(Don Russell) Mother In Every Way

[trader_26]

This is an old favourite from a long time ago. Surprised it wasn't already posted here, so I thought I'd share it.



Mother In Every Way

By Don Russell



Chapter 1

Helen Fredericson's auburn hair, piled high in a French
twist, accentuated her creamy complexion and the shimmer of her
emerald-green eyes. The stark white of a high-necked hostess gown
revealed a size thirty-seven bust line that even a severe bra
failed to confine and the firm curvature of size thirty-six hips;
the effect was to give her five-foot-six-inch figure a regal
appearance that was reinforced by her grace and composure. She
busied herself straightening up evidence of company, emptying
ashtrays, wiping away rings left by glasses, and smoothing
wrinkled cushions.
Art Fredericson hovered over his wife, hands deep-thrust into
his pockets, lips compressed, and weight shifting from one foot to
the other. His gaze wandered over her body, drawn by each
movement of a muscle, and he continually wetted his lips with his
tongue tip. His sun-bleached hair was tousled, and it seemed
natural above a face roughened by years of exposure to the weather
and eyes whose blue had faded in the wind. His lean six-one frame
saved him from looking short in contrast to his wife's height, and
he had an aura of suppressed explosiveness about him.
Helen brushed past her husband and bent to wipe a spot from a
corner of the coffee table. Art's hand came out of his pocket to
caress her ass. She jerked and whirled to face him, angry red
spots flaming over her cheekbones.
"Art! For God's sake!"
"Sorry." Art mumbled and returned his hand to his pocket.
Helen doubted that. "After all, there's a time and a place
for everything! Honestly! I think you're getting as bad as
Barry."
"Sure, sure. Dirty old man."
"Don't be sarcastic. He is. I don't know why Van lets him
get away with it." Vanessa Rush was the closest friend Helen had-
-they'd been like sisters since high school days--but Helen
disapproved of Van's permissive attitude. Letting him look at
other women the way he does! she thought. And giggling and
simpering when he feels her up--right out in public! Ugh!
Grandma would have a word for it; she'd have called Van a
"strumpet"!
"Shit! He's only thirty-one. How can he be a dirty old man?
And she lets him because it's natural and she likes it!"
"That's right. When you can't think how to get out of it,
use bad language." She moved out of Art's reach and continued her
work.
"At least I live in the real world. Christ, Helen, sex isn't
a disease!" Art sounded quietly desperate. "Nothing dirty about
it, except what you make it in your mind."
"Art Fredericson! Blame it all on me! Grandma would have
said ..."
"GRANDMA, HORSESHIT! Goddamned prude! I never will know how
come your old man couldn't walk on water after that immaculate
conception!"
"Art! How dare you!"
He grumbled and subsided. Helen finished the coffee table
and turned to the last end table. Suddenly she felt Art's hand
slide up the inner slope of her thigh. She clamped her knees
together and struck at his arm.
"Damn it! You want Danny to see something like that?" She
blazed at her husband.
"Do him good. His age, he ought to start learning."
"Oh! So I've neglected his education!"
"No! He gets the theory in those school courses! But you've
sure warped it! Hell, a kid ought to know a pat on the fanny is a
sign of affection!"
"Sign of affection! Just lewd, that's what! He saw enough
of that between Barry and Van tonight!"
Art chuckled. "And wondered how it would be to try it on
that hot-eyed kid sister of Van's! See the way he kept sizing her
up?"
"Terrible! That's what I mean! And Olga actually flirted!"
"Like with a ten-year-old. That chick isn't going to break
in a fifteen-year-old."
"She's a tramp!" Helen glanced about the room to see if
she'd missed any spot of disorder. "He's more mature than any of
the boys she's dated here."
"Carries himself like a man, all right. She may be
overlooking an experience!"
"Oh, Art, don't always be dirty-minded!"
"Okay, okay. Come on, baby, let's go to bed. The house can
wait."
"A lot you care! You don't have to face it in the morning.
You just go off to work and let me worry about it."
"And you do. Twenty-four hours a day."
She stiffened. "I have to do something to take my mind off
how grouchy you've gotten!"
"Who the hell wouldn't be grouchy? Takes a national holiday
around here for a guy to get a piece of ass! And then its like
reading the Declaration of Independence through bulletproof
glass!"
"Art Fredericson! You're mean and crude! Go on in, I'll be
there in a minute."
She clenched her fists as she watched her husband go into the
hallway. She hated these scenes and had a knot in her belly that
kept getting larger as the scenes became more frequent. Her
grandmother had warned her, long before she was old enough to
understand.
"Selfish, flesh-loving beasts, all of them," the old lady had
said often. "Even your father, dear thing."
And while Helen's parents had fun and went places, her
paternal grandmother had stuck to the dreadful task of reshaping a
lustful, filthy-minded child into a civilized girl. Helen knew
that's what old Mrs. Farrell had done. Hadn't she been told often
enough? She'd rebelled, she remembered. She'd played with
herself and spied on her father, filled with wonder at that
enormous cock of his, and made up fantastic stories in her mind
about relations with all the boys she knew. Yes, she thought,
Grandma had a real challenge. She'd been losing it, too, until
that wilderness trip with the Indian guide.
"Not that he made the difference." she muttered bitterly to
herself. "But what it did to Grandma."
Even Helen's mother had agreed Grandma Farrell's death--her
massive stroke--had come as a direct result of Helen's pregnancy.
And Helen had never lost the black worm of guilt over the fact
she'd regretted those hours with Tony, the guide, only for her
grandmother's death--not for the mortal sin she, herself had
committed with him. That personal lust--that terrible,
conscience-deadening pleasure--had burned into her the truth of
what her grandmother had steadfastly maintained.
"You're your mother all over again," her grandmother had said
darkly, over and over. "No shame. No moral fiber. You'll never
be a Farrell."
And on the old lady's abrupt death, Helen had realized that
she really loved her grandmother. She'd resolved in that moment--
fully aware of the insatiable sex-hunger in her--that she would
atone to her grandmother by becoming what the Victorian woman had
wanted. She buried the hot-pussied self and built instead a
poised, frigid shell. She'd done it well, she reminded herself
now. Well enough that she'd kept Danny on the right track; well
enough that she'd never let herself progress to an orgasm since
that summer in the woods. Her grandmother must be proud, looking
down from heaven on the granddaughter she'd given up for hopeless.
Helen hurried to the bedroom. She had time to get into her
nightgown and into bed before Art finished in the bathroom. And
there were moments to recall that summer. There had been a lake
and a camp and Tony--he'd had a name even her father couldn't
pronounce, so they'd nicknamed him Tony--had gone to scout trail
for the next day's move. Helen had gone for a lone hike, then
turned back because of a bear. And she's heard her mother's
squeal and her father's carefree, eager laugh.
"Abe! That tickles! Behave yourself!"
"Behave myself! When I can have my nooky in this setting?"
"Your language!"
"Fraud! Get my hand on that snatch and your language will
make me blush!"
"Nooky ... Pussy!" Helen whispered from where she now hid in
the brush. They were delightful, tingle-producing words. If she
crept only a few feet further, she might--just might--get to watch
them fuck.
"Wait'll I catch you!" she heard her father say happily.
There was a sound of snapping twigs and rustling underbrush.
Helen's mother burst into view and stumbled. Convenient to be in
the middle of a clearing, thought Helen with a shiver. And her
father overtook his wife there. He pulled her to her feet and
crushed her to him, his knee pressed to her pussy and his hand
kneading her ass. Helen felt her own young pussy glow as she
watched the willing redhead who was her mother writhe in the hot
embrace was a low moan of pleasure.
"Honey! Honey! Oh, I want it so!"
They fell to the dark earth, rolling over each other and
grabbing at each other. Without Helen seeing how, her mother's
halter came off and lay crumpled under them. Abe pinned Ruth
beneath him, his mouth gulping at her breast and his hand diving
into her shorts. His wife groped at his trouser fly, fumbling at
the zipper and finally pulling out his cock.
Helen writhed. She twisted her legs until her weight bore on
one heel, through her pussy, and she clutched her breasts in her
hands, squeezing and massaging. Watching was better than all her
dreams put together, she decided. Only having the experience,
herself, could be better. She gasped and held her breath. Her
father was pulling her mother's shorts--and her panties, if she
had any on--over her hips. Ruth had her ass off the ground and
squirmed to help him, but she refused to let go of the reddening
cock. Abe lifted his wife's feet as he drew off her shorts,
raising her legs vertically and dropping one hand to prod at her
twat. Ruth squealed and twisted, pulling herself up until she
could mouth the moist cockhead that peeked out of her hand.
"Oh!" whispered Helen. "Oh, how delicious! I wonder how it
really tastes?" The joints of her jaw tensed as if she's just
eaten a sour pickle and her hands fumbled at the waist of her
sweater, then slipped inside, up to her bra and under it to cup
the hot flesh of her girlish breasts.
Abe straightened, tugging at his clothes while his wife
gnawed at his prick. Her hair flamed in a ray of sunlight, a
gleaming halo against the background of her husband's white belly
and thick, black body hair. She sat with her knees up and her
feet widely parted, her pussy a shimmering, wet cleft of pink
between parallel thickets of carrot-colored pubic hair. Helen
groaned inwardly with envy as she compared the swollen, parted
slopes with her vivid recollection of her own thin cuntlips.
Someday! she thought. Someday I'll have a pussy like that! And a
cock like that to kiss!
But she imagined she heard her grandmother's acid tone in the
distance. "Dirty-minded little girl! Shameless as your mother!
The Devil's own child!" Helen shook her head impatiently--the old
woman was two thousand miles away, and a man named Abe Farrell was
getting ready to fuck a woman named Ruth right in front of his
daughter. And Ruth was sensitizing his cock with her mouth,
savoring its maleness before engulfing it in her pussy.
Somehow, Helen's mother scrambled to her knees when Abe stood
up to kick off his pants. And she kept his cockhead in her mouth
and cradled his balls in her hand. He laughed and laid his
fingers on her temples.
"God, woman! You're something else today! Have a heart!"
Ruth spit out her meaty mouthful and tilted her head back,
eyes dancing as she gazed up at him. "It's you," she said. "I go
wild, wanting you so much!"
He sank to his knees, his cock trapped between their bellies
and her breasts spreading and flattening against his chest. He
seized her asscheeks, rolling them in his fingers, pressing them
together to close her crack, parting them to expose the pink
pucker of her asshole. Ruth slipped her arms over his shoulders
and pulled at his flesh with her fingers.
"Darling," she said softly. "Oh, Abe darling! I do love
you!" She squirmed, her hips thrust forward so her belly pressed
hard against his. "Especially with your prick in my belly
button!"
Abe fingered the crack of her ass. His eyes closed
momentarily and he blew into his wife's hair. "If it were big
enough, you'd train that belly button to suck me off, wouldn't
you?"
"Oh, honey!" Ruth protested laughingly.
Her husband forced his knee between her thighs and raised it,
lifting her from her knees and planting his foot on the ground.
Ruth twisted, raising herself until she positioned her twat above
his dick. She began to lower herself, her hips undulating as her
cunt settled around his cockhead. She clenched her teeth in
concentration, her gaze fixed steadily on Abe's face.
"Unh ... unh ..." Her exclamations were low-voiced and
tentative, spaced as if each were a false expectation of reaching
the root of the cock she was sliding onto. And then explosively--
"UNH! Ahhh!"--she flung her arms around him and began nuzzling
his neck, biting and releasing and biting again. Abe squirmed,
laughing, and retaliated.
Helen's eyes widened. She withdrew one hand from her breast
and touched her neck and shoulders, pretending someone was giving
her "love bites". She shivered deliciously.
Her mother's boob formed a bridge between her straining body
and her husband's, the darkened nipples prodding his chest and
burying themselves in the curls of his body hair. She sat on the
back of one thigh and an asscheek, her other knee hanging toward
the ground, and jacked her hips violently. Abe held one palm at
the small of his wife's back and massaged her ass with the other.
His fingers slid along her crack and her buttocks winked. Both
bodies writhed, tense and eager, and Ruth's skin began to gleam
with perspiration.
Helen trembled. "Ooh! Ooh, she likes that!" she whispered,
gazing wide-eyed at her father's fingers as they caressed her
mother's ass. She inched forward on her heel, bearing down with
her anus on the rounded, bony little foot. She winked her ass the
way her mother was doing, biting her lips at the sensation and
groping at her pussy with her hand. She paused, clutching herself
tightly and bending forward to see better; her parents were
starting to do something else.
Ruth fell back, clinging to Abe's shoulders. She stared into
his face, her eyes looking strangely sleepy. Her mouth was wet
and red, and her nostrils flared. She tossed her head and her
hair broke free of its pins. The French twist disintegrated to a
cloud of tumbling red about her shoulders.
"Darling!" Her voice was husky. "Roll me! Roll me in the
dirt! Oh, God, I feel great! I feel like we're a couple of
animals rutting! Please, baby!"
Abe panted. His mouth was open and working, and his fingers
kneaded her flesh spasmodically. He twisted and fell backward,
keeping his wife impaled on his cock and rolling with her as her
hit the soft, moist earth. Ruth's legs parted widely and she
gouged into the leafmold with her heels, kicking vigorously.
Together they rolled across the clearing, sweet-smelling earth
flying and bits of black debris clinging to their bodies. Their
legs and arms tangled and they bit at each other. Their breaths
whistled, its cadence punctuated by low grunts of pleasure.
Helen writhed with desire. She twisted her fist among the
inflamed tissues of her pussy and bit the back of her other hand
to smother the continuous whimper that welled in her throat. Oh,
yes! she thought. Oh, yes! This is the way it ought to be!
Naked and rolling free! It might be sinful, like Grandma says,
but nothing could be more wonderful! I'm going to be like Mama
... and I want to!
Abe's fingers dug into the pink and white flesh of his wife's
ass, parting her cheeks and stabbing at her anus, his teeth
tugging at her nipples while she thrashed beneath him. She ground
the back of her head against the earth, her eyes bulging and her
teeth clenched. Then she opened her mouth widely.
"Abe! Ride me, darling! Ride me for real!"
"For real?" There was a note of sudden eagerness in Abe's
question.
Ruth hesitated momentarily. "All right," she said then.
"But quick, darling! Now!" She rolled abruptly onto her belly
and pushed herself to her hands and knees.
As if impatient, Abe caught her at the waist and lifted until
his wife stood stiff-legged, her feet widespread, her body bent at
the hips and her palms flat on the ground. He edged his knees
between her taut thighs and crouched, pushing the head of his cock
down so that it nestled in the depression of her cunt. He pushed
forward with his hips, lodging the cockhead securely in place, and
grasped his wife's hips.
"Mm! Mm!" Ruth grunted. "Put it in, darling! Quick!"
Helen felt a curious churning in her belly. She writhed
silently while her father pressed forward and the brutal cockhead
buried itself in the dark pink flesh. "Oooh!" she moaned
silently.
"Oh! ... Oh! ..." Ruth gasped. "Hard, Abe! HARD!"
Abe jammed his hips forward and the thick shaft plunged into
her. His hairy belly bumped her ass and his fingers dug into the
roundness of her hips. He hitched himself over her, his cock
bending at the root, and raised his feet from the ground, hooking
his insteps behind his wife's knees. She sagged for a moment,
then stiffened her knees.
"Oh, God, darling!" she exclaimed hoarsely. "God, he's
deep!"
Abe levered his knees, stroking his great prick in the mouth
of his wife's pussy. She bounced, her knees flexing under his
surges. Her breasts flopped and her hair tumbled over her arms.
Animals! thought Helen with a happy thrill. They're like
animals that belong here! Wonderful-awful animals that look like
people! Her blood pounded too hard for her to get her breath.
Her own young pussy pulsed at every blow of her father's cock in
her mother's upturned cunt and her boobs ached. She ground her
thighs together, glorying in the sticky wetness that spread over
them.
Abe bent forward, his belly molding itself to his wife's ass
and his hands gripping her waist. His buttocks jerked powerfully
while his balls thumped against Ruth's pubic hair. Helen shivered
and gulped at the contrast between her mother's finely tapered
legs and the humping bulk they supported. She tried desperately
to imagine herself in the same position sagging under the same
burden.
"Abe! Abe!" Ruth cried out. "Only one thing wrong with this
way ... my boobies ache and you can't hang onto them! Oh,
darling, hard!"
"UNNNH!" Abe's lips drew back to reveal his clenched teeth.
His buttocks snapped together and his back straightened, throwing
all his weight on his buried cock. He stopped thrusting and bore
down with silent convulsions of his belly.
The couple trembled fiercely, Ruth's hips swaying in slow,
grinding circles as she appeared to rotate on the base of the
deep-thrust cock.
"Mmmm!" she groaned. "MMM, FUCK-FUCK-FUCK! BABY, BABY!"
With a final, violent shudder, her straining body seemed to
melt. She collapsed, Abe riding her to the ground, and the two
huddled together, still joined and twitching.
Helen fought an impulse to groan. She groveled in the loose
earth, flattened herself on her belly, her fist in her pussy, and
ground her hips on the hard knuckles. She fought desperately with
herself, her body trembling on the verge of orgasm while her will
demanded self-restraint until she could get away by herself and
act out the scene she'd witnessed. Fibre by fibre, her body
yielded to her determination, her tension easing and the iron knot
in her belly loosening. She squirmed backward through the low-
hanging brush, terror rising when Ruth and Abe stirred, and relief
making her weak when she was at last safe beyond their sight. She
sprang to her feet and bounded between the trees, hot desire
tearing at her.
With a sob of gratitude, she stumbled into a pocket in the
woods Tony had shown her, where one could lie quietly and watch a
family of squirrels argue over pine cones or a heedless rabbit
forage. The spruce stood apart and a thicket of low firs trailed
their boughs to the ground, shutting out the world. Going to the
center of the tiny clearing, she set her feet apart and drew
herself erect. After a moment she arched her back and stared at
the narrow patch of sky, her hands clutching at her breasts, then
passing over her belly with hard pressure and stopping at the tops
of her thighs.
"Now!" she said softly. "Now, Helen Farrell!"
She unbuttoned her blouse, laying it open with her back still
arched and her breasts pointed defiantly toward the treetops.
Extending her hands behind her, she let the blouse slide off her
fingertips to the ground. She trembled in her effort to maintain
her pose while unfastening her bra, then drew it off and dropped
it, fingering her conical boobs and plucking at the quivering,
hard little nipples. A great tingle surged over her, doubling her
with its intensity, and she fumbled at her slacks, her hands
clumsy on the button and too eager with the zipper. She thrust
them off her hips and dropped panting to the earth while she
struggled to draw them over her boots. The boots had to stay on;
they would add a measure of sensuous contrast to what she meant to
do. In a frenzy of haste she tore away her panties, leaving until
another time the problem of explaining their loss.
Again, she assumed her "sky-worshipping" stance, her small
red triangle of pubic hair darker than her mother's and not yet
covering as much of her flesh, but thick and springy, nonetheless.
Arched as she was, she drew her belly into a taut, convex surface.
Her navel stretched into a groove and her pussy shook with the
strain of her posture.
"Oooo! ... Oooh!" She flung her arms up and back and let her
head hang back, with her hair falling free. "Mmmm!" Without
changing her body's alignment, she placed her hands on her pussy
and pulled the wet lips apart. Her fingertips explored her slit,
lingering at her labia before slipping forward to the raw little
lump that generated such incredible sensations of delight.
Writhing and gasping, she played with her clitoris, whipping her
excitement back to the peak she'd felt during her parent's orgasm.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Yes, it's now! Now!"
She dropped to all fours, knees stiff and palms resting on
the cool earth, spreading her feet as widely as she could and
imagining her father was mounting her. She sagged, pretending his
weight pressed her down, then thrust one hand into her crotch to
massage the gaping folds. For a time, she teased herself, sliding
her fingertips in the wetness on her pussy and tracing rings
around the rim of her cunt, but at last she yielded to her
feverish hunger and started to rub her clitoris.
"NNNG! ... AGHHH!" Her hips jerked and her boobs bounced
under her as her excitement rocketed. "Oh, yes! Oh, God, yes!"
Something touched her hips. She stiffened and fought against
the scream that welled in her throat. Her glance darted past her
legs to the moccasined feet of the guide and waves of horror
engulfed her.
"No! OH, NO!" she sobbed, too terrified to move. "Don't
tell! Please don't tell!"
She tried to push herself to her feet, but Tony's hand rested
on the small of her back, holding her where she was.
"Please!" she whimpered. "Please, Tony!"
He circled her waist with his fingers, then slid his hands to
her hips, fingering her ass and stroking her thighs. The
roughness of his palms was like needles of pure delight on her
skin, and she surged under his caress. He brushed one finger over
her rectum. Her buttocks clamped together, then spread at Tony's
insistent massage. His thumbs settled on her labia, forcing them
apart and making her cunt yawn. He poked one square-tipped finger
at the eager little mouth and grunted with amusement when the rim
puckered.
"Maybe you good fuck," he observed.
"Omigod, Tony! No! ... Yes! ... Oh, Tony!"
He uttered the grunt she'd come to know as his substitute for
a sympathetic chuckle. Gently he raised her, then took her in his
arms and laid her on the earth.



Chapter 2

Tony's nose was narrow and sharp and his eyes were close-set,
glittering black beads that appeared to radiate condescension
along with hunger as he leered at her. His cheeks were gaunt and
pocked, his chin jutted crookedly, and thin lips drew back to
reveal gaps between jagged, worn teeth.
Helen writhed. She knew she had reached the end of her
virginity, and the knowledge brought fierce joy over a thick
fabric of regret. In her fantasies, she'd pictured the event as
involving some dashing, worldly type with flashing eyes and an
eager grin, abandoning his castles out of wild desire for her.
She'd dreamed of haunting music, softly glowing lights and velvet
cushions. Instead, she had an unkempt old Indian taking a moment
from a day with nothing to do, visibly gratified at the diversion
chance had thrown his way. The only music was a sighing somewhere
high in the trees; the light was what filtered through close-
growing needles, and her cushion was a springy mattress of
leafmold.
But her moment had come, nonetheless, and it was surely more
exciting than being had on the back seat of a hot rod. She
thrilled at her nakedness, acutely conscious of the bizarre note
her boots added and secretly embarrassed at how small her peaked
breasts were. And the dark-skinned creature who unbuttoned his
fly as he dropped to his knees between her outflung thighs was Man
without pretense or sophistication. There would be no subtlety as
his cock thrust aside the membrane of her innocence and no apology
as his semen spilled into her.
He bent over her, tugging his cock into the open and reaching
out to fondle her.
Black! she thought, shivering. Black and knobby and dull!
Not smooth and white and shiny like Daddy's! She sucked her belly
in while his fingers scraped across it. He closed his hand over
her breast, squeezing and rubbing, and a sharp gasp caught in her
throat. His Levi's felt rough against the inner slopes of her
thighs and she twitched when he laid one hand over the brush of
her pubic hair.
His cock pulsed and he ran his tongue over his lips. She
stared in fascination at the stray hairs that clung to his shaft
where it poked through his open fly, and at his cockhead, half out
of his taut foreskin. There was a bead of clear fluid at the tip
of the swollen bulb and from her angle the slit was clearly
visible, gaping darkly.
He grinned knowingly, clearly aware of the focus of her
attention, and used both hands to tease her nipples, rolling them
like cherries between his fingers while she pressed her fists to
her shoulders and breath hissed between her teeth. He felt her,
his hands roving over her curves with lingering, tantalizing
slowness, as if he were renewing memories he'd put too far behind.
Helen twisted in pleasure at the tingles that raced over her in
wave after wave. He caught a strand of her pubic hair in his
fingers, pulling it straight and letting it snap back, then ran
his fingers into the quivering zone at the top of her thigh next
to her pussy. She whimpered at the electric urgency of the
sensation and drew one knee up to press it to her side.
"Tony! Oh, Tony! Am I going to be your squaw?"
"Mmmph," he grinned at her. "We fuck."
"Yes," she whispered.
He lowered himself, the folds of his shirt settling on her
breasts and the hardness of his Levi's on her belly. She felt his
cockhead against her pussy, heat on heat, and gasped. But he
turned, resting one hip in the angle of her widespread thigh, and
fingered her cunt.
"Ah! ... Oh! ..." she gasped.
He dragged his fingertip along her slit and probed to feel
the indentation of her vagina. Slowly, deliberately, he forced
the blunt digit into her, twisting it and stretching the sensitive
rim. Helen rolled the back of her head on the earth and dug her
bootheels in.
"Oh, My!" she exclaimed in a low moan. "Oh, my gosh!" His
finger was bigger than hers and rougher, and there was a feeling
of fullness she'd not experienced before in playing with herself.
An instant of terror swept her at the thought of his cock and how
much greater it was than his finger. But her desire was
deepening, jerking at her gut and making his looming bulk waver
before her eyes.
He rolled back, lodging his cockhead between her pussy lips
and pushing. She felt the blunt instrument fill her vagina and
rest solidly in the surrounding tissues. An uncontrollable urge
came over her to rotate her pelvis up and forward, and she felt
her hips tighten and thrust. The pressure at her pussy increased
sharply as her sheath stretched and slid onto the slopes of the
enormous bulb.
"Mmh! ... Oh ... Oh ...!" she cried out, clutching at
Tony's arms.
Tony lunged against her. His cockhead rammed through the
resistance of her cunt against something tighter and incapable of
stretching. Searing pain washed over Helen. She felt as if she
were tearing, and she pulled her knees up and spread them in a
futile effort to open wide enough to stop the hurt.
Tony grunted and thrust, the impossible wedge spreading her
and creeping inward. There was a sudden sensation of yielding and
a new leaping of fiery pain, then relief. Helen's throat closed
in the moment of agony and opened afterward, letting her pent-up
breath escape in a sighing rush. The black cock was an incredible
fullness in her pussy, and the sensation of the huge head's
intrusion into the core of her belly was a delight she had never
anticipated. She lashed out with her feet, pedaling them in the
air.
"Aghhh! Ahhh, Tony!"
Tony's body tensed at her cry and his cock drove inward with
a single, smooth push that dilated her virgin channel for the
first time. His groin slapped against her crotch and his cockhead
came to rest high in her belly. Helen forgot her earlier pain and
was aware only of the intense pleasure that surged in her. She
clamped her knees to Tony's sides and levered her hips, bumping
her pussy against the hardness of his Levi's while he pumped at
her. His cock slid rapidly back and forth in her and her body
rocked under the repeated blows. She clawed sensuously at him,
her fingernails catching in his shirt. The edges of his fly
rasped like rough sticks along her pussy lips, catching single
pubic hairs and jerking at them. Her body was a raw lump of
delight.
"Ugh!" Tony grunted explosively. "Tight cunt! Make Tony cum
quick! ... Unnnh!"
His thrusts slowed and a ball of warmth grew in her belly.
Her clitoris throbbed as the hardness of his shaft rode over it,
and pressure pounded in her head. She gulped, a convulsive spasms
seizing her pussy and spreading over her, stiffening her body and
making her back arch. She dug her heels into the backs of his
thighs and levered her crotch tightly against the base of his
cock.
A violent tremor shook her and she felt her vagina contract
to squeeze Tony's buried cock. "Mmmm!" she moaned, deep in her
throat. "MMMM! ... MMMM!" Her orgasm washed back and forth over
her, jerking her helpless body and making her hear an inner
roaring. The sensation seemed a totally different one from the
kind she'd brought on by playing with herself, and she was
frightened at its intensity. But her fright was a pale thing
beside the awesome feeling of pleasure that flooded her.
At last the tremors stopped and her inner convulsions
subsided. She collapsed, limp beneath the weight of Tony's body.
She heard his light panting and realized how hoarse and labored
her own breathing was.
"Tony! ... I can't ... breath! ... You're ... squashing
me!"
He grunted and propped himself on his forearms, his softening
cock settling in her. "You pretty good fuck, Helen. Lot better'n
Ol' Kai."
"Old Kai!" she shrieked, visualizing the emaciated mangy
bitch whose devotion to the guide seemed her only redeeming
feature. "Tony! You don't!"
He giggled. "You better'n her. Maybe fuck again tomorrow?"
"Brrr! Get off!" Helen laughed and twisted. Knowing the
cock that was in her had rested in a scrawny, stiff-legged bitch
brought its own kind of thrill, and Helen savored the wicked
awareness while she could still squeeze Tony's shrunken meat with
her twat. Then again, "Get off, dirty old man!"
Tony chuckled and jabbed his useless cock forward, then
heaved himself off her. There was a sucking noise at her crotch
when his cockhead popped free of her cunt, and she groaned at the
abrupt emptiness.
The gaunt Indian leered at her, teasing, his knees still
holding her thighs apart and his fingers resting on her slowly
swaying boobs. He pretended momentary revulsion. "Ugh! You too
white ... like dough!"
"Go away! You're nasty!" she giggled.
"But good fuck, anyhow."
"Go away!"
He grinned broadly, surged to his feet, and gazed down at her
languorous pose. "You like, Helen. Tomorrow maybe?"
She knew she would. Nothing could keep her from wanting that
cock as long as the guide was with them. Desire knotted her belly
and she nodded. "Maybe tonight?" she whispered.
"Maybe." He strode from the clearing, leaving her alone in
her nakedness.
She trembled and sat up, ignoring the soreness of her pussy
but thrilling at the sight of her reddened flesh, the rolled tops
of her socks and the gleam of her boots startling her. "God, how
wicked!" she told herself softly. "Grandma would just die!"
Helen shuddered and groaned now, hearing Art's tuneless
humming from beyond the bathroom's closed door and remembering the
incessant hunger she'd felt the rest of that summer. She'd
slipped away from her parents again and again to give herself to
the Indian, and she'd known within a week of reaching home that
she was pregnant.
Grandmother Farrell had died when she learned of Helen's
pregnancy. She'd raved at Helen, cursing her for being so much
like her mother. "Her that's made a lecher out of a fine boy!"
she'd screamed. And the old woman had succumbed to a stroke that
very night. Ruth and Abe had been grim, making no secret of the
fact that the stroke had been the direct result of Grandmother
Farrell's anger and shock over Helen's actions.
To Helen, her grandmother's death had been a two-edged
tragedy. For the first time, she realized how much she had loved
the cantankerous old woman. Her sense of guilt was a tangible,
oppressive burden that failed to lighten with time. And her
parents' attitude toward her, formerly trusting and permissive,
and changed to one of bitterness and suspicion. They had abruptly
curtailed her free time and her freedom of choice and movement.
What little time the baby left her, they had taken care to see she
was well supervised.
Not that it would have mattered, she told herself, listening
to Art's tuneless humming through the closed bathroom door. They
didn't have to worry. She had privately committed herself upon
her grandmother's death. Having taken the old woman's life (she
had believed) she had determined to give her own. And she had
done it by becoming the old woman in her beliefs and actions. She
had sealed her former lustful, passionate self away and turned
into the woman she believed her grandmother had been. It had been
as simple as that.
Danny had been born, a big, beautiful boy baby, and Helen had
grimly rejected her parent's urging to give him up. She had felt
no lingering affection for his half-civilized father--there was
nothing for him but revulsion--but it had seemed a fit punishment
to look at the fruit of her wickedness, reminding herself daily of
the way she'd killed Grandmother Farrell. To her own confused
amazement, Danny had captured her love. Until Art had married
her, the boy had been the center of her universe, and when Art had
insisted on adopting Danny, the act had deepened her emotion
toward her new husband to an unbelievable pitch of devotion. His
only flaw in her eyes was his apparent insensitivity and animal
appetite for sex. But she had persisted in the private vow she'd
made to the memory of her grandmother, and she sighed now with
self-approval for the way she'd met and conquered temptation.
She heard Art turn off the water and stop singing. A sharp
tingle assailed her and she tugged the blanket up to her chin,
annoyed at this evidence that she was still not free of her baser
nature. Still a wicked, wretched creature! she told herself.
Just like Grandma said! Lustful and crude! So crude and lustful,
she remembered, that she tingled like this when Barry looked,
heavy-lidded, at her body--or even when Danny tilted his head to
one side and pretended in his adolescent way to leer at her.
Wicked! Wicked! Wicked! she thought.
Art came out of the bathroom without his pajamas. He stared
at her with an expression of hunger, his cock jutting boldly at a
forty-five degree angle, rising steeply from the thick, blonde mat
of his pubic hair.
Helen gasped, furious at her own involuntary surge of
interest. "Art!"
"Yeah!" He crossed to the bed and threw back the covers.
Too late, Helen snatched at the edge of the blanket. She
shrieked. "ART! For God's sake, what's gotten into you!"
"It's getting into you that's got me worked up right now,
puss."
"Oh, damn it, Art! That's disgusting!" She turned her back
to him.
The mattress sagged beneath his weight and she felt his hand
on her shoulder. He bent over her and tried to kiss her, but she
buried her face in the pillow.
"Aw, come on, sugar! What the hell!" His voice sounded
pained.
"Not when you're acting like an animal," she replied, the
pillow muffling her words.
"Come on, baby," he said softly, his hand passing lightly
over her body.
She stiffened, habit quelling the instinctive thrill that
touched her spine.
"Come on! It's not that bad!" Art coaxed.
With a resigned sigh, she let him roll her onto her back. He
fingered her belly through her nightgown and touched her forehead
with his lips.
"Pull the covers up," she said, her eyes tightly closed.
In a moment she felt the weight of the blanket on her body.
"And turn out the light."
She heard the socket snap and the glow on her eyelids turned
to darkness. She held herself motionless, enduring the awkward
caresses and blocking the tendrils of pleasure that threatened her
reserve. Art thrust his hand inside the front of her nightgown to
paw at her breast. She bit her lips and clenched her fists, proud
of her ability to resist temptation and miserable because there
was a part of her that was like her mother--hungry for her man's
touch. That, she'd not succeeded in stifling, although maturing
had enabled her to control her reactions outwardly.
She gasped. Art was turning back her nightgown--pushing one
side of the front away--and she felt his breath on her suddenly
puckered nipple.
"Art! Art, stop that!"
His hand, cupped around the bulge of her breast and squeezing
it upward, went slack and she felt the welcome pressure of nylon
covering the sensitive mound again.
"Good God, Art! After all!" She fumbled at the material on
her hips, inching it up and gathering it in her hands until the
hem lay across her belly. Teasing, she let her bare thigh touch
Art's, then spread her knees and waited for him. He made a
muffled sound and rolled onto her, his cock resting at her cunt.
Despite herself, she shivered at the wave of desire that
swept through her. "Mmmm!" she moaned under her breath. She felt
her hips twitch.
Art pressed his cockhead into her slit so it nudged her
labia. She pushed her fists against her hips and struggled
against the urge to meet his thrust with one of her own. His body
hardened and his hips drove downward, his cock plunging into her
twat. She startled herself by jabbing upward buttocks clamping
together to raise her ass from the mattress. The bony hardness of
his root crushed her clitoris and sent an unexpected jolt of
pleasure inward.
"Mm! ... Unh!" She jerked her head into the pillow. It's
because he's bare! she thought wildly. It's because the hair on
his legs feels the way it does! It's because his skin's so hot on
mine! "Mh! ... Mh! ..."
Art's hips stroked, his flesh rubbing silkily over her thighs
and his cock pumping in the grip of her pussy. Excitement surged
in her belly and she realized she was moving her body to his
rhythm. She gritted her teeth and stilled her motion, but Art's
hand slid past hers and his fingers curled under her ass. She
held her breath while he squeezed, closing her fingers around his
wrist. He worked his palm around her asscheek and his fingertips
probed into her crack. She wrenched her hips convulsively,
enraged at the explosion of excitement the act had produced in
her.
"No! NO! Stop that, Art! Goddamn it, you're nothing but an
animal tonight!"
"Oh, horseshit!" Art heaved himself off her, his cock
jerking at her pussy rim with a force that made her wince. "You
don't know what you're talking about! What do you mean, an
animal?" He flung himself away from her, his breathing harsh and
rapid.
"I mean, not like a civilized human being!"
"Shit, shit, shit! That's what makes man different! He's
got a little imagination! Let me tell you how it is with animals,
baby! Know what that'd be like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Getting screwed by an animal."
"Art! That's not what I was talking about!"
"The hell it wasn't! Every time I go for a handful of tit or
rub your ass, you make out like I'm being an animal! And I say
that's horseshit! I'll tell you what it would be like if you had
an animal screwing you!"
"ART! I won't listen!"
"Then don't listen; I'm telling you anyhow! Take that damn
donkey of Dan's."
"Smokey? That's impossible, Art! Ugh!"
"Like hell! You bend over that feed table of his naked and
you'll find out! Know how it would be? He'd look at you for a
bit--look at those smooth white cheeks on your ass and that pink
twat with the red fur lining--and his dong would start to grow.
Pretty soon he'd heave himself up and put his front hooves on your
back, or maybe on either side of you, and jab that big Goddamn
prick at your pussy!"
"Don't! Please don't say any more!" She whispered, alarmed
at the raging hunger in her pussy. Art's intense, rapid
description had awakened the worst of her deep-buried dreams,
thrusting them to the surface and making her writhe. "No, no,
no!"
"Ever notice what a sharp point that dong's got when he's got
a hard-on? He'd wiggle his ass until that point found your cunt,
baby, and then he'd slam it to you! Think it wouldn't go?
Bullshit! Like a greased rolling pin! Stretch you some--maybe
make you do the splits--might make your eyes bug, but that prick
would go all the way! And he'd play 'The Stars and Stripes
Forever' on your belly with his balls while he was fucking you!
Every time he poked his dick home, you'd bounce into the air!
That sonofabitch wouldn't mess around trying to feel you up or
show you he loved you. He'd just ram his cock in and fuck until
he came! If you got a cum out of it, fine; if you didn't, so
what? Think he'd care? He'd get his rocks off and be done ...
what the hell!"
"Ooh! ... Brrr! ... Art, you're terrible! You've got a
filthy mind! You're sick!" She shuddered, her pussy throbbing
and her thighs working against each other. And I'm sick to let
that make me excited, she thought miserably. "That's all you can
think about anymore. Sex! The way you looked at Vanessa tonight
you might as well have been in bed with her! You even ogled her
sister, and Olga's only twenty!" She subsided, fighting to catch
her breath and quiet the turmoil in her crotch.
After a long pause, Art replied, his tone hardly more than a
whisper. "Maybe if you thought as much of me as you do your
Goddamn housework I wouldn't get turned on just because some broad
acted human. Christ, Helen, you're about as warm these days as a
snow bank. Just about as responsive, too."
"Maybe I'd be warmer if you weren't such a grouch. Art,
don't you realize how sullen and nervous you've gotten? I almost
hate to hear the car came into the driveway!"
"What the hell do you expect of a guy when he gets a piece of
ass once a month whether he needs it or not--and figures he's
gotten his cock into the freezer by mistake even then?"
She stiffened. "And besides, you've gotten crude! You sound
like some thug out of the gutter!" A sob caught in her throat.
"You aren't the same at all! Housework's the only way for me to
get rid of the tension from the way you're acting!"
"Goddamn it! I keep telling you I want a little affection!
Shit, I'd like to have a woman turn on when she's gettin' screwed.
I'd like a woman to figure out it's good if she gets excited when
a guy sucks her tit or plays with her ass or something--that sex
is fun instead of being a Goddamn duty!"
"I can't help that, Art! I can't help it!"
"Yeah, I know." His voice was heavy with defeat. "Some guy
gets in your pants when you're fifteen and sixteen years later
you're still afraid to let go. Hell, sixteen years!" He sighed.
"Oh, shit, what's the use?" He turned his back to her.
"Art?"
There was no reply.
"Art? Please?"
"Go to sleep."
Very slowly she worked her nightgown into place. She held
herself rigid, hands pressed to her thighs and knees clamped
together, trying to quiet the lingering desire. As she let their
argument replay itself in her mind, fear and anger replaced her
frustration. Art hadn't been searching for cutting responses to
her accusations. He'd said things that had been bottled inside,
festering in his subconscious. The understanding patience she'd
loved him for had been an act, she realized, masking irritation
and resentment. And that was the way marriages fell apart.
There was a streak of gray in the sky before she finally
managed to sleep.



Chapter 3

At the breakfast table after Dan had left for school, Art
suggested Helen see a psychiatrist. He approached the subject
carefully and had her agreement before she was fully aware of what
he'd implied. Even then, she followed through by making an
appointment; a "shrink" ought to understand what she was putting
up with. He would most likely insist Art come in for treatment.
But Dr. Davis did not. Helen left his office with her ego
bruised and her self-confidence shaken. She went to Vanessa Rush.
She's the closest friend I've got, she reasoned. Even if she does
act a little wild. She shook her head and pursed her lips. Come
now, Helen. More than a little. And the way she talks! But
she's always been good to me, and she's never got a mean thought.
Vanessa listened closely to Helen's description of the fight
and the subsequent visit to Dr. Davis. Helen wished it were
easier to read her friend's expression--to know whether she was
seeing sympathy or amusement or something else--but she was
grateful for the fact that Vanessa didn't interrupt.
"Oh!" Helen exclaimed as she concluded her account of Dr.
Davis' reaction. "Can you imagine! Telling a married woman she
doesn't know anything about sex! Vanessa, he was terrible! He
said things I've never let Art say! Ugh!"
"Like what?" Vanessa appeared interested.
"I wouldn't repeat them! Perverted sex things he said I
ought to have Art do! He ... he ... Vanessa, he even said I
ought to ... to have intercourse with other men! He was awful.
I'm never going back to him!"
"Honey, I think you need a drink." Vanessa mixed a double-
strength Screwdriver for Helen. "You sound tight as a drum."
Helen shuddered. The sympathy in Vanessa's voice was almost
disastrous in its effect on Helen's self control. She choked back
a sob and gulped the orange juice and vodka. "How could such a
dirty-minded man get to be a doctor? Honestly, Van!"
"Did he think your marriage might be in any danger, hon?"
Helen nodded and drained her glass. "The only thing he said
that was right. He agreed there was a real danger."
"You don't want to lose Art, do you?"
"Omigod, no! That would kill me, Van!"
"Even if you knew you weren't going to be able to change
him?"
Helen hesitated. "You mean, if he never did get over being
... well, a sex fiend?"
"Yes."
"I don't want to lose him." Helen whispered. She held out
her empty glass to Vanessa for a refill. "I love him, Van. No
matter what, I love him! I won't let him go!"
Vanessa mixed another double. She spoke without looking at
Helen. "What if keeping him meant you had to be something you're
not?"
"Change myself?" A sense of relaxed warmth was seeping
through Helen. "Pretend I don't mind him looking at me naked?
Let him do all those things he ...?"
Vanessa nodded. "That's the only way."
The image of her grandmother rose in Helen's mind and horror
filled her at the thought she'd been toying with. "No! ... no! I
won't!" But I love him! I can't lose him! "Isn't there any
other way?"
"Well ..." Vanessa hesitated. "You might try shocking him.
Maybe you could bring him to his senses that way."
"How?"
"Shock hell out of him! He wants you naked, let him see you
naked! In front of Barry and me!"
"VAN! For God's sake! I'm not that drunk!"
"I'm serious! Start like it's a game--or like we're
practicing a skit for Wednesday Club!"
"I'd die! I couldn't take my clothes off!"
"Make it a skit. You're a new slave being auctioned off.
Costumes. Think he'd let it go all the way?"
Helen hiccuped. "In front of Barry? No!" She was suddenly
excited. "You're right! It'll work!"
"Tonight then. Call Danny and have him go to the Avery's.
Call Art's office and leave a message, they'll get to him by
radio."
"No use. I still can't take off the costume."
"You'd be a slave. Chained." Vanessa laughed. "We'd have to
use clothesline instead of chain, but we could spread-eagle you
against the grate there. "How far do you think Art would let me
get?"
"All right. That way." Helen pressed her hand to her
forehead, conscious of her giddiness. She knew Art would be
indignant--that he'd stop them almost before they got started.
She wasn't sure how the shock would make the desired change in
Art, but she probably would if she weren't so drunk; Vanessa
obviously did.
Vanessa kept Helen pleasantly lubricated the rest of the
afternoon. It was a time of confused activity, making costumes
out of sheets, locating rope, and making the necessary telephone
calls. And Helen was still drunk when Art arrived. Conversation
at the dinner table swirled around her, confused and trivial, and
she continually found herself trying to unravel one topic only to
discover the others had slipped into another. She ate little, the
food appealing less to her than her drink, and she giggled at
those times when Art acted as if he ought to be enlightened.
Afterward, when they had settled in the living room with
liqueurs, she nodded owlishly while Vanessa introduced the fiction
about their skit for Wednesday Club. And without quite realizing
the time had come, she and Vanessa were on their way to the
bedroom.
Helen undressed quickly, glancing at herself in the door-
mounted mirror with satisfaction, and put on the skimpy, wrap-
around affair Vanessa had suggested as a final teaser. Like a
miniskirt that shrunk, Helen told herself. But it does cover the
hair ... not that they'll ever see it. Art won't let us go that
far.
"Know what?" she said to Vanessa when she had her sheet-gown
fastened at the shoulders and pinned down the side. "Know what,
Van? I'm still drunk." She giggled.
"And pretty relaxed," Vanessa observed. "I thought you'd be
all up-tight by now!"
Helen watched with a sense of detachment while Vanessa tied
chunks of rope to each of her wrists and ankles. She held her
hands behind her, resting against her ass, when Vanessa gathered
the free rope ends in her hand.
"Let's go, slave-girl," remarked Vanessa with a hint of
excitement in her voice.
Helen was startled at the sudden gleam in Art's eyes when he
saw her costume. Glancing at herself in the brighter light of the
living room, she realized the sheet was anything but shadow-proof;
the relative darkness of her nipples showed clearly, and even with
the brief "teaser skirt" there was a faint shadow at her crotch.
She shivered and let Vanessa guide her to the grating.
"This one's rebellious," commented Vanessa, going into the
act. She made Helen turn with her back to the bars. "Okay,
honey," she whispered. "Do your stuff. Arms first, I guess."
Helen extended her arms over her head and held them patiently
while Vanessa secured her wrists to one of the cross-bars. And at
a prod of Vanessa's finger and a curt order, she spread her feet.
Vanessa tied the ankle ropes, tugging at them to pull Helen's legs
still further apart.
Helen gasped. "Oooh! That stretches me!" She squirmed
helplessly.
Vanessa straightened. "You look great, honey!" she said in a
low tone. "It's going to work!"
Helen glanced at her husband's face. His eyes were wide and
he stared at her without blinking. So far, she thought, he's
himself. Nothing on his mind but how sexy it looks.
"Observe, gentlemen," Vanessa was saying. "One of the
loveliest of our captive princesses! No submissive peasant, this
one." She paused and gazed at Helen. "But she'll bring hours of
pleasure to the lucky one who buys her. Do I hear an offer?
What, no bid?"
Helen saw Barry start to speak and caught the quick shake of
Vanessa's head. That's right, she thought. Don't let them forget
we're practicing a skit.
Vanessa smiled. "Of course! A discerning group like you
would hesitate. 'What about damage?' you ask yourselves. 'A
beautiful face.' you say, 'but what about the body?' I assure you
the flesh is flawless." She paused. "What? You doubt? The
exaggeration of the marketplace you say? I'm wounded. Wait! See
for yourselves!"
Helen tensed at the avid interest she saw in both men's
faces. And she quivered while Vanessa unfastened the safety pin
that held the costume together at her left shoulder. The material
fell free, slipping away from her shoulder and dropping against
her body. She looked down in sudden panic to see how much of her
had been exposed. Good God! she thought. Another half inch and
they could have seen my nipple! The creamy flesh of her breast
swelled boldly in clear view, the fold of the sheet lying across
the upper edge of the pink aureole. A wave of giddiness swept
over her. Oooh! How wicked! she thought.
"Absolutely without a flaw!" repeated Vanessa. And then,
"You still wonder? What skeptics! Come now!" She shrugged and
turned with an air of resignation to fumble with the pin at
Helen's other shoulder.
"No!" whispered Helen. "He'll stop us now!" But she saw no
startled objection in Art's expression. His lips were parted and
he appeared to be breathing hard, but he made no move to stop
Vanessa.
Vanessa pulled the pin free and stepped back. The top of the
costume folded slowly downward, clinging momentarily to Helen's
globes and then sliding free and tumbling about her waist, where
it hung from the belt cord.
"Oh! ... Oh! ..." Helen gasped with horror as she gazed at
her nakedness. Her breasts strained, drawn taut by the tension in
her arms. The nipples stood out, quivering and beginning to
pucker with her sudden fright. Why doesn't he stop us? she asked
herself.
Vanessa faced the men confidently. "You see? You see,
gentlemen? Perfection from conquered Minoa! Perfection! Note
the ripe fullness ... the luscious texture ... the proud
erectness! Where have you ever seen such succulent-looking
raisins as these?"
To Helen's horrified amazement, Vanessa brushed each of the
darkening nipples with her fingertips.
"Oh!" she cried impulsively. "Oh! No!" She squirmed, her
shoulders pressed against the bars. "Don't!" She winced at the
jolt of pleasure the touch sent through her.
Vanessa winked at her and turned back to the men. "I don't
know," she said, pretending distress. "I don't know what the
market's coming to these days. An honest owner shouldn't have to
put up with this kind of skepticism, Goodness! Can't you see what
an opportunity you have!" She sighed. "Ah, well. All in a day's
work." She unfastened the three pins holding the costume together
at the side and let the sheet drape from the cord.
Helen shuddered at the taut boldness of her exposed left
thigh. The tiny miniskirt Vanessa had designed was shockingly
overtaxed by the wide angle of Helen's legs and a sick tremor
seized her stomach at the thought some of her pubic hairs might be
visible beneath the ragged edge. Only the fact that the sheet
covered most of it served as consolation. He'll stop us now, she
assured herself. He won't let us go any further; he surely sees
what we're ready to do! She studied Art's expression and felt a
burst of terror at the fascination that appeared to grip him. His
gaze met hers and he smiled as if awed.
Vanessa bent and ran her fingers down Helen's bare thigh.
Helen felt goose flesh pop out and saw the flesh twitch. She had
a moment of fright at the abrupt convulsion in her pussy. No! she
thought. I'm not like that, still! Oh, no!
"See the seductive taper," said Vanessa huskily. "Observe
how smooth the line is from that dainty knee to this girl's
playground! Gentlemen! Have you no imagination? Gods above!"
Helen had avoided looking at Barry. Now, she glanced without
thinking. He sprawled in his easychair, legs extended and chin on
chest, a great bulge showing in the front of his trousers. She
looked quickly at her husband and discovered his fly was tented.
The fact sent a surge of excitement through her and she writhed
with guilty awareness of the pleasure she felt in their attention.
I'm terrible! Oh, dear! I like having them excited!
She realized belatedly that Vanessa was untying the waist
cord. The sheet collapsed to the floor, leaving only the skimpy,
improvised miniskirt to hide Helen's nakedness. She stared at
herself, hypnotized by the sight of her elongated navel. I didn't
know my navel would show! It didn't in the bedroom! And this
thing's so terribly short! I know they can see hair! Art! Art,
what are you waiting for?!
Helen tugged at the ankle ropes, suddenly remembering she'd
forgotten to remove her high-heeled sandals. But there was no
slack in the loop and no way to relieve the pressure that held the
bottom of the skirt so high. "Vanessa!" Helen whispered. "Van,
we can't go any further!"
Vanessa leaned close. "Honey, we can't stop now! Look how
shocked Art is already. Only he still doesn't believe we'll go
all the way. That's what'll clinch it!"
"No! No, Van! I just can't!"
"Sure you can, hon. You're splendid! Anyhow, I won't let
you do it by yourself. I'll take mine off, too. Think how
that'll hit them!" Vanessa stepped toward the men. "Come now,
good sirs! How stubborn are you going to be? Have you ever gazed
at greater beauty? Look again at those marvelous globes! Imagine
one of those saucy nipples tickling the arch of your throat!" She
cupped her palm under one of Helen's breasts, then tenderly rolled
the nipple between her fingertips. Tremors of delight shook Helen
and she drew a deep, audible breath.
"Just meditate on the daintiness of this dear waist!" Vanessa
continued. "Think of it! You could easily encircle it with your
two hands! The thighs--the hips--please, gentlemen!" She paused
panting. "What? Still skeptical? Oh, God! What cynic! You
demand the last bit, don't you!"
"No-no-no ...!" Helen moaned softly when Vanessa reached for
the pin in the waistband of the tiny skirt. "Nonono ...! Oh,
Van!" The flesh at her waist writhed at the pressure of Vanessa's
fingers, and abruptly the skirt loosened. "NO!" Helen cried out
sharply. She felt the soft cloth being dragged across her belly
and looked down with a sense of disbelief.
Van held the material as if it were a matador's cape,
twitching it away from Helen's body but using it to screen her
pussy from view. While Helen watched, the quick hands swished the
skirt aside and then back in place, offering the men a tantalizing
glimpse of her red-haired snatch. Helen pressed her ass against
the bars and whimpered. She saw her husband start from his chair.
Now! she thought with a surge of relief. Now he's sure!
He'll make us stop!
But Art merely came closer, and Barry joined him. Both of
them licked their lips.
Vanessa sighed and shook her head. "You win," she said. She
whipped the skirt away and dropped it to the floor.
Helen sagged in her bonds, her flesh crawling and the heat
welling at her core. Art and Barry devoured her with their
stares, and she imagined she could feel a physical impact wherever
their glances fell. Like when Tony looked at me this way! she
thought wildly, reminding herself this was the first time any man
but the obstetrician had looked at her naked pussy since that day.
It can't be! I'm not really here! Not naked and spread-eagled
with men gawking at me! Oh, Mother-in-Heaven, they're raping me
with their eyes! And, Helen! You bitch! You're all excited!
Her cunt throbbed and she tingled. "Van! Oh, please, Van!" She
felt hysteria edging into her.
Vanessa whispered. "It's working, hon! It's sinking in!
Art's beginning to realize what we've done!"
Helen shook her head, rolling it against one of the bars. "I
can't stand it any longer! Oh, Van, I can't!"
"Just a little more, honey! Let me get you another drink
real quick!"
"I'm already dizzy! If I drink another one I won't know what
I'm doing!"
But Vanessa ran to the bar and poured Vodka into a glass,
bringing it to Helen without pausing to cut it with orange juice.
Helen gauged the tumblerful of clear liquid with her eye and a
reckless impulse jarred her.
"Quick!" she panted. "Quick! I need it!"
Vanessa tilted the glass at Helen's lips and Helen gulped.
She gasped and coughed, then captured the rim with her lips and
drank again. "I'll be drunk now!" she exclaimed. "Oh, God, how
drunk I'll be!"
She noticed that Barry and her husband were drawing nearer.
The Vodka burned in her stomach and she imagined it was already
killing her inhibitions. "Come on," she muttered thickly. "Come
on, you lecherous bastards. Get a good look."
Art stared into her eyes. He grinned uncertainly and touched
her waist. She flinched. Needles of excitement pricked her. She
pouted with a longing like the one she'd felt that day years
before. I'm wet! she thought. My pussy's all wet! Christ, it's
hot in here!
Art stooped and kissed the bulge of her breast. She twisted
her shoulders against the bars and watched her breasts swing.
Art's lips parted and closed on her nipple.
I can't stop him! she told herself wildly. Omigod! Omigod!
I never felt anything like that! She cried out, aloud, "Art! Oh,
honey! Ooooh!"
He sucked tenderly. Currents of pleasure radiated from the
captured tit, spreading through the tissues beneath it and into
her other boob. She felt her hips write. In spite of the deep
sense of shame that hovered in the background, she stared at Art's
face. His expression made her catch her breath; he looked
ecstatically contented, his weathered cheek caving in rhythmically
with his sucking and his jaw moving gently as he chewed the flesh
of her breast. With obvious effort, he drew back and glanced at
Barry.
"Man, this has got to be tasted to be believed! You've got
to try a mouthful!"
"No! NO!" Helen exclaimed in a terrified whisper. The very
thought of Barry touching her aroused a raging fire of excitement
in her belly. "Oh, no!"
Without waiting, Art sucked her tit into his mouth again and
laid his hand on her belly. Barry edged closer and caught her
other tit in his mouth.
"Mmm!" exclaimed Vanessa's husband. His crooked nose
wrinkled and she felt his hand on the inner fullness of her thigh.
"Ohhh! ... MMMM! ..." she moaned, feeling the last of her
self-control evaporating. It was too late to resist the powerful
stirrings in her belly, she knew. She had no way to slow her
rising lust or still her body's squirmings. She jerked at the
loops on her wrists, using the harsh bit to heighten her awareness
of her position. Art stroked her belly with circular movements of
his hand and Barry caressed her inner thigh. She ground her ass
on the bars.
"Ahahah! Dear God, forgive me!" she whispered in an agony of
desire.
She saw Vanessa remove her costume and pull the hairpins out
of her piled coiffure. Vanessa shook her head, loosening her
platinum-blonde hair and spreading it over her shoulders. Her
cans jiggled with the motion and her hips twisted. She caressed
her own boobs, grinning at Helen and running her hands slowly over
her torso to bury her fingers in the thick, mouse-brown thatch of
her pubic hair.
She's the sexy one! Helen admitted to herself. Her boobies
are twice the size of mine! And she's got hips for riding a man!
For heaven's sake, Helen! Get hold of yourself, you crude shit!
But she knew the vodka had combined with her helpless nakedness to
rob her of the will to object to her own reactions. Her ass was
bumping the grating with rhythmic monotony and her belly was
jerking. Too many! she thought. Two's too many! Her boobs
throbbed and she gave up trying to cope with the varied sensations
that assailed her. If they'd only do something at the same time!
She was squirming under the thrill of Art's tongue as it caressed
the tip of one nipple and twitching to the electric needles of
pleasure Barry's teeth created as he scraped them over the slopes
of the other.
Barry, she thought. Barry ... BARRY! What's he doing with
his hand! It's not moving any more! His hand rested at the top
of her thigh, nestled against the lip of her pussy, its heat
compounding her own. Her hips surged and she pressed her pussy
onto the hard edge of his knuckles before she knew what she was
doing. His thumb stirred and slipped into her slit, gliding
frictionlessly on her wetness.
"Unh! ... UNHHH!" she exclaimed, rising to the balls of her
feet. "No ... NO! ... Ahhhh, yessss!" She thrust her belly
forward as he wedged his thumb upward into the mouth of her cunt.
"Ahhhh! ... AHHH!"
Barry released his hold on her tit and sank to his knees. He
kissed her belly, pushing Art's hand aside, then thrust the tip of
his tongue into her navel and twirled it around the edges.
"Umph! ... Mmmmp!" she grunted and lashed her ass backward.
New fingers of delight shot inward from his touch and she arched
her back, jabbing her protruding belly into Barry's face. She
felt his thumb drive deeper in her twat, bending to jab at the
walls of her vagina.
"AH! Oooh! Ahhh!" she panted.
Vanessa had come forward, she saw dimly, and was rubbing her
tits against Art's shoulder while she fumbled at his fly with her
hands. Helen strained to see around her husband's head and past
Barry to watch her friend's fingers. They vanished into Art's
trousers and emerged clutching his cock. Vanessa fondled the
turgid prick eagerly, squeezing the shaft with one hand and
caressing the livid head with the other. Art pulled his mouth
from his wife's boob and faced Vanessa.
"Holy Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You too?"
"Me too, what?" asked the blonde.
"Naked! Oh, shit, baby! Does that mean the green light's
on?"
"Try me and see," she murmured.
Helen writhed. He's not shocked! she realized with despair.
He likes what's happening! And she groaned inwardly. So do I,
she admitted. Oh, God, so do I!
Art chose that moment to turn and gaze into her face. Their
glances met and held and she thrilled to the savage joy she saw in
his eyes.
He grinned happily at her and looked down at Barry. His
excitement leaped visible and he bent to peer at the other man's
hand. "All the way, man! All the way!" he exclaimed.
Something snapped in Helen and a new flood of fierce joy
twisted her belly. She flung herself out from the bars, hanging
in her ropes, and ground her cunt on the embedded thumb.
Art grinned at her again and his lips formed the words, "Good
girl!" He turned back to Vanessa. "Hey, woman! I got time to
get out of these clothes?"
"Do it fast, then! My mouth's watering!" Vanessa clutched
Art's cock in both hands and squeezed.
Art stared at the trembling blonde with round eyes and tore
at his clothing. He threw it from him and let Vanessa push him
into the nearest armchair. "Jesus, Van! What the hell!"
"Foreskin, baby!" she exclaimed. "It's been a long time
without." She glanced toward Barry with an expression Helen took
for guilt. "I like it without," she added quickly. "It's just
that I haven't tasted one with for so long."
Barry's chuckle rumbled. "Don't apologize. Go ahead and get
a mouthful!"
Vanessa nodded, her face red and contorted, and fell to her
knees beside Art's legs. She rested her boobs on his thighs and
put her lips to the tip of his cock. For a time, she sucked at
the very tip, opening her mouth to place her lips around the bulb,
then drawing them over it as if stripping the outer surface from
an ice cream cone. Her appearance of agitation disappeared. She
closed her eyes and smiled around the bulk of Art's cockhead. Her
color returned to its normal lustrous bronze tint.
"Mmmmm!" she sighed. "All mine." She opened her mouth to
its full extent and worked her lips slowly over the bulb and
foreskin to the end of the shaft. Her eyelashes fluttered and she
gazed up at Art. He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, his
face set in an expression of rapt concentration. Helen's initial
sense of repugnance faded and an intense longing replaced it. Her
mouth puckered at the notion of engulfing that cock. Oh, Helen!
she scolded herself.
An incredible sensation of warmth and vibrancy exploded in
her pussy. She cried out and twisted her hips, then thrust her
crotch forward. Barry had seated himself, cross-legged, between
her feet. His mouth held her clitoris and his eyes twinkled up at
her.
"Barry!" she whispered. "Oh, Barry! Nnng!"
His hands cupped around her asscheeks, kneading them firmly.
The pleasure at her cunt swelled and pulsed, and her hips drove
forward and rotated her pussy up. She twisted her body in a
paroxysm of delight, biting her lip and moaning. Through the
fabric of her excitement she felt her asscheeks being parted and
Barry's fingers driving deeply into her crack.
"No, Barry! Don't!" she hissed through her clenched teeth.
"Ohhh! Barry! Goood!" She flung her ass hard against his
probing fingers as they caressed her rectum.
Movement caught her eye. She realized Vanessa had removed
her mouth from Art's cock and was standing. Art had his hands at
Vanessa's waist and she was climbing onto his shoulder. Helen
stared, puzzled. The voluptuous blonde lay forward on Art's body,
her legs astride his neck and he face over his cock once more.
Art thrust his tongue into his hostess' twat and she gobbled at
his cock, forcing the head into her mouth and sliding her lips up
and down on the shaft.
Helen gazed at her husband, envious of the way Vanessa's
boobs spread over his belly and the way the tanned body molded
itself to his.
She was vaguely aware that Barry was dragging his fingers
across the wet mouth of her pussy, caressing it's rim and slipping
in and out of it. She forgot the other couple and banged against
the grating. "Mmmm! Mmm, Barry! Good!"
His fingers slid back into her ass crack and pressed at her
rectum, arousing new tremors. There was a sudden increase in the
pressure and a weird sensation of stretching.
"Ah! ... Agh! ... What is it, Barry?!"
He sucked more vigorously on her clitoris and all her
sensations blended into a single mountain of enjoyment.
Her vision cleared and she looked at Vanessa and Art again.
Vanessa's back undulated up and down and her feet flailed the air.
The shimmering blonde hair flew in a writhing mass around
Vanessa's head and over Art's hips, and Art's hands clamped on
Vanessa bouncing ass, holding her pussy at his mouth.
Vanessa jerked her head up, clinging to Art's cock with both
hands. "Art!" she cried. "Art! Omigod! You're going to make me
cum!" She lunged at his prick again, jamming her mouth over it
and sucking violently.
Art's eyes grew round and his face worked. He drove his
tongue into the gaping cunt and sucked the outer flesh into his
mouth, chewing hard. Vanessa's head bobbed wildly as her mouth
stroked the great shaft, and she slammed her ass down, crushing
her twat against Art's face. Her body stiffened and broke into a
great tremor, but she maintained the furious assault with her
lips.
Art's knuckles whitened and his fingers dug into the full
asscheeks. His body stiffened and his ass rose from the chair.
Helen saw his cock pulse and realized intuitively he was cumming.
She watched Vanessa's face with breathless fascination. The
staring blonde swallowed hard and continued to suck, her throat
working continuously. Her smooth, plump legs straightened and the
toes pointed at the far wall while Vanessa's ass quivered in the
intensity of her orgasm.
Helen sagged when she saw the climaxing couple collapse. She
realized with horror that she had risen dangerously near the kind
of perverse ecstasy she hadn't experienced since her summer with
Tony. Barry's mouth left her pussy and his finger withdrew from
her ass.
Barry heaved himself to his feet and pressed his cock into
the flesh of her belly. "Anyone ever tell you what a sexy Goddamn
broad you are, Helen!" he panted.
"Barry, please," she said in a low tone. "Please."
He rubbed his cock against her belly. "I'm so hot I'm about
to bust a blood vessel!" he exclaimed. "Those other two make it
yet?" He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. "Looks like
they did. Shit, they're one up on us. Come on, let's fuck."
"Barry! Oh, Barry, don't talk like that, please!"
"Okay. No talk. Let's just do it." He bent his knees,
pressing them against the undersides of her thighs, and his
cockhead slid down through her pubic hair and under her crotch.
She felt its bulk nestle in her labia and gasped.
He's going to! He is! "Barry! Barry, they didn't do that!
Barry!"
He surged upward and his cock slammed into her cunt, driving
into her guts and filling her with a fiery sensation.
"Yaghhh! ... Eeeaghhh! ... MMMM!" Her hips flogged and her
cunt pounded on the base of the buried cock. Barry grabbed her
ass and jerked her away from the grate, straining up so her feet
left the floor and pulled violently against her ankle bonds.
"Ah! ... Ah! ... AH! ..." she gasped at each of his
thrusts. Her pleasure roared over her and she forgot everything
but the gush of sensation. Her belly tensed and a hard knot
formed around the deep-pressed cockhead. She mumbled in a
monotone, "Fuck-fuck-fuck!"
Barry's cock stroked in her. Her boobs jounced and her knees
jerked. An ocean of passion rose over her and carried her beyond
herself. She felt the knot in her belly jerk loose as a hard
contraction snapped the mouth of her vagina on Barry's prick. A
hard trembling shook her and she turned rigid. "MMMM! ... AHHH!
..." Her moans carried the edge of her lust. She wallowed in her
climax, aware that Barry's pumping had yielded to a steady,
frenzied force against her. A flood of liquid heat ballooned her
gut and her orgasm redoubled in ferocity. She screamed with
delight and scrubbed her pussy in the steel wool of his pubic
hair. He thrust his face forward and grabbed her nipple with his
mouth, biting on it while his jism continued to well into her.
And his fingers kneaded her buttocks mercilessly.
At last, his inner storm appeared to subside; his hands
relaxed and the awful upward force of his cock slackened. Helen's
cunt spasms slowed and she let her head fall against one arm.
"Oh! Oh, Barry!"
"Hey, we made it together, baby!"
"Oh, my! Yes, we did!"
"Know something?" he asked in a low tone. "I've come out of
a sound sleep where I was dreaming I was fucking you, Helen! I've
wanted to ever since the first time I saw you! Only I never
dreamed about doing it this way! Jesus Christ, but you're a great
fuck!"
"Oh, darling, don't spoil it by using the wrong words!
Please!" She twisted, still impaled on his cock and still unable
to reach the floor with her feet. "Barry ... I'm hanging by my
wrists. They're numb!"
He lowered her and reluctantly pulled out his prick. She
fell against the bars, panting and weak, while his hands continued
to rove over her body. To her horror, she discovered that her
sensory system was still capable of stimulus. Excitement jabbed
at her and her hips began to twist again. Barry massaged and
stroked until she was pleading for his cock, and she was hardly
conscious of the fact he was untying her. She collapsed in his
arms and let him carry her to the couch, where he laid her on her
side. She made no protest when he pushed the knee of her upper
leg against her chest and straddled the other thigh, his cock once
more stabbing at her hot vagina. She undulated her hips in time
to his beat and happily rose again to an orgasm, fleetingly aware
that Vanessa had her legs locked around Art's hips, lashing her
body on his embedded prick.
When she collapsed for the second time, Barry bent over her,
his softening cock still buried and his hand idly fondling her
tit.
"You're good lying down, too, baby," he said. "What a lucky
guy Art is!"
Helen shook her head. "You don't know," she said. "Maybe
you're the lucky one."
"Oh, hell! I wasn't saying Van's not great! I didn't mean
that!"
She bubbled with laughter at the panic in his face and a rush
of tenderness and affection for him took her by surprise. "Mm,
you're sweet, Barry." She snuggled against him.



Chapter 4

Helen lay beneath Barry for a long time, her pussy
contracting involuntarily at intervals. As the effects of her
vodka wore off, the contractions began to embarrass her and the
flashes of anguish made her shudder each time she squeezed his
cock.
But what can I do? she asked herself. How can I undo what's
already a fact? He's in and we both know it. She restrained her
growing restiveness until Barry eased his cock out of her and lay
beside her. To her chagrin, her first response to him gathering
her in his arms and pushing his limp dick into the nest of her
pubic hair was to return the pressure. Realizing too late what
she had implied, she buried her face in the hollow of his neck and
whimpered.
"Pretty much for one night, isn't it, baby?" Barry whispered.
"Yes."
"First time?"
"Yes. The first time tied up--or naked--or with the lights
on--or most of the other things. And the first time with anyone
except Art. Not counting Danny's father, of course." She wasn't
going into that episode.
"Baby, don't let it get you down."
"Huh?"
"I mean, you can't hide from yourself, and no one else is
important enough to hide from."
"Like now?"
"Like now." Barry gently lifted her face from his shoulder
and grinned.
His teeth are as crooked as his nose, she thought. I forgot
that when he was chewing me. It struck her that he was heavier
than Art ... stockier and with more bulges. His features reminded
her of the face of a granite cliff, seamed and craggy, and his
eyes were a gray-green that looked out of place with his olive
complexion. It was a wonder he could sell anything, and she
recalled wondering often how he could stay at the top of his
field. But his very roughness was a source of comfort to her
right now, as if homeliness guaranteed sympathy and understanding.
Her only problem was the increasingly nagging awareness of her
nakedness and the intimacy of their embrace.
"But, Barry! What'll I do? Brrr! You realize what I've
done tonight?"
Barry nodded and grinned again. "Christ, yes! It's
something you ought to be proud of! Something to remember! Look
how Art ate it up?"
"He ... he was terrible!"
"Because he liked what was going on?"
"Yes. Oh, Barry!" she wailed. "He should have stopped us!"
"Forget it, baby. I'll bet he's never been that turned on in
his whole life. No offense to you either."
"But imagine what he must think of me! To act like that
after all this time!"
"Look, pet. Don't answer me if you don't want to. But keep
asking yourself and giving honest answers when you do. Did you
enjoy what happened? At the time, I mean. Did the things I did
to you feel good? Was it good to see how excited Art got and how
much fun he had?"
She shook her head slowly. "Those aren't the important
questions, Barry. The only important question is, 'Was it right
or wrong?'"
"That's not a good question until you decide what right and
wrong mean. What they mean to you! To me, what you did was right
because it was fun for everyone here--because no one else will
ever know about it and can't get hurt--because maybe it
accomplished something worthwhile. Right is something different
from socially acceptable or conventional, baby!"
"You believe that, don't you?"
"Damn right! And I think you're too big a person not to
agree, once you really think about it."
She tried to think about it, but her awareness of his cock's
stirrings continued to distract her. At last she giggled and
pulled back. "Barry, darling ..."
"Huh?"
"Whether it's right or wrong, I'm getting sober enough to
feel embarrassed. Would you mind if I went and got some clothes
on?"
"I'd mind. But I suppose if I'm too greedy this time I'll
screw myself out of the chance to get another piece from you later
on?"
She wanted to tell him his consideration wasn't about to earn
him a repeat performance, then thought better of it; if she said
something like that, he might take it as a subtle hint she
wouldn't resent greed.
She scrambled over him, furious at herself when she paused to
let her pussy rest on his warm flesh for a moment. His quick grin
assured her he hadn't missed the significance of her hesitation,
and she fled with burning cheeks. When she got back to the living
room, both men were dressed and Vanessa was parading before them.
"Oh! There you are!" exclaimed Vanessa. "I guess I've got
to get respectable, too. Looks like the games are over." She
vanished into the hall.
The conversation seemed strained to Helen. No one mentioned
the orgy, although she was certain it was uppermost in every mind.
With each trivial comment, she became less patient and more self-
conscious. The vision of her nude, spread-eagled body grew so
vivid in her imagination that she felt she would see herself if
she looked at the grating. And her memory of the individual
caresses she'd experienced were sharper in the quiet of reflection
than they'd been in the haze of her passion--so strong she was
afraid Barry and Art would see them in her eyes if she glanced at
them. When Vanessa returned, Helen mumbled apologies and urged
Art to take her home.
"We do have to get up early," she said, cringing in the
expectation that someone might wisecrack she'd only wanted to stay
long enough for the sex.
But there was no such jibe, and Art sighed happily at her
suggestion. "Thanks for everything," he said to Vanessa.
"Helen's right, though. Five-thirty comes early, and I've got to
be out at that six-way interchange first thing in the morning.
"See you both soon!"
In the car, he made no pretense about the way he felt. "Come
on over here," he said with a gentle growl. "What's the sense in
having all that empty space between us?" He held out his arm and
she slid into it, tensing for the follow-up she anticipated.
To her surprise, he merely held her, seemingly content to
feel her warmth at his side. And they were nearly home before he
spoke again.
"I don't know what brought that business on tonight, sugar.
Maybe I'm not supposed to. But I could see it was costing you,
and I think you were something else! you showed guts, doll!"
"You're not disgusted with me?"
"That's the last word I'd think of using. It's at the wrong
end of the scale." After another silence, he asked, "Hey, where
was that snotty kid-sister of Van's?"
"Olga?" Helen tried to recall Van's mentioning the girl, but
without success, "I don't know, honey. Maybe she went home."
"Naw. They'd have made a big deal of it last night."
"Probably had a date or something."
"Yeah, I guess. They sure didn't seem worried about her
showing up early, though."
Helen shuddered. "I'm glad I didn't remember her! I'd have
been a wreck!"
Art chuckled. "That'll be the day! You being a wreck, I
mean."
When they got into their own bedroom, Art went into the
bathroom as usual and Helen took advantage of the time to get
ready for bed. And as usual, when he came out, she was tucked
securely under the covers. As he had done the night before,
however, Art appeared nude. He paused in the bathroom doorway and
gazed reflectively at her.
"Honey," he said at last. "Do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Come here."
She hesitated. Something about the light in his eye warned
her he had no interest in sleep. As if he'd come out here naked
if he meant to sleep, she commented to herself. "It's late,
honey," she murmured.
Art grinned. "Come here, baby."
Reluctantly, she turned the covers back and sat up. Still
reluctant, she rose and went to him. "Art, I wish you wouldn't
come out here like this. It's ..." She stopped abruptly.
"I know," he replied. He took her in his arms and kissed her
on the mouth.
She stood stiffly in the circle of his arms and held her lips
quiet against his. Knowing how cold she would seem if she
remained entirely passive; she put her arms around his shoulders,
her fingers on the back of his neck. The scent of the masculine
soap he used and the tangy odor of his cologne washed across her
nostrils while the bristles on his neck pricked her hands. His
lean body was hard and warm against hers, slipping on the nylon of
her nightgown. She felt a stirring at her belly and knew that his
cock was rising.
A wave of hunger surged through her, taking her by surprise
and making her tighten her grip. Her body reacted as if her
mental control were still under the paralysis of vodka. She
crushed her mouth on his and rolled her head. Her breasts
flattened against his chest and she thrust her pussy against the
ridge of his upper thigh. Slowly and deliberately, she wiggled
her belly on his cock. Her hunger turned hot and raced back and
forth through her.
Art squeezed her buttocks gently and she felt the hem of her
nightgown rising. Breaking free of the kiss, she protested. "No,
Art! Don't!"
"Easy, baby, easy." His tone was soft and soothing, but he
had the gown up to her hips and was continuing to lift it.
"Art! No! Don't do that!"
He let go of her nightgown and twisted free of her arms.
Without moving, he seemed to draw away, and she gazed numbly into
an expression more remote than she'd ever seen on his features.
"Art ..." she whispered. "Art, honey?"
In as low, flat tone, he asked, "Want me to tie you up first?
That the idea?"
"Art! Oh, no, Art! Please don't ever say a thing like that
again!" She'd been so drunk ... she'd been trying to shock him
out of his sex thing ... Vanessa had stampeded her ... But she'd
done it, nonetheless, and now she wouldn't. The worst thing of
all was the way she'd let Barry treat her. She hadn't screamed or
fought or cursed him; she'd wallowed on his hand and his mouth and
then his cock like the most primitive slut in heat. She'd loved
it! And Art had seen and known. What could he possibly think if
I couldn't do as much--respond as hard--with him? she asked
herself. Reasons don't count ... not when he's got pictures like
that in his mind.
She backed slowly away from her husband. At arm's length
from him, she reached down mechanically, arms crossed, and grasped
the material of her nightgown. Intensely conscious of the need
for grace, she peeled the garment from her body and over her head,
tossing it toward the vanity chair. She ran her fingers through
her auburn hair and shook her head as Vanessa had done to fluff
the thick masses into a cloud about her shoulders. Gazing into
Art's sober eyes, she backed to the bed and lay back on it.
"All right," she whispered. And after a momentary silence,
she extended her arms above her head. "My legs, too?" she asked.
Art came to the side of the bed and stared at her. "Sugar,
that's the most beautiful body I've ever seen! Anywhere! Jesus,
how much I've been missing!"
Beauty! She struggled to adjust to the idea. She'd thought
of nakedness as dirty. Displaying the body was a wanton
invitation to sex, and in a marriage--where sex belonged--
invitations weren't needed or desirable. But Art was talking
about beauty, and at the moment the idea seemed to have displaced
sex in his thoughts. She was still acutely conscious of his
stare, though, and it still produced sharp tingles just under her
skin. I want him! she realized. I want him to make love to me!
He thinks my body's beautiful, and I want him to feel the beauty
if it's there.
She raised her knees and thrust them apart. "Come here," she
said softly. She saw his eyelids flicker in disbelief, and she
let the corners of her mouth quirk into a smile. "Come here,
man." she repeated.
He grinned and knelt, one knee between her thighs, then bent
over her and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She held her breath,
her hands holding his face and her thighs clamped on his knee.
"Darling!" she whispered. Her desire had ballooned in the
brief moments of his touching her until it overwhelmed everything
else. She loved Art and all the physical excitement and
imaginative stimulation she'd enjoyed earlier in the night
coalesced around that love in a pounding heady ecstasy. She
couldn't hold still. Her hands left his face and caressed the
sides of his body. She rubbed her legs on his. Her hips twisted
and her shoulders flexed. And she moaned low and continuously.
Art lowered himself, guiding the nose of his cock into the
embrace of her labia, then thrust urgently, plunging it through
her rim and into the heart of her vagina. Clutching her to him,
he rolled with her so he lay on his back and she lay astraddle his
hips. He seized her buttocks and stroked her on his cock, jerking
her entire body back and forth. Her breasts surged on his chest
while his body hair harshly scrubbed her nipples. He pried her
asscheeks apart and fingered her rectum, dipping his finger into
the fluid at her cunt and lubricating her with the juice.
"Art! Art, baby!" Helen crooned, abandoning herself to her
most sensuous longings. Her clitoris rode on the rocky base of
her husband's cock and drove her into spasms of delight. She
tightened her buttocks convulsively when she felt his finger
plunge into her rectum, and then a new wave of thrills forced her
thighs to their widest angle and brought a deep groan of pleasure
from her throat.
"This is where it's at, baby," Art muttered between grunts.
"You being all woman and me all man."
"Art, baby," she said with a hiss. "Fuck me!" She said it
reverently, using the words to seal a bond between them she hadn't
been able to accept before. With it, she promised him her hidden
Helen.
He pounded her on his cock, his hips driving in opposition to
her motion until the convulsions of orgasm swept her and the heat
of his cum seethed in her belly.
"Ahhh!" She clenched her teeth, then opened her jaws wide.
"Aghhh! ... Nnnh! ... Yes, yes, yes!"
Her tension exploded and she writhed with the force of her
contractions. And even while she sobbed her pleasure at Art, the
awesome sensations faded and she began to go limp. She collapsed,
muscle by muscle, lying quietly on her husband with the fullness
of her cunt and her ass still the only firm realities in her
universe.
"I love you, darling," she whispered.
"Yeah, sugar. I love you, too."
They clung to each other. Art reeking of satisfaction and
she trying to keep the memory of her great pleasure uppermost in
her mind. His breathing quieted and grew increasingly regular,
until a faint snore told Helen he slept. She squirmed cautiously
off his cock and pulled the covers over them. After a long time,
Art stirred and when he turned, she slipped off him and settled
onto the mattress. She stared at the ceiling, not caring that the
light was still burning, and let the night's events filter through
her mind.
In trying to change her husband, she'd changed herself. Not
changed, though, she insisted silently. I can't pretend I don't
know myself. I'm what I was before Grandma died. She faced the
fact bleakly. That's the me I've been trying to hide--no, to
kill--all this time. That was the lustful, physical self, she
decided; and she stripped away her old defenses to weigh her
discovery. I can't be both. There can only be one, either the
modest, spiritual one or the lustful, wicked one. And Art wants
me lustful.
She watched a speck on the ceiling--an insect to small to
identify--make its way across the featureless surface, neither
digressing nor wandering from its straight line. It only goes one
direction at a time, she reflected. It knows where it's going--
instinct maybe--and it goes. All right! I know I want Art! I
know what he wants me to be. So that's the me I'm going to be.
She slept, dreaming of her new role and waking often in a
panic at the nature of her dreams. When light came and she gave
up further effort to sleep, she wasted little time on
introspection. She reiterated her decision and conceded the
change would be difficult. She knew it herself; every influence
in her background had contributed to make her abhor halfway
measures or attitudes. Her entire mental foundation consisted of
blocks that were platitude and truisms. "There's no such thing as
half right." "If you start to do something, do it all the way."
"You can't live on both sides of the fence."
She missed Dan at breakfast. Art's exuberance was the only
thing that salvaged the meal. She thought she'd not seen him as
enthusiastic and warm since their marriage. After he'd left the
house, she turned to her never-ending dusting and vacuuming with a
glow of satisfaction in her decision. Despite that crutch to her
morale, however, there were times during the day when she felt she
was experiencing a bleakness even worse than she'd suffered when
she became pregnant with Dan. And she felt sharp pangs of guilt
over having shunted Dan off the night before. As a gesture of
restitution, she baked bread and cookies in the afternoon.
Danny appeared to have felt the situation as strongly as she.
He was early. "Shortcuts," he offered when she remarked on the
fact. And he was effusive, hugging her affectionately before
letting her see the way his nose wiggled at the scents that
floated from the kitchen. She kissed him again, then watched his
broad shoulders sway as he hurried toward the smells, his black
hair swishing on his neck. The day was a good one after all.
With her tensions dissolving, she sighed and remembered she
hadn't had her bath. She called to Dan that she'd be in her room
for a while and went back to draw water in the sunken tub. She
poured a double portion of bubble-bath and began to undress. As
an afterthought, while she was knotting the belt on her dressing
gown, she loosened the knot, slipped out of the severe garment and
laid it aside.
Not me, she thought. That's the old modesty. She went to
the radio on the dresser, tuned it to an FM station with a program
of the older, romantic music, and went back to the bathroom,
shivering at her nakedness and leaving the door open so she could
relax to the music. She slipped gratefully into the water and
sank into the mounds of bubbles. It was a fine day, she decided,
and it would be even better when she had her man at home.
"Mom! ... Mom! ..." Dan's voice came from the other end of
the house.
"Yes?" she called.
It appeared he hadn't heard her. He continued to shout, no
urgency in his tone, as he roamed the house looking for her. She
smiled. Always, she thought. Always the same. And it doesn't
matter what he wants to tell me. It's just being able to when he
wants to.
"Mom!"
"Yes, Danny!"
"Oh, Mom?"
"What?"
He could tell her from the bedroom, calling through the open
doors. It would never do to wait, she reflected. Not for Danny.
"I'm in here," she called.
"Oh. Okay." He'd reached the bedroom, she decided. "Hey,
Mom. I wondered if ..."
She gasped. Danny loomed in the doorway, his eyes getting
round as he realized she was in the tub. He appeared to be
paralyzed, his gaze fixed on her suds-flecked breasts and his
mouth still open.
"Mom! I ..."
She realized suddenly she'd been paralyzed, too. With a
burst of motion, she slid down into the water until only her head
remained exposed. "Danny!"
"Gee, Mom! I didn't know ... I mean, the door's ..."
"It's ... it's all right, Danny. My fault. Never mind.
What was it?"
He shuffled from one foot to the other, his face flushed.
He doesn't know what to do, she realized. He can't sink
through the floor, and turning around and running would be too
undignified at his age. He's trying to figure out how to appear
casual--how to look blase about it all.
Dan drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Crossing
to the toilet, he seated himself on the closed lid and leaned
against the tank. "I get it, I guess," he said.
"Hm?"
"It's like they said at school. You know, in Social
Adjustments. About us getting to the age when it's time to start
learning the facts of life."
"Oh," she replied weakly. "What was it you wanted?"
"Huh? Oh! I wanted you to come look at Smokey. He was
doing a new trick ... bowing." Danny grinned. "Sure looked funny
with his rump in the air and his knees on the ground."
She giggled. Her mental image of the tiny donkey, his ears
as big as he was, bowing to Danny provided a trigger to release
the tension in the situation. "I wish I could. See it, I mean."
"He'll do it whenever I tell him now," said Danny airily. He
gazed thoughtfully at her. "Mom, sometimes I just can't get over
how complicated you and Dad are."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I mean you're too complicated for me to figure out
yet. Like I think I know exactly what you think--I figure a rule
is because something's just right or wrong--and then all of a
sudden I find out it was just because you didn't think I was old
enough. Like not talking about Dad's salary. I used to think it
was some kind of big secret no one ever knew. And then I got old
enough you knew I wouldn't go around yakking about it. Or like
knowing what I was ... about not knowing I was half Indian until
last year. Same thing. And I always figured people seeing other
people without their clothes on was something you and Dad had a
hang-up about. I was wondering how a guy learned all that stuff
they were talking about in Social Adjustments--except the
theoretical junk, I mean. All of a sudden it turns out I was just
too young for that, too." He grinned sheepishly. "Shoulda known
better."
"Yes." Her voice caught in her throat. I'm trapped! she
thought. My God, there's nothing I can do! And then, Yes there
is! I can tell him that this is one time that it isn't a matter
of how old he is!
But Danny had leaned toward her and was continuing in his
little boy, confidential tone. "I'm glad, Mom. I did want to
know, and the books and pictures just didn't do it. Besides, I've
been feeling awful funny some of the time. I've been dreaming
things and thinking funny things when I look at girls--or women."
He stared meaningfully at her.
No! Oh, no! she thought wildly. She wasn't going to be able
to tell him this was a special case. Not after he'd revealed
himself to her so honestly. She steeled herself and pushed
herself slowly back to a sitting position, deliberately letting
the foam slide off her breasts, leaving them shiny and smooth
beneath her son's wide-eyed stare.
His eyes were like a physical caress on her breasts and she
felt her nipples swell, harden, and stand erect.
"Danny, get the towel ... that big, thick green one."
"Huh? Oh, okay." He rose and brought the towel.
Helen's hand trembled as she pushed the lever to drain the
tub. She extended her arm toward Danny. "Help me out," she said,
her lips dry with fear.
Danny took her hand and lifted while she climbed out of the
sunken tub to stand before him on the tile. She saw his body
tense as his gaze fell to the rich auburn of her pubic hair.
Again, his glance was like a touch and she was uncomfortably aware
of the sudden tightening in her pussy.
"You dry me." she said, forcing a smile. "I'll be the
queen."
Danny laughed self-consciously and began to towel her. She
winced but smiled more broadly at the way he lingered while he
dried her breasts. And she rose to the balls of her feet and
grabbed his shoulders when he pressed too long into the sensitive
flesh of her pussy.
"All right!" she whispered. "All right, Danny! Thank you."
"Did I do okay, Mom? Do I get the job?
Get the job? Alarm flared. "What do you mean?"
"You gonna wait for your bath 'til I get home from now on so
I can dry you?"
"Danny!"
"Didn't I do it good?"
"Yes ... Yes, you get the job, Danny."
He let his glance sweep over her, taking in the glow of her
skin and the firm curves of her flesh. Admiration was so clearly
evident in his expression that she couldn't bring herself to
resent the frank interest. For a moment, then, they were frozen
in uncertainty, while Helen wondered how to bring the episode to a
close and struggled against the rising wave of awareness that
pervaded her.
"Gee, Mom! That's great!" said Danny, starting as if
suddenly conscious of his concentrated survey. "Just great!
About the stuff from that class ..."
He was now counting on her help, she knew. She had allowed
him to think she'd provide it and he'd see no reason why any other
time would be better than now. He certainly wouldn't forget the
commitment. And if she was going to yield on that point, delay
would buy nothing.
"Okay," she murmured. "What about it? What would help
most?"
"Well ..." he hesitated. "Well, there was a lot of stuff
about how girls are ... well, put together. About how women are
built. It's just hard to visualize. And that was way at the
start of the semester!"
"I ... I'll show you." She was finding it hard to breath.
She was going to let him examine her and the bed--any bed--would
be too suggestive.
"What time is it, Danny?" she asked.
"Hm ... two-thirty."
Art would get home at six or a little after. No one else
would come before then. She could choose the setting without fear
of interruption. She braced herself and smiled. "Okay. There's
time. Come on, son."
Danny followed her into the dining room, looking puzzled.
"I'll get on the table," she said, fighting for calm. "Just
like an examining table. That way, you can move around any way
you need to."
Danny studied the drop leaf table, now standing against the
window with its leaves down. He brightened. "Hey, Mom! Super!"
"Move it away from the wall so you can get to the other side
if you want to."
"Okay."
He moved the table away from the wall and stood back.
"Need help, Mom?"
"I'll make it." She hitched herself onto the end of the
table and hesitated a moment before laying back.
She was suddenly reminded of her first visit to the
gynecologist. It had been the exact same set of emotions then as
now. Nervous because she didn't know exactly what was going to
happen and a touch of guilt because she knew she was going to find
it exciting.
It was all she could do to avoid folding her hands over her
crotch, but she folded them under the back of her head instead,
and winced at the expression of sudden new interest in Danny's
eyes.
"Gee! That makes you look different!"
"How?"
"Well, I mean the way it makes your ribs stand up and
stretches your ... your breasts!"
"Oh." She levered herself backwards and lifted her knees,
setting her heels against her buttocks. "All right, Son. Find
out what you need to know." She slid her feet outward to the
sides and let her knees fall away from each other. The air
chilled her twat and sent a sharp tingle into her belly.
Danny bent over her to peer intently at her breasts. He
probed at the bulging surfaces with a finger and a look of awe
passed over his face. The touch of his finger was like that of an
electrode to Helen. She drew a deep breath, embarrassed at the
quivery sound. And when he took a nipple between his fingers,
rolling it and exploring its texture, she gasped audibly.
"Mmmmm!"
He jerked his hand away. "Mom! Did I hurt you? I'm sorry!
Oh, Mom!"
"No, no!" She was distressed at his agitation. "You didn't
do anything wrong, Son! It's just that some spots are awfully
sensitive. They're supposed to be. Go ahead; just don't be
surprised when I jerk or make a noise."
He grinned. "Okay. If you say so, Mom." He resumed his
examination of her breasts and she tensed against the growing
flood of tremors his fingers produced.
Despite her efforts, muscles fluttered involuntarily and a
primitive excitement heated her. She suspected--and then became
thoroughly convinced--that Danny was teasing her. He'd certainly
had time to complete his familiarization, yet he continued to
manipulate her nipples. She knew she couldn't absorb much more of
that kind of stimulus without making some major--and unmistakable-
-body movement.
She protested, trying to make it sound light. "Danny!
That's not fair!"
He laughed and gave each nipple a last affectionate tweak.
"Okay, Mom."
He tweaked harder than he had been and a powerful jolt of
excitement raced through her. She felt a gush of warmth in her
pussy and groaned knowing that she'd started to ooze. Danny went
around the table to stand at her feet and she turned her head,
looking out the window, into the side yard. But curiosity tugged
hard at her as she felt Danny's hands on her knees. Gently, he
pushed them further apart and down until her crotch was spread as
far as it would go. She felt the slow parting of her pussy lips,
their sticky surfaces separating reluctantly, and shuddered at the
realization that her vagina was opening before her son's eyes.
She forced herself to look at him. His head was lowered and
he was staring wide-eyed into the pink playground. As if he were
unaware of their movement, his hands stroked down along the inner
slopes of her thighs toward her crotch. Her legs twitched and she
felt an involuntary tightening in her buttocks.
Oh, no! she thought. I mustn't poke it at him! Dear God,
don't let my hips jerk!



Chapter 5

Danny refrained from teasing. He seemed competent in his
examination, using his fingers only to lay her pussy lips further
open and to explore the consistency of each type of flesh he
found, but even those contacts acted as powerful stimuli. Helen
gasped frequently and moaned from time to time. By concentrating
exclusively on her hips, she kept them still, but her belly
writhed almost continuously.
At last her son straightened and gazed across her trembling
body into her eyes. "Okay, I guess I've got a good picture of the
parts." he said. He frowned as if trying to recall something.
"Oh! I forgot!" He bent again and put his fingers to her pussy.
She dragged in a huge lungful of air as she felt him peeling
back the fleshy hood over her clitoris. "AGHHH!" Her hips
leaped.
Danny winced but continued his exploration, feeling the
slopes and rubbing the tip of the tiny lump.
"Ah! ... Ah! ..." Helen's hips writhed as she swung them
from side to side.
Danny took his hands away and straightened again. She saw
beads of perspiration on his upper lip and he wiped his forehead
with the back of his hand. "That was your clitoris, then," he
said.
"Yes!" she panted. "I'm sorry I couldn't hold still. That's
the most sensitive spot a woman has, Son."
"It's okay. I could see it pretty good. It's awful little,
though, isn't it?"
"Yes. It does swell, though. It's like a man's penis."
"Yeah?" He glanced down at her pussy again. "Thanks, Mom.
That gets the old stuff out of the way."
"Old stuff?"
"Well, you know how they are in school. They do all the
stuff they call 'basic' first. Like anatomy in this course. And
then there's a lot of jazz about how a baby develops and gets
born. After that, they separate the class. Mr. Duffy's got us
guys now: he's going into stuff about marriage relations. I
really need help seeing what he's getting at there!"
Helen stiffened. "Like what?" she demanded.
"Like stimulus centers and reactions."
She heaved a sigh of relief. She'd visualized his wanting to
explore the mechanics of insertion. "Well ..." she hesitated.
"That's going to be tougher, Son."
"How come?"
She knew if she let him experiment in the techniques of
stimulation she wasn't going to be able to maintain any semblance
of calm. It was barely possible she might lose control of
herself, altogether, and grab him in her passion. She couldn't
let herself forget that strange inner excitement she sometimes
felt about him. On the other hand if it was legitimate for him to
examine her as he had, it was surely legitimate for him to see for
himself how various sensual centers could be used to affect the
woman's responses.
"Sexual stimulus affects involuntary nerves," she said
slowly. "I know I couldn't cooperate right. There's a natural
effort sometimes to interfere--the sensation's just too strong to
take, even though it's wonderful."
Danny nodded, his face clouding with disappointment.
"Look, Danny," she said impulsively. "What time is it?"
He glanced at his watch. "Three."
"All right. There's time and there's a way. Run back to my
room and get two or three pairs of my nylons."
Danny scowled, perplexed, then shrugged and turned. Helen
smiled through her turmoil to note that he literally ran. In a
moment, he was back with a handful of her stockings. He still
showed no sign of understanding.
"I don't get it, Mom."
"I know. The problem is my being able to stay in one place
so you can keep at a spot long enough to find out what it does."
"Yeah," he nodded.
"There's only one way to be sure of that. Tie me in the
right position."
His eyes widened and he stared at her incredulously. "Tie
you!"
"It's all right. It won't hurt me, and you can go at
whatever speed turns out to be right. But you'll have to realize
I'm going to act differently from what you've ever seen me do
before."
"Okay. How shall I tie you?"
"Better get my hands out of the way, for one thing." She
extended her arms as if she meant for him to spread-eagle her.
Danny quickly lashed her wrists, securing the stockings from
each to one of the table legs. She trembled.
"We'll want to finish before five forty-five," she reminded
him. "I want to be presentable by the time your father gets
home."
He stared at her. "That's a long time!"
"A lot more than you need. I just don't want you to get
preoccupied and forget what time it's getting to be."
"Okay!" There was awe in his tone. "Gee! I can really take
my time!" He looked hungrily at her breasts and she winced.
"What next? I've got your hands."
"Well, I'd certainly try to clamp my legs together."
"Oh! Okay!" He knotted a stocking around each of her
thighs, at the knee, and fastened the loose ends to the table
legs, spreading her crotch tautly. Without consulting her, he
then used a third pair of her nylons, looping them on her ankles,
and to her amazement, running the free ends to her shoulders,
where he tied each to an upper arm, pulling her heels against the
sides of her buttocks.
"Danny! My goodness!"
"Well, that'll keep you from moving your knees much."
She laughed shakily. "I can move my feet, though."
"How?"
She raised her feet and realized that there wasn't enough
length in the hose to let her move them more than a few inches.
"I take it back," she mumbled. "They aren't going anywhere."
"Do you mind if I talk to myself once in a while?" her son
asked.
"No."
"What if I forget and use the wrong word?"
"There are no 'wrong words', Danny," she reassured him.
"Only words that are more appropriate at one time than another.
Don't worry about it. Just concentrate on one thing at a time."
He grinned and came to her side. "I know this isn't going to
seem right, Mom, but Mr. Duffy said the lips were the first zone."
"Mmph! Well, all right."
He took her face between his hands and bent close, touching
her lips with his. The first contact was light and dry, no more
erotic that their customary goodnight kiss. But his lips worked
on her and the pressure increased and their mouths got wet. Her
son's kiss was transformed by some alchemy she made no effort to
understand to that of a lover. Warmth seeped through her and she
let her lips part, touching his with her tongue tip. His tongue
darted out to meet hers and then drove into her mouth. She gulped
and began to suck. Like a symbol for a penis! she thought. Even
if it is just his tongue in my mouth, he's got part of him inside
me! My own son! The conscious admission at a moment when sexual
desire was making her writhe horrified her. She tugged at the
nylons and whimpered in her throat. She was writhing sensually by
the time Danny raised his mouth from hers.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "That works!" He flushed. "On me,
too."
She glanced at his trouser front and saw that it was tented.
He's got a beautiful cock, she thought. I know he has! It
was beautiful when he was little. Pride surged in her and she had
an irresistible longing to see what kind of a man her son was
becoming.
"Danny, did Mr. Duffy say anything about visual stimulus?"
"Yeah. He said men got a lot more excited looking at things
than most women."
"That's true, I think. When a man's doing things to her,
though, seeing his body stimulates her."
"Yeah? It does? Hey, okay if I get undressed, then?"
"Yes." She tried to shake off the guilty feeling that washed
over her.
Danny shed his clothes with adolescent awkwardness. She
studied his body. He had fine shoulders, as she already knew, and
his belly was flat and hard, more like a man's than a boy's. His
hips were narrow and taut looking and his cock stood proud and
thick. Circumcised (because the doctor had spoken of cleaning
problems and the danger of infections), the head was a great,
meaty bulb, nearly black with its charge of trapped blood. The
shaft was frightening for its diameter; she guessed it was
considerably thicker than her wrist and knew it was far bigger
than either Art's or Barry's.
That's his Indian half, she thought with a thrill of pride.
But God, could a woman really take that!
Danny returned and bent over her again. When he did his cock
rested on the edge of the table, rigid and hard-looking. He
played with her breasts, squeezing them gently, massaging them,
and experimenting with her nipples. She had no idea how much of
her resulting excitement resulted from his manipulations and how
much from her painful awareness of the situation. Regardless,
desire flamed in her and she lashed about on the table, her hips
rocking from side to side and her pussy pulsing with eagerness.
Danny ran his hands over her body, fingering her curves with
a smile on his lips. "Duffy says there's lots of secondary
centers all over the body," he remarked. "Someday I'll learn more
about them on you. Right now, I want to be sure I see what the
primary ones do." He went back to her crotch.
He caressed her pussy lips gently, the light touch shooting
fierce waves of pleasure through her and producing vigorous
undulations in her hips.
She moaned happily. "Oooh, that feels good, Son! Mmmm!"
He ran a fingertip around the rim of her opening and she
grabbed a taut stocking in each hand and pulled furiously.
"Oh! ..." she gasped. "Oh, Danny!"
His fingers left her for an instant, and then she felt them
stripping back the hood of her clitoris.
"Mmmm!" She bucked violently. "Aghhh!"
He coated the tiny organ with thick juice from her vagina and
began to rub it. She lost all control of her actions, thrashing
in her bonds and moaning loudly. The pleasure that flooded her
was so intense it hurt, and a vast hunger grew in the mouth of her
pussy. While Danny continued to massage her clitoris with the
finger of one hand, those of the other hand returned to her labia.
"Don't get mad, Mom, but ... Well, this was one of the
centers." He slipped a finger up into her, twisting it back and
forth and jabbing it in and out.
"Ohhh! ... Ahhh! ... I'm not ... mad! ... It is one! ... Oh,
Danny! ... Son! ... Ram it hard!"
He jammed the finger in to its knuckle.
"Use ... use two! ... Maybe three! ... Omigod, Son! ...
Ooooh! ..."
She felt a great increase in fullness and knew Danny had
inserted more fingers. She slammed herself onto his hand
repeatedly, her pleasure driving her past caring how she looked to
him. She became aware of slippery strokes over her rectum.
"What's ... that?" she panted.
"My thumb, Mom."
"Oh."
His thumb paused over her tightly closed anus and pushed.
She felt her sphincter stretching to admit it and tilted her head
back.
"DANNY! ... AGHHH! ..." She cried out and let her ass flail
on the hugeness of his buried thumb. "My God, Son! Omigod!"
"I got stuff up your vagina and your ass, Mom." His voice
sounded hoarse to her. "It sure makes you move around!"
"God, yes! It's going to make me have an orgasm!"
"Yeah? Really?"
"MMM! ... Yes! ..."
"Mom, he said the biggest stimulus of all was ... well ..."
She gazed groggily at her son. He stood erect, both hands
hidden behind the forest of her pubic hair, his enormous cock
jutting over her. The shaft pulsed and there was a strand of
clear mucus dangling from the slit in the angry-looking head. His
pubic hair was black and thick and she recalled with a shiver the
great size of his balls. Suddenly she realized what he was
hinting.
"No, Danny! Not that! No, for God's sake!" But why not?
she asked herself in a flash of recklessness. Why not? That's
part of it! "All right, Danny! He's right!" she conceded. "Go
ahead!"
Danny trembled violently as he withdrew his hands. He seized
the huge shaft and guided the head down to her cuntmouth. His
face expressed wonder as his heat and hers mingled and she began
to open to his pressure. She felt the head sink through the firm
rim of her labia and glide slowly up the length of her vagina,
that hard shaft stroking inward after it.
She thrust herself onto the intruding prick, her buttocks
quivering and tight and her belly hard.
"Ahhh!" She bubbled with joy. "Ahhh!"
At her first movement her son's hips surged forward to drive
his prick to its limit in her and his pelvic bone slammed onto the
outer flesh of her pussy. He jerked his hips back, withdrawing
the buried cock until the head lay just inside her labia, then
rammed it home again. She cried out and flung herself onto the
driving prick. Her son's thrusts accelerated and he banged
violently at her.
"Mom! Mom! I can't stop!" A deep note of panic rang in his
voice and he had an anguished expression on his face. "Mom! I
didn't mean to! I just wanted to see what it did to you! I
didn't mean to fuck you all the way!"
She saw the depth of his distress and urged him. She soothed
him with a gentle urgency. "It's all right, darling! It's all
right! Fuck me, darling! Go ahead and fuck me! It's all right,
Son!"
His cock slammed back and forth savagely and her cunt flamed.
She felt as if the shaft were crushing her tissues against the
bony circle of her pelvis and his cockhead were displacing all her
organs. His anguish had cleared, replaced by ecstasy, and his
hands kneaded her waist and pulled her buttocks against his
thighs.
"Yes, yes, darling!" she panted.
"Mom! I'm gonna ..."
"It's okay, honey. Let it happen."
"Mom! ... Mom! ..." he croaked with excitement. Then, with
a note of triumph, "Here it comes! ... Unnnh! ..."
His cock shaft pulsed sharply and hot jism seethed into her
vagina, filling her belly with foreign heat. She clamped the rim
of her cunt on his cock, squeezing with hard contractions and
praying for her own orgasm. Danny broke into convulsive tremors
and the great cock went limp and soft. He pulled it out
instantly, great drops of sweat pouring from him.
"Mom!" he murmured brokenly and came around the table to hold
her face. "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry!"
"Danny, baby," she whispered. "Oh, Danny! How did it feel,
Son?"
"Jesus, Mom! Like nothing I ever felt before!" He grinned
bashfully. "You got awful excited, didn't you."
I still am! she thought. She nodded and smiled. "You found
all the spots, Son. There's still a lot to learn, though."
"There is?"
"Yes. Maybe I'd better teach you while all this is fresh in
your mind."
"Would you, Mom?"
"Yes. You might as well untie me now."
"You know? That was kind of fun. Having you tied up, I
mean. I like that."
"Well, maybe I'll let you do it again sometime."
"Oh, Mom! Would you! Please?"
"Yes."
"Promise?"
She laughed and hard thrill raced through her. "I promise."
"Wow!" Danny shouted.
He untied her quickly, and she went back to the bathroom,
where she douched and washed. As an afterthought, she sprayed
herself with her best cologne. When she returned to the front of
the house, Danny was sprawled in an armchair in the livingroom.
He glanced up at her entry, astounded at her continued nakedness.
"Time for more of the lesson," she said with mock formality.
"What are you going to teach me now?"
"Let's demonstrate instead of talk. Okay?"
"Sure."
She stretched herself along his body, straddling one of his
thighs to let its hardness ease the hunger of her pussy and
putting her arms around him. "Kiss me again, Son."
Their lips locked and her tongue probed for his. He explored
her throat with his tongue tip and she writhed on him, her breasts
scrubbing the sparse hair on his chest, her cunt grinding on his
thigh. When she drew back to look at his face through a film of
happy tears, she knew he was no longer fooled by the academic
pretense.
When he spoke, his voice had a tone of new maturity. "Mom,"
he said very softly. "You just want to fuck with me, don't you."
She cringed. "Yes," she whispered. "I didn't until it
happened, but I do now. Besides, there really are a lot of things
you don't know yet."
"Yeah." He kneaded her ass and sighed. "I've dreamed I was
fucking you lots of times. It never did turn out like today." A
faraway look of bliss stole into his eyes. "Never wild like that
was, Mom the second I stuck my cock into you I knew I couldn't
stop. I knew I had to go all the way!"
"I know."
The telephone rang. Helen groaned and scrambled off her son.
"Why don't you get it, honey? You've got to get your blood
circulating again."
"Okay," he grinned, laying a hand on her belly for a moment
before leaving her. In a moment, he was back. "Dad," he said.
"Says there's an emergency meeting of the State highway engineers
tonight. He called to say he'll be home the middle of tomorrow
morning."
"Oh, dear!" she wailed.
Danny grinned. "Hey, Mom! We can play a lot! Okay?"
She realized how such a suggestion would have horrified her
two hours earlier. "A regular orgy, you mean," she said dryly.
Danny grinned and ducked his head. "I guess so. All kinds
of games."
"Yes. I guess we can do that."
"Wow! Gee, thanks, Mom!" He grabbed her, pulling her to him
and rubbing his body against her breasts. He slid his hand down
her side to her hip, then around between her thighs to clutch at
her pussy. She squirmed, but his other arm was like a bar across
the small of her back, and he dug his fingers deeply into her,
raising her feet from the floor. "This is fun, Mom! I like
playing with you like this!"
Savage lust roared in her and she clung to him. "I like it
too!" she said in a strangled tone.
"Hey, Mom, is it true animals and people fuck sometimes?"
"Danny! How should I know?"
"I mean, would it be possible?"
The pressure of his hand in her vagina burned wariness out of
her. "Why not. Male animals have penises and get erections, just
like men do. Females have ... vaginas."
"Yeah, I guess so. I heard someone talking about it. Mom?
..."
"Yes?"
"Mom, I'd sure like to see that once."
"Ugh! I don't know where you'd find an animal that would do
it!"
"I mean a male animal and a woman."
"That's even more unlikely! You'd never find a woman who'd
do that for you!" She sighed and pressed her thighs together on
his hand, then grinned broadly. "Other women aren't going to do
weird things for you like I am."



Chapter 6

"But you would, wouldn't you?"
"What?"
"You'd let an animal fuck you so I could see how it worked,
wouldn't you?"
"Danny!"
"Wouldn't you, Mom? Just for me?"
That was a safe commitment, she decided. She'd never have to
honor it. He never would find an animal trained that way. "Yes.
I guess I would, Son. I'm afraid you'd have a hard time finding
an animal that accommodating, though."
"No, Mom! I don't think so!"
She laughed contentedly and hugged him. Let him have his
fantasies, she thought. Tonight, I've got him.
"Smokey, Mom!" Danny set her on her feet, his hand still
firmly locked in her cunt.
She leaned back and gazed into his earnest eyes, shaking her
head. "Smokey wouldn't touch a woman, Son. He doesn't know
anything about those things. Why, he's never even had a lady
donkey!"
"He knows all about hard-ons," Danny insisted. "He's been
going around with one half the time this week."
"He has? I didn't notice."
"That's because you don't see him often.'
"Having an erection isn't having sex with a woman, Son. I'm
afraid that just isn't practical."
"We could at least try!" He sounded irritated and hurt.
"You just don't want to. You just said you would without meaning
it."
"Danny, I meant it!" Damn it, I really didn't! But I'm not
going to admit that. Besides, what's the harm in trying?
Smokey's not going to do anything but try to hide.
"Okay! Come on, then!" Her son pulled his hand out of her
throbbing pussy and dragged her toward the back of the house.
"Let's try, Mom. Just once."
"It's broad daylight, Danny! We can't go out naked like
this!"
"Nobody can see us! Not the way you and Dad have the place
screened off!"
Convincing or not, he was stronger than she. He gripped her
wrist firmly and dragged her with him. They crossed the yard and
ducked through the hedge into Smokey's compound. Danny led her
into the donkey's corral.
"You better use the feed table," he said.
Helen hesitated, surveying the table her husband had insisted
on to keep the hay off the ground. It did look the right height,
coming almost exactly to the level of the furry little beast's
belly. At the moment there was a thick layer of sweet smelling
hay on it and Smokey was wandering about disconsolately, his cock
projecting from its sheath, rigid and angry red.
"Good heavens! I see what you mean about erections!" she
exclaimed.
Danny urged her across the corral to the feed table. "Just
bend over it, I guess." he said.
Reluctantly she bent forward and lay on her belly on the
table, her feet on the pulverized ground. The hay pricked her
flesh, but it smelled so sweet and provided such a pleasant
cushion she didn't object. Danny began to tie a tag end of frayed
rope around her left wrist.
"Danny! What's the big idea?"
He smiled apologetically. "He's going to have enough to get
used to without worrying about where you're going. You said so
yourself in the dining room."
"Oh, all right." She knew it gave her son an enormous erotic
thrill to see her helpless, and it wasn't going to hurt her. She
let him knot the loops around both wrists and waited to see how he
meant to position her. He pulled her forward on the table until
her breasts cleared the forward edge and her thighs pressed
against the opposite side. I don't know why we call it a table,
she thought, squirming uncomfortably. It's nothing but a two-by-
twelve.
Danny groaned. "You can't do it like that," he said.
"That's no good." And then, excitedly, "I know. Mom! Wait!" He
raced to the shelter and brought back the tattered old saddle.
Helping his mother to her feet, he flung the saddle onto the
table, where it appeared to fit as well as it did on Smokey.
"Now! Lie over that!"
She lowered her belly onto the saddle, lying precariously
across it. Danny tied loops to her ankles, ignoring her hands,
and pulled her legs apart to an impossible angle, securing her
feet to the table supports. Grasping her waist, he slid her
forward so the saddle was under her hips and lower belly, her
torso hanging over the other side and her ass in the air. She
struggled, but he seized the rope fragments that dangled from her
wrists and quickly lashed her wrists to her ankles.
"My God, Danny! Not this way!" She tried to imagine how her
cunt must be gaping.
"Mom! This is the greatest! Wow, what a playground!" He
ran his hand over her back and onto her ass. "You'd make a great
toy!"
"Oh, sure!" She stared at the way her hair swept the ground,
shimmering auburn strands brushing dung-rich, dark earth, and
looked past her legs at Smokey, still shuffling around the corral
with his engorged hard-on bobbing. It's a good thing he's not
going to know what to do, she thought with a shudder. That
thing's so big it would split me right down the middle! But God,
how it would feel going in!
Danny acted as if he'd momentarily forgotten the donkey. He
squatted at her head, reaching around her with both hands to
fondle her breasts. "I like the way your tits hang when you're
like this, Mom." He chuckled suddenly. "I think I'll milk you!"
He repositioned his fingers and began to milk, using the technique
he'd briefly practiced at a goat farm his school class had
visited.
Helen cried out in a burst of excitement. The strange,
rolling pressure made her boobs feel as if they were swelling, and
her nipples stretched to generate a wild kind of sensation
throughout her body. She felt a rush of heat into the dangling
tips of her breasts, precisely as if there were milk rushing to be
squirted out.
"Danny! My God, Danny baby! You're making an animal out of
me!" Her snatch throbbed and fingers of fiery excitement raced
over her. "Oh, Son!"
He continued to milk her until she was thrashing violently on
the saddle, the ropes biting viciously into her wrists and ankles.
She knew nothing had ever produced even a similar sensation in her
breasts. "Ohhhh! Danny, you could make me cum doing that!"
"Yeah? You really mean that? Hey, I'm going to, sometime!
Know what? I haven't seen you cum yet!"
"No," she gasped, sensing she was nearer an orgasm than at
any previous time during the day.
"Mom, a woman can cum one time right after another, can't
she?"
"Well ..." she hesitated. "Sometimes."
"Bitchin'! How many times?"
"I don't know." The sensation in her breasts had spread
until her whole body felt as if it were being milked. She threw
her head up and clenched her teeth, feeling a great churning in
her belly. Her head roared and spots danced before her eyes. She
would cum now if she weren't careful. She dropped her head and
tilted it to watch her son's hands. The sight of the strong
fingers rolling the flesh of her breasts and crushing her
quivering nipples sent a powerful mental stimulus through her.
She strained her buttocks apart, then clamped them. A fierce
contraction snapped her cuntmouth and raced inward along her
barrel, with another and another behind it. She went rigid,
forcing her limbs straight and arching her back. Her mouth opened
wide, a deep, undulating groan pouring out. Tremors shook her and
she knew only that she was lost in a sea of exquisite pleasure.
"Aghhhh! ... Nnnng! ... Danny, Danny, Danny!"
"Mom! MOM! You are! You're cumming! Jesus you're
beautiful when you cum, Mom!"
Her contraction ceased and she fell limp, hanging
breathlessly. Her son stroked her aching tits and ran his hands
onto her belly. She felt something at her twat.
"Danny?" She struggled for air. "Danny, what's that at my
crotch?"
"At your pussy, Mom? Hey! That's Smokey! He really digs
the smell of pussy-juice!" Danny sprang to his feet and leaned over
her.
She felt Smokey's wet nose rooting among her inflamed tissues
and then something hot and rough stroking them.
"Mom! He's licking you! He acts like he's eating all that
stuff!"
She shuddered and moaned, her diminishing passion bounding
into full bloom again. Her hips rocked and she saw her hair
swishing in the dirt. The broad tongue reached her cuntmouth and
jabbed at it.
"Hey, Mom! Oh, Jesus! He's sticking his tongue down your
cunt! Mom, he's going all the way in with it!"
The supple blade penetrated the length of her passage,
snaking among the inner folds and scrubbing them. Her belly
writhed and her ass leaped. She was in a frenzy, uncertain
whether she was coming or not.
"Danny, baby! My God, he's eating me from the inside out!"
She felt the tongue leave her as quickly as it had entered.
"Boy, is he hot!" Danny exclaimed. "Mom, you ought to see
the way he's humping! Just like he already had that cock in
something! Hey! He's going to try!"
"OH, NO! No, Son! Don't let him!" She jerked at the ropes
frantically. "Oh, please!"
"Mom, that's what we're out here for! Mom, he is! He's
going to fuck you!"
Her vagina puckered with her sudden fright. Looking under
the wide, inverted vee of her legs she could see the agitated
donkey. His cock looked more formidable than before, and while
she stared in fascination, she saw him rear on his hind legs and
prance toward her. She bit her lips and waited.
"I won't let him put his hooves on you, Mom." Danny panted
audibly and she guessed he was forcing the donkey's forefeet
apart.
In a moment, she knew she was right. She felt the hard feet
against her sides, slipping toward her chest. And she felt a
great, hard point touch her twat, perfectly centered.
"You guided his penis, Danny," she said accusingly.
"Sure! Wouldn't want him in your ass, would you?"
The point jabbed repeatedly.
Art had a really good sized cock that filled her deliciously.
Barry was a little larger than Art, a really snug fit in her
pussy. Danny's cock was huge, but Smokey's shaft was monstrous
and she felt her cunt stretch impossibly to engulf it. A deep,
joy-choked groan was wrenched from her as the giant cock sank
home. It filled her belly and made her taste iron. Smokey
scrambled with his forefeet and lodged them against projections on
the saddle. She felt his cock pumping in her like a monstrous
piston, and her lust rocketed.
"He is, he is!" she yelled. "Danny! He's fucking me!"
"Oh, Jesus, Mom! He must be stretching you inside! He's got
almost his whole dong in!"
She was able to see that his belly was within an inch of her
pussy. And she could see his balls swing with the force of his
lunges as he jerked his cock back and then drove it deeper into
her in a terrifying succession of strokes. She was half-
hypnotized by the contrast between her smoothly tapered, pale
thighs and the donkey's shaggy, grotesque legs. She held her
breath while his black belly slammed closer and closer to her twat
and suddenly she felt his impact in her outer flesh as well as the
depths of her belly. His hair was wire-stiff, and it stabbed a
thousand pinholes in her ass. His cock stretched her so wide
there was no room for further distention or for her over-taut rim
to adapt and lose the sharp edge of the entering sensation. She
jerked at her wrist ropes in time to the donkey's brutal rhythm,
humping her body to meet his great thrusts. And she flung her
head from side to side, biting at her shoulders in a frenzy of
lust.
Agonizing contractions seized her twat, tightening it on
Smokey's surging prick so hard she thought she'd rupture.
"Honey!" she shouted. "Darling! I'm coming again!" She
stiffened, absorbing the donkey's blows without any possibility of
defense. "I'm coming! Oh, God, am I coming! EEEYAGHHH!"
At the height of her orgasm, she knew her vaginal walls were
milking the tremendous cock. She felt the donkey rest his weight
on her ass, his cock driven full length in her and quivering
mightily. There was a great eruption of heat at the core of her
belly and she saw her flesh balloon with the charge.
"He's coming! He's coming!" shouted Danny. "Mom! You ought
to see him! Like he won the grand prize! Oh, Mom! Both of you!"
Although already buried to the hilt the donkey humped against
her again and again. And with each lunge a huge swoosh of his cum
was forced out of her overloaded pussy. She watched the cum
dribble down her thighs and run down his swinging balls to be
flicked off as he lunged again.
The donkey sagged on her and she collapsed over the saddle,
helpless to extricate herself or expel the prick that impaled her.
She felt giddy and weak, but she was conscious of a perverse pride
in the fact that she'd been able to take the donkey's cock. She
was strangely self-satisfied, too, that she'd been able to accept
him well enough to react and to reach a climax. That she'd been
good enough to make him come was her crowning achievement.
"Oh, Mom! That was something I'll never forget! I wish I'd
had the video camera out here!"
"Danny Fredericson! Danny! You don't wish any such thing!
You mention that camera again and you never will get to tie me
up!"
"Aw, Mom!"
"I don't care! Just think what would happen if someone saw a
movie of this!"
"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, Mom, Smokey's getting ready to get
off!"
"You help him. I don't want him kicking me." There was an
intense struggle. The donkey's cock hadn't shrunk sufficiently to
come out without considerable tugging and his balance was poor.
But with Danny's help Smokey was finally able to dismount Helen.
She sighed deeply and let herself relax again.
"Now you can get me off here," she told Danny.
"Aw, Mom! Not yet."
"Now, son."
"Naw, I've just got to do something. I'm ready to explode!"
"Danny!" she raged.
But she felt his hands on her buttocks, caressing them gently
and squeezing them from time to time. She was furious at herself
when she discovered herself humping with pleasure. It was bad
enough to be defied; it was inexcusable to respond this way to her
son's defiance. She made a sound that was half laugh and half
sob.
"Goddamn it, honey! You're terrible!"
Danny laughed sympathetically. "I can't help it, Mom!
Seeing you like this I can't help myself. Know what? I'm going
to fuck you before I let you loose!"
"Oh, Danny! Not like this!"
"Like this." His fingers dipped into her twat and prodded
the swollen lips of her pussy. He dragged his hands between her
buttocks and thrust them repeatedly into her ass. She bounced
with helpless desire. She knew she wanted him in her, no matter
how grotesque her position.
"Danny?"
"Huh?"
"I want you to. I want you to, Son!"
He said, "This is going to be something else!"
She watched his feet as he stepped into the table, straddling
her. He squatted and she supposed he was trying to decide how to
make his cock point the right direction. He removed her
speculation.
"I've got to work at it this time." He panted. "What I'm
doing is bending my cock down so I can poke it in you. Almost
right. There!"
She felt his bulb at her rectum.
"I'm going to fuck you in the ass, Mom."
"No you're not, Danny! Danny! No! Don't ... UNNNH! ...
Omigod, Danny!"
His cock had forced her sphincter until the great head had
surged through. Now there seemed to be no end to the shaft as it
plunged into her gut. She felt his balls press against her pussy
and the bristles of his pubic hair mat around her tortured
asshole. He began to stroke.
"Dan, Dan!" she groaned. "Oh, Dan, I'm awful! I love it!"
"God you're tight, Mom! Oh, God, Mom! I'm going to come
just as fast as I did when you were on the table!"
He bounced on her ass, driving the breath from her in deep
grunts and arousing her to a wild pitch of passion. She felt his
fingers bite into her waist and his balls knock against her cunt.
And suddenly he stopped bouncing.
"Ohhh!" he moaned as if in pain.
"Son! Danny! Are you all right?"
"It's coming out! Mom, I'm coming!" He settled on her and
she felt a brutal force on her ass. She saw his feet leave the
ground and extend behind her. She knew he was balancing his
entire weight on the base of his cock while he spewed his jism
into her intestine.
"Ahhh ..." She sighed with pleasure, feeling every subtlety
of his actions. She decide there might be an advantage not to
reach her orgasm every time; climactic sensations could mask the
finer details of her partner's cumming. She felt her son's cock
swell with abrupt jerks as the heat spurted from it, and his balls
twitched upward through her pubic hair and over her labia with
each spurt. She heard his labored breathing and its rasping
irregularity. And her gut filled for the second time in that
position with a pool of hot cum. Dan rocked for a time before his
body began to loosen. At last, he pushed himself off her and
stood on the ground.
"Honey," she said, her voice muffled. "Get me down now,
before Smokey decides to come back for seconds."
Danny laughed nervously. "Mom, if I thought he would, I'd
keep you right where you are."
"DANNY!"
"Aw, don't worry. He won't. He's had it." Danny untied her
arms first, and when he loosened the second ankle, she slid head-
first into the dirt. She lay in a heap waiting for her
circulation to return, and Danny crouched beside her, massaging
her limbs.
When the agony of renewed circulation subsided, she let him
help her to her feet. "Come on back in the house, Son," she
urged.
"Okay."
In the house, she realized it was past five. Danny seemed
reluctant to take time out for supper, but she insisted.
"We'll both need all our strength," she suggested. "That is,
unless you've had enough."
"We don't have to quit, do we Mom? We can fuck some more
after supper, can't we?"
"Yes."
"All night, maybe?"
She laughed. "We'll see."
"That means you don't think we will."
"Honey, you're welcome to try as long as you can hold out. I
promise."



Chapter 7

Danny objected to her dressing for supper. He showed no
reluctance to putting his own clothes on, but he wanted her to
remain nude.
"Honey, I'm not going to work in the kitchen naked. That's
all there is to it."
"Aw, Mom! Well, at least you don't have to wear anything but
pants and bra."
"Well ..." She giggled at his determination. "All right,
hon. We'll compromise."
"I'll go get them for you."
"Oh, all right." She waited, relieved to be alone for a few
moments. It was a shock to discover how much desire still burned
in her. She realized she was eager for her son to return--that
she fiercely wanted him to stare at her naked body again.
When Dan came back with her panties and bra, he took her in
his arms before giving them to her. He kissed her tenderly, then
turned her so her side was against him and ran his hand lovingly
over her front. She thrust out her belly and squirmed at the feel
of his fingers. He caressed her tits and rubbed her belly. And
when his hand slid over her pubic hair and between her thighs she
thrust her knees apart and ground her hips in circles.
"Good," she whispered. "Oh, but I like that, Son!"
He released her at last after he had her quivering and
mumbling to herself. She took the wispy garments from him and
laughed.
"How did you know I had these? Why, I've never had them on!"
He grinned as she held up the panties. "I was looking for
the ones with the least material," he admitted. "Those were at
the back of the drawer, that's all."
"They're hardly pants at all, Danny!"
"But they are, and I brought them. So that's what you wear.
You promised."
"Your father ordered them out of a catalog," she said. "And
he was furious when I wouldn't wear them!" She laid the bra aside
and stepped into the panties. They did fit, although they were
snug. But as she pulled them up her thighs she discovered a
feature she hadn't noticed before; there was a long slit in the
crotch. "Oh, Christ!" she exploded.
"Now what?" Danny asked.
"Never mind!" She snugged the panties on her hips,
shuddering at the effect. Even Danny appeared to be shaken, she
noticed.
The panties crossed her belly so low that a handful of pubic
hair lay exposed above them. The rest of her dark red thatch
protruded through the loose net. And the crotch hugged the lips
of her pussy without a thread to spare. Four inches at either hip
was simply a narrow strip of elastic. She instinctively placed
her hand over her twat.
"What was it you said 'oh, Christ!' about?" asked Danny.
"Come on, Mom, tell me!"
"Oh, all right. There's a big long slit in the crotch."
"Hey! You mean they're made for screwing? You can get
screwed without even taking them off?"
She nodded. "Honestly!"
"Hey, let me see, Mom! Huh?"
"For heaven's sake! No!"
"Aw, please! Please?"
"After supper, I guess."
"Well, okay I guess. But I can feel." He grabbed her before
she realized his intention and pinned her arms behind her.
Dragging her arms back and down, he forced her to bend her knees
and spread them, and he thrust a finger through the slit and into
her cunt.
Helen writhed on his finger, supper forgotten. God, I'm hot!
she thought. I'm ready to explode the instant he touches me! But
her son released her, caressing one of her tits for a moment
before stepping back.
She panted, standing motionless, then reached for the bra.
"This is just as bad," she muttered. She put it on, the half-cups
lifting her boobs and making the upper slopes bulge while her
nipples stood in the open.
"Man, that looks great! I thought that's what that thing
was!" Dan leered at her.
"You're impossible!" she exclaimed. "I raised a sex fiend!"
"Mom, let's eat quick. You were going to teach me some more,
and then we took time out for Smokey. I'm awful anxious."
She glanced respectfully at his erect young cock. "You look
like it. All right, we'll hurry."
She found it impossible to know what they were eating when
they finally sat down. She was too keenly aware of her near
nakedness and Danny's frank concentration on her puckered nipples.
Her pussy twitched incessantly and she could feel the wetness that
had soaked the crotch of her panties. Her son wolfed his food,
clearly paying as little attention to it as she. He spoke only
once during the meal.
"You know, Mom? That sister of Vanessa's. I hate her.
She's a snob. But I bet she fucks great! If I had my druthers,
though, I'd like to spend a day with Vanessa like this one with
you."
"Watch it, Dan. What we're doing today is fun. I like it.
But it's still teaching, not a way to get you started making out
with every woman you meet."
"But we're not going to stop just as soon as we're through
learning, are we? Are we, Mom?"
She laughed. "I don't know. The way I feel right now, we
could keep going forever. But I think I've gone a little crazy.
It's going to depend."
"On what?"
"On things that wouldn't even occur to us now."
Dan finished his food and carried the dishes to the kitchen.
He came back and surveyed her plate. "You going to eat the rest
of that?"
She hesitated. "No. I've had enough."
"Okay." He snatched her dishes from the table and
disappeared with them. He returned while Helen was still pushing
her chair back.
She rose, aware of the fact that her son was hovering over
her. He seized her and swung her from the floor.
"Danny! What ...?"
He sat her on the edge of the table and pushed her onto her
back.
"Danny! Stop it! What's going on?"
He forced her knees apart and elevated them. "I'm going to
look at those pants. You said I could after supper."
"Good God!" she exclaimed.
He placed her feet against his shoulders and leaned over her,
pressing her knees back to her chest. He felt the crotch of her
panties, pulling the slit open with his thumbs and inserting both
thumbs immediately into her pussy. She gasped and her feet slid
over his shoulders. He grasped her hips and held them still,
thrusting his cock against her. She twisted, but with a single
smooth surge, he drove his cock fully into her, its base slamming
solidly on her pussy.
"Ahhh!" she whispered. "Danny ... oh, Danny ... why does it
make me want you so much when you do this?"
He shook his head. "Am I supposed to know?"
"Of course not! Just fuck me, baby!"
"I already know about that. Is there something I don't know
about?"
"A lot, I suppose. All right. Pull it out while I can still
think."
As Danny pulled out and backed away, lowering her legs, he
drew her panties off. She sat up and removed the bra.
"Ready," she said.
"Can we do it in my room, Mom?" he smiled uncertainly.
"Yes. I guess so."
She followed him into his room, where she paused to reminisce
for a moment. The shelves Art had put up for her son's model
airplanes were still loaded with the dusty little relics. Dan's
baseball bats stood in one corner, neglected for the past four
years, and his splintered hockey sticks leaned in another. Those
were idle only because they were too worn to use, she thought. It
was probably a typical boy's room, littered with the accouterments
of growing up, including yesterday's laundry scattered across the
floor. Danny flung himself on his bed and stared at his mother,
his gaze fixed on her pubic hair.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Okay." She approached the bed, eyeing his cock.
It lay at an angle on his belly, it's underside exposed. His
pubic hair was still thin, but it curled tightly and was so black
it looked like a solid mat. His balls lay in the though formed by
his thighs, and the skin of his scrotum held them firmly. His
cock was a dark cylinder against his coppery belly, and the head
gleamed wetly, mute evidence of his readiness.
Helen felt a fierce pride in her son. She felt another
emotion as she stood over him, and it drew her onto the narrow bed
with him. She stretched out with her knees beside his head and
rested her breasts on his belly. With one manicured fingertip,
she stroked the shiny cockhead. The shaft twitched and his balls
moved, pulled by a sudden tensing of the sac. She moved her
finger in small circles on the bulge, feeling a tingle of
excitement over the wet slipperiness. Her jaw ached and her mouth
puckered.
Damn it! she thought. I watched Vanessa do it! I can do
anything she can! She lowered her head and touched her lips to
the wetness. She held them there for a moment, then drew back.
Closing her hand around the shaft of Danny's cock, she touched her
lips with her tongue. The metallic flavor made her gasp with
desire, and she thrust her mouth against the cockhead again. She
kissed it avidly, her tongue darting between her lips repeatedly
to savor the pungent coating on it.
Danny caught her near knee and drew her thigh across his
chest, exposing her pussy to his gaze. She felt fingers force her
labia and she undulated her hips with pleasure. But she pressed
her lips harder on the firm cock. She slid her lips onto it,
making a circle of them to gird it and suck at the seeping slit.
Danny's balls jerked and he drew one foot toward his butt.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Mom, that feels bitchin'! Do you like to do it!"
"I want to right now, Danny." She quickly placed her mouth
over the cockhead again. Opening her mouth widely, she forced it
over the broad slopes and gulped the knob. Danny's shaft was too
bulky to permit any but the slightest relaxation of her jaw, and
she was worried that she might bite down. She sucked, swallowing
occasionally to clear her throat of the slow trickle of liquid.
She remembered the way Vanessa had stroked her lips up and down
Art's shaft and tried to do the same for Danny. The nose of his
cock bumped the back of her throat almost at once, and she
resigned herself to sucking, her tongue probing continuously at
the hot flesh.
Danny's hips rose and fell and his hand twisted about in her
cunt. His trembling convinced Helen that her son was unlikely to
let her prolong her experiment very much. She raised her head,
letting the heavy bulb free.
"Danny, honey?"
"Mmph! Yeah?"
"Did that feel good? You want me to suck some more?"
"Wow! Yeah! Would you?"
"Yes. But we're going to change positions."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Move over."
Danny moved and Helen stretched out beside him on her back.
"Now get on your knees and straddle my head," she directed.
When Danny's balls hung over her face, she spread her thighs
widely. "Hands and knees," she said.
He dropped to all fours. His cock touched her throat, and
she maneuvered it until she could get the head into her mouth
again. She caressed his balls while she sucked on his cock, and
he groaned happily.
"You're making me come," he said in a strained tone. "You
mind that?"
I want it! she thought. That's exactly what I want! She
refused to release the previous mouthful; she merely sucked harder
and caressed the tip with the back of her tongue.
Danny seized her hips, his hands circling them and settling
under her buttocks. He lifted her ass and tilted her twat up,
then grabbed her clitoris in his mouth. Her pleasure was
intolerable. She lashed her feet and clutched at his ass. His
belly quivered and he slid his knees apart, pushing down on his
cock. There was a sudden spasm in his shaft and warm, thick jism
flooded his mother's mouth. She gulped, frantically aware that
the spurting cum was filling her faster than she could pump it to
her stomach.
She dug her nails into his ass and stiffened. Her only
movement was her sucking and frenzied swallowing and a slow
undulation of her hips. She felt liquid escape at the corners of
her mouth and groaned inwardly. All of it! she demanded silently
of herself. Every drop, damn it!
Her son shuddered and his cock began to soften. She drained
it of the last thread of semen and let him lift it from her. Her
own orgasm spent itself and she sagged limply.
"Mom?"
"Hm?"
"Sleep in here with me tonight. Okay?"
"The bed's narrow. Why not my room?"
"Because this is my room."
She understood. "All right, Son."
Dan insisted on their sharing a shower before they slept.
Helen agreed, feeling a trace of guilt that it would be a first
for her: she'd consistently refused to shower with Art. They
stood belly to belly while the water soaked them and Helen felt
her fatigue draining from her. Danny soaped and washed her, let
her rinse under the stinging spray, and soaped her again. With
lather thick on both of them, he began to rub himself against her.
Helen gasped. The sensation was utterly strange to her. The
frictionless contact of their bellies and of his hands on her
buttocks sent tingles racing over her and made her pant. She
thrust herself against her son in a new rush of desire, and she
caught his thigh between hers and scrubbed her pussy on him. His
cock stiffened against her belly. His arms went around her waist
and she clung to his neck, her boobs swishing on his chest. He
lifted her, letting his cock slide between her thighs while she
swung her feet up to wrap her legs around his hips. Without quite
knowing how it happened, she found herself sliding onto his shaft,
his cockhead already implanted in her. He bounced her on his
prick and thrust his finger up her rectum, laughing with delight
when she clamped her thighs on his waist and leaned back.
At the height of their jostling, he stepped under the spray
with her and let it sluice away the soap. "Hey! This is way out,
Mom!"
"Oooh, Danny! I liked it with the soap all over us!"
"Yeah! This is wild!"
"Why did you rinse it off?"
"We're making it too fast. I wanted to play for awhile." He
grinned. "You're more fun to play with when you're all excited,
Mom."
"Danny!"
He lifted her off his dick and sat her on her feet. Turning
the shower off, he reached out for towels and patted the water
from their bodies. He stepped out with her, then, and scrubbed
her vigorously with the towel.
He's right, she decided, panting. I'll let him do anything
to me while I'm excited. She spread her thighs while his fingers
probed between her hot labia. "Ohhh, baby! Oh, precious!" she
crooned.
Danny picked her up and carried her to his room. He spread-
eagled her on his bed, tying her and chuckling happily to himself.
He produced an electric vibrator and began to play it over her
breasts, rolling its base against their lower bulges until she
squirmed with pleasure, then applying its tip alternately to each
of her nipples. She writhed and babbled. He pulled the tip of
the vibrator across her belly and slid it between her legs while
wild surges of excitement slammed through her. When he laid it on
her clitoris the universe exploded for her. She arched her back
to drive her ass into the mattress, then bowed the opposite way to
elevate her pussy. There was no way to evade the insane stimulus.
Desire welled in her cunt and flowed outward along her fibers
until she was frantic with delight. The convulsive spasms of
orgasm rolled over her in a succession that made the room turn
black.
She heard someone screaming and only slowly realized by the
sensation in her throat that it was she. Her cunt flamed and her
body burned with sympathetic fury. When her spasms finally began
to subside, her son lay aside the vibrator and brought his hands
to her crotch in its place. She slowly regained her vision and
started to discern between the individual touches that kept her
from sliding out of her passion.
Danny climbed between her thighs and nestled his cockhead
between her labia. He pressed it home, expanding her rim and
sinking his shaft into her belly. His hips surged and the crazy
explosion happened again. Helen twisted her head and bit her lip,
her knees jerking and her boobs flopping. She moaned happily, a
hazy notion growing that she could remain indefinitely in her
orgasm.
But the hot welling of semen at her core released her after a
final, wild thrashing, and her son's dick began to wilt.
Afterward, they clung to each other and slept. More than once
during the night, Danny awakened Helen and she yielded herself to
his resurgent demands. And in the morning, after they'd both gone
into the bathroom and returned eagerly to the bed, she straddled
him and lowered herself onto his waiting cock for an exhilarating
ride. She felt as if all the desire of the previous fifteen hours
was concentrated in that single flurry of lust, and her climax
left her so weak she toppled from her son and lay paralyzed until
he could rub life back into her.



Chapter 8

Danny objected to going to school. "No!" he yelled at her.
"It'll be hours before Dad gets home! That's time for all kinds
of games!"
"Dan Fredericson, you're going to school! We've both had
enough for one session!"
He shook his head, childish stubbornness clear in his
features. "Mom! You spoil everything!"
"I didn't notice you complaining about my spoiling things
last night!"
"Oh, that was different! I mean making me go to school when
you're right here!"
"Well that's too bad. Maybe I need a rest. Now get ready,
before I get mad!"
He grumbled and kicked at each chair he passed, but he got
ready for school. When she went to the door with him, he paused
as if for her customary "goodbye" peck. She stood on tiptoe to
kiss him, her hands resting against his chest, and he gathered her
to him. He grabbed one of her breasts, massaging it eagerly, then
pulled up her skirt and thrust his hand inside her panties and dug
his fingers into her cunt. She squirmed wildly but without
success, and when Danny withdrew his hand and opened the door, she
was a quivering mass of confusion. She blew him a kiss and
muttered, angry at herself for losing control of the situation and
at her son for his impudence.
She raced through the most urgent of her housekeeping chores,
her thoughts far from domestic routine. Danny's hasty feeling-up
had thoroughly aroused her, and she was angrily conscious of the
fact that it would be hours before Art got home. She argued with
herself.
"You've really made it," she said. "All the way. When a
woman turns her own son into a cunt-crazy machine, she's hit the
bottom!" She gazed through the window. Oh, God, Helen! Just
what have you done? What's going to happen? she shuddered.
She drained the sink and dried her hands. Pulsing with raw
sexual desire and seething with self-contempt she rushed from the
house. And what's the big fuss? she asked herself. You were
afraid you were going to lose your husband? You did what had to
be done, didn't you? Sinking to her knees before a rich-blooming
rose, she inhaled its sweetness. "Oh, God!" Did I? How can the
things I've done possibly give me the happiness of a secure home?
And yet Art wants physical woman! He's got to have someone who
goes wild with sex hunger with him! And if I'm going to be that
self, that's what I'll have to be. There's only two of me; the
one Grandma made and the one I inherited from Mama and Daddy. If
I can't be one, I've got to be the other.
She choked back a sob. It didn't seem right to cry about it.
She'd been free to make her decision and her father had repeatedly
sneered at people who spent their lives regretting their
decisions. "Christ Almighty!" he'd always said. "When a guy
makes up his mind, he shuts a door on the other alternative! He's
got to live with what he took, and there's no damn excuse for
looking at the bad side of that!"
There's no damn excuse for looking at the bad side of it, she
repeated now. For fifteen and a half years I've fought with
myself. I've stamped out every dirty thought the instant I had it
and frozen every wiggle of excitement. That's the way it had to be
if I wanted to be like Grandma. All right! The dirty-minded,
cock-hungry slut was the natural me all the time! Now I know
that's what Art wants, and it means doing what my impulses say;
that's all!
She raised her eyes to gaze at tiny, puffball clouds as they
drifted across the sky. All I have to remember is that's good,
now, instead of bad? Let yourself go, Helen-baby! Do what you
feel like, and the dirtier the better! She squeezed her breasts
and felt a surge of warmth, then grinned ruefully and shook her
head. "No, stupid! Not like that!" She unbuttoned her dress
from the throat to the waist and shrugged out of it, then
struggled out of her bra and squeezed the naked globes. She
trembled at the hot flush of pleasure. "Like this!" Teasing her
own nipples, she flung back her head and laughed with joy. Her
old self would hate the new, but life was going to be another
thing when she could give herself without reserve to the
sensations that arose around her.
And then there's Smokey! I'll bet he doesn't care if I'm
tied up or not! And I'll bet it would be a lot better if I
weren't! She swung her bra by its strap and let her dress dangle
from where it had settled, riding on her hips. She shivered with
a sense of wicked pleasure at the risque picture she made, her
boobs swaying, her navel exposed, and most of her lower belly
visible as she strode toward the hidden corral and the frustrated
little donkey.
She undressed and hung her clothes over the top rail before
she went in. "The hell with the gate!" she exclaimed. "More fun
to climb over!" She perched astride the rail for a moment,
squirming at the harsh intimacy between it and her pussy. The she
scrambled down and dug her toes into the organic soil and crossed
to the feed table.
"Smokey?" she called. "Smokey! ... Come on, baby! Come and
get a piece of ass!"
Smokey shuffled toward her, his neck extended and his ears
forward. She lay across the narrow plank, gripping its edge
tightly and raising her knees. As the donkey came closer she
spread her thighs and let him sniff her pussy. He licked, his
tongue rough and impatient on her cunt, and he probed deep into
her vagina, making her belly writhe.
"Good! Good baby! Oooh, Smokey, that's scrumptious!"
Smokey jerked his tongue free and tossed his head with a
snort. Helen twisted to look under his belly and saw his cock
swelling and lengthening. The beast quivered and pawed the
ground.
"Wonderful! Wonderful, Smokey! You know!" She lowered her
feet, touching the earth with her toes, her thighs widespread.
"Come on, baby. Up between my legs!"
The donkey snorted again and reared on his short hind legs,
taking a series of short, clumsy steps to position himself in the
notch her legs made. She caught his forepaws to guide them clear
of her belly, then reached under him and guided his prick to her
cunt. His rump prodded and the bulky cockhead began to work
against the tightness of her rim. She swung her legs around him
and pulled fiercely, jerking herself onto the great cock and
gagging happily when it crowded her guts.
"Ahhh! Ohhh, Smokey-baby! Fuck me good!" She grabbed his
neck and hauled herself against him, his bristles stabbing her
belly and gouging her tits. She pumped her ass, bouncing on his
enormous shaft, and he banged at her until she was battering
against the plank.
"God, yes, Smokey! Hit me! Hit me hard, baby!" Her cunt
flamed with hunger and gulped the grotesque feast it held. Helen
let go with her hands and flung her arms back, letting herself
arch backward over the edge of the table. Her breasts jounced
crazily and her fingers touched the ground. She knew she'd see
the moving lump on her belly of the buried cockhead, if she only
wanted to look. But she was starting to cum, and she didn't need
to see. Her thighs clamped convulsively on Smokey's sides, his
stiff hair digging at her tender flesh like handfuls of needles.
Smokey backed suddenly, as if startled at something, and she felt
herself dragged off the table. She hung head down beneath him,
supported by the grip of her legs and pulling herself against his
belly, his cock fully implanted in her. She continued to pump
while she came, and Smokey's hindquarters continued to oscillate
savagely.
His cock leaped abruptly within her and he threw his head up
and brayed. His widely planted forelegs shook in Helen's grasp
and she sobbed with overwrought awareness, pumping her hips
slowly, sliding her stuffed pussy sensuously on his spurting
cockshaft while his hot flood filled her. When the pulsing
sensations at the mouth of her cunt subsided and the donkey's cock
started to go soft, she loosened the grip of her legs and let
herself slide off him to the ground. She rolled weakly aside,
clear of his hooves, and pushed herself erect.
"Thank you, you walking cock. Thank you!" She went to him
and hugged his ugly head, rubbing her tits against his face, then
went to the corner of the corral and used the watering hose to
rinse off the thick cum that trickled from her pussy. She took a
cold douche and got dressed, leaving the corral with a bouncy step
and a satisfied smile.
"All right!" she called to the clouds. "Okay! You saw that!
Am I dirty enough? Am I doing all right or not?"
She returned to the house and made a perfunctory effort to
straighten it. But she was too impatient for Art's arrival to
care whether there was dust in the corners or not. At ten o-clock
she made up her mind to shock him. "Like he'd want to be
shocked," she said confidently. She found the bra and panties
Danny had brought to her the night before. She stripped quickly
and got into the revealing garments, then waited nervously.
She heard Art's car, peeked through the window to be sure it
was him, and went to the center of the living room. When Art
opened the door, he dropped his briefcase.
"Holy Jesus!" he exclaimed. "Is that you, Helen?"
"Of course! Honey, I've missed you something awful!"
"Sonovabitch!" He sprang across the room and crushed her in
his arms.
"Honey!" she exclaimed over his shoulder. "Honey! You left
the front door wide open!"
"Oh, shit! What's wrong with me!" He swung around, holding
her in one arm, and went back to the door. Her toes dragged on
the floor and she clung fiercely to him. He teased her, holding
her before him in the open doorway and fingering her twat through
the slit in her panties.
She was torn between hard-dying inhibitions and her new
determination to ignore them. "Art!" she gasped, her glance
darting up and down the street. "Art, honey! My God, somebody'll
see us!" And then, pressing her head back against him and
thrusting her knees apart. "To hell with it! Let them! Oh, rub,
honey!"
Art crushed her clitoris with his fingers and she thrashed in
his grip. She heard the solid "chunk" of a closing door.
Art carried her to the couch and dropped her on it. She lay
as she fell, legs asprawl and arms extended, and watched him
through half-closed eyes while he undressed. When he pushed his
shorts off his hips, his cock leaped, dark with heat, the head
halfway out of the foreskin. She rolled off the couch to her
knees and flung her arms around Art's hips, kissing the heavy
prick eagerly. She ran the tip of her tongue around the edge of
his foreskin and lipped the tip of his cockhead.
Her husband buried his hands in her hair and tilted her head
back, gazing into her face with a puzzled expression. "What's
with you, baby?" he asked. "I don't know where you hid Helen, but
you're sure as hell somebody else!" A grin grew slowly.
Helen trembled. "I'm me," she murmured. "I'm me, with the
pretending gone. I'm who you really married." She pressed her
boobs against his thighs. "Want to know about me?"
"Sometime," he said softly. "Not right now. I want to get
to know you."
He loosened his grip and she put her lips to the nose of his
cock. She sucked at it for a time and then forced her mouth over
the entire head, biting gently on the foreskin and pushing it
gently back onto his shaft. She played her tongue over his slit
and listened to his breath hiss. To her delighted surprise, the
sense of guilt that had nagged her for the past twenty-four hours
evaporated. In its place, she felt a glow of pleasure in the
knowledge she was giving him pleasure. And that's not just cock
hunger! she thought. I'm dying to get this beautiful cock into my
pussy, but that's a different feeling.
The appearance in Art's belly grew more pronounced. His
flesh twitched and he twisted his hips slowly. At last he caught
her under the armpits and raised her to her feet. "Come on, baby.
Time we tried out those fancypants." He glanced at her nipples,
outthrust by the upward force of her bra's half-cups, and his eyes
gleamed. "And that titty-vendor," he added with a grin.
He took her to the dining room, where he pulled one of the
straight chairs away from the wall. Seating himself on the edge,
he drew her toward him. She straddled his lap, her twat hovering
above his cock, and he straightened the rigid member with its head
nuzzling her. She pulled the slit of her panties open and
squatted, breathing deeply as she felt the knob of his cockhead
settle into her gash.
"Mmm! Mmm!" she exclaimed. "I'm so hot for you, honey!
God, this feels good!"
Her cunt stretched to engulf Art's cockhead and she let
herself slip down the erect shaft. She lifted her feet, hooking
her insteps over her husband's thighs, and rocked on his cock. He
balanced her, his hands at her waist, and bent forward to suck at
her nipples.
He pulled his mouth away for a moment. "If it's all right,
that is," he said.
"If what's all right?" She shook with pleasure and made no
sense out of his remark.
"Sucking your tits."
She whispered, "Don't be mean now, honey. Just fuck!"
Amazement flashed in his eyes. "Did you say what I thought
you did?"
"Please!" she wailed. "Don't spoil it!"
"Sorry, baby. All the way this time, huh? Nothing barred?"
"Oh God, honey! Do I have to draw a picture?"
"No. Just wiggle that pussy a little harder, okay?" He
grabbed her nipple again and began to chew it.
She levered her hips, grinding her pussy on the base of his
cock and feeling the head thrust back and forth in her belly. Her
hands fluttered. She caught Art's face between them and fingered
his temples, rocking her head back and gazing at the ceiling.
"Honey! Ohhh, Honey!" she exclaimed. Shudders of pleasure
racked her body. "Whew! ... Whew! ... Mmmm, yesss!"
Art let go of her tit and grunted. "Hey, baby! I'm about to
get off! You think you can cum?"
"Try me!" she forced the words past clenched teeth. "Oh,
quick, honey!"
He arched, his neck on the chair back and his ass thrusting
upward off the seat. She straightened her legs, extending them to
the sides, and felt the hardness of his hip joints digging into
the flesh of her inner thigh muscles. His fingers squeezed her
waist while she clutched fiercely at his wrists.
"Ummmmh! Baby! ... BABY!" She swayed with the pulse of her
lust.
Art bucked under her, stabbing his rigid cockshaft up into
her, uttered an explosive grunt and spewed jism into her. She
flinched at the violence of her contractions and ground her teeth
together. When her orgasm released its grip on her, she fell
forward on her husband.
"Darling! Ooohm darling! I love you! I love you so much!"
He stroked her back tenderly and touched her forehead with
his lips. "Yeah, I love you, too, sugar. I've got to say, you're
some kind of pussy today! What's the story?"
She told him of the childhood she'd kept secret from him.
She mentioned the bad feeling between her grandmother and her
parents and of her own worship of the hard-bitten old lady. And
she described in vivid detail the crucial day in the wilderness
area.
"Grandma died when she found out I was pregnant." she said.
"There was only one way I could make up for that."
"And that was turning into the sterile kind of bitch she
figured a broad ought to be?"
"Yes. I wouldn't say it like that, but yes."
"You're not that icicle today! That's for damn sure!"
"No. Or ever again. I'm the other me."
"How come?" Art grinned and touched her lips with his
fingertip. "Let me guess. Dr. Davis, maybe?"
"Ugh! Lecherous psycho! I'm never going there again!" She
shuddered. "In a way it was him, though. He made me mad enough
to start thinking. And Vanessa was there to think, too."
"Van. Yeah, she's got her feet on the ground."
"And her butt, with her legs spread, if a man looks
interested!" Helen gasped, startled by her reaction.
Art pushed her away from his chest and stared at her. "Huh!
What brought that on?"
"I saw. Art, I saw the way you took advantage when I was
helpless that night. And she'd been waiting a long time! It was
in her eyes!"
"Ohhh!" Art whistled. "Things moved too fast for you!"
"You two moved fast enough! If I'd been able to think, I'd
have thought the two of you set me up so you could get together!"
"You mean that, don't you?"
Helen hesitated. For a moment she was aware of herself as if
her consciousness were a third person. She felt the intimacy of
her flesh with Art's and the emotional tension between them. And
she had a weird sensation of clinging to him in some other
dimension with slipping fingers.
"Art!" She heard the edge of panic in her own voice.
"Honey! I'm sorry! I don't care about what you do with her!
Just save enough for me!"



Chapter 9

Art showered and dressed with no appearance of urgency.
Helen slipped facial tissues inside the crotch of her panties and
followed her husband, slouching against the cabinet in the
bathroom while he was in the shower and perching on a chair with
her arms around her knees while he was dressing. He chuckled when
she followed him from the bedroom.
"You going to stay like that?" he asked.
"Do you mind? I'm going to take a douche in a minute, but
I'm not going to dress."
"Man alive! Go douche, then!" He slapped her bottom. "And
hurry!"
While she was in the bathroom, she heard the telephone. When
she returned to the living room, Art was grinning.
"Hey! Guess what sugar! That was Van on the line!"
"Does she want me to call her back?" asked Helen.
Art shook his head, still grinning. "She wanted to tell you
she and Barry were going to drop by. Be here in a few minutes."
"A few minutes!" Helen clutched at herself. "What for?"
Her husband shrugged. "Damned if I know. Just being
friendly, near as I could tell." He glanced sideways at her.
"Hell, maybe they figured they'd catch you alone and join you for
fun and games. They didn't know I was taking the day off."
"Art! What a thing to say!"
He laughed. "I sure can't imagine why else Barry would be
coming. Hell, he's got a job, too! You don't make sales sitting
around home!"
She giggled. "Depends on what you're selling." And his
earlier words came to her. "A few minutes, did you say!" She
shrieked. "Honey! It was more than a few minutes ago when they
called."
"Yeah."
"And you let me sit around here like this! Honestly, Art!"
"Barry's not about to criticize. And Van's understanding.
Why not?"
Why not! Why not, for the today-Helen? she thought. Brrr!
I wouldn't back away from that cock today! "I think you're mean,"
she told Art. "But I've got the guts to call your bluff--this
time."
She thought his eyes widened a trifle; she was certain he
wasn't laughing. She dropped to the couch beside him and
snuggled.
"Good God! You're going to do it, aren't you!"
"I'll dress if you say so."
"Naw. Let it go." He put his arm around her and toyed with
one of her nipples. "That reminds me!" he said suddenly. "I'm
hungry!"
"I'll fix something for lunch!" She scrambled to her feet.
"I'll get enough so they can eat with us if they have time."
"Good."
Before she had gotten to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. She
heard voices and recognized Vanessa's. I can't do it! she
realized with a sinking feeling. I know I can't! Not like this!
She darted into the kitchen. An apron! That's what I need! She
jerked open the apron drawer and held up one of her hostess
models.
"Oh, no!" she cried aloud. The apron was a dainty,
decorative bit of uselessness, and the notion of resorting to it
abruptly drew on a streak of perverse humor. She giggled and tied
the belt ribbon on. Heart-shaped, the lower panel had a narrow
band of red trim and a wider lace ruffle. She raised the upper
panel and buttoned its straps behind her neck. It was a second,
smaller heart, each lobe lying against the underside of one of her
breasts with its strap wide of her nipple. She had to giggle
again.
"My-y-y God!" Vanessa's tone was a mixture of astonishment
and awe. "Helen!"
Helen whirled. "Oh, dear God, Van! You scared me out of ten
year's growth. I was afraid Barry was with you!"
"He's in with Art. But what are you doing dressed like
that?"
"Art didn't change the other night, Van. You didn't really
expect him to be that shocked, did you?"
Vanessa appeared to tense. "Well ..."
"I wouldn't have expected it either, except I was high on
screwdrivers. Anyhow, doing what I did convinced me how important
he is to me." She paused and spread her hands, palms forward.
"So I changed, instead."
"I can't believe it! Honey, you're not going out there in
front of Barry like that, are you?"
"Why not? It didn't bother you the other night?"
"Damn it, that was night time! He's still got calls to
make."
"Then how come he's over here in the middle of the day?"
Vanessa sniffed. "I didn't know that was a crime!"
"I didn't say it was. But neither one of you knew that Art
was home today."
"No. We didn't. Why is he, anyway?" Vanessa's glance fell
to Helen's scanty costume and the corners of her mouth crinkled.
"On second thought, that's a foolish question."
"Art said you probably meant to take up where you left off
the other night," suggested Helen. She was conscious of a twinge
of guilt at the implication that Art had meant his little jest.
"You mean ...?" Van gasped. "For God's sake! Are you two
paranoid?"
"He didn't mean it. I wondered, though, after he said it."
"Well! We were worried, if you want to know. We realized
that was a rough experience for you. Barry thought you might like
to go out to lunch with us." She shook her head. "Looks like
that's the last thing you want to do."
"I was getting ready to fix something to eat here. Why don't
you and Barry eat with us?"
"With you dressed like that, Barry would only be thinking of
eating one thing. God, Helen! Turn around! Let me see how you
look from behind!"
Helen turned, resentful of Vanessa's reaction. She heard
Vanessa's low whistle.
"Those panties are a louder invitation than the ones Olga
wears!" exclaimed the blonde. She smiled suddenly. "I wouldn't
have guessed you'd own anything like that."
"Art sent for them. I couldn't throw them out, but they
didn't ever come out of the drawer."
"He sent off? Where?"
Helen laughed. "You want a pair? They're risky, Van." Her
irritations evaporated. After all, she has a right to be off
balance, she thought. How was she to know I was going to change?
She didn't even know about the other me. "Art might remember,
though, if you're not scared of what might happen."
Vanessa responded to the new note in Helen's voice. "Honey,
I said the other night you had guts. I just didn't know how much!
Would you honestly let Barry see you in those in the middle of the
day?"
Helen unfastened the apron and drew it aside with a delicious
thrill of wickedness as Vanessa gasped.
"Oh, God!" Vanessa groaned. "They're hotter than I thought!
They don't hide anything! You wouldn't!"
"Yes, I would." Helen's stomach fluttered. Vanessa wasn't
going to permit that, but the mere challenge was frightening.
Vanessa let her breath out slowly. "Oh, my! Honey, come on!
I don't care if he does miss those calls! A guy doesn't get a
chance to see that kind of underwear on a body like yours that
often! He'd never forgive me if I cheated him out of it!"
"Oh, no! You don't really want me to!"
"No! Hell no! But Barry would! Come on!"
"But I haven't got lunch yet!"
"We can come back and fix it. Come on."
Vanessa grabbed Helen's hand and tugged. Helen hung back,
and she thought for a moment Vanessa would give up. Then she felt
her strength fade and the eager blonde dragged her from the room.
"Barry? Hey, Barry!" called Vanessa.
Helen freed herself by a desperate wrench. "I'll go! For
God's sake, don't drag me!"
Barry and Art looked up as the two women entered the living
room. Helen flushed under Barry's startled stare.
He whistled. "Jesus, Helen! What's with her, Art?"
Art shrugged. "Look for yourself. She sure as hell can't be
hiding much."
Although his voice implied humor, Helen saw something else in
his face. The sudden hunger she saw drew her like a magnet, and
she glided to him. He extended his arm to lay his hand on her
hip, the contact shocking her like an electric probe. He place
his other hand on her waist and drew her to him. She emerged from
her trance-like state long enough to throw a mute appeal to her
husband, then let herself sink onto Barry's lap. He turned her as
she lowered herself, and she leaned back against him, her head
next to his cheek.
"Goddamn it, baby!" he said. "You'd make a guy lose his head
with a show like that!" His fingertips brushed her nipples. "I
don't see how I'm going to be in any shape to work this afternoon!
When did you start wearing this kind of stuff around the house?"
"You talk a lot," she murmured, her flesh quivering at the
continued fondling of her tits.
"I guess." He laughed and began to rub her bare belly. "But
you've been so damn modest all the time we've known you, I thought
you were a prude! And then night before last and today! ...
Shit! Is it a wonder I talk?"
She moaned softly and squirmed. "I don't know. Art didn't."
Barry winced and squeezed her breast. "Art's a man of
action, pet. Or else he's got a one-track mind? I don't know
which. Me, I like the way conversation lubricates a situation."
It isn't talk that's getting me lubricated! thought Helen.
God. I'm wet!
Barry felt the protruding strands of her pubic hair and the
taut netting of her panties. "Tell Van where these came from,
baby. She's got to have some."
"They came from Art, and I told her."
"Like hell! I mean, where he got them! She'd better not get
any from him!"
"Barry! You sound jealous!"
"I don't care what you call it. She's had hot pants for that
guy of yours as long as I did for you! If she wants him to lay
her once in a while, that's fine with me. But I'll be damned if
he's going to buy these things for her!" He slid his hand between
her thighs.
Helen clamped her legs together and Barry used both hands to
pry them apart. He grabbed her twat and his finger slipped
through the panty opening. He gasped.
"Christ! What next! A cockgate!"
Barry maneuvered her on his lap until he could unzip his
pants and let his cock surge through his fly.
"Oh, dear!" she whispered. "Oh, dear!" She tightened her
buttocks and thrust her legs out, raising her pussy for him.
He parted her labia and dragged his fingers over the mouth of
her vagina. Her hips twisted.
"Barry, darling," she whispered. "Put your cock in, please!
I want him so!"
"Shit, Helen! I've got to work this afternoon!"
"With a hard-on?"
He laughed. "You win. And that's how it would be. Probably
will anyhow, every time I think of you in these fuck-pants!" He
grasped her by the waist and raised her onto his cock.
She bent forward to rest her hands on his thighs, settling
onto the hard prick. A gust of contentment swept her as she felt
herself filled. "Ahhh! Barry, Barry!"
He slid his hands onto her hips, grasping the smooth bulges
firmly and bouncing her. The edge of the couch pressed her calves
and her breasts leaped in their half-cup supports. She clenched
her teeth and groaned shakily.
"I'm going to cum pretty fast this way, baby," Barry told
her. "Seeing that little strip of hot net across an ass like
yours is enough to light a short fuse!"
"I don't care!" she panted. "I'll love every second of it!"
She was surprised at having discovered she wasn't up-tight about
reaching an orgasm. Because I've had so many the last three days.
she thought. I wouldn't fight it, but I can wait until next time.
Barry's hips jerked upward, his balls mounding against the
sober gray of his trousers, and Helen felt herself driven higher,
the base of his cock hard against her pussy. She shook while
Barry pumped his jism into her and continued to twitch after he
had squeezed out the last of his cum and fallen back. When there
was no stiffness left in the cock that impaled her, she pushed
herself off. She faced Barry, bending over him and kissing him on
the mouth. Then she straightened.
"Thank you, darling," she said. "It feels so good to have
you screw me."
He sighed. "You're a good lay, Helen. I wish we'd started
swapping sooner."
She tensed. "Swapping! Barry, only nasty minded sex fiends
swap! We're not doing that!"
"Whatever. I still wish we'd started sooner."
"Okay. So do I," She wrinkled her nose at him. "We didn't,
though. That means we've got to catch up."
"Oh, shit!" he groaned. "One crack like that and I'm in just
as bad a shape as I was before you made me screw you! Helen,
you're not even the same broad I used to know!"
"No." She dropped her glance to her toes. "No, I'm not,
Barry. But that's a long story."
"Tell you what," he said. "I'm going to remember that. One
of these nights we'll make it as far as a bed. And when we're
screwed out, we can lie there next to each other while you tell me
the whole thing. Time you finish, we'll be rested enough to make
it again."
"Oh, you!" she laughed, feeling herself flush. "Van? Do we
have to get lunch?"
Vanessa cuddled on Art's lap, her lips at his ear, stirred
and looked around. "Hmm? Lunch? Not now. Barry's appointment
is in half an hour." She glanced at her husband. "For heaven's
sake, Barry! Get your peter in!" And then, "Oh, no! You've got
to go home and change! You've got pussy tracks all over you!"
Helen's face burned and she avoided Vanessa's eyes. Barry
grumbled and tucked his cock inside his trousers.
"It isn't all that Goddamn bad, woman." he growled.
"It's bad enough you've got to change your pants!"
"Okay, okay. I didn't say I wasn't going to. Only we'll
have to get a move on. You ready to wind up whatever you got
going with Art?"
"And what would that be?" Vanessa bristled.
"How the hell would I know? Maybe you're trying to work him
for a pair of those fuck-pants!"
"Barry Rush!" His wife blazed at him. "You go ahead. I'll
get Art and Helen to bring me home."
"Suit yourself." Barry heaved himself to his feet and zipped
his fly. He paused on the way to the door to kiss Helen, then he
was gone.
"Maybe he was hungry," suggested Art.
"Of course he was! Hungry for pussy when he saw all that
flesh! Well, he got it, didn't he?"
Helen resented Vanessa's implications. "It seems to me you
dragged me in here like this," she said. "I was looking for
something to cover me up."
"A hostess apron?!" Vanessa snorted. "What's the difference?
I mean, after all!"
"You still dragged me in."
"Damn it! Once I saw you like that I couldn't do anything
else! It's a sort of a thing between Barry and me. Like an
unwritten agreement. But I wouldn't have had to if you'd had any
clothes on."
"Van! For Christ's sake! I dress for what's happening when
I'm at home, not for whether someone might drop in!"
"I called first."
Art nodded. "They did phone first," he said. "Fact is, I've
got to agree it's going pretty far to shack up with another guy on
his lunch break. I mean, it's like the difference between liking
to eat and being compulsive about it. I don't know that we want
to let this thing between us go quite that far."
Helen stared at her husband, aghast. He didn't want me the
way I was. she thought. Now he doesn't want me this way, either!
A tendril of panic sneaked through her. What'll I do! It's too
late to go back! It was bad enough to have to live with what I
did with that Indian guide: I couldn't stand to have all the
things I've done these three days hiding in the back of my mind!
Besides, I like sex too much. If I have to choose, I'd rather be
what I am now! Oh, what'll I do?
Vanessa sighed and got up. "Look, maybe we're all hungry.
We're getting all up-tight without any good reason. We're mature
enough to be honest about what we feel like doing. If one of us
is a little hotter what's the difference? Maybe I don't yank off
my clothes every time I get hot for Art, but there might be a time
when I would. I'm not going to set myself up to judge you for
going overboard, Helen."



Chapter 10

Helen cleaned up after lunch. She'd sensed a current flow
between Art and Vanessa and suggested that he take Vanessa home.
She knew he'd understood--and that he wouldn't hurry back. And
she found herself spending more time thinking than working. The
two strokes of the grandmother clock in the dining room nearly
failed to register with her. She felt them rather than hearing
them, and they were nothing but an echo in her mind when she
realized they meant something.
"Omigod!" she exclaimed aloud to herself. Danny! He gets
out of school at two! And he'll probably run all the way home!
He's not going to catch me dressed this way!
She dropped the plate she was holding. Ignoring the crash it
made when it shattered on the floor, she sprinted toward the
master bedroom.
"I did promise about the bath," she muttered. "I did promise
about that. And he'll insist on watching me undress. Well, I'm
not going to be wearing these! Not for him again!" She whipped
off the controversial bra and panties and put on more conventional
replacements. What dress? What dress? She searched through her
closet, then stopped abruptly. Helen! You stupid bitch! Why not
a dressing gown? What would be more natural, knowing I'm going to
be taking a bath?
She stripped again and shrugged into her everyday dressing
gown, wondering why she hadn't heard her son yet. She worried in
spite of herself, and she'd gone to both outside doors before she
recalled that Danny would assume his father was there. "And he'll
figure I'm not going to take a bath in front of him when Art's
home," she added aloud.
As she closed the back door she heard Danny come in through
the front.
After a moment of silence, he called out. "Hey! Anyone
home? Where is everybody?"
She smiled. "Here I am Danny."
"Oh. Okay."
She went through the kitchen to the dining room and saw her
son disappearing in to his room. He reappeared at once.
"Had to get rid of my books," he said. "Hey, where's Dad?"
"He went out. He'll be back for supper."
"Oh. Good! Hey, Mom, any apples? I'll eat one while I'm
watching you take a bath." He paused and a question showed in his
expression. "You didn't take it yet, did you? You promised,
Mom!"
She shook her head. "No. No, I haven't taken it yet."
"Great! Bitchin', Mom! Hey, I got an idea! I'll eat that
apple later; I'll take a bath with you, Mom! Won't that be
something else!"
He seized her and crushed her to him, twisting her so her
breasts rubbed on his chest. His hand slid through the overlap on
the front of her gown and pressed between her thighs to bury
itself among the folds of her pussy. She squirmed, warmth rising
through her and a surge of excitement momentarily making her
giddy.
"Oh, Danny!" she whispered. "Please!"
"Oh, okay." He withdrew his hand after letting one fingertip
dart into her cunt for an instant. "Okay, I guess. Come on.
We've got a lot of time."
They had, she realized. They had time for Danny to carry out
any number of boyish games with her, and she was convinced his was
an inventive imagination. She shivered and backed away. They
went to the master bath, where she knelt to start the water. She
used a generous portion of bubblebath, knowing she'd be grateful
for the thick suds at first. After that, she thought with a sigh,
I won't care. I know it!
Instead of waiting for the tub to fill, Danny returned to his
room to undress. "It's like filling a swimming pool," he muttered
as he left.
When he returned he was totally naked and had a massive hard-
on. Helen felt a painful surge of desire at the sight of his
youthful leanness as he strode into the room completely unabashed
by his stiff erection. She was struck again by the over-sized
appearance of his cock and its darkness. He looked as if someone
had constructed him out of spare parts, giving him a boy's body--
beautifully developed, but a boy's nonetheless--and a giant's
prick. There was no mistaking his immaturity, however. He had a
massive hard-on, his cock engorged and already dripping long, thin
strands of his colorless pre-cum fluid. Helen's mouth watered.
Danny was as eager as his hard-on made him appear. He went
immediately to his mother and untied her belt, drawing back the
front of her gown to expose her creamy nakedness. His eyes
glittered and he licked his lips. Helen quailed before his fierce
expression of hunger. She clutched his forearms, recognizing his
physical tension by the iron-hard condition of his muscles. With
as little attention to her resistance as if her hands were at her
sides, he raised his arms and slipped the gown off her shoulders.
She released his wrists and let the garment slide off her arms and
tumble to the floor.
Her son breathed hard as he ran his hands over her. "I
thought about you all day, Mom," he said. "I kept seeing you like
this and getting a hard-on." He grinned wryly. "By the end of
the first period my balls ached so bad I could hardly make it to
the next class!"
She whispered. "Danny ..." And she stopped, having nothing
to say.
She quivered, standing motionless while he continued to
caress her. Her flesh tingled and there was a pressure in her
lungs she couldn't ease. She knew nothing would help the dryness
in her mouth, but she kept trying to generate saliva. Time seemed
to her to have frozen, and she had a weird presentiment that she
would stand before her son through eternity, his hands stroking
her and his eyes devouring her.
"Isn't that tub full enough yet?" he asked.
She tore her gaze from his face and looked down. "Yes! If
we're both going to get in there, it'll run over if it's any
fuller!"
He stopped and turned the valves, then helped her as she
stepped down into the water. She sank grateful into the foam,
thankful as she'd expected for the momentary respite from Danny's
attention. He followed her in and luxuriated in the hot, foamy
water. The dark purple knob of his erection poked up just above
the surface of the water.
"Wow! This is all right! A guy could get to like this!" he
exclaimed. "Maybe chicks have the right idea!"
She smiled. "It's a woman's secret--the way we unwind."
He grinned. "Be as good a place to wind up as unwind," he
remarked. "Let's try it." He pulled her around, her back against
his belly, and forced her legs apart. To keep them spread to his
liking, he raised his knees and planted his feet between her
thighs. She raised her own knees to ease the strain and gasped
when he grabbed her pussy. He wasted little time finding her
clitoris. He rubbed it gently, the soapy water making his
fingertips slide easily on its sensitive surfaces, and Helen
gulped with sudden lust. Her cunt felt as if it would look like a
fish's mouth at feeding time, snapping greedily at nothing.
She grunted and thrust her hands between her back and her
son's belly to seize his cock. He forced the fingers of one hand
into her cunt and pulled her forward, tilting her and forcing her
even further open.
"Danny! Danny!" she writhed against him.
Her clitoris felt raw before he abandoned his massage and she
was certain he'd sensed how close she had come to orgasm. He kept
one hand at her pussy, still thrust deeply into it, and slid the
other under her to squeeze her buttocks. His fingers probed
toward her rectum, and she raised herself involuntarily for the
penetration she knew would come. She felt one finger force its
way into her, then gasped and cried out as another joined it. The
dual insertion, with his hands filling both her cunt and her
rectum, destroyed the last vestiges of her self-control. She
jerked her legs around his and thrust her ass about wildly. Her
arms shook with the force of her grip on her son's cock, and she
used the rock-hard prick as a lever for her thrashing. Her boobs
surged in and out of the water, splashing great gobs of foam up
and onto the surrounding floor.
"Omigod! Omigod! Danny, I'm already cumming! AGHHH!"
"You've got a long way to go, Mom." Danny's voice sounded
strained. "My cock's got a fierce load, and you're going to be
all over it!"
She groaned, the rigidity of her climax reaction fading, and
lay back panting. "Oh, my! Oh, my, Danny! I couldn't help it!"
"It doesn't matter. You can come over and over." He
captured her clitoris under his thumb without evacuating either
her ass or her pussy.
She shrieked. "NO! Please, Danny! It's too tender right
now! Ohhh, please!"
He ignored her pleading and new streaks of intolerable
excitement stabbed her. She struggle to stop him, but his legs
held hers helplessly apart and she found his elbows had her arms
trapped.
"Damn you, Danny! You just don't care if it hurts, do you?"
"Aw, you're just saying that, Mom. It really feels good,
only you want to wait in between times."
"No! No, I tell you it hurts!"
"Pain and excitement are all the same ... no, pain and
pleasure. One of the guys said he read that in a book."
The cocky little bastard! she thought of Danny. This time he
happens to be right. It's really just too much pleasure to take.
But that pleasure pain bit could get dangerous! She gave up
analysis; pleasure had overcome reluctance and she was flailing
about on his hands again.
She reached such a high pitch that she only vaguely knew when
he pulled out his fingers. She was conscious only of the fact
that she was terribly full and deliriously happy at one point,
then empty and yearning at another.
He lifted her up and sat her down on his cock with the head
lodged at her rectum.
"Easy the first time." she cautioned him.
He didn't force her down, only guided her hips as he withdrew
support, letting her own weight force her reluctant sphincter over
the great bulb.
"Oh, Jesus!" she groaned aloud as her sphincter slowly
dilated and swallowed the fat knob of his cock.
Her ass burned furiously, lacking sufficient lubrication.
Her finger nails dug viciously into the flesh of his bare
shoulders and her jaws clenched so tight that her neck hurt as she
settled slowly onto the long shaft, silently enduring the fiery
sensation of first entry.
When they were first married and still experimenting she had
done this several times with Art. After the initial pain passed
she had enjoyed it immensely. But that had been a long time ago
and Danny was much bigger than Art.
"Oh, no! Danny, it's too much! Please, don't!" she begged.
"Not so deep, Danny! You're going to hurt me!"
But Danny appeared to have further plans for her in his own
build-up. He lifted her higher during one of the strokes, and she
writhed helplessly while the wide shoulders of his cockhead tugged
against her asshole and her sphincter slowly stretched enough to
give up its enormous prisoner. When he lowered her again his cock
drove upward into her cunt. There was no change in the motion,
except she slid faster each time she was dropped, slamming onto
the base of his cock with jarring blows. And the sensations
seemed more intensely sexual.
On the next upstroke he shifted again and she came down with
her ass still burning but empty and her pussy crammed full. The
sensation was so intense that lights exploded in her brain, she
quivered from head to toe and her cunt clenched spasmodically on
her son's cockshaft. Vaguely, through the mist of her climax she
heard Danny's voice. "That's a good one, huh, Mom?"
At last--and still without having reached an orgasm--her son
peeled her off his cock. He thrust her away from him, pressing
her back against one side of the tub and kneeling astride her
body. "How is it, Mom?" he asked. "Good, huh?"
He grinned proudly and thrust his belly forward grasping his
cock in one hand a rubbing it across her mouth. Even in her dazed
condition, her pussy hardened and her mouth watered at the
sensation of the velvety cockhead on her lips. She dabbed at the
thin coating of his fluid with her tongue.
"I'm something special, huh, Mom? Boy, I know some things to
do!" He placed his hands in her armpits and lifted, sliding her
more nearly erect. "I'm ready now, Mom. I thought this up by
myself!"
He pressed against her, laying his cock in the cleft between
her breasts, his thighs shoving up and in against the fullness of
her globes. Raising her hands, he placed her palms on the outer
slopes of her boobs and pushed until her flesh closed over the
base and lower shaft of his cock. His balls rested against her
solar plexus, bumping when she inhaled. His cock reared from
between her breasts with its head touching the point of her chin.
"See, Mom? Room service! Boobs and mouth at the same time!
Okay?"
Despite the revulsion she experienced at his egotism, she
throbbed from the combined stimulus of the pulsing warmth between
her boobs and the heavy scent of the bulb at her lower lip.
"Okay, Son," she murmured. A spasm of desire seized her and she
grunted. "Yes! Yes, Danny!" She lowered her face, her mouth
opening widely to envelop his cockhead.
Her son pumped his hips slowly, his shaft sliding freely
between the foamy surfaces of her boobs and his cockhead rubbing a
path along the roof of her mouth to the arch of her throat. The
tip of her tongue jabbed into his slit, exploring the quivering
walls, and she sucked frantically. He pumped faster, a recurrent
tremor betraying his growing agitation. Helen kneaded the sides
of her breasts without being conscious of the act and pushed them
to present her nipples to the friction of her son's belly.
Danny bent his neck abruptly, resting his chin on his chest
and gritting his teeth audibly. His cock pulsed and steaming,
thick jism welled into the back of Helen's mouth. She gulped,
swallowing his cum as fast as he pumped it, the sweet-sour flavor
making the back of her jaw buzz. She had a moment of detached
realization that she wasn't going to come and an immediate surge
of satisfaction in the knowledge. Her dazed condition cleared
abruptly, leaving her alert and calm.
When Danny's rigidity ebbed, she was content to allow her own
passion to cool without resolution. She sucked his cockhead dry
and removed her hands from her breasts. Danny continued to lean
against her for a time, then slid back into the water to rest.
"Whew!" He grinned wearily at his mother. "Whew! Some
fuck, MOM!"
She returned his gaze coolly. "Danny, it's time we started
treating that word with proper respect."
"Huh?" He stared.
"Fuck is a powerful word. It's short and pungent and earthy.
It's sound sort of reaches down into a person's guts and makes
them feel like what it means. It loses all that if it's used at
the wrong times or with the wrong meaning. Understand?"
"I guess so." He shook his head slowly.
Helen actuated the drain lever and rose to her feet. She
reached across to the towels and handed one to her son, sponging
at the water that coursed down her own body.
"Hey!" Danny protested. "You said I could dry you!"
"You can. I'm just getting the worst of it so I won't make a
big puddle on the floor."
"Oh." Danny toweled himself rapidly and clambered out of the
tub.
Helen accepted her son's help as she stepped out and stood
quietly while he fondled her through the towel. His hands aroused
her, even through the thick terrycloth, and she made no effort to
resist the impulses that coursed through her. She permitted
herself to squirm when she felt like it and to thrust her pussy
harder against Danny's hand when he dried it, frankly parting her
thighs to heighten her pleasure. But when she was dry and Danny
had tossed the towel aside, she vetoed his attempt to resume his
feeling-up.
"Huh? But, Mom!" Danny looked deeply puzzled. "What's
wrong?"
"You're looking forward to another two hours of sex, I
suppose."
"Well ... well, aren't we going to?"
"No."
"Why not? Aw, shit, Mom!"
"Danny!" she drew herself erect. "That'll be all of that
kind of language."
"But gee, MOM! What's all the fuss?"
"No fuss. Just time we understood each other. Time to find
out where each of us stands."
He attempted to divert her. "Rather lay," he said with a
grin.
"Of course!" She smiled. "Look, Danny. You've got to learn
a lot yet before you can spend all your time on sex. Maybe then
you'll know better. The point is, this thing of ours got started
in a sort of misunderstanding. When you found those doors open
and barged in on me, you made some remark about having had the
wrong idea about privacy. Well, modesty's another word that has
something to do with privacy. Privacy and modesty mean just about
the same thing in this house now as they did before that day.
"The same kinds of off-limits things, Mom?"
"Yes. You caught me in the very worst spot in my changeover
of ideas and ... well, values. I'm not going into that with you,
but things were so confused I let you assume things that weren't
true. And I let you make plans that aren't going to get carried
out."
"Like what plans, Mom?"
She saw an edge of fear in his expression. He knows he's
about to lose something that he thought he had sewed up, she
thought. She felt a pang of sympathy, but her obligation was
clear. "Like your idea we were going to play sex games every time
the coast was clear ... that you had a license to play sex games
with me whenever you felt like it. It's not going to work that
way. You lucked out about getting a real life demonstration of
what Mr. Duffy was talking about. You even got to try out some
pretty wild ideas of your own. But that's as far as it goes. I
get my sex from your father, and I like it. When it's time for
you to get yours, you're on your own. I'll answer questions. I
might even listen to fantasies sometime and tell you how they
affect me--or whether I think they're possible. But I'm not going
to be a guinea pig for you."
"You mean, like Smokey?"
She smiled again. "Like Smokey. Incidentally, if you do
find a girl who's willing to try that, she might like it better
the first time if you can work it so she's on her back. She'll
have less psychological blocks to overcome and more erotic contact
with the animal."
Her son's eyes widened. She realized he was speculating--
that he must suspect she'd continued that line of research without
his knowledge. But she wasn't concerned; she expected him to
harbor some residue of erotic notions about her from now on.
"The fact is, Danny, I might even let you play with me once
in a while. That's not a promise, and you shouldn't count on it,
but it isn't impossible that I might feel like it someday. In the
meantime, you'd better get a good look at me right now, because
I'm through posing for you."

* * *

Helen's plans came to naught. Less than an hour later the
telephone rang. Art was calling to say his business deal was not
complete and that he'd be staying over another day.
The last few days' activities had built a need in her, a need
she had planned to share with Art. But Art wasn't available.
Helen tried to ignore the need building in her but it was too
great. Finally swallowing her pride she went in search of Danny.
"Your father won't be home until 4:00 tomorrow afternoon. If
you agree to abide by my rules we'll do whatever you want until
then." She could see him mentally calculating the hours. "I'll
even let you skip school tomorrow," she added.
"What if I don't agree?" he asked with a note of challenge in
his voice.
"Marmion Military Academy!" she stated flatly.
"Mom! You wouldn't!" Danny protested in amazement.
"You just try me, young man!" she challenged.
"What are your rules?" he asked a little petulantly.
"Just one rule. After tomorrow you don't ever come on to me
again. When, and if, I'm interested I'll come to you. Its been
wonderful, Danny, but it's wrong."
"Okay. I agree." he succumbed reluctantly.
Helen gave a small sigh of relief and relaxed visibly,
confident now that she was now in control again. Danny would
never know how close he had come to total domination of his
mother.
"When do we start?" Danny asked on a slightly brighter note.
"Right now, if you want. I'm all yours until four-o-clock
Monday."

* * *

Helen woke with the scent of jism strong in her nostrils.
When she moved her bottom hurt and she remembered Danny reaming
her asshole.
Yesterday had been a sexual marathon. Again she had made the
mistake of underestimating Danny's sexual appetite and stamina.
In the shower she cleaned herself ... the shower door slid
open and Danny stepped into the small steamy compartment with her.
Her son, her lover, her tormentor. It was nine in the morning.
She had to endure another seven hours of torment and bliss.



Chapter 11

Helen had Art to herself that evening. Danny climaxed a
restless afternoon by requesting permission to eat pizza at a
place downtown and see one of the new movies, and she was quite
willing to agree. Before Danny left, he brought up the subject of
the donkey again.
"Don't get mad, Mom, but I was wondering."
"What?"
"Well, most people don't get around donkeys very much. Do
you think dogs would be likely to do that as Smokey was?"
She hesitated. "Probably," she replied at last.
"Mom, was he good?"
She felt a flush rise to her face. "Yes. Very good."
"Hmmmm."
He had been gone only a few minutes when Art got home, and
Art had seen Danny.
"I saw Danny crossing a vacant lot about six blocks from
here. Where's he going?"
She told him.
"Oh." Art's voice sounded lighter. "How come you're all
dressed then?"
She sniffed. "Seems to me there was something mentioned
about people being modest." She grinned at his pained expression.
"Look, hon," she said. "I had a chance to take a good look at
myself while you were with Van this afternoon. I decided I'd
swung like a pendulum. I was a first class Victorian--a Grandma
Farrell--until I realized I was going to lose you that way. So I
went to the other extreme--a no-holds-barred nympho. Well, I
think I know what I am now."
"Yeah? Well enough to tell me?"
"I think so. I love sex, honey. I'll do anything or let
anything happen to me ... at the right time, with the right person
and when I'm in the right mood. I'm going to be my own boss about
that, and I'm not going to let Grandma Farrell's ghost scare me
out of having fun or let every casual stimulus stampede me into
tearing off my clothes."
Art was studying her with an expression of obvious respect.
She leaned against him and let her love for him show in her smile.
"Of course, darling ..." she spoke softly. "The strongest
stimulus I know is seeing you want me. And that's never casual."
"If I get a 'let's screw' look in my eye, off come the
clothes?" he asked with a grin.
"If that's what you want. Or on they stay, if you want it
that way."
He began to look agitated. "What about guys like Barry?"
"I'm not sure. Barry's good with sex. I don't mind having
him make love to me. But he's not so important to me that I'd let
him if you didn't want me to. And I'm certainly not interested in
trying out anybody else, unless you think I ought to." She
hesitated, then continued. "If I see a guy who really turns me
on, I'll tell you about him and we'll decide if I ought to try him
out."
Art whistled. "Goddamn! That doesn't sound like a woman
talking! Sounds like the way a man would think!"
"There's been some pressure," she said. "It wasn't the kind
of pressure I could have survived with tears of wishful thinking.
Maybe it took survival-type logic." She smiled in an effort to
appear disarming. "I guess that's what men call man-type
thinking."
He growled. "Come on, you sexy broad. Let's eat so we'll
have some time for screwing!"
She got supper ready, pausing from time to time to enjoy one
of Art's lewd caresses, and they ate quickly. Art helped her with
the dishes, and while she was polishing the sink and cabinet he
began to unbutton her dress. She gave herself up to a delicious,
all-over tingle and completed her work with a hasty swipe of the
cloth. Hanging it over the faucet, she turned to face her
husband.
Art pushed her dress off her shoulders and she let it slide
to the floor, remembering how her dressing gown had fallen beside
the bathtub. She watched Art's jaw twitch as he unfastened her
bra and pulled it away from her breasts. And she rested the heels
of her hands on the cabinet and leaned back, the cold edge
pressing into the small of her back while Art closed his lips over
one puckered nipple. When he straightened, his hands already
rolling down the top of her panties, he sighed gustily.
"I'm going to like the new Helen best of all," he said.
"Me too!" Helen shivered.
The telephone rang at precisely the moment that Helen drew
her foot out of her panties. She wrinkled her nose.
Art swore. "Oh, shit! Now what?"
"I'll get it, honey."
"Well ... Okay, but I'll go with you."
When she picked up the receiver, he stood behind her. She
leaned against him and he cupped his hands over her breasts,
kneading gently.
"Hello?"
"Hi. This is Van."
"Oh! Hi, Van."
"Helen, Barry and I were wondering if you and Art would like
to come over for some games tonight."
Helen repeated the message to Art. He hesitated.
"I'm not too eager about it right now," he said. "It's up to
you, though."
She spoke into the mouthpiece. "Van, would you be awfully
upset if we took a raincheck?"
"No, I guess not. Say, did Art tell you what happened this
afternoon?"
"No."
"One of those pipes in the upstairs bathroom ruptured. The
place was flooded! I had to call a plumber, and there were three
of them here all afternoon running copper tubing. Art and I spent
five hours trying to save everything that was wet. Tell him,
'Thanks again!' "
"I will."
"Oh, another thing. You might want to keep on eye on Danny,
too."
"What?"
Van chuckled. "That kid's got enterprise! He was over here
about an hour ago. Talked me into showing him how I trim that
special hybrid Winter Wonder in our lath house. I was so
surprised when he started to feel me up I didn't stop him. He was
damn good at it, and I wanted to see how far he'd go. Well, let
me tell you, I'll spin on that cock anytime! Honey, he was
magnificent! But is he ever athletic! He had me all over the
lath house ... in the leafmold, on the benches, against the
planters ... Jesus!
"Good God!" whispered Helen. "Oh, Van! I'm sorry!"
"Helen, don't apologize. But you'd better tell me if you
don't want him making out over here. I like what he's got, and he
can play games with me any day of the week!" Vanessa laughed
nervously. "I think he finally hit on a way to break the ice with
that snotty sister of mine too. Don't ask me how, but he must
have found out Olga's one human trait is she's an absolute
pushover for animals! Show her a stray cat or a bird with a
broken wing or a perfectly healthy goat and she adopts the damn
thing. So Danny just happened to ask her--just happened to, mind
you--if she'd ever spent much time around donkeys. Seems his
donkey--Smokey, of course--has had some problem Danny can't figure
out how to solve. He didn't seem willing to describe what was
wrong; said a person would have to see for himself to appreciate
how seriously it distressed the poor creature. And Olga thawed
and had Danny out of here so fast it made our heads swim!"
Helen groaned faintly. "Any other sparkling news?" she
asked.
"No. I guess that covers it. I'll phone you to see if we
can work out a good time for another get-together. Okay?"
"Okay."
When Helen hung up, Art swept her into his arms and carried
her to the couch. She was aflame with desire for him as the
result of his unceasing attention to her boobs during the long
telephone conversation, but he sent her excitement rocketing with
the unrestricted handling he gave her now. She was so ecstatic
over her own response; she soared into three orgasms before he
reached his first, and she began to think there was nothing he
could do that wouldn't drive her to climax.
Vanessa called back an hour later. "Helen I guess Danny
scored with Olga, too. He just brought her back, and she's
dragging as if she'd treated the Army of the South! I'm afraid
they didn't give poor old Smokey much help." She paused. "What's
wrong with the old fellow, anyway?"
"It's like Danny said, Van. You've got to see it to
understand what a problem it is for him."
"I wish I could help. I'd do just about anything for that
sweet old thing."
Helen gasped and grinned with delight. She could think of
nothing that would give her more satisfaction than to see Van's
full-curved body under Smokey, impaled with that majestic cock of
his. And, if she worked it right, she could use Danny's movie
camera to provide something she and Art could enjoy over and over.
"Van?"
"Huh?"
"You mean that? About helping him, I mean?"
"I certainly do!"
"Maybe if you have time tomorrow morning you could take a
look at him."
"Good heavens, yes! I'll be over as soon as Barry and Olga
are out of the house!"
This time, when Helen turned away from the telephone, she was
in an incredulous daze. She could hardly believe it had been so
easy. But Art looked concerned.
"What's all this about Smokey?" he asked. "Something wrong
with him I didn't know about?"
She stared at her husband for a moment, recalling the way
he'd described what would happen if she gave Smokey a chance to
mount her. The fact that he'd been accurate was of no importance;
the loving attention to detail, though, suggested he might have
the same voyeuristic thing about watching such an act as Danny had
shown.
"Well ..." She felt confused and a little embarrassed. It
would be worth the embarrassment if she could bring him as much
pleasure as she thought she could. "Well, he spends about eighty
percent of his time shuffling around with a hard-on, honey. He's
frustrated as hell, and you know how unlikely we are to find
anyone who'll let us breed him to their mare. He's just too damn
little!"
Art nodded. "You can hardly call that a disease, though.
What the hell could anyone do for him?"
She stared into space, pretending to be daydreaming. "I'm
not sure. You remember telling me how wrong I was when I said you
made love like an animal? You talked about Smokey then."
Art frowned, then looked up sharply. "About how Smokey would
put it to a woman?"
"Yes."
"Hell, that was pure fiction. I wanted to shock you."
She smiled shyly. "I know. But I was just wondering. You
suppose if he were coaxed right he might ...?"
"Helen!" There was a note of wild, incredulous hope in her
husband's voice. "Helen! You'd be willing to ...? You'd try
that?!"
"For you, honey. If you thought you'd find it exciting."
"Jesus Christ! Honey, when?"
"When would you like me to try?"
"Baby ... Don't get mad, but how about now?"
She pretended to hesitate. "All right."
"You going to dress?"
"What for? So I can get undressed down there?"
"Oh, shit! Let's go!"
They ran, hand in hand, to the corral. Smokey was restless,
and the moonlight shone on his great hard-on. Helen was totally
confident the little donkey had mounted Olga at least once during
the evening. He was becoming accustomed to human mates; he ought
to board her for Art without urging. She climbed over the fence,
Art close behind.
"The table?" he asked.
"I don't think so." She pretended to be uncertain and
doubtful. "Being his first time, shouldn't we make it as natural
as possible for him?"
"Well, that would be better, of course."
"Maybe if I get in the right position and back under him
he'll get the idea."
"Holy Jesus!" Art breathed hard. "You're right. You've got
a hell of a lot more guts than I knew!"
Helen dropped to all fours, walking awkwardly on hands and
feet, her legs widely spread. She sidled under the donkey,
bending her knees just enough to maneuver her pussy against the
point of Smoke's cock. That hard head danced over her labia and
settled at the rim of her cunt, and she pushed back upon it. She
saw Smokey heave his forefeet into the air and waited breathlessly
until he planted them on her back. To her relief, he was
perfectly gentle, the touch of his hooves incredibly light. But
his hindquarters made up for that restraint. He hammered his huge
cock home in her with brutal blows, and she sagged with sick
desire for his jism.
"Honey? Art! ..."
"What?"
"Reach under me, honey. Get hold of my breasts. Do you know
how to milk?"
"Hell, yes! But ...?"
"Just get right in front of me. On your knees. Milk me,
baby. Please! Milk my tits while Smokey fucks me."
"Oh, shit! What a fantastic broad! Okay!"
Art knelt before her. She gulped his cockhead into her mouth
and sucked desperately while he milked her throbbing nipples and
Smokey pumped his donkey-cock into her cunt. A wave of sheer
bliss welled in her. There's times, she thought. There's times
when everything's in the right place!



The End

[trader_26]

I forgot to mention - and can't find a post edit feature - that this story went by another name also.

From another version of it:
"This story was posted perviously (June 1995) as 'Danny Does Mom' "

And another, with different character names but the same story:
"Sex and the Mother (MM/Ff, inc, size, teen)"

[groomleader]

Hot DAMN!! This is one of the hottest, most enjoyable stories I've ever read. You HAVE to read this, it's blazing with sexual heat!!

[groomleader]

bumped for more readers.

[Asiaticus]

This is an old Greenleaf Classics, Nitime Swapbooks NS451 - Mother Every Way (Nov 1971) by Don Russell. He wrote 41 titles for Greenleaf Classics between April 1969 and July 1973 so far as I can determine.

Cover art was by artist: Robert Bonfils

[groomleader]

This is an old Greenleaf Classics, Nitime Swapbooks NS451 - Mother Every Way (Nov 1971) by Don Russell. He wrote 41 titles for Greenleaf Classics between April 1969 and July 1973 so far as I can determine.

Cover art was by artist: Robert Bonfils

Thanks for the information. That answered the question I had, of why the words are all crowded to one side. Considering the era, this was serious smut, and damn is it hot and enjoyable to read!!

[groomleader]

Didn't take long to find this :

221578

[trader_26]

The weird formatting was from an old TXT file I'd transferred from computer to computer since the late 90's. Hadn't seen the cover art until a few days ago, and hadn't realized it was NS451 from that long ago. Found initially on asstr or somesuch.

Had considered writing a sequel, though. Title was going to be 'daughter every way' - and it was going to center on Helen's father, and Helen, and her son (plus Smokey, of course). In the outline I sketched, Helen's mother had recently passed away. Van and Olga were going to play parts in the plot also ;-> .

[groomleader]

The weird formatting was from an old TXT file I'd transferred from computer to computer since the late 90's. Hadn't seen the cover art until a few days ago, and hadn't realized it was NS451 from that long ago. Found initially on asstr or somesuch.

Had considered writing a sequel, though. Title was going to be 'daughter every way' - and it was going to center on Helen's father, and Helen, and her son (plus Smokey, of course). In the outline I sketched, Helen's mother had recently passed away. Van and Olga were going to play parts in the plot also ;-> .

Please write a sequel!
This is such a great springboard, for more hot, steamy fun with Helen, I'd be eager to read more!

[comsmith22]

That was a great story... Thanks ...

[groomleader]

The weird formatting was from an old TXT file I'd transferred from computer to computer since the late 90's. Hadn't seen the cover art until a few days ago, and hadn't realized it was NS451 from that long ago. Found initially on asstr or somesuch.

Had considered writing a sequel, though. Title was going to be 'daughter every way' - and it was going to center on Helen's father, and Helen, and her son (plus Smokey, of course). In the outline I sketched, Helen's mother had recently passed away. Van and Olga were going to play parts in the plot also ;-> .

Reading the last chapter, this line - "She could think of nothing that would give her more satisfaction than to see Van's full-curved body under Smokey, impaled with that majestic cock of his. And, if she worked it right, she could use Danny's movie camera to provide something she and Art could enjoy over and over." - would be great way to kick off the sequel. seeing Helen's reaction to her best friend getting a special "donkey ride."