Sex and the Mother
(MM/Ff, inc, size, teen)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org

Helena Jamieson'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 36DD-cup bust line that even a reinforced bra failed to confine and the firm curvature of size 36 hips; the effect was to give her 5'4 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.

Chet Jamieson 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 6'1 frame saved him from looking short in contrast to his wife's height, and he had an aura of suppressed explosiveness about him.

Helena brushed past her husband and bent to wipe a spot from a corner of the coffee table. Chet'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.

"Chet! For god's sake!"

"Sorry." Chet mumbled and returned his hand to his pocket.

Helena 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 Helena had- -they'd been like sisters since high school days - but Helena 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 31. 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 Chet's reach and continued her work.

"At least I live in the real world. Christ, Helena, sex isn't a disease!" Chet sounded quietly desperate. "Nothing dirty about it, except what you make it in your mind."

"Chet Jamieson! 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!"

"Chet! How dare you!"

He grumbled and subsided. Helena finished the coffee table and turned to the last end table. Suddenly she felt Chet's hand slide up the inner slope of her thigh. She clamped her knees together and struck at his arm.

"Damn it! You want Dirk 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!"

Chet 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 10-year-old. That chick isn't going to break in a 14-year-old."

"She's a tramp!" Helena 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, Chet, 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!"

"Chet Jamieson! 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 Helena'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. Helena 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 ten-inch 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 Helena's mother had agreed Grandma Farrell's death - her massive stroke - had come as a direct result of Helena's pregnancy. And Helena 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, Helena 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 Dirk 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.

Helena hurried to the bedroom. She had time to get into her nightgown and into bed before Chet 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. Helena 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!" Helena 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. Helena's mother burst into view and stumbled. Convenient to be in the middle of a clearing, thought Helena 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. Helena 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 Helena 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.

Helena 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 Helena. "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. Helena 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!" Helena 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, Helena'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.

Helena'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.

Helena 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.

Helena 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!"

Helena 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 Helena 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. Helena 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.

Helena 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. Fiber by fiber, 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, Helena 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 he 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.

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.

Helena 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. Helena 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. Helena 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 pussylips 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 Helena. 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. Helena's throat closed in the moment of agony and opened afterward, letting her punt-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. Helena 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 pussylips, 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, Helena. 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!" Helena 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 Helena 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, Helena. 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!"

Helena shuddered and groaned now, hearing Chet'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 Helena's pregnancy. She'd raved at Helena, 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 Helena's actions.

To Helena, 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 Chet'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.

Dirk had been born, a big, beautiful boy baby, and Helena 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, Dirk had captured her love. Until Chet had married her, the boy had been the center of her universe, and when Chet had insisted on adopting Dirk, 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 Chet 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 Dirk tilted his head to one side and pretended in his adolescent way to leer at her. Wicked! Wicked! Wicked! she thought.

Chet 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.

Helena gasped, furious at her own involuntary surge of interest. "Chet!"

"Yeah!" He crossed to the bed and threw back the covers.

Too late, Helena 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, Chet! 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!" Chet 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. Chet 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. Chet was turning back her nightgown - pushing one side of the front away - and she felt his breath on her suddenly puckered nipple.

"Chet! Chet, 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, Chet! 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 Chet'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.

Chet 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!..."

Chet'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 Chet'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, Chet! Goddamn it, you're nothing but an animal tonight!"

"Oh, horseshit!" Chet 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."

"Chet! 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, Chet! 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. Chet'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!... Chet, 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, Chet 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, Helena, 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. Chet, 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, Chet! 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.

"Chet?"

There was no reply.

"Chet? 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. Chet 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.

At the breakfast table after Dan had left for school, Chet suggested Helena 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 Chet come in for treatment.

But Dr. Davis did not. Helena 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, Helena. 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 Helena's description of the fight and the subsequent visit to Dr. Davis. Helena 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!" Helena 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 Chet say! Ugh!"

"Like what?" Vanessa appeared interested.

"I wouldn't repeat them! Perverted sex things he said I ought to have Chet 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 Helena. "You sound tight as a drum."

Helena shuddered. The sympathy in Vanessa's voice was almost disastrous in its effect on Helena'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?"

Helena 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 Chet, do you?"

"Omigod, no! That would kill me, Van!"

"Even if you knew you weren't going to be able to change him?"

Helena hesitated. "You mean, if he never did get over being ... well, a sex fiend?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to lose him." Helena 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 Helena. "What if keeping him meant you had to be something you're not?"

"Change myself?" A sense of relaxed warmth was seeping through Helena. "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 Helena'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?"

Helena hiccuped. "In front of Barry? No!" She was suddenly excited. "You're right! It'll work!"

"Tonight then. Call Dirk and have him go to the Avery's. Call Chet'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 Chet would let me get?"

"All right. That way." Helena pressed her hand to her forehead, conscious of her giddiness. She knew Chet 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 Chet, but she probably would if she weren't so drunk; Vanessa obviously did.

Vanessa kept Helena 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 Helena was still drunk when Chet 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 Chet 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.

Helena 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, Helena told herself. But it does cover the hair... not that they'll ever see it. Chet 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!"

Helena 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.

Helena was startled at the sudden gleam in Chet'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 Helena turn with her back to the bars. "Okay, honey," she whispered. "Do your stuff. Arms first, I guess."

Helena 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 Helena's legs still further apart.

Helena 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!"

Helena 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 Helena. "But she'll bring hours of pleasure to the lucky one who buys her. Do I hear an offer? What, no bid?"

Helena 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!"

Helena 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 Helena's other shoulder.

"No!" whispered Helena. "He'll stop us now!" But she saw no startled objection in Chet'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 Helena's globes and then sliding free and tumbling about her waist, where it hung from the belt cord.

"Oh!... Oh!..." Helena 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 Helena'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.

Helena shuddered at the taut boldness of her exposed left thigh. The tiny miniskirt Vanessa had designed was shockingly overtaxed by the wide angle of Helena'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 Chet'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 Helena's bare thigh. Helena 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!"

Helena 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 Helena'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! Chet! Chet, what are you waiting for?!

Helena 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!" Helena whispered. "Van, we can't go any further!"

Vanessa leaned close. "Honey, we can't stop now! Look how shocked Chet 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 Helena's breasts, then tenderly rolled the nipple between her fingertips. Tremors of delight shook Helena 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...!" Helena 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!" Helena 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 Helena's body but using it to screen her pussy from view. While Helena watched, the quick hands swished the skirt aside and then back in place, offering the men a tantalizing glimpse of her red-haired snatch. Helena 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 Chet 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.

Helena sagged in her bonds, her flesh crawling and the heat welling at her core. Chet 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, Helena! 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! Chet's beginning to realize what we've done!"

Helena 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 Helena without pausing to cut it with orange juice. Helena 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 Helena's lips and Helena 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."

Chet 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!

Chet stooped and kissed the bulge of her breast. She twisted her shoulders against the bars and watched her breasts swing. Chet'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, "Chet! 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 Chet'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!" Helena 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, Chet 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. Chet 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 Helena 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! Helena admitted to herself. Her boobies are twice the size of mine! And she's got hips for riding a man! For heaven's sake, Helena! 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 Chet'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 Chet'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 Chet's shoulder while she fumbled at his fly with her hands. Helena strained to see around her husband's head and past Barry to watch her friend's fingers. They vanished into Chet'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. Chet 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.

Helena 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!

Chet 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 Helena 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.

Chet 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 Chet's cock in both hands and squeezed.

Chet 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 Helena 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 Chet'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 Chet'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 Chet. He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, his face set in an expression of rapt concentration. Helena's initial sense of repugnance faded and an intense longing replaced it. Her mouth puckered at the notion of engulfing that cock. Oh, Helena! 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 Chet's cock and was standing. Chet had his hands at Vanessa's waist and she was climbing onto his shoulder. Helena stared, puzzled. The voluptuous blonde lay forward on Chet's body, her legs astride his neck and he face over his cock once more. Chet 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.

Helena 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 Chet 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 Chet's hips, and Chet's hands clamped on Vanessa bouncing ass, holding her pussy at his mouth.

Vanessa jerked her head up, clinging to Chet's cock with both hands. "Chet!" she cried. "Chet! Omigod! You're going to make me cum!" She lunged at his prick again, jamming her mouth over it and sucking violently.

Chet'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 Chet's face. Her body stiffened and broke into a great tremor, but she maintained the furious assault with her lips.

Chet's knuckles whitened and his fingers dug into the full asscheeks. His body stiffened and his ass rose from the chair. Helena 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.

Helena 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, Helena!" 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. Helena'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, Helena! 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 Chet'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 Chet is!"

Helena 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.

Helena 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 Chet. Not counting Dirk'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 Chet... 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 Chet 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 Chet 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 Helena. 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 Chet would see them in her eyes if she glanced at them. When Vanessa returned, Helena mumbled apologies and urged Chet 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 Chet sighed happily at her suggestion. "Thanks for everything," he said to Vanessa. "Helena'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?" Helena 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."

Helena shuddered. "I'm glad I didn't remember her! I'd have been a wreck!"

Chet chuckled. "That'll be the day! You being a wreck, I mean."

When they got into their own bedroom, Chet went into the bathroom as usual and Helena 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, Chet 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.

Chet grinned. "Come here, baby."

Reluctantly, she turned the covers back and sat up. Still reluctant, she rose and went to him. "Chet, 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.

Chet squeezed her buttocks gently and she felt the hem of her nightgown rising. Breaking free of the kiss, she protested. "No, Chet! 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.

"Chet! 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.

"Chet..." she whispered. "Chet, honey?"

In as low, flat tone, he asked, "Want me to tie you up first? That the idea?"

"Chet! Oh, no, Chet! 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 Chet 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 Chet'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.

Chet 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 Chet 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 Chet 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.

Chet 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.

"Chet! Chet, baby!" Helena 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," Chet muttered between grunts. "You being all woman and me all man."

"Chet, 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 Helena.

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 Chet, 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. Chet 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 Helena he slept. She squirmed cautiously off his cock and pulled the covers over them. After a long time, Chet 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 Chet 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 Chet! 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. Chet'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.

Dirk 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, Dirk!"

"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 Dirk.

"I'm in here," she called.

"Oh. Okay." He'd reached the bedroom, she decided. "Hey, Mom. I wondered if..."

She gasped. Dirk 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. "Dirk!"

"Gee, Mom! I didn't know... I mean, the door's..."

"It's... it's all right, Dirk. 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." Dirk 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 Dirk 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 Dirk 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 Dirk 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.

"Dirk, get the towel... that big, thick green one."

"Huh? Oh, okay." He rose and brought the towel.

Helena's hand trembled as she pushed the lever to drain the tub. She extended her arm toward Dirk. "Help me out," she said, her lips dry with fear.

Dirk 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."

Dirk 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, Dirk! 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?"

"Dirk!"

"Didn't I do it good?"

"Yes... Yes, you get the job, Dirk."

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 Helena 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 Dirk, 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, Dirk?" she asked.

"Hm... two-thirty."

Chet 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."

Dirk 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."

Dirk 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 Dirk'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.

Dirk 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 Helena. 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 Dirk 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. "Dirk! 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. Dirk 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 Dirk'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 pussylips, 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!

Dirk refrained from teasing. He seemed competent in his examination, using his fingers only to lay her pussylips further open and to explore the consistency of each type of flesh he found, but even those contacts acted as powerful stimuli. Helena 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 pealing back the fleshy hood over her clitoris. "AGHHH!" Her hips leaped.

Dirk winced but continued his exploration, feeling the slopes and rubbing the tip of the tiny lump.

"Ah!... Ah!..." Helena's hips writhed as she swung them from side to side.

Dirk 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!"

Helena 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."

Dirk nodded, his face clouding with disappointment.

"Look, Dirk," 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."

Dirk scowled, perplexed, then shrugged and turned. Helena 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.

Dirk 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.

"Dirk! 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', Dirk," 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 Dirk 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.

"Dirk, 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.

Dirk 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 Chet's or Barry's.

That's his Indian half, she thought with a thrill of pride. But God, could a woman really take that!

Dirk 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.

Dirk 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 pussylips 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, Dirk!"

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 Dirk 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, Dirk!... 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 Dirk 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 horse 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, Dirk! 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, Dirk! He's right!" she conceded. "Go ahead!"

Dirk 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. Dirk broke into convulsive tremors and his immense 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!"

"Dirk, baby," she whispered. "Oh, Dirk! 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!" Dirk 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, Dirk 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. Helena 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.

Dirk 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.

Dirk 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?"

"Dirk! 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."