Gene Polanski, Male, 45

	- Business VP, husband of Tamara, father of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- tanned beige skin, 6'1, 210lbs, short peppered grey-black hair

Tamara Khouri-Polanski, Female, 43

	- Professor, wife of Gene, mother of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 150lbs, shoulder-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Lauren Khouri-Polanski, Female, 15

	- High school freshman, daughter of Gene and Tamara, sister of Finch and Logan

	- medium olive skin, 5'8, 150lbs, back-length curly black-brown hair, colored white-streaked highlights

Finch Khouri-Polanski, Male, 14

	- Eigth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 145lbs, ear-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Logan Khouri-Polanski, Male, 12

	- Sixth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Finch

	- medium olive skin, 5'1, 110lbs, ear-length straight black hair

Finch couldn't get his mother's words, her panting, out of his head. The short seconds her voice had come through on Lauren's phone had left him hard for days. He heard her say over and over, “I want to ride you...” He jerked off several times to those words, imagined his mother's body over the stranger, taking him deep inside.

He didn't care that his mother was fucking someone other than his dad, the idea of cheating not one that crossed his mind. Finch was caught up in the arousing sounds she'd made, the knowledge that her body had opened, taking a penis inside her. Finch wished desperately to see that, and he began fantasizing about his mom riding him.

Alone on a Saturday afternoon, he stroked his hard cock on the toilet, building quickly to orgasm for the second time. A pair of his mom's panties were gripped in his hand, the sweaty, soiled crotch pressed to his nose. He inhaled her scents, shuddered, took in the intense aromas. Even the hint of urine turned him on as he imagined her pussy dripping piss against the fabric.

He stifled a groan as he humped his fist, rocked on the toilet seat, the commode creaking a bit with each motion. Precum ran freely out the end of his young penis, strong burning rose from his depths as his semen flew up his shaft. Finch ejaculated, three, four squirts fired out and onto the wall, he inhaled his mom's panties, inhaled her private odors, cum flowing from his cock freely.

He sat back, panting, looked at the mess he'd made, the second load of jism slowly sliding down over the drying load he'd shot there earlier. Despite the way his sister had grown angry at him days earlier for leaving his sperm on the wall, he didn't clean it up. Finch secretly loved that it made Lauren angry, and a part of him was excited that his sister had seen his semen, knew it was his.

- - -

Gene returned from his trip two days early. The last couple of wrap up meetings had been canceled, so rather than staying through Monday, he switched his ticket and flew home Saturday evening. He'd called Tamara and left a message on her cell. Gene wondered if she was out with a lover, whether she was enjoying the man, whoever he was. It turned him on to think they might even be fucking as he left his message.

The flight home was rather quick, and it took almost no time to pull up to the house and slide inside. Tamara wasn't home. Finch came bounding down the stairs followed by Logan, Gene greeted them and asked about his wife and Lauren.

Finch said Lauren was out with her boyfriend, would be back later, and Tamara had left earlier, telling the boys she'd be home late. Gene nodded, unsurprised, and spent some time unpacking, showering, and relaxing near the pool.

He texted Tamara, let her know he'd arrived home, got no response. Gene shrugged, figured he'd be on his own with the boys that night. The master bath was out of mouthwash, so he ducked into the hall bathroom to grab a spare bottle.

The sticky substance leaking down the wall opposite the toilet was a surprise, but Gene just smiled, shook his head, figured Finch had recently been jerking off. He'd have to teach his son to clean up his mess, but he wouldn't shame him for masturbating.

Gene grabbed the mouthwash, turned to leave, saw a pair of very dirty panties in the hamper. He froze a moment, words from Holly and Theresa working through his mind, suggestions that his daughter was becoming mature, sexual, ripe.

Gene never thought about Lauren that way before seeing those panties. He'd walled that off, he supposed, like any decent father, ignoring the way his daughter's breasts had swelled and pushed out her shirts. Ignored the way her hips rounded, her eyes grew sensual. Ignored that she was probably already fucking her boyfriend. He needed to discuss it with Tamara, probably a good idea to put Lauren on birth control.

He picked up the panties, still moist. The dark stains in the crotch were irregular, covered most of the fabric. Even before he brought them to his nose he could smell them. Gene sniffed the odors, found powerful, arousing scents that soon had his cock rising. His daughter's crotch had obviously been dirty, leaking juices. The brown streak down the back melted into the damp fabric further down.

He inhaled again, became hard quickly, imagined the way the panties would have looked on his daughter. He was overcome, strongly turned on, Lauren fueling his imagination. Gene pulled out his cock and masturbated, stroking himself quickly, inhaling his daughter's odors. He saw stray pubic hairs on the fabric, sniffed them, sniffed the damp crotch, sucked in the overpowering scents, and ejaculated against the wall.

Gene was quiet, came quickly, spurted his semen as he sniffed Lauren's panties. His orgasm left him shaking, pleasure hammered him hard. He sat on the toilet a moment, catching his breath, unable yet to let the panties go. He sniffed again, suddenly hooked on Lauren's dirty underwear. Gene knew he'd just discovered a new, special thrill, one only a father could understand.

He planned to say nothing to Tamara, feeling a bit guilty after resting a moment. It was just a quick, intense thrill, but after cumming, he remembered that he was sniffing his own daughter's odors, the little girl he'd watched grow up. Panties were tossed back into the pile. Gene pulled up his pants, grabbed the mouthwash, and headed back to his bedroom.

- - -

Logan's little cock was constantly demanding attention. He'd become so good at stroking it that he already used both hands, enjoyed the way each grip felt different. Logan passed his dad on the stairs and headed to the hall bathroom, shut himself inside.

The twelve-year old pissed strongly before feeling the urge to move his bowels. He sat down and concentrated a few minutes, relief coming quickly. Logan stared a moment at the wall. Big globs of sticky sperm were running down it, pooling on the tile floor. He knew it was cum, no doubt about it. He'd seen his own often enough.

Logan wasn't sure why, but it turned him on to see all that cum. His pants around his ankles, he jerked off rapidly, sperm soon firing out of his little cock and adding to the mess on the wall. He smiled to himself as his orgasm peaked and washed away.

- - -

Lauren yawned, growing tired, restless. She looked over at the clock which read 9:30. They'd been at it for almost an hour, and forty minutes ago she'd been ready for it to be over. It wasn't that she didn't like long sessions with Lance, just that he was becoming predictable, forgetting about her for long stretches of time as he humped her. He forgot to find her clit, to touch her breasts, to kiss her. She wanted more than just a mechanical fuck.

Bent over the edge of the bed, Lance fucking her from behind, she turned over in her mind what to do. She didn't know how to tell him that he was starting to bore her sexually, couldn't say that to her boyfriend. But it was true. She made no noises, didn't push back against him, just stayed bent over the mattress, letting Lance pound away at her fifteen-year old pussy, wishing he'd just once remember to bring her to orgasm.

He grunted finally, began to swell inside her, the signs she knew meant he was about to cum. He pounded her, pounded, slamming his cock in and out of her little hole before grunting a few times and ejaculating into her vagina.

Lauren knew that he should have worn a condom, but he'd begged her for one time without. She knew the risks, gave in eventually, and for most of the last hour, Lance had fucked her from behind bareback. His cum splashed into her hole and he held against her before finally withdrawing and walking off to the bathroom.

She laid there a moment, exhaled resignedly, wished he'd have at least asked her if she wanted to cum. Lauren appreciated his stamina, no doubt, but the monotonous hammering had quickly taken away the thrill she felt at taking him inside her vagina without a condom for the first time.

Lauren could feel semen dripping from her sore pussy, sticky sperm sliding down her thighs. She stood up, used her hands to pull her labia open and forward, could see white cum sticking to her pubes. She sighed, wished things were more enjoyable, but was beginning to suspect that this was normal and that her pleasure would have to be pushed away in order for Lance to fuck her.

Lance came out of the bathroom, stupid grin on his face, and smacked her ass, said, “thanks, Babe. That was great. Next time, put some effort into it, though, that was hot, you should enjoy it.”

She sneered at his idiotic attitude and slid into the bathroom where she showered and did her best to remove Lance's deposit from her cunt.

- - -

Tamara's ass was feeling sore, raw, stretched too far. She couldn't stop, though, caught up in the way Giovanni's huge cock tore through her, how it hurt her, how she came so hard from it. He'd fucked her pussy already, cumming in his condom but wanting more. She'd let him, determined to take his penis in her butt once more, to feel it open her wider and make her very uncomfortable.

She'd wanted to void her bowels before he sodomized her, but he'd held her close, assured her 'natural was better', bent her over a chair, and proceeded to penetrate her anus with just enough lube to make her slippery.

The feeling was intense. She'd never had a man in her like that. The smell became strong, rich, intense as he churned her butt. The mess was growing, she could feel it, but Giovanni didn't care. Didn't care, or was getting off on the smell, the mess. Tamara grunted as his thrusts became faster, her anus stretching as far as possible to take him inside.

Giovanni began to shake as his penis slammed in and out of her asshole, trembling, bellowing, and then filled his condom. Tamara held still, barely able to tolerate the discomfort. It was almost too much, but at the same time, it was incredibly arousing. As he came, her fingers found her clit and Tamara masturbated to a quick orgasm as Gio's penis began to shrink.

He pulled out, looked down at the mess between her legs with a grin on his face, said, “ahh... yes, natural is better... I will help you clean up.”

They showered after he tore off the filthy condom, Giovanni's hands moving over her ass, through her crack, the steamy water washing away the mess from the hard pounding. He knew enough to sense her rising arousal as the smell of anal sex was slowly dissipating in the shower. Tamara tensed as his fingers found her clit, rocking her hips until she came again, collapsed into his embrace and tried to catch her breath.

- - -

“Gene... Oh my God.. did you see the news? Has anyone called you?”

Gene was sitting by the pool, technically off the rest of the week but always available by phone. He and his wife had caught up when she returned on Saturday night, fucked long into he morning despite how sore Tamara's pussy and ass felt. They were both too excited by their experiences apart to keep from grinding and groaning and cumming together as they described each detail, each taste, each smell.

It was Monday morning, just after breakfast, when Tamara's questions brought Gene's focus onto her face. She looked shocked, trembled. “What news? What news?” He didn't like that look, knew it meant something incredibly serious.

She turned her laptop toward him. The news article headline read, “Newly-Appointed Publishing CEO Murdered, Anarchist Group Claims Credit.” Gene's breath caught in his throat. He read further.

Hawkins Publishing CEO Rand Murray was found murdered in his Las Vegas hotel room on Sunday night, and a widely-circulated posting on an Internet chat board by a member of the anarchist organization No Limits claimed credit for the killing. Murray was recently appointed as the new CEO at Hawkins, in Las Vegas to attend a company board meeting. Las Vegas authorities have no suspects and made no comment about the claim by No Limits. The FBI is also involved in the investigation.

“Good God! Why... I mean, he was a dick, but why would anyone murder him? Fuck, Tamara... Fuck!”

“Sorry, Hon... I can't believe no one has called you.”

Gene pulled out his phone. No missed calls, no texts. He dialed his supervisor in Houston, the line never connected. He tried a fellow VP, same result. Something wasn't right. Gene called Tamara's phone which never rang. “Think my phone is screwy. Of all fucking times! I... I need...” Gene became agitated.

“Ok, ok, calm down. Calm down, let's... let's see if I can reach them from my phone, here.”

Gene tried again. It rang through to the home office but no one answered, the same with the VP. “Why is no one answering... grrr... I should head to my office. With Rand dead, we've got to be in panic mode right now. They'll need me down there.”

Tamara nodded, understood, poured coffee into a travel cup for him. The three kids had drifted down to the living room when they'd heard Gene yelling, looked half asleep but concerned. Gene had no time to explain, grabbed his satchel and laptop, headed for the door.

Holly stood on the steps, her face focused. “Gene. You have to get out of here now. Right now. All of you. Get your family, you have to run!”

“What?! Holly, what... what the fuck...”

“Gene! There's no time for this. You've got 5 minutes. I've got a van, we need to leave right now! Questions later.”

“What the fuck?! What do...”

“The people who killed Rand Murray are going to kill you and your family. They're on their way, and there's nothing you can do to stop them. You have to run. Now!”

Gene didn't know what to do, started to panic. It was Tamara who set things in motion. “Lauren, Logan, Finch! Grab a bag, pack clothes, meds, essentials only! Do it! You have three minutes. Hurry!”

Legs fired into motion as panic set in all over. Gene's own feet finally moved, backing away from Holly slowly, then running up the stairs. He could hear drawers slamming, his own breathing heavy in his ears as he chucked clothes into his overnight bag.

- - -

Tamara's mind was racing as she grabbed a pair of yoga pants and threw them into her suitcase. What is going on? Oh, God! She'd heard the tone in Holly's voice. She knew the fear that was only barely restrained. Gene had described Holly, the strange things she'd said, the way she knew too much about him for it to have been a random hookup. Something about all of that made Tamara jump into action, and three minutes later, everyone was piling into a long black van and racing away from their home.

- - -

Logan was frightened, unlike anything he'd felt before. He didn't know what was going on, but the look on his mother's face could not be misunderstood. He'd put clothes in his backpack randomly, no real thought there. Is Dad in trouble? Why was everyone yelling? He started to whimper as the van picked up speed, overwhelmed by a situation that he didn't understand. His sister put her arm around his shoulder, the gesture just enough to keep his frightened tears from falling.

- - -

Lauren's body was tense, vibrating from fear. The way they'd left the house, racing to pack and get in the van had been so automatic, complete remote control. She didn't think as she filled her bag with clothes, didn't care if a shirt matched her socks. She was on cruise control. A soft whimper from Logan softened her, and she put her arm around him, pulled him tight against her. Whatever was happening, it scared them all, and she felt her stomach flipping, nausea threatening to rise.

- - -

“What the fuck, Holly! Tell me what is going on here!”

Gene's voice rang in the tinny van, loud enough for the short black man driving to turn back and shout, “hey! I'm trying to drive here! Keep it down!”

Holly put a hand on Gene's knee, caught his eye. “Long story, Gene. We'll get to it, I promise. Right now, we have to get you out of the city. Probably out of the country. You and many others. The war is finally starting, and it won't be pretty.”

“War? What war? Something about No Limits?”

“Yes, and no. It's much bigger than No Limits, and before the day is done, the fight will have spilled into every armed group, every military, every asshole with a keyboard and enough brains to hack a network and bring down power grids.”

Gene sat speechless, trying to understand. “Why me? Why us?”

“Not quiet sure, Gene. You tell me. Anything to do with your days at Whitehead?”

He said nothing, the mere mention of that name bringing back the tight-lipped silence he'd maintained for years. He'd tried hard to leave behind those days, but Holly's words brought them rushing back.

Holly nodded when he didn't say anything, continued, “they know about you, Gene. They know about Whitehead, and as a result, you're on their shit list. And by shit list, I mean they hope to kill you.”

“How do you know?” Gene's voice thin, tight. “How?”

“I told you, Gene. I'm a researcher. I find out things that people don't want discovered. I got... access to plans... and one of those plans included the name Gene Polanski, although... I also discovered that you once answered to a different name, yes?”

More silence.

- - -

Tamara rocked as the van flew around corners and sped up to the North. She listened as Gene and Holly talked, fear barely beaten back by determination not to panic in front of her children. She held Finch to her as the conversation grew dark. Whitehead? I don't remember anything called Whitehead. And... what does she mean, 'once answered to a different name'... what the hell?

- - -

“Hold on, we're being followed!” The driver yelled back over his shoulder, his hands white rocks holding the wheel. A sharp corner threw the passengers into each other, ended conversation. “Goddamnit! Holly, do your thing!”

Holly jumped into the passenger seat in the front, reached into a bag, pulled out a dull-grey machine gun with a pistol grip. Finch thought she meant to shoot them, but her body shifted and hung out the window. Splatters of gunfire roared through the cabin, and Finch buried his ears under his hands. Lauren screamed beside him, his mom's arm squeezed him tighter.

Another burst, and another, shell casings tinkled on the floor of the van. Holly yelled, “Got em!” She leaned back in, switched out the mag on the gun, and slipped it back into the bag.

Finch sat panting, unable to move his hands. Holly spoke but all he heard was the dull ringing in his ears and the thumping of his racing heart.

- - -

“We gotta move, Harvey! Go!” The driver slammed his foot down and the van lurched forward with more velocity. Holly turned back and looked at Gene. “That was close. Look. I'll explain everything once we're in the air, ok? For now, all of you just shut up and hang on!”

“In the--” Gene started.

“Shut up and hang on!” she yelled just as the van took a corner and nearly rose on two wheels.

- - -

The jet engines on the plane roared to life and had them soon taxiing down the runway at the private airstrip secluded beyond the northern mountains. Lauren was in shock. She knew she felt frightened, but beyond that, she couldn't make her mind form coherent thoughts.

The plane lifted, banked West, then East, gaining altitude quickly, the roaring in the cabin a steady pressure on her ears. She felt sick, nauseous, cramps hitting her randomly. Great! she thought, I've got my period and I didn't bring tampons!

The sun was racing toward midday as she looked out the small window, holding her stomach, no one talking or moving, everyone looking frightened and distraught. Lauren watched the ground recede, the sky becoming a deep, rich blue.

Her dad flashed her a weak smile. It wasn't much, but it was something to cling to. It had been a long time since Lauren had felt like she needed her father for support, but in that moment, it helped calm the shivering nerves that threatened to send her breakfast onto the floor.