said, walking to the television and getting ready to click it off.
"Herb, please, it's almost over."
She was relieved when she saw him pull away, leaving the set on.
He walked over to his side of the bed and started to undress, pulling off each piece of clothing slowly, fumbling a little bit as he did it because of the drunken state that he seemed to be in. He just let his clothes fall on the floor, she noted, rather than hanging them up. But that was to be expected. He did that all the time when he was drunk.
"Where were you?" she asked him, very calmly.
"I don't want you to start right now," he said to her, pulling off his T-shirt and dropping it.
She had to admit that the sight of his hairy chest was still very stimulating to her, and she wished that they could just be tender and gentle with each other, rather than hard. Tender and gentle the way she and Al had been that night, the way she and Herb had been when they first got married.
"I don't want you to get upset," she said, reaching over and touching his back. "Really Herb, don't get upset. Sometimes I think that I'm pressuring you too much and I don't want you to think that."
He turned and smiled at her, and for the first time she got a good look at his eyes. Yes. She was certain that he was drunk now, there was no way he couldn't be. His words had been slurred, not as bad as usual but still pretty bad.
He pulled down his pants and shorts at the same time, and as he bent over she could see his smooth buttocks and his balls hanging low between his legs. She wanted to reach out and touch them, but she didn't.
"I'd like to talk tonight," she said.
"How can you talk with that damn show on?" he asked her.
"It'll be over soon. A few more minutes. Please, Herb." She sat there watching the show, but when she saw he was getting upset, playing second fiddle to a television set, she turned to him. "What happened to the bathroom door?"
"What? Well ... it ... it uh ... "
"Trish said that the door was locked from the inside and you wanted to get in so you had to kick it open."
"That's right," he said, plopping down on the bed beside her. "That's just the way it happened."
"Well, honey," she said, leaning over and resting her head on his chest, moving her long nailed fingers to his nipples and playing with them, "do you think that you could try and fix it tomorrow sometime during the day?"
"I'll try," he said, moving his hand to her breast and caressing it.
'Mary Hartman' ended and Harriet reached for the remote control switch and shut off the set. She turned her head toward her husband and moved up to kiss him on the lips. It wasn't until she tasted the liquor on his breath that she knew she was going to be putting herself through a test to see if she would be able to make love to him like that. It would definitely be an effort.
He moaned a little and she let her hand slide down between his legs, pulling at his cock, rubbing it between her hand and his groin where it was pressed.
"Baby," she said to him, "I don't want you to be mad at me for working."
"You always know how to break the mood, don't you?" he asked her.
"What?"
"Why do you have to bother bringing something like that up now for?"
"I just want you to understand that I understand the way you feel."
"Oh?" he asked her. "And how's that?"
She could tell, just from the feel of his cock, that he was tense. But she could feel the vibrations all over the room, emanating from him very strongly. For that reason and that reason alone, she became more aggressive as she stroked his cock and that seemed to relax him a little bit.
"That's nice," he said to her.
"I always want to be nice when I'm with you," she told him. "You should know that. You should know that I really love you."
"I haven't heard you say it in a long time," he said to her.
"The same for me," she said.
"I love you too then," he told her, and he kissed her hard on the lips once more. A second time, she almost felt herself getting nauseous as he kissed her, but she put everything that she had into it.
When the kiss ended she decided to try once again. For she knew that she wasn't going to feel right until she finally got this shit settled about the job.
"I thought about you at work a lot today," she said, still stroking his cock and moving her other hand to play with his curly hair.
"Oh, yeah?" he asked, seemingly happy about it. "What kind of thoughts?"
"I tried to think of why you don't get a job and ... "
"Don't start that again, please Harriet. I don't want to hear it."
"Let me finish. I think I can understand it all now. I know how hard it must be for you doing that boring work day in and day out."
She could feel something of a surge in his cock when she said that and she hoped that it reflected something of a surge in the way he was feeling about her now. She stroked his cock even harder than before and began to spread her legs and climb on top of him, bringing her hot brown haired pussy even closer.
She wanted him to feel the heat that she had for him.
Or was it for him? Suddenly, she didn't seem to know. It could have either been for him or it could have been heat that she was feeling because of the scene she had had with Al. She knew that she had been turned on like never before with him. Or maybe life before. Maybe like the times she and Herb had first been together. And now, she was somehow trying to bring back memories of that time.
"What made you think about it?" he asked her.
"The cook at work and I were talking about it," she said, and she was happy when he started to stroke her cunt with his fingers, begin to tenderly pull at her pussy lips, opening them up wide and finding her erect little clit.
It was just like old times, she thought, where he would search out her love bud clit and turn her on like a firecracker.
"You brought it up?" Herb asked her.
"No," she said, lying fast because she could tell by the tone of his voice it was that kind of question. A positive answer would have gotten her some kind of a hostile reaction. He would have been mad at her for discussing their private lives, she was sure. So she could forgive herself for the lie.
'Tell me about it then."
"We were just talking and he said that he has been around and he's done that kind of work."
"And?"
"And he told me that if he had to work there more than the time that he did, and that my dear was only a few months, that he would have gone crazy."
"So now you understand?" he asked her.
"Yes," she said, "and I apologize for all the times that I was pressuring you. I didn't realize just what I was putting you through."
She noticed him smiling and she moved her lips to his and kissed him hard, pressing her tongue into his mouth. Then she started to kiss her way down his chest until she was taking his cock into her mouth. She started to suck him, but only a little. Because she was dying to have him fuck her, dying for him to bring her off the way he used to and not leave her feeling tense the way she had the past few nights.
She started to mount him, holding his large cock right up in the air and lowering herself right down on him. She could feel her cunt wrapping tightly around him and she started to ride him up and down.
"That's nice, baby," he said to her, "real nice, honey."
She moved her hands down to his chest and started to massage him all over. She felt his stiffened nipples and pushed the hair out of the way. She could feel his cock pulsing inside of her as he thrust his ass up off the bed, trying to bury himself deeper. Men always loved to bury themselves in a woman's cunt she started to think and she liked that idea.
She started to come way before he did, and it wasn't until a few minutes later that she felt his cock beginning to pump out into her. She rolled off him.
"That was nice, Trish," she heard him say, and then he rolled over and fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Herb realized that he had said the wrong name as soon as he rolled over and that was one of the reasons he pretended to be sleeping, even feigning his snoring so that she wouldn't even bother to talk to him.
But he had a lot on his mind that night. He knew that only sleeping pills would get him to sleep, and he had been about to get them. He had been thinking of getting them after he fucked her. But then he had called her Trish and he just didn't want to have a confrontation with her then and there.
He had had too many during the night while he was out.
Out drowning his sorrows, at first, but then, picking up a girl to take home for the night and learning many things from her. Things that were changing the way he had been thinking for the longest time.
His mind started to drift back to his younger years and the way he had been brought up. His father had always believed in the American Dream which was to work hard in order to strive for your goals. However, his father had never gotten what he wanted and as Herb thought about it, he should have realized then that if the man never could live up to his philosophy, then it was all bullshit.
You could work and strive all your life and still end up with a pile of shit in the end.
At least that had seemed to be the thing that happened to his father. However, there was another part to the American Dream.
The family.
Along with the American dream of making money was the idea of having a happy and healthy family. The usual thing was two kids, a two car garage and a house out in the suburbs.
His father's family had seemed to make the man happy. He had the two boys, Herb and his brother David. But that was another thing bothering Herb. His father had died about three years before and he knew that he had never lived up to the ideals that his father had set. He had never had the second child, never seemed to be happy, and worst of all, so far as his father was concerned, had taken to drinking.
Herb knew he was a drunk and he knew that he could be violent when he was drunk. But there were reasons for it, too. He was a man who had grown up trying to live his life by certain ideals and he had found out they were all bullshit.
If you didn't get the money, at least the family was supposed to keep you happy. But that hadn't worked with Herb because he started to realize that the only way you could be happy was if you had money. And he was never going to get anywhere working assembly lines.
It was so frustrating, too, he knew. Or it had been. Until he had picked up the hooker this night and spoke with her about her life.
"Sure," she had said to him, "I make great money. But who the fuck is happy, know what I mean? It don't work that way all the time."
Herb had asked her specifically if she was happy. He was trying to figure out if he would have been happy today had he not met Harriet and had he continued to do what he was doing before they ever met.
He thought about it. Studding.
When he had first decided to leave home and come to New York, he didn't know just what he would do. He was going to look for a job, possibly in a firm where he would one day be able to work his way to a top position.
New York had been harder than he ever would have thought, and one night, he found himself alone and in a bar, still unemployed and running low on money. He was thinking of writing to his folks, but he knew that any money his father would send him would have been hard earned and something of a strain on the man.
Suddenly, a beautiful woman walked over to him and started talking to him. She asked him if she could buy him a drink, and when she told him she was thirty, eighteen year old Herb felt uncomfortable.
Yet he let himself get talked into going back to her apartment, where she laid her cards on the table. She asked him how much he wanted for the night and told him that she thought he was so cute she would pay up to a hundred.
At first he was confused, but then he realized just what she was talking about. She wanted him to fuck her. A young john for an older woman. Since he had been into sex quite a lot back in high school, he knew that he would be able to perform, knew that he would be able to satisfy him.
She stripped first and when he saw her blonde haired pussy in front of him he was ready to dive in. She sat down on her plush black couch and spread her legs as he crawled on his hands and knees between them and started to eat her out. He was burying his head deep in her cunt and she was squirming on the seat, pulling at his hair and beginning to soak between her legs.
She had her first orgasm fast and she was just about ripping the shirt off his back and trying to strip him. When she attacked his cock he was just glad that it was up. He had never been with a woman who was so aggressive and he had to admit that he was enjoying the whole scene. She almost brought him off about ten times and he was thinking of begging her.
But she was paying him and she could do whatever the hell she wanted, just so long as he walked out of the apartment with the hundred she had promised him.
The blonde hadn't brought him off by sucking him. Instead, she wanted him to fuck her for hours, and when he came very fast the first time because of all the foreplay and the long cocksucking, she seemed upset. But he managed to get hard fast and was soon fucking her all over again, having kept her worked up with his fingers until he could pull his cock into hardness again.
When he was getting ready to leave, she handed him one hundred and fifty, telling him that he had been the best she had ever had. She also told him that anytime he wanted he should call her.
Stella, as he later learned her name was, became a steady customer of his, and she was the one responsible for getting him all the connections with other rich and horny lady friends of hers. In fact, it reached a point where he decided to do it with Stella for free, only because of everything she had done for him.
He was living his American Dream at the time, so he thought. For Herb had always been a sexual person, and the idea of making money off the fucking he could do with his cock, off the pleasures he could bring to women and to himself, seemed like the most satisfying kind of work a man could do.
A boy, really, Herb couldn't help but think as he felt his wife shifting in the bed next to him. That had been what the whole discussion with Stella had concerned after he met Harriet and decided to give up his life of studding for a family.
"I know that it would be hard," he said to her, "but I feel like a boy now. A man doesn't go around doing something like this to make a living. I want to take on some responsibility. I want to get married, get a job, and have a family."
"It's not all that it's cut out to be," Stella had told him, having been married and a mother once, and now a divorcee whose child lived with the father.
But until he made that decision to give it all up, his whole life had revolved around fucking rich women and making tons and tons of money.
The one time that he would never forget was when Stella had told him she was going to have a friend over and the three of them were going to get into a scene. Herb would never forget what it was like to have two women in bed at the same time.
Lila, Stella's redheaded friend was voluptuous, with large breasts that he just sunk his teeth into and started to suck. At the same time Stella was on her knees taking his cock into her mouth and sucking him into a nice hard-on. When he was hard enough Stella guided him into Lila's spread red cunt and he just flopped down on her tits and humped his ass for all he was worth. But Lila was like a fucking nymphomaniac, screaming her lungs out each time he plunged into her, her cunt muscles in a constant state of spasm around his cock.
When he came, not as fast as usual, but too fast for Lila's horny nature, he pulled out of the way and watched as Stella started moving for Lila's cunt. Stella spread the lips well and started to work on the clit.
Herb sat there in the meantime and rubbed his cock a little. He could feel it beginning to stiffen fast, mainly because of the hot action that was going on in front of him. He knew that the longer he stayed limp the less he would be able to enjoy it and the two women were having a great time there.
When he got hard again he moved behind Stella and seeing her cunt gash and her asshole, paused a few seconds to decide which one to enter. The choice, after he saw the wet dripping of her cunt, was not a hard one to make, and he slid right into her pussy and started to fuck her with all he had, his belly slapping against her buttocks hard each time he thrust in.
Then he pulled out and entered her asshole, once he was lubricated with enough of her creamy juices. He thought that he was going to come again, but he just started thinking unsexual thoughts and that managed to bring down his excitement a little. Still, he remembered it being quite hard, particularly when he not only felt her cunt around his cock, but even more, when he looked over and saw the way she was working on Lila and the way Lila was squirming on the bed.
The reason the night was so memorable, Herb thought was because he had come four more times within the next few hours, and that was the most he had ever come in a night. Plus, when he remembered, it had also been the longest time he had been able to hold an erection during a session, because the second time he had managed to hold off from coming at least two hours, but then, while Lila was sucking his cock, Stella decided to attack from behind and rim his asshole.
That had caught him completely off guard and had stimulated him so much that his body had started to tremble and he started to shoot off in Lila's mouth.
One of the reasons his sex life with Harriet had always been so good, he knew, was because of all the experience he had had during his few months of studding in the city. It took a few months before he started to realize how much it was getting to him, how worn he looked and how tired he was.
Still, there was no better way to make money and he would find himself mailing his father checks for a hundred dollars every week, just to show the man that he could make it in the American Dream of the business world.
His father was the one who started to bug him about getting married too, and sometimes Herb wondered if he ever would have gotten married had his father not instilled that American Dream family number on him.
For when he thought about it, he had been quite happy servicing Stella and her friends, and he was happy for many reasons. First, the money allowed him to live lavishly and go out as often as he wanted. Second, since he didn't work every night he would have a lot of time to do the things that he wanted, go to the bars that he wanted and pick up a girl for a one night fuck.
During his days he would try to catch the sights in New York, making an effort to go somewhere different every day until he had seen it all.
Then, one night in a bar, he met a girl who did something different to him. Not only did she seem to satisfy his sexual lust (he had the desire and he was to learn that she could satisfy him later on) but she seemed to stimulate him intellectually, too. She was the first girl that he had ever wanted to talk to since coming to the city. Most of the others just seemed too dumb and all he wanted was to get them in bed. But that didn't seem to be the case with Harriet Rogers.
Sometimes, when he was drunk, and very often during the last few days, he would tell himself that maybe if they had waited a longer time to marry, it wouldn't have even happened. Because he had insisted, after spending a few days with her, that marriage was definitely the next step in the right direction.
He was incurably in love. Head over heels in love. He would quote to her from Shakespeare and send her flowers and candy.
But of course, Herb never told her what he was doing to make the money in order to afford all this. He just told her that he had a job in an insurance firm and he just made sure never to tell her the name in case she wanted to call him at work.
She did wonder where he went some nights when he told her he couldn't see her, but he knew that he just couldn't tell her that he was a stud and that was the way he made money.
Big money, too. For the next time Stella decided to invite Lila over, the redhead had taken out five hundred dollars and had handed it to him. She told him that it was a little present because he was great.
"You don't know what you're doing," Stella had told him. "Marriage is nothing more than a trap, a piece of paper. Look at it, you can't even tell her what you've been doing the last few months. That's the way to start a marriage?"
"Look," he would say to her, "she was a virgin when I met her and sex right now is something very special to her. And it's special to me when I'm with her. But I just couldn't tell her about all the other women I've been with. She just wouldn't understand?"
"What are you going to do for work?"
"I'll find something," he had said so confidently. "I'll manage."
She had laughed then. That Stella could be a real card sometimes. Herb remembered.
"Herb, are you kidding? Come on. Don't you know that there's a tough world out there. People are gonna kill you, you know that? A small town kid, who's basically gotten nothing to offer the world but a cock. You can't put that on a resume, kid."
"I don't want to hear you saying things like that anymore," Herb remembered saying, and there was a great deal of hostility in his voice.
And Stella had shut up. He had scared her into silence. Sometimes he would think about that last time with her, their last conversation, and he would hate himself for having told her to shut up. Sometimes he would think that had she gone on, he might have been talked out of marriage.
Just a little more prodding.
But Herb had made his choice, and to this day he didn't regret it. He still loved Harriet more than ever. However, Stella had been right with her words of warning. It had been a tough world out there. Sure, the first few months of marriage when they had lived off his stud money had been wonderful. Herb laughed when he thought about that. He had told Harriet that when he was seventeen he had been hit by a car and had collected all this money in insurance.
But once that money started to run out, things started to become more real to him. On top of that, Harriet got pregnant soon afterwards, a long time before Herb thought he was ready to become a father. Still, he didn't want her to have to go through an abortion, and he had been the one who told her that they didn't need contraceptives. Since he felt responsible for her pregnancy, he decided that they would have to keep the child.
Trish. He had loved his little girl, He remembered when she was five and he had taken her on a pony ride. He still had pictures of the blonde little girl, giggling as she bounced up and down on the pony's back. Never once did she cry, always such a happy little girl. That moment on the pony had brought him joy.
Still, it couldn't compare to all the anguish he was feeling from the fights with Harriet. The fights about money.
He had taken to ordinary blue collar jobs, and even those had been a bitch to get. As he worked those assembly lines, placing the same piece in the same hole, seven hours a day, one after the other, he would start laughing, thinking that this was what he had put on an act for? This fucking stinking job? This was what he had dressed up for, gone on an interview for, almost begged them for if only because he needed the money to feed his family?
This fucking shit?
Drinks could easily drown sorrow, and it took Herb a few days to catch onto the fact that the reason most of the other men could tolerate it was because they were soused. It didn't take much coordination to do the same maneuver every day, so most of the assembly line workers would keep small bottles in their overalls. They would sneak drinks, sometimes even just go out and have a bottle for lunch.
Not all of them, Herb thought about. Then there were the other ones. The druggies. You could tell that they were on something from the minute they stepped onto the line. Their eyes usually looked like they were going to pop right out of their heads. Herb thought that it had to be speed. Still, they looked undernourished and hardly ever ate anything. The druggies.
It had all been in order to survive, Herb thought. That was why he had taken to the bottle. He had no choice but to take to the bottle. The others did. It was their way of getting through the day.
And the money was all that counted.
Some fucking American Dream, he thought, and he could sense that Harriet had shifted her position in the bed. He wanted her to fall asleep so he could get out of there, if not just to get outside for a breath of air, then maybe to go downstairs and just have one last drink before the night.
No, I have to stop thinking like that, he said to himself. Have to stop thinking about the booze and think about getting myself together.
In all those years with Harriet, all those years of fighting and beatings, he knew that she could still sense his love. Somehow, it had been nice to say it to each other again this night. He wondered if she still meant it though. She easily could have just been saying it because she knew he was drunk and didn't want him to get angry. No, she wouldn't do something like that. She had to mean it.
He felt guilty. Guilty for what he had done that afternoon to Trish, something he had been drinking to forget, and even more guilty after he had been with that whore.
After Trish he had run out of the house and gone to the city, gone to an old bar that he used to hang out it, thinking that maybe Stella would be around. They hadn't been in touch since the night he had told her to shut up. Mainly because he had wanted it that way.
"Look," he had told her, "I'm going on to a new part of my life and I have to leave everything from the old part behind."
The bar hadn't changed too much, except for one major difference. Now, not only were there older ladies and all the young Johns around, waiting to be picked up, but there were a few older men, like himself, and a few younger girls.
It was strange, Herb thought. The young boys and the young girls were all studs in their ways, studs and hookers. And all the older people were the perspective customers. Why, he wondered, didn't the old men and the old women get together with each other? Probably because they were old and they were looking for their youth in fucking.
Herb spotted a middle aged woman who seemed to be on the make. She reminded him, in some ways, of Stella, although he knew she wasn't. He wished she was there, but after about an hour Herb decided to give up waiting. It was all so senseless. For all he knew she could have been dead, or married again. Although she had once jokingly said that she would kill herself before ever marrying again.
When he left the bar, he noticed that the older woman, the one who looked like Stella, whose hair was obviously bleached, walked out after him. That was when he knew she was on the make, and soon they were talking and walking in the streets and she had slipped her arm through his.
All for a small price, conveniently discussed as they walked.
Then to her apartment.
Herb still didn't know why he had gone. He hadn't been horny until she started to get undressed and he just felt like he was cheating on his wife. But once the woman had taken off her bra and displayed her luscious twin globes with stiff red nipples, then slid off her slip to reveal crotchless black panties and a trimmed blonde patch of pussy fur, Herb could feel his cock on the rise.
She walked right in front of him as he was sitting on the chair, starting to undress, pressed her cunt right up to his mouth, then started to finish undressing him while he ate her. Herb didn't even know how she managed to pull off all his clothes, make him shift in position so that he could eat and eat, but soon he was naked and while he continued to feast on her scrumptious cunt, she began to slowly jerk his cock.
She had a nice touch, and a wonderful body for a woman her age. Herb had to admit. He started to wonder about her as she began to lower herself on his lap, holding his cock raised up and sliding right down onto it. He could feel her cunt muscles working around his cock, and he started thinking back to the old studding days. Somehow, that was all he could think about and that seemed to make his control very good.
He licked her stiff nipples the whole time she was riding him, and he didn't know how many times she had come before he finally felt the need to release the thick gooey come from his hot balls.
He couldn't remember when he had had a better orgasm, except maybe for the one tonight with Harriet. It had been nice, confirming their love again, then fucking. Better than the tension of the last few nights. The tension of the last few years, rather.
While the blonde was cleaning up, he started talking with her.
"Say, do you happen to know some blonde lady named Stella? She used to go to the bar where I met you tonight."
"Stella, Stella, let me think. She got a redheaded friend named Lila?"
"Yes, that's the one," Herb said, remembering the two of them.
"A vicious bull dyke if you ask me, that one is," the blonde had said then. "She and that Lila cling to each other and look ready to kill each other if anyone else thinks of trying to invade. Oughta stay home if they feel like that."
Herb couldn't believe it. So Lila and Stella were now lovers for good. He wondered if he got in touch with them, would they make it together for old time's sake? Or was what this blonde saying really true? Two dykes now who didn't want anyone to invade in their territory. It made him sad in some ways.
"What about you?" he had asked then. "I used to be in the business myself."
"I sort of figured that. First of all, I thought that you looked familiar, and second, you had great control."
"Thanks," Herb said.
"Leave the business?" the blonde had asked, sitting on the bed then with her naked legs spread, giving Herb a terrific view of her red lipped cunt.
"Yeah," he said. "I got married. Let me ask you something. Are you happy?"
"Eh," she had said to him.
"But you must make great money here."
"Money is not happiness. Mister."
"I was pretty happy when I was studding and making a grand a week, let me tell you that. Now I'm unemployed with a family to support."
"Sure, money could buy happiness," she had said to him then. "But it don't always work like that. You see, it's usually that you always want what you can't get. Or what the other guy has. Look, I would give my right tit to find somebody who would love me for me and not just this cunt of mine. Who would want me around all the time, want to marry me. Who the fuck gives a shit about money? Damn, that don't make you happy."
Herb was sorry he had even asked her in the first place because as she was talking he could tell that she was beginning to break down a little bit.
He walked over to her and started to massage her shoulders a little bit, even her naked nipples some, but then stopped when she calmed down.
"Sorry for the breakdown," she said to him. "It's just that you're really a nice guy to be concerned about things like that, and, I don't know, I guess in answer to your question it's no, I'm not happy."
That had started Herb thinking. He had always imagined, at least in the midst of a drunken stupor, that had he continued his life as a stud, had he just not married Harriet and had a family, chances were he would be happy. That had been his one self-pitying routine, and suddenly, he couldn't feel sorry for himself anymore.
Because that whore had put him straight. She was worse off than he was, so far as he could tell. At least he had a wife who loved him all the time, and a daughter who loved him once.
Trish! God, he wanted to kill himself for what he had done to her. He wanted to run to the bathroom, take the razor and kill himself. Ha! She probably had the razor in her room, he thought, probably kept it under her pillow just in case he decided to go in there.
He decided then that he was going to take the risk. He didn't care. He just would never be able to sleep that night unless he went in and apologized to her, told her that he was sorry and would try to make it up to her.
He could hear Harriet breathing steadily then, which told him that she was asleep. He pushed the covers down slowly and decided that it would be better, this time, if he put on his bathrobe. Trish would certainly think he was going to assault her if he walked into her room naked.
He pulled his robe closed, then tiptoed out into the hall. When he tried his daughter's bedroom door, he found that it was locked. She really was scared of him and the thought of it made him feel a little more depressed.
He hurried downstairs to the kitchen and found a small knife. It was becoming more and more of a necessity for him to get into that room and talk with her. He knew that he would never be able to fall asleep unless he did something like that. Had to tell her this night. Now.
Herb ran back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was in front of her door in a matter of seconds and stared to jimmy it with the knife. He knew that it wouldn't be hard to break a lock like the one on her door. Like the ones on any of the doors in the house.
They were all so old-fashioned, all pretty loose and only a little bit of prying would get it open fast.
When he was in the room he tiptoed over to her bed. She was sleeping, her hand under her pillow, her mouth open and her face looking so innocent. He slowly walked over to the bed and sat.
She didn't wake then, and he moved his hand, to her face and touched her.
"Trish," he said to her, gently, softly, "Trish, wake up."
Suddenly, her eyes opened and she looked terrified. He watched as she pulled her hand out from under the pillow. She was holding his razor, threatening him.
She almost cut his hand but he managed to move it away in time. She sat up as he moved back a few feet on the bed, still sitting, and she held the razor in front of her, ready to slice him to bits if she had to.
"Trish, wait a second, I ... "
"What do you want here?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Did you come back for what you couldn't get again this afternoon? Get out of here, Daddy! Get out of here now or I'm going to kill you."
"Trish, please," he said, trying not to move closer to her, but not wanting to have to move back either.
"Daddy, please get out of here, please. Please, please."
All of a sudden, she started to cry, but she tried to remain as steady as she could. He didn't know what happened next, but he started to cry also. Cry with self-shame.
"Oh, God, baby, I'm so sorry," he said to her. "I'm so sorry about what I did to you today. Jesus, baby, I don't know what happened."
He could sense that she was moving closer to him, and he was happy for it. He felt her putting her arms around his shoulders and pressing her chest against his back. She was hugging him tightly, but still holding the razor.
"Oh, Daddy," she was crying.
"Trish, baby, you were right about everything you said this afternoon. I don't know what happened to me, baby. You were right about me not being able to handle any responsibilities. I try, honey, I do."
He could feel her moving her lips to his ear and kissing him gently.
"Daddy, I'm sorry about everything, too, you know that."
He knew that she was when she gently let the razor slip out of her hand and fall to the floor, making a small thud sound as it landed on the carpet. Trish continued to hug and kiss her father.
"Even though I hate doing it," Herb Hawkins started to say, "I'm going to go out tomorrow and look for another job. See what I can get. Anything in the meanwhile that will tide us over."
"Daddy," she said, still hugging him.
"And there are going to be no more fights," he said to her. "No more fights between me and your mother. You'll see baby. It's gonna be just like when you were younger."
She started to move around on his lap, until she was sitting there, almost like she was a young toddler and he was Santa Claus and she wanted to tell him just what it was she wanted for Christmas.
She continued to hug him tightly, but suddenly, he could feel himself starting to get aroused again. He tried not to think about it, tried to fight it. This was his daughter, he told himself, and he shouldn't be thinking anything like that. Still, there was nothing that he could do.
His cock seemed to remember what she had felt like, and that had been a good feeling. It wasn't long, he could sense, before she noticed what was happening, and he thought for sure that she was going to take the razor, fast from the floor, and hold it to him again. Thinking that her father was a lecherous old man who wanted to fuck her all over again.
But she didn't do anything like that this time. Instead, he could feel her moving her hand down between his legs, moving it toward his cock. She was into his robe and touching his bare flesh in a matter of seconds, and her touch was all that his cock needed to spring into its hardest state.
"Trish, don't," he said to her, not wanting to spoil anything now. They seemed to have a good rapport.
She slid down onto the floor, between his legs, reached for his robe belt and pulled it open. Then her hand started to play with his hard cock, moving up and down the shaft and fingering the head.
"I want you to know, Daddy," she said, while her other hand moved to his balls and cupped them gently, "that there was a time once when I fantasized about you. I saw you and mother fucking a few times. Times after you had a fight with her and a fuck seemed to be the only thing that made it better. That was some time ago, before you changed so much. But it's still there. The feeling."
Herb couldn't believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe it when she moved her head down to his cock and started to lick it all over. He closed his eyes as he felt the sensations building in his body. She licked him all the way from the root of his cock to the head, along the underside. She took his balls into her mouth and started to suck on them, but only for so long.
She wanted to taste his cock, now that she would have the chance to get into it, now that fear wouldn't be keeping her from getting into the feeling even more. So she opened her mouth and took the entire length of his cock into it, began to lick the head of his shaft and let her tongue move back to stay with it.
Until her nose was buried in his pubic patch and she was rubbing it there, taking in the strong manly odor. She began moving her head up and down the length of his cock, working fast and sucking very hard so that the sensations built up inside of him strong and very fast. He could feel his ass sweating with tension as he tried to hold back by clenching his ass muscles.
She was making a smooth, slow sound, purring almost.
She started to squeeze his balls hard, moving her finger to his ass cheeks and sticking it between them. Herb started to thrust his ass up and down off the bed a little, and it was only a matter of seconds before the tension was all too much for him and release came in the form of his ejaculation.
This time, however, Trish was able to think of the taste as she felt it shooting into her mouth, and she seemed to like it. She loved the pulsating action of the cock in her mouth as it continued to spurt forth its cream. This time, there was all a satisfying pleasure on her part. No fear to worry about.
She sucked him until his cock started to shrink in her mouth, and it wasn't until he was fully limp that she let him fall, nestling her head against his groin and taking in one last strong whiff.
"Honey, you shouldn't have done that," he said to her.
"I wanted to," she told him. "Daddy, you can believe that I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to."
He lifted her up into his arms and hugged her tight.
"Baby, I want you to understand about this afternoon. I didn't know what I was doing. I hope I didn't hurt you too much and ... "
She put her finger over his lips to stop his talking.
"You did, for a long time. But you made up for it tonight. Just please try and stick to your promise, okay, Daddy? Please. I want us to be happy again."
"I will, baby," he said, stroking her long blonde hair.
"I'm going back to bed now, and I think you should do the same," she said.
And so, they did, she in her bed, and he back with his wife in his.
CHAPTER SIX
Harriet Hawkins thought that she noticed something strange going on between her husband and her daughter the next morning at the breakfast table. There seemed to be some kind of sudden rapport between them, something she hadn't seen in the longest time. Still, she had to admit that she liked it.
Herb looked so dashing that morning, she couldn't help but think. She had been surprised when the alarm clock had gone off at seven-thirty, mainly because for the past few days, there had been no reason for either one of them to get up until ten. That was the time she would normally get up to get ready for her job.
She had rolled over and seen him shutting off the alarm.
"What's doing?" she had asked, still a little tired.
"I'm going out to look for a job today, honey, but with a different attitude."
She watched as he hopped out of bed, did a few knee bends, then ran to the shower. It was this enthusiasm that had started her day, and it wasn't until he was singing in the shower, singing, "It's a Brand New Day," that she decided to get up and make him a hearty breakfast before he left. Something like the old times to bring back memories.
Trish had been surprised to see her down there, too, she could tell, but, for some reason that Harriet couldn't figure out, happier than usual.
"Hi, Mom, what's the big occasion? You making breakfast."
"Come on," she said to her daughter, "it hasn't been that long since I've done anything like that, has it?"
"Well ... "
"Come on and sit down," Harriet had said.
When Herb had come downstairs, she had the eggs, toast and bacon already made and keeping warm on top of the stove. She carried it right over to him and sat down, the three of them seeming happier than ever.
"Are you really going to go out and look for a job today, Dad?" his daughter asked him over and over again, and Harriet was sure something was going on between them. She didn't know what.
"I said that I would," Herb told her. "Harriet, baby, I might not be able to fix the bathroom door today. Depends on what time you get home."
"Well," she said, "I hope that you don't have time because that'll mean something good. Like you got the job."
He had reached over and kissed her on the cheek. God, she felt like some happy mother on some soap opera. This wasn't real but she was planning to enjoy it for as long as she possibly could.
She thought that after the first day of looking around, after a disappointing day because she knew what the job market was like, Herb would come home and things would go right back to being the way they were. She knew that was pessimistic thinking, but she couldn't help it. It had happened like this so many times before.
That was one reason Harriet was trying to keep this breakfast atmosphere cheerier than it had ever been. She wanted Herb to go out with even more enthusiasm than ever before, but still, in the end, as she was seeing him to the door, she decided that it would be best to be realistic with him.
She helped him on with his overcoat, and then when he turned to kiss her, she laid it on good, pressing her whole body against his.
"This could be a new start," she said, when the kiss ended. "But Herb, one thing I want you to remember. It's hard out there, you know? So if you get turned down today there's always tomorrow, right? Herb, just try to hang on and ... "
"There's my little pessimist talking," he said, putting his finger on her lips. "Hey, honey, it's not like I was born yesterday. I know that it's a shithole out there and that it's going to be tough. But I'm gonna sell myself, baby, that's the way to do it. So don't worry."
He kissed her again, and then Trish walked over to get into the action.
"Come on," Herb had said, "I'll walk you part way to school."
And then he and Trish were off. Harriet felt some sense of relief, she didn't know what from, once they were out the door. Maybe, she was thinking, it was because of the guilt she had felt last night, lying next to Herb in the bed. He had fucked her so nicely last night, had been so gentle.
She had gotten into it more than she had in a long time, and now, along with the way he was acting this morning, he seemed to be a changed man. But seeming was one thing, she had to keep reminding herself, because she had seen this number quite a few times before. It could all be repeating itself.
Then there was Al. Al had done something to her that no one had ever done before. He had awakened new feelings in her. But it was a strange thing the way that they worked. The feelings were not for him. They were for Herb. He had awakened new feelings that she had for Herb, because of the things he had done to her.
At first she had thought that it was her mind trying to compensate for the guilt that she must have been feeling having slept with Al. But she didn't feel too guilty about it no matter what, so she didn't care.
Al. He had been tender with her, had explored every part of her. But most of all, she liked him because he had told her many things that had helped her understand just where Herb was at. She felt more guilty for the way she had been with Herb, the pressing she had given him to get a job, more guilty for that than having fucked another man.
After she washed the dishes, it was only nine. She had another hour before she would even have to get to work. Suddenly, she had an idea.
She ran to the phone, picked it up and dialed. When Al answered, he sounded like he was very weary.
"Hello," she said, "this is Harriet."
"Jesus, what time is it?" he asked her.
"Nine in the morning. Look, I was wondering if I could stop by at your place before work today. Please, it's important. I have some things I want to talk to you about. Please."
"Can't even wait twenty-four hours, huh Harriet? Hot to trot?"
He laughed a little, and she knew that he was kidding.
"Come on," she said to him, "this is important."
"Sure, if you want to come, come."
As soon as he hung up, he turned to the redhead in the bed next to him. He patted her on the ass, waking her up too.
"Sylvia, you're going to have to leave now."
"Come on, Al, what is this?" the eighteen year, old girl asked, moving her hand instinctively to his cock and rubbing his morning hard-on. She knew in order to keep him pacified that it was the best thing to do.
He could feel the pleasures of her soft touch instantly, the way she would move her fingers through his blond pubic patch, then cup his balls and the soft fur that coated them.
He moved his hand to her red haired cunt and she spread her legs instantly for him. As he moved his lips to bite hers, she talked slowly.
"I said that you're going to have to leave her. You have to be out of here within the next twenty minutes."
"You're a bastard," she said, and her cock strokes became harder, and with that hardness, even more intensely pleasurable.
"I expect someone over soon." He said this as he moved his mouth to her nipples and kissed each one hard.
"And that's the way it always is," she said to him. "You just throw one out to take on another one."
"Look, you know that's the way it is." He could feel her tingling little clit now and he started to wiggle it back and forth. Because of it, she started to breathe heavier and heavier, and he marveled at the sight of her rapidly rising and falling tits.
"You're still a prick," she said to him.
"Look, chickie, I never made you any promises so there's nothing that you can hold me to, got that straight?"
"Don't remind me," she said, and he could already feel his first cock pulsations.
She started to laugh softly when that happened, but he noticed that at the same time, her cunt was beginning to spasm around Iris probing fingers. It only seemed right then that his spasming cock should meet her contracting pussy, and she seemed to have the same inclinations. He felt himself being led as much as moving on his own.
Her cunt seemed to be sucking his cock right in, he could feel, and he pushed slowly, trying to fight the sucking walls just a little. Her cunt lips kissed the length of his pole as he moved deeper into her, and then their bellies slapped.
"Come on," she said, as he rested in her for a second, "you really don't mean to throw me out of here, do you?"
"Honey, how long does a fuck take?"
He started to thrust, slowly at first.
"Al, baby, I don't know how you could think of doing a thing like this to me right after we finish fucking? Really, where's your heart?"
He started to fuck her harder, the intensity of each thrust seeming to increase in relation to his rising anger. She was not going to lay one of those fucking trips on him. No, not by a long shot.
"Baby, you know the rules," he said, moving his hand to her nipple and beginning to twist it gently. She had him forgetting all about her nipples, trying to fight what he had already said. "You were the one who started it. I told you to go then."
"Come on, you were the one who got hard so fast."
He could feel her cunt in a constant state of spasm around his cock, and besides the things on his mind, which were definitely detracting from the feeling, his body was sure loving it a hell of a lot.
"You're going to have to leave," he said to her. "That's the way it is."
She hardly even seemed to hear him and was clutching onto his back, wrapping her legs around his ass and massaging his buttocks. It all added to the feeling, but his mind was made up. He didn't even try to hold back from coming, and the minute he felt himself on the verge, he even started thinking of girls sexier than Sylvia, just to rush it a little bit and get it over with.
He emptied inside of her and when he rolled off he didn't just fall out like he would usually do with her. Instead, he got up and walked to the bathroom, then stepped into a nice hot shower.
He didn't make it long. Just washed his groin, ran the bar of soap over the rest of his body and did his hair. All fast. Not to enjoy the shower but just to make it function as a cleaning device, the way a shower should.
Besides, he knew that Sylvia was going to hassle him. He was right. For when he put on his robe and started to dry his hair as he walked into the living room, he could see that she was still lying there, possibly asleep again.
He kicked her with his foot, hard, not only to wake her up but even more, to push her out of the bed. She landed on the floor, but it wasn't a long fall.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"I told you that you were going to have to get out. Now do it."
"I thought that you were only kidding, Al. Look, how was I to know that you were serious?" He knew she was playing a game with him. Did it all the time.
"Look, if you can't tell when I'm serious or not, then maybe we'd just better call it off all together, okay? Forget about the one night a week."
She got up, pulling the blanket around her to hide her nakedness. He thought it was ridiculous. He knew every inch of that body. Maybe, he thought, she was just under the impression that she would be less vulnerable if she was covered.
"You mean you wanna end it all right now?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Al, how can you do that to me? After all we've been through."
"All we've been through. Sylvia, I met you at a bar a year ago and we've been fucking each other steady, every Thursday night, for the past year. You call that a goddamn relationship? Look, it's over. Now just shower and get out."
"You're serious now, aren't you?"
"Yes, fuck it. I am serious. Now get the fuck out."
He could see that she was starting to cry, and it was for that reason he took her by the shoulders, led her to the bathroom, told her to shower and dress, then closed the door leaving her inside. He didn't want to start falling for her crying routine.
Instead, he started to make himself breakfast, something that he rarely did since he ate at Fred's diner most of the time. But he wanted to keep busy. He could hear the shower running and then the sound of her stepping in. Making breakfast kept his mind busy, and it was about ten minutes later that he heard her come out. She walked over to the couch-bed, bent down to get her clothes, then walked back to the bathroom. He was already eating an English Muffin by the time she came out.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He knew it was Harriet, and didn't feel at all embarrassed as he walked to the door and let her in. He could see though that both Harriet and Sylvia seemed uncomfortable.
Sylvia pulled on her coat, then the hood because her hair was still wet.
"Should I call you tomorrow?" she asked him.
"I thought we already settled that," he said, and he looked at Harriet, nodding for her to go and sit on the couch-bed.
"But, Al, I ... "
"Look, I don't want to say another word about it. I made myself clear."
She looked at him, then at Harriet, then turned to walk to the door. She slammed it hard behind her. As soon as she was gone, Al turned to Harriet.
"Could I get you some coffee?" he asked her.
"I thought that you don't do much cooking here," she said. "I thought that you got all the food that you wanted free at the diner."
"Oh, I do. Where do you think the coffee came from? The fresh coffee that they make there. I take a pack a month and it holds me over."
"What a thief," she said, jokingly. "But no thanks, I'm not in the mood right now. I already had breakfast."
She couldn't help but notice that he was only wearing a robe, and from where it was tied across him, she couldn't help but see that he most likely had nothing on underneath it. She could envision his hard cock and those smooth balls.
Still, she had come there for something more than a fuck, if it even led to a fuck at all. She did want to talk first, and that's why Harriet felt a little bit uncomfortable when Al sat down right next to her and put his arm around her shoulder.
He moved his lips to her ear and kissed her lightly, pushing his tongue out of his mouth and licking her gently.
"Al, come on," she said to him. "I told you that I wanted to talk."
"Speak, bright angel, and I'll listen."
"I was thinking of asking you over for dinner on Saturday night."
He pulled back from her and looked at her, puzzled.
"Now why the hell would you want to do a crazy thing like that for? You want me, your lover, of sorts, to meet the husband and kid?"
"It's only because you seemed to help me understand Herb so much better. You helped me understand how he was feeling and what was going on through his mind. I have to tell you that last night when we were fucking, it was nicer than it had been in a long time. Not as great as always, as our peak moments together, but I could sense that it's going to build its way back up there soon."
That seemed to relax him in some ways, and he moved back close, putting his arm back around her shoulder and moving his lips back to her ear.
"I'm glad that I was able to help you see all that."
"Who was that girl?" she suddenly asked him.
"Which girl?"
"The one with the wet red hair. The one who just walked out of here. How many girls do you string on at a time?"
"Hey," he said, "I don't string anyone on right now. When I find the right girl who's gonna do it all for me, I'll know. Right now, all the others, they all understand where I'm at and how I feel. That one, Sylvia, the reason I had to drop her off is because she was starting to ask me for things that I already told her I wouldn't give her. She didn't even seem to know me, so I had to say goodbye."
"Oh." she said, and he was sure that it was an uncomfortable thing to say.
"Why? Are you jealous of her? I think that's the vibe I'm getting."
"No," she said, turning to him and patting his leg. She moved her hand under his robe and could feel his cock hardening under her touch. "It's just that I've never met anyone like you before and it's just all so strange to me. I can't explain it."
"Maybe it's that part that's re-awakened whatever you saw in your husband. That's just me, the way I am."
"That's why I want to invite you over for dinner on Saturday. I thought that if Herb grew to like you, the way I did, maybe he would have a good friend to talk to. I mean, you made me see so much, maybe you could do the same for him."
He didn't really know what she expected from him, but he had to admit that he could definitely sense the need in her. He also loved the way she was stroking his cock so hard. All in all, he thought, he loved her because she was a beautiful woman and she was really trying to make her marriage work.
He admired her for it.
"All right," he said to her. "I don't know how I'm going to feel or what, maybe a little bit uncomfortable, but if you want me to come, I'll come."
There was a double entendre in that, and he knew that she had caught it also. For while she knew he was meaning he'd come to the dinner, she also knew that he wanted her to make him come.
She started to open her coat slow, pulling her dress up a little bit. His robe seemed to fall open gracefully, and it was only a matter of seconds before her panties were slid down her legs and his hard cock was sliding right between them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Harriet was very relieved that she had invited Al over for dinner on Saturday night because, as the day progressed, she watched Herb sitting there, thinking all the time and seeming to get more depressed.
She couldn't blame him really. Friday had been a bad day for him, going from agency to agency, being turned down by one right, after the other.
"Then," he told her, "the one job they did send me to happened to be on a factory line, and although I told myself I could handle it and I knew I couldn't, the job was gone by the time I got there anyway."
"What about David?" she said to him.
"What about him?"
"You know that he always told you he could get you a job. You know that the offer was always open. Why don't you let him see what he could do?"
"Nepotism. That's something I've always hated."
She hadn't argued with him. But his brother David, who worked in an accounting firm had always told Herb that there would be something there for a man with his talents. She didn't know exactly what he had meant by it.
Herb did, however. The accounting firm, although a large one, still had to go after certain accounts. David told Herb that he would be terrific on public relations. Herb, not knowing exactly what a position like that would entail had once asked his brother for a few more details.
"Remember what it was like when you first came to the city?" David had asked him.
How could Herb forget. David, being the only one close enough at the time, was also one of the only people Herb had told. Besides the ones who were his customers, and all of them had been left behind when he had gotten married.
"Do you mean studding?" he had asked, point blank.
"Herb, in the executive line they don't use as crude a word. It's more or less called public relations, and what they expect is for you to go after certain customers. Look, brother, sex, no matter what anyone says, has always and will always dominate the world and man's pleasures. Woman's, too."
So, what David was basically asking Herb to do was go back to a life of studding. Of course, it would be under a different title, but that was basically what it came down to. Herb hated even thinking about it.
Harriet still couldn't understand why he wouldn't talk with David about a job. At least, she thought, as she started supper, Herb wasn't drinking. He was watching a ball game on television, and she had been surprised when he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a Pepsi. She had thought, for a second, that when he got back to the living room he would pour some rum in it, so she had made some excuse to walk back out there and follow him.
"Herb, just wait until you meet Al tonight. He's such a wonderful guy, really. I think that you're both going to get along fine."
But somehow, even as she spoke to him, she was sure that he knew what she was doing there. Spying on him to make sure that he didn't drink. She felt so guilty about doing it, but she had seen it all happen before. Seen him regress back to drink.
When she felt satisfied and reassured enough that he wouldn't take a drink, she walked back into the kitchen.
"Hello," Trish said. She was sitting at the table peeling some oranges. Harriet had taken them out to make oranges and bananas for dessert and she was glad that her daughter had decided to help. "Now who's this guy you've invited for dinner?"
"Al. He's from California and he's the cook at the diner where I work. He lives a pretty lonely life, and he just helped me understand things that I didn't understand before about your father."
"What do you mean?"
"About the factory jobs and all. Al took jobs like that a long time ago and he convinced me that they were unbearable. I just think that your father and he must have a lot of things in common, even though Al is young. He's been around."
"Daddy's been around, too," Trish said, smiling.
"When has he ever told you that?" Harriet asked.
"I just know," she said. "I can sense it. Anyway, I'm glad that he's not drinking anything today. So glad. It makes me feel better. Did you notice that there's a lot less tension in the house because of it?"
"Yes," Harriet said. When she noticed that Trish was finished peeling the oranges, she suddenly had an idea. "Trish, you and your father seem very close these past few days. Why don't you go in and talk to him?"
"About anything in particular, Mother?"
"Why, Trish, what makes you ask me something like that? Huh?"
"Because I know you well. I love you and I know you well. What exactly do you want me to lay on him now?"
"Just talk to him about Uncle David. Just bring it up a few times and see if you can talk him into giving him a call."
"About a job?"
"Sure, why not?" Harriet asked her girl. "I can't seem to convince him and I don't want to sound like a nag. Just bring it up."
"Got it," she said, standing up and saluting. Then she started to laugh. She knew that her mother was only trying to do it all for her father's sake, and Trish started to think that this was the reality of love.
Not some shit that you see on television where they keep saying it, but rather, trying to help each other, working with each other.
She skipped over to the living room and plopped herself down on her father's lap.
"I can't wait for company to come tonight," she said to her father. "Mother says he's a smashing looking man. I can't wait to meet him."
He started to laugh, and he tickled her.
"You're looking for a relationship with an older man?" he asked her.
"Well, I've already had my one," she said to him. "Maybe another."
They both started to laugh, and she was glad that her father was so happy. It made her feel quite good about everything.
"Daddy," she said to him, "if you don't see anything in the papers that you like in tomorrow's Classified, why don't you give Uncle David a call?"
Suddenly, the laughter seemed to disappear and he looked very serious.
"What makes you ask a thing like that?" he said to her.
"It's only this. I'm so happy now and I know that it would continue if you had a job. It's just a suggestion."
"I don't think that I would want to do the kind of work your Uncle's told me he could get me."
"Would it be worse than an assembly line?" she asked him.
And she could tell that started him thinking, so she casually excused herself and walked back to the kitchen to continue helping her mother.
"I know that he's thinking about it now," she said to her mother. "Now tell me something. Mom, what should I wear that would entice someone like Al?"
"What?" Harriet had asked.
"Take it easy, Mom," she said, "I'm only kidding."
But Trish was a very smart girl and that started her thinking. Her mother had acted so overcautious when she had said that. She started thinking about the movie where a guy had been having an affair with this woman, then found out he was serious about her daughter. The mother almost freaked out.
It was all so ridiculous, Trish thought. Her mother and this guy Al. She couldn't be thinking that way about her mother. Another woman, truly, but not her mother.
"I think I'll just wear a pair of jeans."
"Nice ones though," Harriet had to say to her daughter, and Trish smiled.
The dinner was ready on time, and Harriet was surprised when Al hadn't come at the scheduled time. Instead, he was a half an hour late, but still there, holding a cake box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
"Good evening, Harriet," he said to her. "So nice to have someone else doing the cooking for a change. Now I'll be able to criticize your cooking and see just how well, or badly, you can do it."
She started to laugh as she took his coat, then ushered him into the living room and introduced him to Herb. She could tell that Herb was taken back a little bit by Al's good looks and put-on charm, because she did have to admit that he was putting it on just a little strongly this day.
Still, it was good to see them together.
"I'm going to get the dinner on the table," she said. "Why don't you two talk for a while? Trish, come on."
When Herb and Al were left alone, there seemed to be a kind of tension in the room. Herb could sense it, as well as Al, but still, they were both trying to act as courteous as they could. Herb couldn't help but think that this guy was only a kid, ten years his junior.
"Could I make you a drink?" Herb asked.
"Just so long as you don't have one," Al said, and when he noticed that Herb got tense, he quickly added, "look, I work with the woman and we talk a lot, so she did happen to mention your problem. Nothing to get uptight about."
"You're right," Herb said, suddenly relaxing. "It was ridiculous of me. Can I get you a scotch?"
"Sure," he said, making himself more comfortable.
"You know," Herb said, "I really should be grateful to you because you seem to have made my wife come to some kind of understanding about me. Now I don't know what you said to her, but whatever, I appreciate it."
"Look," Al said, "I've done the factory thing myself and I don't know how anyone could possibly want to do it for a life."
"When you have a family, all kinds or responsibilities," Herb said, handing Al the drink and pouring himself another Pepsi, "you don't have much of a choice, now, do you?"
"I guess not," Al said. "God, I could understand all the alcoholics in the world when you think about it. Life is not the greatest thing. But Herb, and I hope you don't mind me calling you that, you have a great wife."
"I know. And I should be happy about it, right?"
"Yes. I understand that's not all it takes to be happy. Look, I have a steady entourage of girls whom I fuck at least once a week each."
Herb suddenly perked up. It reminded him of the old days.
"But," Al went on, "that's all they're good for. A fuck. But it's not something like you and Harriet seem to have."
Herb somehow felt a lot better. He didn't know what it was about this guy Al but he did have a very outgoing personality and Herb was enjoying talking to him.
"Let me ask you something?" Herb said. "Do you just make it with these women for fun, or for money, too?"
"Fun," Al said, taking a long sip of his drink. "Look, sex is great for sex too, don't get me wrong. Why? Did you think I was a stud?"
Herb smiled slyly. He had to nod his head because he was too stunned to talk.
Finally, when he could, he knew he was going to surprise Al by what he said. But he was saying it because he was impressed by Al and he wanted Al to be impressed by him.
"The reason I said that," Herb told him, "is because you somehow remind me of me when I first came to work in the city."
Al almost started to laugh, but he managed to hold back.
"You mean that you were a stud when you first came to the city?"
"Not so loud. That's something I never told anyone, including Harriet. But that's the way I lived my first few months in the city. Fucking all these women and getting paid for it. Then I met Harriet."
Al held up his hand to stop Herb's talking.
"I can see it all now," the young blond man said. "You got married and tried the job scene to make money to live. Then you couldn't do it."
"Right," Herb said.
"You see," Al said to him, "when you have more pieces, the puzzle begins to fit together even better. God, I could easily understand how you'd feel even more. But tell me something. Your wife says your brother David can get you a job."
"Yeah, you know what it is?"
"No."
"It's studding on the corporate level. He works for an accounting firm and their public relations person is really just a stud."
Herb was totally surprised by what Al said to him next.
"Well, let me tell you something, Herb. If you decide not to take the job then I'd appreciate it if you'd introduce me to your brother. It sounds like the most ideal job in the world if you ask me."
"I wouldn't be faithful to my wife."
"Big fucking deal," Al said. "You'd be making money and keeping your family together. She doesn't have to know what you're doing."
Herb didn't have time to say anything else because Trish suddenly walked into the living room and announced that dinner was on the table. Al got up, walked over and took her arm, then signaled for Herb.
"So tell me beautiful," he said to Trish as they walked to the dining room, "what's a nice girl like you doing, coming from a family like this?"
"Enjoying myself," she said to him.
He was glad that Harriet had sit him on the same side of the table with Trish because there was something about her that he found most fascinating. He wondered if Harriet would get into a Mrs. Robinson trip if he were to ask Trish out. Just for a date. A good time.
"So," Harriet said, trying to be the gracious hostess, "did you two have a nice talk in there?"
"Yes," Herb said. "You were right. I like this guy Al a lot."
Al smiled. He was glad he was getting into the father's grace, and he was hoping at the same time that he was getting into the daughter's. Still, he couldn't figure out what kind of vibes were coming from Trish, and that left him confused.
He would look over at her every once in a while, and sometimes, when she would see him, she would smile at him. But most of the time, he couldn't even get her attention because she was always busy looking over at her father.
Something was going on between them, he could tell. Harriet seemed to sense it also, and that intrigued him. He wanted to know even more about it. He wondered if Herb had ever done anything with Trish. He wouldn't have been at all surprised. It would fit into his character, his drunken self-pitying nature.
"You know," Herb said, in the middle of the meal, "Al and I were talking in there and I was thinking a little bit more about David's offer." He smiled at Al. "Maybe I might take him up on it, give him a call tomorrow."
"That would be wonderful," Harriet said, and she looked over at Al. She didn't know what he had said to Herb to make him change his mind, but whatever it was, she wanted to kiss him for it.
"My Mother tells me that you're from California," Trish said to Al then.
"Yes. A California bum who bummed my way across country when I thought that the time was right for it. From California, to the New York Island."
"This land was made for you and me," Trish said, and she started to laugh.
"You got a wise kid there," Al said to Harriet.
"I am not a kid," Trish told him. "I'm a young lady."
"I'm sorry. I have to tell you that I noticed right off, but I just didn't think that it was my place to say anything. I humbly beg your forgiveness."
"And so you have it," Trish said to him. "But only on one condition."
"Trish," Harriet said, "stop being like that."
"No, no, let the girl speak her piece of mind," Al said, quieting the mother. "Let me hear what she wants."
"Nothing more than a chocolate ice cream soda. Later on tonight."
He looked over at Harriet and he could tell that she was surprised by her daughter's sudden forwardness. He shrugged his shoulder a little bit.
"Well, it's okay with me, if your folks don't mind."
"What's there to mind?" Herb said, but he could still see that Harriet was upset.
He decided that he would talk to her later and straighten things out. After all, maybe he hadn't established that their relationship was going to only go so far. Maybe he hadn't come right out and told her in just those words, but he was sure that was the attitude they both had.
Besides, she was married and Trish wasn't. He looked at both mother and daughter and the only similarity he could see was in their high cheek bones and lips. Besides that, they were completely different. Trish had much larger breasts then her mother, Al was very happy to see.
But whereas Harriet's hair was brown, Trish's was the nicest shade of blonde, something that he wanted to run his fingers right through.
He loved the tye-died T-shirt that she was wearing, and he couldn't help but think that he would probably have a lot more in common with her than he would with Harriet. For instance, he was sure that Trish would be into getting high, whereas he had just never assumed that Harriet was. An expert judgment on his part.
When the dinner was over and Harriet and Trish got up to clear, Al offered his assistance At first he was turned down, but then Harriet seemed to sense that he wanted to talk to her. So she told Trish to stay with her father in the living room and she and Al went to the kitchen to talk.
"I can see that you don't want me taking out your daughter," he said to her, "The thing is, I just can't seem to understand why."
"You can't? Al, I love you in many ways, you have to understand that. But you and I both know the only reason you would take Trish out is because you want to go to bed with her. We both know that it's true."
"First of all we don't," he said to her, "and second, would that be something so bad? The girl is grown up now, and now you're talking about sex with a prudish outlook."
"I can't help it. She's my daughter."
"I'm sorry about that. Look, your daughter interests me, that's all. And because of my relationship with you, I wouldn't think of leading her on in case that interest is lost tonight. But that's another story. I just don't think it's fair of you to get jealous like this. After all, I helped you straighten out your life. Give me this chance to see if Trish is the one to help me with mine."
Harriet knew that she was being ridiculous then, and she walked over to him and kissed him on the lips, slowly.
"You're right," she said when it was over. "I don't know why I was trying to tie you down like that, but you're right. I'm wrong."
"Thanks," he said.
"Now tell me something, Al. Was it you whose almost talked Herb into going back to work for David? I've been trying to talk him into it for years."
"Yes, it's me," he said. "Herb just said that he wouldn't feel right working there, but I kind of talked him into it. Told him that he might even like it a little bit, and that so long as he was making money, you'd be happier."
"Well, I want to thank you for that, too," she said.
"No need to thank me," Al said when she tried to kiss him.
And he knew that there wasn't, because if Harriet were to ever find out just what Herb would actually be doing, he was sure that she would kill him. Still, there was that old saying which went, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her ...
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was Sunday night and Trish was bubbling with excitement. Everything seemed to be going in the right direction.
First of all, she thought she had fallen in love. For although she and Al hadn't done anything more than smoke a joint, go to a diner, and have the chocolate ice cream soda she had told him she wanted.
When he had kissed her goodnight, he had pressed his tongue into her mouth and she had felt something. But he didn't try to go any further, and in some ways, she was glad about it. Even more glad when he asked her if he could take her to a movie the next night. Of course, she told him that she would have to check with her parents because it was a Sunday night and the next day was school.
Her mother had been a little upset, which started Trish thinking even more. Her father had been all for it, saying that he wanted to talk to Al again when he came to pick her up that night.
During the day, Trish had gone into the kitchen to talk to her mother. She laid her cards out right on the table.
"Let me ask you something, Mother," she had said, "and don't take offense. Did you and Al ever have a thing? Now I know that's the kind of thing a mother is not supposed to hear from her daughter, but I can sense something."
Her mother had looked at her, and for a second Trish was sure that her mother was going to lie to her.
But then, Harriet Hawkins came out and told her daughter the truth.
"Yes. It happened twice so far, and probably not anymore. Now that you're going out with him. Trish, I just want you to watch yourself, okay?"
"What?"
"He helped me a lot, too, but I know that although he's searching for one woman, since he hasn't found her yet he has a lot. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"Oh, mother, don't be absurd. I know how to take care of myself."
And that was all they really had to say to each other about it. Still, Trish did feel a little uncomfortable and she knew that it was something she and Al were going to have to talk about that night.
When he came to pick her up he was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and he certainly looked the part of the beach bum. He walked into the living room where Herb was sitting, after kissing Harriet hello.
"I hear you want to speak to me," he said.
"Yes," Herb said to him. "About two things. First of all, about the job. I wanted you to know that I spoke with my brother today and he's going to try and do everything in his power to get me the job. Tell me I did the right thing."
"Herbert Hawkins," Al Rabe said, commandingly, "you have done the right fucking thing and if you ever think different, I'll beat the shit out of you."
"Well, thanks," Herb said. "And now, the second thing that I want to talk to you about is my daughter Trish. Now I love her very much and ... "
"But one day, she came home, you were drunk, and now she's no longer a virgin. Is that what you're trying to tell me, Herb?"
"I wouldn't tell you that," he said, "but how did you know?"
"Call it a sixth sense. I could feel it here last night, at the supper table. I know that your wife doesn't know, too, but she won't find out from me."
"Thanks," Herb said, really beginning to like Al even more. "Now there is another thing. She's still my daughter, and please, be nice with her, okay? You're much older than her, I understand that, and because of it you've obviously been around more. But she's young and innocent, and she can be hurt easily."
"Herb, I don't think you know your daughter as well as you think you do. Why she happens to be one of the strongest girls I've ever seen. Look, if she could live through this scene here, she can live through me."
Herb smiled at him. He knew that Al was not saying it to insult him, but still, he thought that it was insulting.
Trish made her appearance then, dressed in a manner similar to Al.
"Well," she said to him, "I'm ready."
"Good," he said, and he noticed Harriet standing behind Trish. He could tell from the look she was giving him that she still hadn't come to grips with the idea of his taking Trish out. But she was going to have to get used to it.
He liked her. Had like her since meeting her, and after talking with her last night had learned many things about her. Now, he thought that he knew even more about her since talking with her father.
He was beginning to learn more and more about this family each day, and he knew that had a lot to do with the fascination that he had for the young girl. Still, she made him feel so fucking good when he spoke to her.
"Don't worry," he said to them both as he took her arm and started to lead her to the rear door. "I promise you both that I won't keep her out too long."
He could still sense some mistrust in Harriet's face but he really didn't care to think about it. If that was the way she was going to be, it was something he couldn't bother to worry about for now.
They ran to his car, both laughing because they somehow felt more at ease now that they were out of the house. He opened his car door for her and then ran around to the driver's side and slid in beside her.
"Where to?" she asked him.
"I was thinking of one of two places. We could go to a drive-in where we'd be uncomfortable in the car, or, we can go back to my place where we will definitely feel a lot more comfortable."
"I thought you told me that we were going to go to the movies."
"I have Home Box Office and there are movies on the tube. Besides, I have a bottle of wine and I also have some smoke."
"Speak no further," Trish said to him.
She moved closer to him, and as he started the car and put his arm around her, she began to tremble. She didn't know why. Only she knew that the two of them were going to be fucking and she was scared about it all.
"What's the matter?" he asked, feeling her shaking.
"Nothing," she said to him. "I don't know. I don't know."
But Al seemed to know what was wrong with her, but he didn't want to talk about it right now. It was something that he had been anticipating though.
When they got back to his apartment, he kicked off his shoes, told her to make herself comfortable, then walked to the refrigerator to get some wine.
He came back with a joint, too, and soon they were lighting it and smoking it. He held his arm tightly around her.
"I know about you and my mother," she suddenly said, and he wondered why. Did she think that she was going to shock him or something? He didn't react, so she said it once again. "I know about you and my mother."
"So?" he asked, taking the joint from her. "I know about you and your father."
She froze. He could tell. He knew as soon as he said it that it hadn't been the right way of approaching it, but she had been making it seem like such a game and all he really thought he was doing was playing along with her.
"Hey, it's nothing to get nervous about," he said to her.
"I can't help it. We talked it out, me and my Dad, but I don't know. It was the first time when I was with him and ... "
He moved his hand to her tit and started to massage it through her T-shirt. He could feel her nipple getting stiff instantly, and he started to pull on it, still through the shirt. She was still trembling.
"Hey," he said to her, "I don't know how it was the first time, but you don't have to worry about me hurting you. I can be nice."
And just to prove what he said, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips, taking her by surprise and almost making her drop the joint from her fingers. She managed to catch it just in time and lay it on the table, just as he was pressing himself on her and beginning to slide his hand under her shirt.
She moaned a little when he touched her naked nipple, and all he could think about doing was stripping her naked and then fucking her.
But there was something different about her, he thought. Maybe it was the fear. It seemed to make him more aggressive, and it seemed to make him even more aware of just how sensitive she was.
"Let's undress," he said to her, and he stood up.
He started to strip before she even had a chance to protest, and was soon sliding his pants down. He wore no underwear, as usual, and Trish was a little shocked to see his naked cock staring her in the face.
"Come on," he said to her, "I can't do it alone."
"Al," she said, taking a toke from the joint, then letting the smoke out and taking a very deep breath, "I have to tell you something. I'm very scared about this happening, just because of the way it happened with my father."
"I could understand it honey," he said, "but you can be sure I'll be nice."
She was feeling very relaxed from the pot, she had to admit, and so, when he started to undress her, she let him. He pulled her shirt up over her head. She had to raise her arms to let him, but that was easy enough.
In some ways she was embarrassed that he could see her naked tits now, her red nipples being so full and stiff, popping out. Yet she didn't mind it too much because he was more naked than she was.
He got down on his knees and moved his mouth to her breasts. She could feel him pressing her tits together and then burying his mouth between them, starting to stick his tongue out and lick like a madman.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the fabulous sensations running through her body. At the same time, she hardly even noticed that he was moving his hand down to her dungarees unsnapping them, and trying to inch them down little by little. When her cunt was exposed she felt him beginning to stroke her cunt lips with his fingers, pull on them gently.
Then he slid his fingers into her and started to massage her clitoris. He continued to lick her breasts and she had to move her hand to his hair and stroke his soft blond Socks. Then she moved her hand down his back, all the way to his ass, and started to massage his buttocks.
He moaned when she did that, and that made her feel good.
As he started to kiss his way down to her cunt, licking her blonde pubic patch and then licking her cunt by sticking his tongue between her lips, she started to reach for his golden cock.
"Let me suck it," she told him, remembering that she had liked sucking her father's cock the second time when he had come to her room that night.
He lay down on the carpet and she climbed over him, positioning herself so that her legs were spread over his face. He raised his head up just a little bit and began to lick her cunt again while he felt her moving her fingers up and down his shaft and then moving her lips there, too.
She squeezed his balls as she started to suck his cock, and that made him even more aggressive as he licked her blonde haired snatch. He could feel her cunt walls spasming, feel her beginning to get wet already, and then he was tasting the creamy smooth flavor of her juices.
She started to suck harder on his cock and he moved his hands under to catch her swinging tits. He could feel the nipples pressing into his palm as he held them and then he started to squeeze them.
He could see the passion sweat on her buttocks; right in front of him, and it made him happy to know that he could turn her on in such a manner. Still, she was doing some nice things to him, licking his whole groin area where the skin was the most sensitive, licking the hairs of the pubic patch and his balls, too.
He started to move his ass up and down off the floor, thrusting his cock a little to show her how much he wanted her.
"Let's fuck," he whispered.
"Al, I don't know if I can," she said to him.
"Of course you can. You have what it takes and you're all wet right now. Come on. Just because it might have been bad once, it doesn't mean that it's going to be bad again. Besides, you can do it."
She pulled her mouth from his cock and turned to look at him, but still kept a nice tight grip on his shaft and kept up her massaging.
"What do you mean?" she asked him, calmly.
"Just lower yourself onto me as slow or as fast as you want. Come on, Trish, baby, you're just too fucking fabulous. Don't let one bad sex experience fuck it up for the rest of your life. You can't. Not when sex is so great."
She had already turned her body around completely and was sitting on his belly. He could see her snatch as her legs were spread, and his cock started to pulsate in the anticipation of entering her.
"Come on, Trish, you can do it," he said, as she lifted herself off his body and started to back her way down, holding his cock still. She positioned herself over him and started to rub his cock head against her cunt.
"That feels nice for me, Trish, honey," he said. "If it feels as nice for you as it does for me, then keep it up."
She had to admit that it was feeling good, not only because of the heat from his cock which seemed to be penetrating her cunt already, but even more, from the fact that he had already brought her to one climax and she was still wet. She was using his cock head to stimulate her erect clit, and could feel herself getting hotter and hornier by the second. Her cunt lips seemed to be kissing his cock.
She thought about her father and how he had forced himself on her for one brief moment, and she got scared.
But then, she looked at Al, lying there, so beautiful, his eyes closed, just enjoying the pleasures she was bringing to his cock. That did something to her. That made her want to please him even more.
She started to move down slowly, feeling the way her cunt was spasming around his cock even as he entered her for the first time. She moved all the way down his rod until she was sitting on his lap.
"Ah," Al said, and he reached up and began to massage her tits. "Just take it the way that you want it. Go as slow or as fast as you want to go, so long as it makes you happy."
She started to move up and down his cock slowly, amazed at the sensations that the cock was sending all through her body, not only in her cunt.
She reached behind and grabbed his balls, squeezed them, then started to move up and down on his cock even faster. She could feel him moving his ass just a little bit to add something to the thrusting, and then she bent down so that her tits were brushing against his chest.
She moved her mouth to his and kissed him hard.
"Roll over and fuck me good," she said to him then.
Al loved the invitation, and he took it upon himself to answer her right away. He rolled right over, holding onto her body, until she was under him. Then he started to pump his ass up and down as she lifted her legs up. He could feel her cunt going through a series of mild spasms around his cock, and that assured him that she was enjoying the fuck.
He started to wrap her legs around his ass the harder he pounded into her, and he liked her for that. She clung tightly to him, and it was just the way he wanted it. In a sense, he was still thinking of her as a virgin, since he was sure that the first time when she had been with her father must have been very unpleasant.
In a sense then this was her first pleasant fuck, so he was taking her virginity.
She started to moan, he noticed, just the way her mother did, soft and catlike. Purring sounds of pussy pleasure, he thought, and that made his cock start to tingle inside of her.
He clenched his ass muscles and tried to hold back from coming, slowing down a little bit at the same time in order to make the sensations subside and prolong the actual time of the fuck, and the pleasures in the long run.
Once he was sure he could go ahead without worry, he did.
But the second time it happened, and he tried to hold back, it was just no use. He could feel the come seeping its way toward the head of his cock, and so, he just went with the seep and felt it shooting out deep into her. That started her coming all over again and she was moaning with passion as he continued to erupt his juices into her cunt He didn't pull out of her until he had gone limp.
But even then, she rolled over on top of him, covering his naked body with hers and moving her lips to his.
"That," she said to him, "was marvelous. Can we do it again?"
"You certainly can, but you're going to have to give me a little more time. Tell me though, was I better than your father?"
"Much," she said to him. "Was I better than my mother?"
"It sounds like a family affair," he said with her. "The next thing you know you'll be sleeping with your mother and me with your father. Only I doubt that something like that would ever happen."
"So do I," she said to him. "Al, you really are a wonderful person and ... "
He was, in some way, insulted by her saying that.
"Look," he said to her, "I happen to think that I might be in love with you and all you can say to me is that I'm a wonderful person?"
She was rubbing her cunt over his cock, feeling the way he was beginning to harden all over again. She moved her fingers to his nipples and played with them.
"Look," she said to him, "you can't expect me to fall in love with the first real person I've been with. I mean, besides my dad. You just can't. It only happens like that in the movies."
"Aha," he said to her, "but you have to remember that the movies usually try to mirror real life. That's what makes a good film so exciting."
"I know that," she said to him, and she was moving her hand down between his legs and stroking his balls, "but you have to remember anyway. You have to give me some time Al, this is all happening so fast."
"How much time should I give you?" he asked.
She reached over and took the joint from the ashtray where she had put it before. It had gone out, but it wasn't hard for her to light a match and relight the joint, then take a long toke from it.
"How much time should you give me?" she asked him, letting out the smoke on his face. "Now, Al Rabe, that's a very interesting question. You want to know how much time I should give you before I tell you whether I dig you or not?"
He slapped her ass with his hand, playfully, holding his palm on her buttock and squeezing hard after the initial slap.
"You know that you're stalling," he said to her, "and I don't like it."
"I am stalling because this is the time," she said to him. "I think that I should know after another hefty fuck, maybe."
When she said that he could feel the life coming back into his cock almost immediately, feel her rubbing her cunt harder so that her blonde pubic hairs and her soft smooth belly were massaging him even more.
As if to tell her that he was going to make sure she loved him. That he was going to fuck her so hard that she wouldn't be able to do anything but love him. She seemed to be getting that from him.
When she got him hard enough, she started to lower herself down on his cock. He just closed his eyes and felt the way his cock was beginning to spasm inside of her cunt already.
Yes, he knew that this was love he was feeling, and he only hoped that she was feeling the same way about him. He knew it for a fact when she leaned over, kissed him hard on the lips, then whispered it in his ear.
"I do love you, I only wanted to fool around," she said.
That seemed to make him want to fuck her even harder, and he was soon pumping his cock in and out of her cunt as fast as he could, as hard as he could, until they both had orgasms at the same time.
Later, when they were watching the movie on Home Box Office, looking at the television set that was broadcasting it but paying very little attention to what was actually on, they started to talk again.
"Do you think that my mother's going to understand all this?" she asked. "I mean, seeing as how you were with her first and all."
"I can tell that she's going to have some hard time coming to grips with it, but all I can tell you is that we'll play it by ear. I'm still going to have to work with her so I'm sure I'll be able to get it straight."
"I'm glad," she said. "I think that my father will understand, too."
Then Al started thinking about Herb and about the job that he was going to be doing. A professional stud for a company that was a large accounting firm. He had to smile when he thought about it.
"Oh," he said, "I'm sure that he's going to understand. I'm sure of it."
Al started thinking about it a little more. Right now, things were looking up for him, so far as his relationship with Trish was going. She was a great fuck and one of the hottest chicks he had seen around in a long time. Harriet was going to have some trouble understanding, but he would just explain it to her.
He would tell her that he was always looking for one girl and that the others were all just fucks. He wouldn't be able to include her however and he didn't even want to. For Harriet had been more than just a fuck. She had been a wonderful older woman who had entered his life, and the moments that they had shared together had been memorable. But he had always told her he was looking for that one girl.
"Trish," he would tell her, "seems to fit that category for now."
Then he thought of Herb. He didn't want to really plan ahead, that was one thing he hated. But he couldn't help but see himself one day as Herb's son-in-law, and maybe, he was even thinking, the man might be able to get him into the same business.
"What are you laughing at?" Trish asked when he did.
"Nothing," he had to tell her, "nothing, just thinking."
"I hope about me."
"Yeah."
He couldn't tell her the truth. He was thinking of all those women Herb was soon going to be fucking. All those horny broads who he would entice into his brother's accounting firm for business. His cock was getting hard just thinking about it. He was going to have to tell Herb that if he needed help, he would be more than glad to get involved in the business, but right now, Trish was looking at his hard cock with a smile, and he was ready.
