A Mother's Love
by Peter Jensen 


Foreword 

It is with immense pride and privilege that we, the publishers, introduce 
Peter Jensen's epic of soul searching importance, A Mother's Love. Not since 
the Greek play Oedipus has such investigation been done upon the basic 
social institution of marriage and its potential inward disintegration to 
incest, for it has only been in recent years that the middle class of 
America has evolved in a parallel of the ancient Greek era, and the timely 
importance of such a theme is at last ready to be explored once more. We are 
indebted to the author for his honest and fearless portrayal of the 
consequences of our average upbringing, and we urge all serious students of 
sociology and social psychology to study and absorb the deep penetrating 
wisdom he has revealed in these pages. 

Mr. Jensen is not the first to use the theme of marriage as the basis of a 
novel. Others have done well with their presentations of the winds of 
fortune which may blow change upon a family group, yet we feel that the 
monumental proportions of themes here within presented are of an achievement 
unique in the annals of literature. The heartbreaks and frustrations that 
are spawned by Judeo-Christian teachings would be enough to try the efforts 
of a lesser author, but Mr. Jensen has skillfully woven them into an 
intricate tapestry of their effects, so that the whole disastrous pattern is 
at once clearly understood and empathetically exposed. 

The case of Randi Malone has been candidly presented to show the casual 
relationships between her past childhood and current marital status, and of 
even greater importance, her sequential evolution to a sensually awakened 
maturity. The denial of procreational forces has been a dilemma in modern 
life, for a young girl is taught to reject sex almost from moment of birth. 
She may not touch herself or others, and all relationships of closeness or 
desire are to be carefully guarded and scrutinized. Yet, one half of the 
human female is designed for begetting; is it any wonder that the fantasy of 
denial has so confused and alienated the true capacities of womankind? Randi 
Malone has one further red mark against her-the abject torment of having 
been forced into marriage, and rather than entering into such an important 
alliance with the joy, and blissful contemplation of the future, her guilt 
destroys her capacities to be harmonious with her husband. It is a sad fact 
of everyday living that many women are like her-transferring their 
subconscious agonies from their own inadequacies to false images of male 
bestiality. It is only after prolonged and tortuous appraisal of their 
environmental conditioning can the realistic conclusion that they themselves 
are at fault be reached, and only after that self admission can the proper 
adjustment to their mates and others be made. 

Properly, therefore, Peter Jensen has pictured Randi Malone's life with 
Gary, and her subsequent change. Yet with the scope of a true artist, he has 
delved into the machinations of the mind still further, and the author has 
made a direct comparison between the rejection of wifely duty and mother 
love. Proud, yet sickly confused, Randi Malone inadvertently switched what 
she should feel for her husband to her son, and without realizing it becomes 
overwhelmed with her pent-up emotions. Hence the blood-and-flesh 
characterization of Bob, her handsome, virile boy, and Fran, his fiance, 
who is everything Mrs. Malone refuses to be. Unable to accept Fran, for the 
girl symbolizes the opposite extreme, Randi Malone is finally faced with 
climactic crossroads of decision, and the end result of her unrecognized 
instincts are almost disastrous. 

We are grateful to Mr. Jensen for showing us the way out however, for he 
confirms that the basic citadel of marriage is made to withstand such 
assaults, and that through its flexibilities it can weather such crucial 
storms as the palm tree bends to the uprooting blasts of hurricanes. What 
worries us, though, is that this is but one brief sojourn into the realm of 
marital relationships, and that we cannot see other, possibly more damaging, 
segments of social change and their effects upon people. Possibly it is just 
as well, and it is better that we keep such information darkly to ourselves. 

The Publishers 

 Chapter 1 

Waiting in the visitors' area at Gate 30 of the San Francisco International 
Airport, Randi Ma-lone smoothed her tight white skirt down on her slim, 
tapered legs carefully and patted her blonde hair in a discomfited way. She 
was conscious of the short, fat, balding man sitting opposite her, briefcase 
covering his wide lap, staring at her with hot, hungry eyes; she knew 
exactly what he was thinking, what was probably happening to him beneath 
that briefcase, and the knowledge filled her with a kind of revulsion. She 
was aware that her body, even at thirty-five, was that of a young girl in 
her late teens-breasts high and firm and proud, a perfect 36C; belly flat, 
narrow, sloping faultlessly into the gentle pubic mound, with only the 
tiniest hint of striations from her single childbirth; legs long and 
perfectly formed and downy soft; buttocks tightly globular, undulating 
promisingly when she walked despite her efforts to the contrary-but she 
wished sometimes that she had run to fat men like some of her like-aged 
friends. Then men such as the one sitting across from her wouldn't stare 
with open lasciviousness and make her feel so naked and vulnerable and 
slightly soiled. 

The fat man smiled lewdly at Randi, and she dropped her eyes, feeling heat 
rise on her cheeks. Damn him! Why didn't he go away! She looked at her 
watch. It was three-fifteen; Bob's plane from Los Angeles should be arriving 
at any moment now. 

Her thoughts turned fondly and eagerly to her handsome, dark-haired son, a 
freshman economics major at the University of Southern California. It had 
been Christmas since she had last seen him, three months previously, but it 
seemed to her that it had been much, much longer. Bob was her husband Gary's 
and her only child conceived from a near-rape in the back seat of Gary's 
ancient Ford roadster on a wooded lover's lane when she had been a senior in 
high school, and she loved him deeply and possessively-so deeply and so 
possessively that a strange ache seemed to fill her when she looked at him. 
No one, certainly no man, could ever evoke the same emotion within her that 
Bob did, that consuming love. Sometimes, it frightened her, the way she felt 
about him ... 

Randi's thoughts were interrupted by the sonorous voice of the public 
address announcer: "Flight 410 from Los Angeles now arriving at Gate 30." 

She stood, adjusting the white skirt, glancing almost involuntarily at the 
fat man, seeing him lick his lips and move the briefcase across his lap. She 
shuddered and started toward the railing separating the departure ramp. It 
wouldn't be long now, only a matter of seconds; then Bob would be home. 

Bob-and a girl named Fran Crocker. 

At least, that was what his last letter had said. That he was bringing home 
Fran Crocker, whom he had met at USC, to meet his parents and to spend his 
spring vacation. And who, if everything went according to plan, would become 
his bride during summer vacation. The excitement of waiting for Bob mingled 
with another emotion: Randi sensed the growing tide of resentment building 
within her at the very thought of Fran Crocker. It was the same frustrated 
anger she had felt when she had first read his letter, and as much as she 
realized the day had to come when she would lose Bob to another woman, she 
couldn't help her anguish. He was still hers, and even though she had not 
met Fran nor had any idea of the kind of girl she was, Randi already 
pictured the co-ed as a kidnapper. 

The passengers began to file out along the exit ramp. Holding her breath, 
she waited. And then Randi saw her son. 

"Bob!" she cried out. "Over here!" Randi waved ecstatically, oblivious to 
the fact that the hem of her short skirt rode sensuously up and down her 
thighs. If she had noticed the fat man then, she would have stopped jumping 
the way she was; the man was breathing harder and louder, rubbing the brief 
case busily across his lap. 

"Mom!" A deep, very masculine voice came from the young man as he strode 
across the vestibule to Randi. Bob Malone, though only eighteen, was six 
foot one, bronzed from the Southern California sun and bulging with muscles. 
He had earned a football scholarship from being an All-Conference halfback 
in high school, and had been playing on the Frosh squad at USC where he was 
already breaking rushing records. The sweater he wore was supposed to be 
bulky, but on his massive frame it was tight; his jeans were filled with the 
thighs and legs of a well developed man. Randi was proud, proud as only a 
mother could be. 

Then she saw the diminutive figure of Fran Crocker. The young girl was 
hugging Bob, and Bob had his left arm tightly around the girl's lithe, young 
waist. The two of them came to Randi as if they were Siamese twins. 

Fran was short, though magnificently proportioned, and her wasp-like waist 
was almost entirely hidden by Bob's big hand. Her round, smooth face was 
framed by large amounts of raven black hair, hanging loosely down her back 
to the third vertebrae. There was a slight Polynesian cast to her features, 
with high cheekbones and a short, pert nose, and almond-shaped brown eyes. 
Her skin was pale, though, almost iridescent in its purity, and her 
shoulders and arms were thinly boned, as if carved by an expert ivory 
cutter. Her female parts showed Southern France heritage and Randi couldn't 
help but feel coldness as she was forced to admire the lewdly ripe, tilted 
breasts and full rich thighs. Her own buttocks were almost boyish, but 
Fran's cheeks were like half melons, provocative and sensual. Why, she looks 
like some amateur whore, Randi thought in dismay. 

"Mom, I'd like you to meet Fran Crocker," Bob said after kissing Randi 
warmly on the cheek, "and Fran, this is my mother." 

Randi and Fran touched hands, and as if an electric shock had passed 
between, them, they both jerked their hands back at once. Randi knew Fran 
had felt her bitterness, and in turn sent warning signals of her own. If 
Randi had been pressed to point to anything in particular in Fran's actions 
or words to indicate hostility, she would have been hard-pressed to do so; 
it was simply an intuitive and immediate dislike that made each of them 
wary, like predatory cats surveying one another in the dark jungles of 
Africa. 

"How do you do, Mrs. Malone," Fran said coolly, smiling. There was thinly 
veiled malice in that smile, and in her voice. 

"So very nice to meet you, Fran," Randi answered, just as coolly. 

Bob seemed to sense the enmity between his mother and his fiance. He asked 
quickly, "Where's Dad?" 

"Playing golf with Ned Lyams," Randi replied. "You know your father and his 
Saturday afternoon golf matches." 

Bob nodded. "Well, I hope he'll be home for supper. I hope he doesn't ... " 
He stopped. 

Randi was aware of what he had been about to say. Gary had the disgusting 
habit of drinking to the point where he became an incoherent animal with Ned 
Lyams and the other members of the Green Hills Country Club after a Saturday 
match, and then staying out half, if not all the night. There were times 
when Randi thought that Gary's weekends "with the boys" weren't with the 
boys at all-but then, he had never really given her any cause to doubt his 
fidelity and if he was cheating, she had no desire to learn of it. 

Randi looped her arm through Bob's, on his left, saying, "Let's pick up your 
bags, dear. The traffic is just impossible this afternoon and the sooner 
we're on our way the better." She smiled sweetly at Fran. "And I'm sure your 
young lady friend would like to freshen up a bit after the flight." 

"Why, yes, I would," Fran said. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Malone." 

They walked quickly through the terminal to the main lobby and rode an 
escalator to the lower level where the baggage carousels were located. As 
they walked, Randi was conscious of the firm, rippling muscles of Bob's slim 
body beneath her hand and against her thigh and hip. She felt something 
deeper than a mother's pride at this, something which she did not 
understand, and she quickly diverted her thoughts to the dinner she had 
planned for that evening-Bob's favorite, roast prime rib and parsley 
potatoes. 

After they had collected Bob's and Fran's luggage, they went out to the 
parking area and Randi led them to her new Mercury station wagon. The three 
of them sat together in the front seat, Fran in the middle. As they pulled 
out of the parking lot, entering the Bayshore Freeway south toward the 
affluent community of San Amaron, Randi saw Fran let her left hand slide 
down to rest possessively on Bob's knee, squeezing it slightly; she 
repressed an angry jealous urge to comment on this, concentrating on her 
driving. They rode mostly in an almost strained silence. 

Thirty minutes later, she brought the station wagon into the sloping, 
crushed gravel drive of Gary's and her sprawling ranch style home. Gary's 
Austin Healey was nowhere to be seen; he was still at the Country Club, of 
course. 

Randi parked the car inside the spacious garage at the rear of the drive, 
and the three of them collected the luggage. They followed the curving 
flagstone path which wound through the lush green lawn surrounding the 
kidney-shaped swimming pool in the rear yard. Fran paused on the half-moon 
patio at the near end of the pool, parallel to the house, staring down into 
the placid blue water. "What a lovely sight this is!" she exclaimed. "Bob, 
why didn't you tell me you had a pool?" 

Bob grinned. "The subject never came up." 

"Oh, Bob, that's not true!" Fran blushed and tried to look coy. 

The little bitch, Randi thought, though she smiled matronly at Fran while 
such thoughts swirled in her head of the girl's spurious nature. Oh why 
couldn't her son see through that girl! 

"Would you like to go swimming?" she suggested, in spite of her feeling. 

"I'd love to," Fran replied. "I brought my suit along." 

"It is a hot afternoon," Bob added. "That sounds like a great idea, Mom." 

"Fine," Randi said. "Fran, I'll show you to your room and you can change 
there." 

She led the way past the flower bed and onto the covered porch and slid open 
the glass door. Fran complimented profusely all the way through the living 
room, which was done in warm autumnal colors and dark wood hues, and admired 
the original Renoir in the hallway. Bitch, Randi thought to herself again, 
she's a hypocritical bitch. 

Bob put Fran's suitcase at the foot of the double bed in the large guest 
room and then Randi and the left her to change. 

Bob excused himself and took his case into his old room. He stripped in 
record time, and almost before Randi knew it, he walked into the living room 
and joined her on the couch. He was magnificent, Randi thought, a beautiful 
Adonis. His cream-colored bathing suit was a perfect accent to the deep tan 
of his muscular chest and thick legs, and his thighs were encased in the 
skin-tight material to where they showed the ripples of his abdominal 
muscles. Randi saw the cod-piece sized bulge between his legs as he lifted 
one foot and placed it under the other and turned to face her, and the 
definite outline of his penis against his balls. 

"The trunks are a little small for you, aren't they?" she said. 

"I guess I'd better buy another pair," Bob said. "I've had them for a year 
now, and I've outgrown them." He smiled at Randi. "I couldn't find my 
jockstrap, either." 

They waited for Fran, who seemed to be taking her own sweet time about 
changing, and Randi, eager for all the news of the school Bob had left out 
of his short letters, couldn't tear her eyes from her son and his trunks. 
Her lips dry, her voice husky, she stood up suddenly in order to break the 
spell. "Would you like a drink, Bob?" 

"Love one, Mom. What do you have?" 

Randi started for the kitchen. "Gin and tonic?" 

"Sounds great. Maybe one for-" Bob paused and then Randi heard him whistle. 
"Wow!" 

Randi couldn't see what Bob was exclaiming over. She closed the refrigerator 
saying, "What's the matter, Bob?" 

"Nothing," came the choked reply. "Nothing at all. Yes, make that three gin 
and tonics, Mom. Fran will have one too." 

Then Randi heard Fran's high voice. "You like?" 

"Do I?" 

Randi heard a scuffling sound and then a husky "mmmmooahhh." as if Fran had 
just pulled away from an embrace. But that was impossible, Randi frowned, 
certainly they wouldn't be doing such things in her living room. She 
gathered the drinks in her hands and walked in there. She stopped 
immediately in shock at what she saw. 

Fran was standing with her back to Randi, her front buried in Bob's chest, 
their arms entwining like vines. They were kissing and nuzzling and 
squirming their eager young bodies together with all the abandon of two lewd 
sex performers. Randi choked and the glasses trembled in her hands. She had 
to set the drinks down, her eyes transfixed at the passionate scene in front 
of her, her hands sweating uncontrollably. 

What was worse, what really made the kissing and hugging so heathen was what 
Fran was wearing. Or, rather, what she was not wearing. She was all but 
naked! Never had Randi seen such a small bikini, not even at the country 
club. The bra straps were no more than a quarter inch thick, barely string 
ties, and the pants were caught in the cleft of her buttocks, like a 
savage's loin cloth. Randi could see the quivering, palpitating flesh of 
Fran's smooth, young behind, her shapely thighs as they arched into Bob's 
groin, her upper legs as they pressed against the bathing suit and moved 
with seductive abandon. 

A low moan came from Bob, but he kept his lips mashed with Fran's, oblivious 
to anybody else in the room, Randi watched in horror and fascination, her 
eyes capturing the madly working cheeks of the couple as they sucked and 
rolled their tongues freely in one another's mouths. 

Bob reached one hand down and grasped one of Fran's throbbing buttocks, 
dipping his index finger into the cloth-covered crevice, running it up and 
down there. Fran's entire rear end began to rotate, at first from side to 
side, then in a circular motion as she ground her abdomen into Bob's groin 
faster and faster ... 

Randi could stand no more. It was not so much that she was repulsed by the 
display of sexuality she was witnessing; no, it was beginning to have the 
exact opposite effect on her body. She felt a tingling warmth deep within 
her, and the soft folds of her pussy had begun to moisten. Her nipples 
beneath the half-bra and beneath the sweater she wore hardened into diamond 
chips, and she could feel little sensations of pleasure coursing through her 
breasts. She was aroused at the sight of her son and his fiance dry-fucking 
vertically on the living room carpet, aroused impossibly more than she had 
ever been with Gary and his accomplished but almost animalistic love-making 
techniques, and the realization that if she continued to watch Fran and Bob, 
and if they continued at the oblivious pace they were now attaining, she 
would surely and inevitably have to relieve herself in a way that she had 
not done since the shameful and inexpert teen-age manipulations of her 
high-school days. 

"Here ... here are the drinks!" she cried out then, breaking the spell she 
had almost succumbed to, her voice strained and faltering. 

Fran and Bob broke apart as if exploded from one another. Bob looked at his 
mother with fright at first, and then with a kind of downcast remorse; Fran, 
true bitch she was, blushed violently, turning and sitting down on the 
couch. Randi saw then that the upper half of the girl's bikini was simply a 
thin strip of cloth covering little more than the nipples of aureoles; 
creamy white mounds of flesh, soft and youthful, bulged over the cloth, 
stretching it almost to the point of shredding. Fran crossed her legs 
demurely, glancing at Randi briefly with a look that said plainly, "I really 
don't give a damn what you saw, Mrs. Malone." She patted her hair into place 
and then studied her nails. 

Bob came towards his mother, his eyes apologetic. As he approached, Randi 
could not help but notice the strange, almost painful way he walked and the 
slight, diminishing bulge along his left leg beneath the tight material of 
his swim suit. The beginning of a stain showed through the light material, 
and Randi knew all too well that the wetness was the residue of his aroused 
young cock; she had unwittingly seen the premature droplets of clear liquid 
oozing from her husband's pulsing member many, many times. 

Bob said haltingly, "Mom, I ... " 

"Never mind," Randi said stiffly, handing him the two gin and tonics, trying 
to keep her eyes away from the front of his swim trunks. "Why don't you and 
... her go out by the pool now." 

"Will you join us, Mom?" 

"I don't think so," Randi answered. "I have to see about dinner." 

"All right," Bob said. He turned back toward Fran on the couch, balancing 
the drinks in one hand. 

Randi sighed silently, tremulously, and went into the kitchen. She took the 
prime rib out of the refrigerator and began to prepare it, along with the 
parsley potatoes, celery stalks, pea-and-tomato salad, and dessert. As she 
stood in front of the sink washing the vegetables she looked out the window, 
catching occasional glimpses of Bob and Fran frolicking in the pool. The 
pool was in front of the living room, but as Fran or Bob would use the 
diving board at the near end, their robust young bodies were in full display 
to Randi, much to her consternation. Her hands shook and she closed the cafe 
curtains, blotting the view from her eyes but not from their mind, and the 
screams and laughs of pleasure still invaded the stillness of her work. 

"Oh God, what's the matter with me!" she moaned. "I have got to get a grip 
on myself." She clutched the sides of the counter, unable to shake the lewd 
thoughts which raced through her head. Randi had been brought up strictly, a 
product of a Mid-Western Baptist family, and her brothers and sisters were 
all straight-laced, stern people even to this day. She had never been a wild 
person, even as a high school girl, dating very little and under the 
watchful eye of her parents. 

Randi had hated the clinically detailed sex talk of her girl friends, and 
would often find excuses to leave the room when one of them would relate how 
good sexually this or that boy was. She still remembered the horror she had 
felt in seeing the mementoes that her friends carried in their purses, 
little reminders such as tied rubbers of semen-their latest boyfriends' 
testament of manhood. 

And the boys-carrying the pubic hairs of the girls in their wallets. And 
their heavy, beer-laden breath and groping, savage farm-calloused hands 
clutching her ripening breasts and thighs. She had never succumbed to any of 
them, never allowed anything more than heavy kissing. She knew her high 
school nickname of "Frigidaire" fit her, although the kids who had tagged 
her as that would have been surprised at the surge of desire which would 
flow through her when aroused. She dismissed her natural feelings as 
depraved signs of the devil, and she would pray extra hard on Sunday after 
particularly heated Saturday nights. No, sex was evil, only to be accepted 
in marriage. 

Then came Gary. He was louder, brasher, more cocky than any man she had ever 
met. He didn't walk; he strutted. He would throw his head back and bark 
laughter, especially at anything obscene. He billed himself as The Man With 
The Biggest, claiming there was no girl who wouldn't go down for him. He 
looked upon Randi as a challenge, and Randi looked upon him as the 
personification of everything she abhorred. But she was fascinated with him, 
as a child is with fire. She couldn't stay away from him, despite his 
filthy, coarse habits and his grasping, tiger-like attacks on her virginity. 

But then ... there came that night. That night, the night when he had become 
enraged with an illicit bottle of hard liquor, and crazed with desire. 

"Prick-teaser!" he had cursed her, and her blouse was ripped from her 
shoulders. That night, the night of the summer dance at the park pavilion; 
that night, the night she became pregnant. 

She would not look at his hirsute parts. She could only scream and fight 
back, but weakly, the pent-up force of her own desires breaking through her 
reticence. He forced her hand to grasp his engorged penis, made her spread 
her young legs and accept his cock, then heaved his weight down upon her so 
she could not move. 

Randi never forgave him for that. She had been raped, but worse was the 
subconscious realization she had wanted him as much as he wanted her. Randi 
had silently begged for his huge prick to tear her hymen, to fill her 
swollen pussy to its fullest, to feel the purplish head rip and tear and 
bang against her cervix. "Bottoming out" with sub-human savagery, he had 
heaved and pumped until with a tremendous cry he had filled her helpless 
vagina with boiling, seething spurts of semen. He had also filled her womb, 
though neither knew it, of course. 

She had hated him for it at the time, and when her parents forced her to 
marry him when her pregnancy was discovered, she cringed from his touch. No 
other man had touched her since then, no man interested her, and she only 
allowed her husband to make love to her when she could not get out of it 
gracefully. 

She was repulsed by him, and in turn, Gary treated her with thinly hidden 
contempt. 

But watching her offspring, seeing his body which so closely paralleled 
Gary's of years ago, she couldn't help but feel the same strange 
fascination, the terrible anguish of sensual desire she had once felt for 
Gary. And with the same revulsion at herself, she tried to fight the 
weakening flesh of her body. 

Randi choked back a cry of frustration and picked up the bottle of vin rose 
she was using for the sauce mix. She took a small glassful, letting the 
cool, tart liquid course down her throat. The wine calmed her blood and 
brought a temporary reprieve from her agony. She finished the preparation 
and called the two young people in. 

Dinner was a quiet but tense affair. The prime rib was done perfectly, a 
richly pink medium rare, yet she found it tasteless. The few attempts at 
conversation trailed off into silence. Randi found that the sight of the 
food caused her throat to constrict, and after a short pretense at eating, 
she gave up and busied herself with serving and clearing away. 

Bob and Fran ate listlessly, and afterwards they all went into the living 
room and turned on the television set. Bob poured another round of drinks 
for everybody. "Where's Dad?" he asked during a commercial. 

"Still at the Club, I imagine," Randi replied. 

"Drinking, I bet," he said with a little disgust. "Dad's turning into a 
regular booze-hound." 

"That's no way to talk, Bob," Randi said sharply. "Treat your father with 
respect." 

"Why? He doesn't treat you with anything except shit, and you know it. And 
face it, he comes home drunk four nights out of the week." 

"That's not true!" 

"The hell it isn't, Mom. I hear him. I hear you, too, when you're fighting 
at night." 

It was true. All too true, but Randi didn't want to be reminded of it. She 
turned her head away, indicating the matter shouldn't be discussed further. 
Fran put her hand on Bob's leg, and he forgot about his father and 
concentrated on his girl. 

"I-I better turn in," Randi said after another hour, no longer able to watch 
them together. "I'm sure you two want to be alone." 

"Oh, no, stay, Mom," Bob said, but his offer lacked conviction. 

Randi stood up. "No, thank you anyway. Good night, everybody. See you in the 
morning." 

Bob and Fran murmured good nights, and Randi retired. She shut the door of 
her bedroom just as the first sighs escaped from Fran's lips, and the couch 
rustled slightly. 

Randi undressed in the pale, amber light from the night stand lamp and stood 
looking at herself briefly in the full-length mirror on the closet door, 
feeling somewhat ashamed of her perfectly-formed body as seen in the 
diffused glow. She put on the long, flowing pink gown, the one Gary hated 
because it hid her ripe beauty from his eyes, and then switched off the lamp 
and slid beneath the covers of the double bed. 

She lay there for awhile, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling, thinking 
of Bob and of what she had witnessed between Fran and him, the bitch, that 
afternoon. Had he made love to her already? she wondered. Well, of course he 
had; that display this afternoon was not one which two people who had not 
previously been intimate would engage in. Oddly, Randi found herself trying 
to picture Bob making love, trying to see in her mind's eyes his erect penis 
and throbbing with desire and his handsome face contorted in passion. But 
then waves of shame washed over her and she thought, No, No, I mustn't think 
such wicked, evil things, not about Bob, not about my own son. 

Through a conscious effort of will, Randi managed to blank her mind-the way 
she always did on the nights she was forced to succumb to Gary's 
love-making. After a time, she felt a warm and welcome lethargy come over 
her, felt herself drifting off to sleep, and her body relaxed as her mind 
opened to the drowsiness ... 

Randi awoke with a start. Sounds, faint and unintelligible, had penetrated 
her sleep-fogged brain and brought her instantly alert. She sat up on the 
bed, rubbing her eyes, listening. Whispering voices, as if coming from a 
great distance, penetrated from somewhere outside the closed bedroom door. 
She glanced at the luminous dial of the clock on the night stand. It was 
after eleven now, almost an hour since she had gone to bed. 

Randi pulled the covers back and swung her bare feet to the spongy bedroom 
carpet. She padded to the bedroom door and opened it quietly. 

The voices, which were obviously coming from behind the closed door of the 
guest room, directly opposite Gary's and her bedroom, were almost 
recognizable. The first realization of what this meant-voices, two voices, 
in the guest room, two voices which could only be those of Bob and Fran 
-flooded through Randi in that moment. Holding her breath, she moved 
silently across the hall and stood with her ear pressed to the panel of the 
guest room door. 

Fran's voice said distinctly, "You have such a lovely cock, Bob dear. It's 
so big, so hard ... oh, lover, every time I see it I want to suck it and 
suck it and suck it." 

Randi recoiled in abject repulsion, her breath catching in her throat. Had 
she heard correctly? Dear God, was that bitch Fran actually going to perform 
such a debasing act as ... as ... She couldn't bring herself to even think 
the word; it was a perversion, an act which only filthy old men and whores 
engaged in. 

"Put it in your mouth, honey," she heard Bob's voice say, low and moaning. 
"That's it, oh, yes, that's it, now run your tongue across the opening ... 
ahhhh ... yes yes yes, now suck it, suck it!" 

"Mmmmmmm." 

"Oh Christ that feels so good ... wait, now, move your ass up a little ... 
there, that's it, I want to put my finger in your cunt and finger fuck you." 

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" 

"Harder, Fran, suck harderharderharder ...!" Bob's voice rose almost 
hysterically, and Randi stood petrified, unable to move, fascinated by the 
sounds of sheer lust coming from within. "Oh, I think I'm going to cum, keep 
sucking, keep sucking, I'm almost there ... " 

Randi felt an incredible dryness in her mouth and throat as she listened. 
She wanted to turn and run, escape from those vile, disgusting sounds, blot 
the imagined scene in the darkness of the guest room from her mind. But she 
was unable to make her legs work. She could only stand and listen, 
moistening her lips, thinking involuntarily of Bob's lean, bronzed body 
lying on the bed, his penis erect, its blood-swollen head hidden inside the 
moist redness of Fran's mouth, her long black hair lying across his stomach, 
covering his abdomen and his testicles, kneeling there and performing the 
pagan ritualistic rite of fellatio on him ... 

Bob's voice, panting and moaning, came to her, "Why did you stop, oh God 
honey, why did you stop?" 

Fran laughed, a low throaty purr, an evil sound. "You don't get to cum yet, 
lover," she breathed. "First, you have to do your duty. Do you want to lick 
my cunt?' 

"Yes! Oh, yes." 

"Here it is, lover. All juicy and waiting for you. See, look how it's 
throbbing there, waiting for your tongue. Isn't it lovely?" 

"It's gorgeous!" Bob wailed. 

"Then lick it," Fran crooned. "Put your tongue in it. Now, now, oh that's 
the way to do it, lover, lick my clit ... " 

Run, Randi's mind screamed. Don't stay and listen to this! Oh, Lord, it was 
awful! But she didn't run; she couldn't run. She was mesmerized by what her 
ears were hearing. She felt strange, as if she were no longer a part of 
herself, as if she were viewing herself objectively, from somewhere outside 
her own body. 

"Faster, faster, that's it ... " Fran was crying out in ecstasy now. 
"Ohhhhh, yessss, faster faster ... " 

"I ... want ... to ... fuck you ... now," Bob's voice said in frenzied lust, 
making little slobbering sounds. "I ... want to ... put it ... in your cunt 
... right now." 

"Yes, yes, put it in my cunt!" 

"Deep inside it, just ... like ... this!" 

"Yes, yes, oh yes ... ahhhhhhhhh ... oh, lover, it feels so ... ahhhhhhh ... 
so good good ... oh fuck me, fuck me, like you never fucked me before, fuck 
me fuck me fuck me ...!" 

Randi could feel sweat flowing freely on her body now, beneath the folds of 
the pink gown. Down between her tightly clenched thighs her own pussy was 
tingling, tingling in a strange way, tingling like it had never done before. 
She didn't understand it, couldn't understand it; she was almost in a 
hypnotic state now, beyond all rationality, transfixed by what she heard, 
aroused by it. Her left hand began to slide down along her body, down the 
flat plane of her sides and across her stomach to rest on her own pubic 
mound, to rest there and then to begin to rub back and forth back and forth 
through the silk material. She could feel wetness flowing on her thighs, 
flowing freely from her inflamed pussy. Her right hand came up to squeeze 
one of her breasts, to feel the turgid nipple leap to her touch. 

The moaning from within the guest room was almost incoherent now as her son 
and the girl thrashed about on the bed in wild wantonness. Randi began to 
gather up the nightgown, bunching folds of it in her left hand, drawing it 
further and further up along her firm, full thighs, exposing the whiteness 
of them higher and higher, finally revealing the triangular silkiness of her 
cunt. Holding the gown bunched at her waist, Randi lowered her right hand to 
the mound and began to rub it as she had done before, knowing what she was 
doing was wrong, was evil, but powerless to stop herself, rubbing harder and 
harder, her middle finger sliding along the wet cunt lips, finding her 
clitoris, teasing the erect little member with her fingernail, feeling waves 
of consuming pleasure ripple through her. She dropped her finger still 
lower, insinuating it into her tight vagina, in and out, in and out, with 
her thumb now working her clit. 

"Get ... the ... Vaseline," Fran moaned through the door. 

Bob breathed, "For my asshole ... " 

"For both of ours, lover. It's better that way. Hurry ... oooh, hurry, 
damnit, I can't wait!" 

There was a small yelp and the springs of the overworked mattress protested, 
and Randi heard the unmistakable snap of Fran's suitcase latches as Bob 
obviously opened it. 

"That's it, that's it," moaned Fran moments later. 

Randi shut her eyes, trembling, the lurid picture of what was transpiring 
four feet from her surging through her mind. She could picture their 
respective anuses, the little brown rings buried in the soft white crevasses 
of their buttocks as they stretched wide to meet invading objects. 

"Yes, oh yes!" Fran panted. "Every bit of it, lover ... I want you to jam 
that prick all the way in, clear up to my throat!" 

Randi heard Bob's lunging gasps as he tore into Fran's asshole. She imagined 
his stiff rod as it thrust harder into Fran's puckered anus, the merciless 
screwing as the whiteness of his cock slipped in and out, the opening 
grasping him with rubbery firmness. 

"Oh, oh oh!" came the guttural sounds from the bedroom. 

Randi was caught up in the frenzy of the moment. She moved on the rug, 
letting her glistening thighs fall open. She propped one leg against the 
door jam, and the shock of the houses' cool evening air wafting over her 
steaming cunt gave her a new shudder of ecstasy. The wet, sucking noise of 
her masturbation became clearly discernable to Randi, and her body heaved 
and jerked in time to her whipping fingers. She secreted heavily, more 
heavily than she had even remembered, the "slush, slush ... squish ... 
squish" sound as her hand slapped and slid around the slick flesh, 
occasionally forming a suction of its own. 

Almost brutally she cupped her breast now, milking it as one would an udder, 
pinching the tender nipple with a wild animal-like abandon. 

"Oh, Fran, your finger," groaned Bob suddenly. "I love it, love it!" 

"I'll try two, my sweet. There's room this time!" 

Randi wanted to scream, to wail in unison with the two in the bedroom as she 
became almost delirious with her own maddening passion. She was obviously on 
the same trip as they were, straining to hold back the explosion inside her. 
As Bob was receiving Fran's fingers, groaning with the combined pain and 
pleasure, Randi took her hand from her breast with conscious thought, licked 
her left forefinger and reaching around under her full, ripe buttocks, 
rubbed the puckered ring of her own anus. She blanked the inherent knowledge 
that she was doing wrong from her mind caught up in her own depraved sexual 
hunger. She didn't care. She inserted her finger, slowly, in her tiny, 
resisting rectum and nearly went out of her mind with the excitement of the 
entrance. 

"Oh ... lover ... oh, tell me ... you love me ... " Fran wailed in time to 
the strokes. "Tell ... me ... you ... love ... me!" 

"Damn ... damn ... Fran," Bob gasped, "I ... love ... you ... more ... " 

"More than ... anybody?" 

"Oh hell yes ... wonderful ... love you ... love to fuck you." 

Randi's breath rasped in short hot exhalations. She was going to cum! 
Frantically she moved her clit, her cunt, with the fingers of her right 
hand, impaling herself on the left forefinger buried to the first knuckle in 
her spongy rectum. She was cumming! 

"Fuck me ... Bob ... Oh fuck me harder!" 

Randi could almost make herself believe it was she saying that instead of 
Fran. She ground harder and deeper, quivering under the pressure, gasping 
for the imminent release. 

Fran screamed. "Aaaagg!" And then, again, "AAAAAggghhh I'm cumming! Oh, God 
... keep on! UUUUggggghhhhhhhhh ... " 

Then came Bob's low cry of delight as he burst the seeds of his desire into 
Fran. "Yyyeeessss! Yyyeeesssss! 

As if by remote control, the simultaneous ejaculations of Bob and Fran 
triggered Randi. She strained and stretched her legs out wide in sudden 
convulsion and the earth seemed to open up beneath her. She lifted herself 
off the rug in a spasmodic arch, grasped the bone wall of her cunt and 
squeezed, squeezed, squeezed ... Then suddenly she collapsed, and breathing 
raggedly, she slid to the floor. She could still hear noises, but they were 
noises of contentment, no longer of passion. Exhausted, Randi slowly dragged 
herself to her feet, wobbling slightly. Her gown stuck to the sticky sides 
of her thighs, and she could see a dark spot on the rug where she had lain. 

She groped her way to the bedroom door. All she wanted to do now was sleep, 
to forget what she had heard, and then done to herself. The shame she had 
blotted from her mind now came back tenfold, and the feeling was one of deep 
personal revulsion. 

The front door banged open and Randi turned, startled. She clutched the 
nightgown around her protectively. 

"God damn it!" came a rough, bellowing voice. "Why aren't there any lights 
on!" There was the sound of a hand groping on the wall and then the hall was 
flooded with light. Randi shielded her eyes from the unaccustomed brilliance 
and looked at her husband. 

"Gary ...!" she exclaimed weakly. 

"Ahah! You're up! What the hell are you waiting for? Me?" Gary lurched 
drunkenly down the hall toward her, his eyes blazing with lust and liquor. 

Randi shrank back from the big man. The muscles of his youth had fallen to 
flab around his waist, the beer and bourbon he constantly drank adding fat 
of their own. His once handsome face was bloated and botched and his nose 
road mapped with tiny broken blood vessels. His greying hair was shaggy and 
unkempt and his tie was loosened and drawn almost to the collar of his 
wrinkled shirt. Randi's stomach churned at the sight of this sloppy, drunk 
male, the love she had once hoped to feel for him turned to loathing. 

"No, Gary, I ... " What was she doing? Randi thought suddenly. I can't tell 
him what I really was doing, oh not that, not ever! "I was ... " 

"Ah crap, I don't care. Just so long's you're not asleep." Gary staggered 
backwards a step and laughed. The cynical, throaty roar echoed. 

"Quiet! You'll wake everybody." 

"Shhh," mimicked Gary, coming closer. "That's right, our little boy is home 
tonight. With his girl, too. Right?" 

"Yes. I don't want-" 

"Sweet lil Bob. Our child." Suddenly Gary snarled. "Crap! Your child, that's 
who. Not ours. Old whore like you. Well, you're going to get it tonight, old 
whore. Just like you deserve!" 

"No, please, Gary." 

Gary lunged at Randi, throwing them both against the wall, clamped a hand 
onto her right breast, squeezing the succulent nipple cruelly. It was raw 
from her own handling, and pain slashed through her as he manipulated the 
tender bud. "Please, Gary ... please be gentle." 

Gary didn't reply, but his mouth dipped greedily and crushed against her 
lips, the fumes of stale bourbon nearly blacking her out. He felt the 
resilient flesh give way and then tasted the inside of her mouth as he 
forced her teeth apart and thrust his tongue deep within; her salty-sweet 
saliva co-mingled with his own. 

He drew back for an instant, his hand still firmly around the globe of her 
breast, and grinned. "In the bedroom, sweets, in the bedroom ... now!" He 
pushed her into the room and she stumbled back, then she struck the bed with 
the back of her legs and fell onto it. 

"Oh ... nooo ... please, Gary. Please not like this!" Randi pleaded, but her 
words fell unheeded. 

He reached into his pocket and took out some change. He cupped his hand, 
staring at the few coins, and then with the slow care of a drunk, he picked 
out a quarter. He threw it at her. "There's your pay, sweets. Keep the 
change." He thought that was especially funny, and laughed long and hard at 
the joke. 

Randi was frightened, but more than that, she was mortified. She knew that 
Bob and Fran, lying naked together across the hall, must be listening. They 
couldn't help but hear the raucous sounds coming from Gary. Her degradation 
was complete, first with Bob's choice of a girl, then her own masturbation 
as she savored their wicked love-making, and now her husband's final act of 
defilation. 

Gary ripped at his clothes, thrusting his shirt and pants from him in 
reckless disregard. The shoes were thrown across the room without care, 
hitting the wall and narrowly missing a picture. He dropped his shorts, his 
heavy thick penis growing and expanding until it looked as though it was 
going to burst. He reached down and stroked his mammoth girth, making 
thrusts with his pelvis in a lewd caricature of copulation. "Wait until you 
get all of me tonight, sweets," he roared. "I'm going to fuck you silly!" 

Randi stared at the red bulbous head of her husband's prick as he came 
toward her. He now wore nothing but his undershirt and black socks. Her eyes 
widened with hypnotized disbelief at what was going to happen, for as many 
times in the years of marriage as he had taken her, rarely had he been as 
pent up or violent as tonight. She knew she was going to be violated. Gary 
was going to use her as his sexual receptacle, for gratification of his own 
burning desires and nothing more. He was going to be an animal, a gross, 
carnal beast. She raised her legs defensively and shrank back on the 
bedspread, whimpering helplessly to herself. 

Gary ignored Randi's fear. He took hold of the hated nightgown by the nape 
of its neck and tugged. The straps bit into Randi's shoulders before the 
material gave, and then it was off, a torn and shredded rag savagely 
rendered from her body. 

He threw himself down upon his wife, feasting on her perfection. He held her 
wild, straining form, pinioning her helplessly with his heavy, tensed chest. 
Her long blonde hair swirled violently and her lovely face became 
grotesquely contorted in terror, but he ignored that as he had ignored her 
pleas, and then he fucked her. 

There was no foreplay, no arousing of her desires, no concern for what she 
felt. He was ready, had been for the last two hours of drinking. He had left 
the Country Club with a hard-on, and he wasn't about to waste any more time. 
He forced himself brutally upon her, spreading her long-slim legs, his hips 
falling heavily between them to wedge her cunt into a wide-splayed position. 
If it had not been for her earlier excitement, she would have been torn 
apart as he thrust his blood-filled penis between her fleshy lips. He ground 
his pelvis into her squirming, defenseless crotch, the hollows of her thighs 
drawing his hand to them automatically. He moved his big rod around in a 
momentarily vain effort to find the cunt hole he knew was there, and finally 
he was forced to grasp his cock and work it into her soft, enraged flesh 
until he found the moist vaginal slit. He plunged deep, deep into her 
quivering cunt, ramming mercilessly. 

Randi tried to hold back the squeal of pain, ashamed that Bob and Fran would 
know of her debasement, but the agony of his barbaric impalement was too 
great. She cried out and whipped her legs in a vain effort to escape. It 
only made matters worse, and Gary stroked harder and farther within her, his 
steel hard battering ram splitting her warm, yielding cunt as an axe would a 
log. 

"Look, look, you whore," Gary commanded. He raised his chest up slightly and 
she was forced to look between her trembling breasts to where his giant, 
ponderous cock violated her tight pink cunt lips, at her own pubic hairs 
grazing his curly growth where her soft yielding vaginal lips slipped around 
his shaft as he dipped and stroked, at her thighs rubbing his bouncing 
testicles. 

"Ooohhh no, Gary, please ... please stop," she groaned. "I can't take all of 
you ... you're hurting me ... you're ... oh god ... " 

Harder and faster Gary went, a crazed bull without any feeling except for 
his wildly moving prick, his total commitment the fucking of the woman 
beneath him. Their genitals crashed together with resounding slaps, 
colliding with sadistic repetition. Randi's stomach churned in repulsion and 
she waited loathingly. 

"Oh no ... oh please, Gary ... " She mewed with helpless humiliation. "It 
hurts ... hurts so much ... " 

"You're going to yell with pleasure, sweets," he growled back, "So ... help 
me ... you are ... " 

Gary kept on drubbing in and out of her like some mad machine, like some 
rutting beast, his one inflamed idea to squirt his load of churning sperm 
inside her soft belly. He felt the throbbing, seething buildup inside his 
balls, the quicksilver tickling at the base of his cock as he jammed it to 
the hilt, and knew he was about to cum. He rammed forward with all his 
energy, the full extent of his incited cock sunk cruelly to her womb. Randi 
whimpered, a futile gesture which only seemed to excite Gary more. He locked 
his mouth to hers as the sperm began to rise in his body, and he mashed her 
tits to his chest and pushed her shoulders back. He forced his hands under 
the white cheeks of her ass, pulling them up to meet him even more, his 
testicles screwing tightly down into the wide split crevice of her buttocks. 

Randi wailed loudly as she was plundered almost beyond endurance. He's mad! 
An insane rapist! He's going to kill me! Her arms were pinned down to her 
sides and she could feel the giant prick of his as it slid up and down her 
inflamed cuntal channel like a red-hot iron cudgel ... and the beat of his 
testicles against her inner thighs and the rush of air cooling her every 
time he extracted his pistoning cock. 

Gary reached his explosion. Wildly, he thrust his tongue into her mouth and 
his cock flared with sudden hugeness as the sperm amassed inside it. The hot 
white liquid shot into Randi like molten lava, spewing forth in giant 
bursts, flooding the already overflowing cavern of her pussy. Gary skewered 
his wife a few more times in an effort to milk his balls dry, and the 
enormous prick continued to send out never-ending rivers of cum until the 
base of his cock and the spread beneath were saturated with the run-off. 

Randi jerked her legs out to the full width wildly, convulsing and quaking. 
"Ooohhaag," she cried unintelligibly with his tongue still in her mouth. 

Gary offered one final spurt, and the last dregs of sticky sperm leapt into 
her pussy, then he fell forward. His prick began to retreat, to shrivel and 
grow limp and he breathed deeply and with great satisfaction. Randi moved 
from beneath his semi-conscious body, wriggling around until she was free 
and his flaccid cock slid from her ravaged vagina. A thick cord of cum stuck 
to its head and dribbled on her soft mat of pubic hair and left an obscene 
trail across her leg as he turned drunkenly over on his side. 

Randi didn't move until she heard him start to snore. He had long since 
given up even a rudimentary good night, but went to sleep immediately. Then 
she moved as far over on the bed as she could. She stared at him for awhile, 
the mere sight of his naked body repugnant to her, and then she buried her 
head in the pillow. Gary was her husband and no matter what, she wasn't 
going to divorce him, but she hated him. She lay awake for hours thinking of 
what he had done to her and then, weeping with her agonized revulsion, she 
drifted off to a restless but necessary sleep. 

 Chapter 2 

Randi awoke shortly past eight the following morning. Rubbing sleep from her 
eyes, she glanced over at her husband's hairy form on the rumpled bed beside 
her; he lay on his back, his breathing regular, his features relaxed in 
sleep. He looked almost handsome, she thought fuzzily, but then she turned 
back again and her right breast rubbed against the mattress, causing her to 
wince with pain. Examining the soft spongy flesh, she discovered a bluish 
finger imprint, sensitive to the touch, along its side. 

She drew the sheet down and found more bruises on the tender flesh of her 
soft white belly and thighs. Gary's attack the night before had been even 
more vicious than she had imagined at the time. She looked at his sleeping 
face again, but this time he was no longer handsome, was in fact gargoyle 
ugly. He's a beast, she thought. He's a coarse, vulgar animal beast. 

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and padded naked to the sliding knotty pine 
doors of her closet. She moved stiffly, and as she studied the hangars of 
garments inside the closet, she knew she was much too sore for the 
restrictions of nylon panties or cotton elastic bra-even anything which 
would cling to her body. Finally, she chose a pair of brightly colored, 
paisley print culottes; removing them from their hanger, she turned. 

Gary was awake now, watching her from the bed, his lips twisted into an 
obscene smile. "Why bother with those, baby?" he asked her. "Go on out with 
your twat flapping loose and give everybody a cheap thrill." 

"Shut up!" she hissed at him. "Shut your filthy mouth!" 

He bellowed with laughter, flinging the sheet from across his body and 
stretching languidly. Randi flashed him a look of utter loathing. In answer, 
he picked up his limp penis between his right thumb and forefinger and shook 
it at her. In spite of herself, Randi found her eyes lingering on the 
flaccid member, the brown wrinkled sac beneath; then, thinking again of what 
it had done to her only a few hours earlier, she averted her eyes and began 
to dress hurriedly in the culottes. 

When she had finished, she started for the bedroom door. Her eyes 
inadvertently went to the bed another time, and Gary, still watching her, 
wiggled his prick teasingly. Trembling, she stalked out into the hall, 
pulling the door shut sharply behind her. 

No one else was up, although she heard the guest room toilet flush as she 
passed by the door. In the kitchen, she banged and clattered the pots and 
dishes about, starting the coffee, setting the table, cutting the 
cantaloupe, mixing buckwheat pancake batter. As she moved, the material of 
the culottes rubbed against the hard, ripened buds of her nipples, 
indicators that she had been more excited by the sight of Gary's monstrous 
cock and balls and the taunt he had thrown at her, than she had allowed 
herself to believe. But how could that be? How could any decent woman want a 
man after what had happened last night? She looked down at the long 
serrated-edge knife with which she was quartering the melon, at the 
comfortable, almost friendly way its bone handle fit her hand, and for one 
horrid moment she was holding aloft the flexuous pecker she had seen moments 
earlier, exposing its bluish under veins, and then she was bringing the 
knife arcing down to ... 

Oh, God! Randi thought, and she flung the knife from her; it clattered into 
the sink just as Bob, clad in a T-shirt and casual slacks, entered the 
kitchen. 

"Mom, what is it?" he asked with concern. 

"Nothing," she said. "I ... I just dropped the knife, that's all. It slipped 
out of my hand. I'm all right." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I'm sure," Randi said. "Would you like some coffee?" 

"Fine." 

She poured him a cup as he sat at the dinette, finding it impossible to look 
at him directly, to say anything more than was absolutely necessary to him. 
Too much had happened the previous night-the overheard scene with Fran, its 
attendant degrading acts, her own masturbation and subsequent loud rape-to 
be able to act as if the night had never existed. 

After a time, Fran came and sat down next to Bob after kissing him in a 
sisterly way on the forehead. Wearing a skimpy halter and a pair of yellow 
short-shorts, her black hair tied into a pony-tail at the nape of her neck, 
she reminded Randi of a sleek, well-fed, contented cat. Even her "Good 
morning, Mrs. Malone" had a purring quality to it. Randi noticed the long 
sloe-eyed gaze she gave to Bob, and his sheepish reaction, and turned back 
to the counter trembling. 

"Breakfast ready?" Gary's voice sounded from the kitchen doorway. He came 
in, wearing a large smile, a pair of Bermuda shorts in green-and-black 
plaid, and a form-fitting knit shirt. He crossed to where Randi stood at the 
sink, patted her affectionately on the buttocks and then sat down at the 
table. His eyes moved with what seemed to Randi to be open lasciviousness 
over the svelte, textured body of Fran Crocker-but neither Fran nor Bob 
seemed to notice. Then his eyes moved to Bob and he said warmly, "Good to 
see you again, son. Sorry I missed the homecoming yesterday, but you know 
how it is." 

"Sure," Bob replied dryly. "I guess something came up at the club." 

Ignoring the remark, Gary let his eyes return to Fran. He smiled 
appreciatively. "Aren't you going to introduce me, son?" 

"Dad, this is Fran Crocker, my fiance," Bob said gravely. "Fran, my father, 
Gary Malone." 

Fran dipped her face demurely. "How do you do, Mr. Malone." 

"Gary, please; no formalities in my house." 

" ... Gary," Fran said hesitantly. 

"She's beautiful," he said to Bob. "By God, son, I always knew you had 
excellent taste, and this young lady confirms it. You've done the Malone 
name proud." 

You pompous fool, Randi thought. She served the buckwheat cakes in 
pursed-lip silence, setting out the cantaloupe quarters, pouring coffee. 
Then she sat down at her place next to her husband and began picking at the 
food, having no appetite at all, she kept her eyes cast downward to her 
plate. 

Gary poured maple syrup generously on his cakes. "Why don't you two go over 
to the club today?" he said to Bob. "There's tennis and golf, and they've 
added a high dive tower to the pool since you went off to USC." 

Bob moved his head negatively. "I'm afraid I can't make it. I've got to see 
a fellow in San Francisco about a summer job; he's the father of a guy I met 
at school, and he owns an electronics distributorship. There's a good chance 
he might need another phone man in the sales office." He touched Fran's bare 
arm possessively. "And if Fran and I are going to get married, I'm going to 
need all the money I can get if we're both going back to school next year." 

"Joe Leavitt called yesterday," Randi put in. "He asked me to tell you to 
drop around to his new apartment in Beaumont today if you could. The two of 
you haven't seen one another since Christmas." 

"Is he still working for his dad's lumber company?" 

"Yes. In fact, his father is taking him in as a full partner." 

"Hey, great," Bob said. "Well, I guess I'd better stop by today and 
congratulate him, then. I can do that after I get back from the city." 

Randi refilled his cup. "I'd rather you didn't use the wagon," she said. 
"I'm leaving for the bridge club at Doris Adams' right after I clean up the 
dishes." 

"All right if I borrow the Healey, Dad?" 

"Sure," Gary told him, and then to Fran, "You planning to go along to San 
Francisco, honey?" 

"Well, I don't think so," Fran said. "I'd only be in the way. I'd like to 
just get some sun by your pool if that's all right." 

"Sure, sure," Gary told her expansively. "Looks like it's going to be a fine 
day for sunbathing." 

"What are you going to do, Gary?" Randi asked him. 

"I guess I don't have much choice," he answered. "With both cars gone, it 
looks as if I'll be sticking pretty close to the house myself. Anyway, the 
lawn needs mowing and I've been putting it off for too long; the neighbors 
are going to report me to the Community Beautification League if I don't." 

After breakfast, Randi was clearing away the dishes when Bob came into the 
kitchen again. Fran had gone to change into her swimming suit-that shameless 
bikini again, most likely, Randi thought peevishly-and Gary was puttering 
around with the power mower in the garage. 

Bob came to where she stood at the sink and put his arm around her waist. 
"Mom ... " he started to say, and then, "Mom, I-I ... I know how you feel." 

Randi leaned against his arm, the beginnings of hot tears forming on her 
lower lids. She had been feeling sorry for herself, alone there, and Bob's 
presence brought everything welling to the surface. "Do you?" she asked 
softly. 

"I ... heard you and Dad last night. I don't know what I can say, except-" 

"Please," Randi whispered softly. "Don't say anything." 

"That son of a bitch!" Bob snapped suddenly, vehemently. "Damn him to hell 
for the way he treats you!" 

"Bob, don't talk that way about your father," she said automatically, and 
then wondered why she leapt to Gary's defense. God knew, Bob's description 
was completely accurate, at least figuratively. 

"I'm sorry, Mom," Bob apologized. "It's just that ... well, I can't 
understand what motivates a man like him sometimes." 

Nor can I, Randi thought silently. She felt her strength fall away. Bob's 
rock-ribbed body was a shield to her, a welcome post against which to lean, 
and she wanted to take him into her arms and hug him close to her breast, as 
she would a lover, but the cold, inescapable realization that he was her son 
prevented her from doing so-even though she so desperately needed the love 
and affection a man could offer, a man who was not the hot male beast her 
husband was. 

Finally, she broke the spell and moved back from her son. "You'll ... you'll 
be late if you don't hurry," she said haltingly. "Hurry now. I'll be all 
right, really I will be." 

"Okay, Mom," he said reluctantly. Quickly, he kissed her cheek and then 
retreated to his bedroom to change into a suit for his San Francisco 
interview. 

Slowly, Randi washed the dishes. When she had finished, she went into Gary's 
and her bedroom and changed into loose-fitting white flared-bottom slacks 
and a frilly blouse. She stood before the full-length mirror fastened to the 
back of the door momentarily, smoothing the material and pirouetting slowly. 
Then, realizing with embarrassment that she was admiring her trim figure, 
she hurriedly took her purse and left the house. Bob had already gone, and 
Fran, lying on one of the chaise lounges by the pool, waved gaily to her; 
Randi pretended not to notice. Gary was nowhere to be seen as she started 
the wagon and backed out of the driveway. 

Doris Adams was especially glad to see her when she arrived, since many of 
the regular bridge club members were on vacation or unable to attend due to 
prior commitments. As a result, instead of the usual three tables, there 
were only enough girls present for two. 

Randi couldn't seem to keep her mind on the bidding, and after two hours 
decided that she had made a mistake attending the session at all. On the 
pretext of a migraine headache, she excused herself and departed at least an 
hour and a half earlier than usual. She would, she decided as she bid Doris 
good-bye and walked to the wagon, go home and lie by the pool for a time; 
perhaps, that way, she would be able to relax, to ease some of the tension 
which the events of the past two days had instilled inside her. 

When Randi arrived at the ranch style home, she noted that Gary had kept his 
promise about mowing the lawn; or, at least, he had half-kept it. The power 
mover rested in the middle of the driveway, and beside it was a five-gallon 
gasoline can, bright red with a flexible nozzle attached-Randi concluded 
that he had run out of gas and was in the process of filling the mower's 
tank from a second five-gallon can he kept in the garage, and instead of 
removing the blockage from the driveway, she pulled the wagon in to the curb 
in front. She crossed the spongy, half-cut lawn and entered the dimly cool 
interior. 

Finding herself thirsty from the warm afternoon sun and the drive from 
Doris', she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking out 
the quart container of lemonade she had made the previous morning. She 
carried it to the drain board, took a tumbler from the cupboard, and poured 
it full. Just as she raised the glass to her lips, the low, musical sound of 
girlishly high-pitched laughter reached her ears. It seemed to be coming 
from outside the window to the right of the sink, from the direction of the 
pool. 

Frowning, Randi moved sideways to where she could look through the slit in 
the closed cafe curtains. At first she saw nothing; the section of the 
pool's placid blue water that she could see was deserted, and there was no 
one on the half-moon patio, although a towel rested on the chaise lounge 
which Fran had been occupying when Randi left earlier. But then, suddenly, a 
head bobbed up on the near side of the pool, the laughing face partially 
hidden by thin wet strands of raven black hair. A hand appeared to brush the 
hair away, and Randi, recognizing her son's fiance, thought absently: She's 
having a fine old time in there all by herself. 

Randi started to turn away from the window, but just then Fran emitted a low 
squeal and her head disappeared, only to be replaced by another head, this 
one masculine, laughing boisterously, shaking water from the long, greying 
hair. Randi stopped. Well, she might have expected it; Gary had grown tired 
of mowing the lawn and had decided to join Fran in the pool, to frolic 
around like a little boy with his own son's fiance. It was a good thing the 
neighbors weren't able to see the two of them horsing around like that, what 
with the high green shrubbery walling off most of the rear yard from view. 

Gary raised up in the pool, resting his arms on the edge, as Randi watched. 
A moment later, Fran bobbed up beside him, giggling. "That wasn't very nice, 
Gary," she said in a teasing voice. 

"What wasn't?" he asked innocently. 

"What you just did." 

"What was that?" 

"This!" Fran squealed again, and Gary yelped in surprise, and then both 
heads disappeared again. 

What in the world were they doing in there? Randi wondered as first Gary 
reappeared, and then Fran. She heard Gary say, "You know what I'm going to 
do to you for that?" 

"What?" Fran taunted. 

Gary's head dipped forward, and Randi saw his lips meet the girl's, clinging 
there for a long moment. Randi stared open-mouthed. It really didn't 
surprise her that Gary would try to kiss Fran; but what did surprise her, 
shock her, was that Fran allowed it, that she didn't break away immediately. 
She was Bob's fiance, wasn't she? What kind of bitch was she, to let the 
father of her husband-to-be kiss her like that? Then Randi remembered the 
overheard sexual by-play in the guest room last night and answered her own 
question. Well, it was obvious what kind of bitch she was; a completely 
immoral little- 

Fran and Gary broke apart. He said with mock anger, "Were you trying to 
swallow my goddamned tongue?" 

"Didn't you like it?" 

"Hell, yes!" 

"I know something else you'll like." 

"Do you?" 

"Give me your hand." 

There was a moment of silence, and then Gary breathed softly, "Jesus 
Christ!" 

"Do you like them?" 

"They're like two perfectly ripe melons!" 

"You can kiss them if you want." 

Gary needed no urging. His head dipped again, disappearing from Randi's 
view; Fran's eyes closed and her lips parted slightly. Randi stood frozen in 
abject horror. Oh, God, no! she thought. No, this can't be happening! Not 
her husband, not her son's fiance, not this, it couldn't be happening! 

Fran opened her eyes then, and a smile curved her moist lips. 

"What's this?" she asked throatily. 

Gary's voice made an unintelligible sound from below the pool's edge. 

"Why, it's a rock," Fran whispered. "It must be a rock. It's as hard as a 
rock." 

Gary's head appeared again. He was breathing heavily, his mouth open. "Do 
you want to find out just what it is?" 

"Yes, I think I'd like that." 

"Here, then," Gary said in a deep voice. He rested one hand on the edge of 
the pool, and Randi knew, as she stood frozen in fascinated horror, that he 
was removing his swimming trunks with the other hand. Removing them to 
reveal ... 

"Oh, my!" Fran's voice exclaimed then. "Oh, my my my!" 

"Is it big enough for you?" 

"It's like a pole!" she said. "Like a giant pole!" 

Gary's breath caught in his throat. "You shouldn't do that." 

"Don't you like it?" 

"Sure I ... ummmm!" 

"Isn't that nice, Gary, dear?" 

"Let me take your bottom off!" 

"I'll do it for you," Fran said huskily. And then, "There, now." 

"Oh, Christ, what a sweet young pussy you have!" 

"And what a fat old cock you have." 

Randi felt an insane pressure building, building inside her head until she 
thought her temples would surely explode. No, no, no, no! her brain 
screamed. First last night, and now this-this filthy exhibition she was 
witnessing. It was too much for her to cope with; her whole world was 
beginning to shatter, to come apart at the seams, to crumble around her like 
broken shards of a fragile, treasured heirloom which had been suddenly and 
inexplicably cast to the floor. 

Outside, in the pool, Gary's lust-quickened voice was breathing, "Fran, 
Fran, Oh, Jesus, you teasing little bitch ...!" 

"Will you cum if I keep this up?" 

"Yes! Yes!" 

"Do you want me to jack you off right here in the pool?" 

"Yes! Yes! Oh yes yes yes!" 

"No!" Fran said suddenly, and then laughing, her head disappeared; a moment 
later, Randi saw her surface on the far side of the pool, tossing her 
dripping hair. 

"Goddamn you!" Gary howled, and then he was flashing after her through the 
sunlit blue water, churning it to foam with scissoring kicks of his powerful 
legs. Squealing and laughing, Fran evaded him for several minutes, but then 
he caught her on the far side of the pool. Randi saw his hands go around her 
slim waist and lift her up into the air, out of the water. Fran was 
completely nude, and streams of water ran down across her perfectly rounded 
breasts, past the pinkish-brown nipples and aureoles, along the flat curve 
of her stomach to the raised, glistening, silky mound of her cunt. Gary sat 
her down hard on the cement side, her buttocks striking the solid edge 
sharply; Fran cried out in sudden pain, and he said triumphantly, "Serves 
you right, you little prick tease!" 

But instead of becoming angry, Fran only laughed again. Sitting the way she 
was on the pool's edge, with Gary below her, she began to move her legs 
apart, wider, wider, exposing the red, narrow lips of her young hair-lined 
pussy to him. Her eyes lidded in a sultry way and she leaned back to rest on 
her hands, her full breasts pushed skyward, raising her hips slightly, 
undulating her pelvis so that her cunt seemed to leap toward Gary, and then 
retreat, leap toward him, retreat. 

He watched it as if transfixed, his face only inches away from the moist 
slightly spread slit now. Fran's voice drifted across the pool, barely 
reaching Randi's ringing ears, "Come on, big man, show Fran how much of a 
man you are. Or haven't you ever eaten pussy before?" 

"I'll show you who's a man!" Gary shouted, and his head snapped forward 
between her spread thighs, his mouth grinding down on her cunt lips, his 
tongue leaping into her lubricated vagina in the ultimate french kiss. 

"Ohhhhh!" Fran moaned. "Ohhhh, that's nice, oh daddy, that's lovely!" Gary's 
head moved back slightly, but his words were discernible only to Fran. "Yes, 
I'm sorry!" she crooned. "Oh, yessss, I'm sorry I didn't make you cum, I'm 
sorrrrrry!" 

Her body arched under his probing tongue and she lifted her legs, clasping 
her ankles back behind his neck, imprisoning his head between her thighs. 
Her hips were moving now in the motion of copulation, slowly at first, 
fucking his tongue slowly, but then faster and faster, fucking it wildly, 
her hips gyrating impossibly, lifting herself to an upright position and 
wrapping both her hands in his hair, trying to push his head and his molten 
tongue deeper into her cunt, to consume it, and then she was wailing, I'm 
going to cum, I'm going to cum, Gary darling darling darling I'm going to 
cuuuummmmmmmmm!" 

The rising crescendo of Fran's ecstatic cry of climax served to break the 
almost hypnotic spell Randi had been under as she watched the lewd, lustful 
performance outside. Her brain began to function again, and her body 
reacted. Her legs worked. Tears flooded from her eyes, and she ran 
unseeingly from the kitchen, away from the vulgar, carnal act she had 
witnessed, her own husband kissing another woman there, she had never never 
never allowed him to do that to her, she had almost vomited when he tried; 
her brain was spinning crazily as she ran down the flagstone front walk and 
got into the station wagon, oh God she had to get away, she had to get away 
... 

* * * 

Fran lay back on the warm floor of the patio, eyes closed, the tips of her 
toes touching the cool pool water, a pleasant tingling sensation in her 
pussy from Gary's ministrations only seconds earlier. God, she hadn't been 
gone down on like that in her life; not even sweet, immature Bob, forever 
willing, had been able to make her cum like this pot-bellied old man who was 
his father. Oh, he was good, alright; he was soooooo good. 

She felt movement beside her and opened her eyes. Gary had climbed out of 
the pool and he was sitting next to her now in the sun, looking down at her, 
his lips wet and his face flushed crimson. Her eyes went to his lower belly. 
Lord, but he had a gigantic prick! Now she knew where Bob had gotten his 
lovely cock. Gary's member stood upright, its blood-swollen head throbbing, 
causing the entire length of it to jerk spasmodically. 

He said in a panting voice, "Are you going ... to return the favor now?" 

She moistened her lips. Should she tease the old boy a little while, like 
she had done in the pool? No, he had done such a lovely job on her that she 
really owed it to him to return the favor. "All right, big daddy," she said, 
and in an almost cat-lazy fashion she turned on her side and squirmed down 
until her eyes were directly across from Gary's immense cock. She studied 
the large pulsating shaft for a few moments, inspecting its blue and red 
detail of veins and arteries, its pink, ribbed skin textured like fine 
velvet, the bulbous head like the cap of some obscene mushroom, red with 
desire. She reached out a fingernail and stroked the brown circumcision 
ring, and the cock leapt to her touch. 

"Damn you!" Gary moaned, almost beyond endurance. "Stop fucking around and 
do something." 

Fran scratched her nail down the urethra tube, the most sensitive part of a 
penis, and then curled her hand around its base. 

"UUUUhhhoooohhh," groaned Gary. "Christ!" 

Fran rose to her knees and began sliding her hand up and down the hardened 
fleshy shaft, up and down in perfectly timed strokes, slowly at first, 
causing Gary's body to ache all the more. He lifted his buttocks off the 
ground slightly, thighs quivering with the magic touch of Fran. "Uuhhh, 
uuuhh," he panted in time to the movement of her hand. He leaned forward 
enthralled and doubly excited by watching her teasing fingers. He couldn't 
tear his eyes away, and his mind was filled with the thought of what his 
married life had been missing. 

Fran increased her pressure and speed, grasping the ballooning cock in both 
hands, tearing into it as fast as she could. 

"Aaaahhhhh! I'm going to cum!" 

Fran let up her attack, and Gary's hips heaved and then fell. "Please!" he 
cried. "Please make me cum. I'm going crazy, you fucking little bitch!" 

Fran laughed and began again. She took her left hand and cradled his balls, 
feeling the two sperm-bloated sacs writhe, worming her nails through his 
hair and along his inner thighs. Gary's huge prick had begun to dribble its 
clear lubricating liquid, and it flowed down her hand and pooled in his 
pubic hair. Some of it trickled between his legs, making her roving fingers 
slipperly. She felt him gasp and stiffen as her forefinger found his anus, 
and the tight sphincter muscle contracted with passion. "Oh God! Oh God!" 
Gary moaned. 

Fran laughed deep inside and then rose to her knees and hovered over his 
shaking body, her face within inches of his moist throbbing penile head. She 
held his cock tightly with both hands, stroking it between the flat of her 
palms. Gary undulated beneath her in time to the maddening rhythm. Fran 
dipped her head and her pink-tipped tongue darted forward, boring teasingly 
at the dilated opening. Gary sucked in his breath, and his spine rippled 
from the chills her tongue had caused, and then he groaned again as she 
opened her mouth and enclosed the whole of his smooth, rubbery cock head 
with her hot, damp lips. Her mouth tightened as his rectum had moments 
earlier, her tongue swirling around the crown like some fantastic dervish. 
He raised his loins and drove the shaft farther in. 

The sight of her action excited him even more. He peered along his chest at 
his hard maleness fucking her swollen mouth. He watched, fascinated, his 
cock glistening wet from her saliva like some rained on tree stump, as her 
red ovaled lips pushed against the shaft, convoluting as it slid in and out. 
He groaned over and over, and then clenched his teeth in incoherent 
mutterings as she worked harder. 

Fran could feel his throbbing vibrations quicken and in reaction her heat 
began to build. She dug the tips of her teeth into his hard resisting flesh, 
leaving thin white furrows where they scraped the skin. Her tongue lashed 
out in increasing fury, roaring around the gland until Gary felt as if the 
top would explode. She bobbed her head faster and faster, bloating her 
cheeks with the full extent of his cock, feeling it lash the very back of 
her throat. Gary was certain she would gag on his shaft, suddenly choke as 
the tip battered her larynx, but she kept on in frenzied abandon. 

Fran, uncontrollable, reached down between her legs with her left hand and 
began stroking her pussy. She parted her gushing lips, still dripping from 
Gary's tongue bath and wet from her own lubricity. She fingered the rising 
clitoris until it was as rigid as Gary's prick, then dipped a finger, then 
two, into her clasping, feverish cunt. Oh, it felt good! Oh, was it fine! 
She moved closer, more in line with Gary's body, rubbing her thighs and 
pubic hair against him. 

"I've got to have you!" she gasped, almost incoherent with her mouth still 
full. "Fuck me!" Fuck me now!" 

"Yes, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Gary chanted. 

Her lips suddenly left his near bursting penis and Fran threw herself full 
length upon Bob's father. She twisted and squirmed, smashing her lips 
against his mouth and undulating her belly with his. "Oh you feel hard and 
nice," she whispered. "I want you inside me. Now!" 

Her nails trailed across his chest and sides, and she grasped him roughly by 
the shoulders. Gary pushed his hands down her back and rolled her over so 
that he was on top and wedged tightly between her widespread legs. He rubbed 
his huge prick into her hungry cunt lips, sensing her vagina growing wetter 
and wider, as if it had life of its own. Her ass began a rotation of 
desperate proportions, snaking out wider still on either side of his thighs 
with her legs wide and calves locked against the back of his legs. 

"OOOHHH, Now, Now! Fuck me, daddy, fuck me!" Her eyes were closed, but as 
Gary rose above her, ready to stab into the very depths of her body, she 
opened them wide. 

Gary lunged, battering against her, not quite getting in. Fran's hands dove 
down and circled his member, guiding it throbbingly between the lips of her 
hot, pulsating vagina. Gary heaved as he felt his tool sheathed, and then 
she cried, "There!" and he plunged deep into the moist, hungry hole of his 
son's fiance. The soft hairs of her thighs grazed against him, holding all 
of him from fully penetrating her, and he lashed his hips in cruel, 
excruciating thrust. 

"AAAAGGGHHHHHH!" Fran screamed. Her vaginal muscles sprang apart as would a 
virgin's, but then almost immediately they began to crawl and ripple along 
his prick as he moved inside her. Suddenly he hit bottom, and his balls 
slapped hard against her upturned anus. 

Fran tried to hold back, to take his plunging, hardened cock less at a time, 
but her motion only skewered her tighter to him. She ground her pelvis 
beneath him as she strained, then arched her loins, meeting his pounding 
body. 

"Ohh, it's good! It's wonderful!" She worked her legs back and forth, her 
flailing hips working in time against him. She felt his hardness in her warm 
cunt, sliding from the moisture of lips and secretions. A rivulet seeped its 
way between her legs, collecting beneath her writhing buttocks. 

Gary felt his cock expand wildly. He thought it was going to split down the 
middle, it seemed so bursting. He stroked harder, the battering of her 
quivering little pussy beginning to send the load of hot, sticky cum up his 
balls. He was going to shoot her full in a minute, any minute, and the 
thought made him lash out like an infused satyr. 

"Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!" Fran wailed. "Ram me! Squirt your cum, darling, 
fill me up!" 

Her sudden obscene comments only drove Gary on harder. He ground his pelvis 
into her soft, yielding flesh and reached down to grab the cheeks of her ass 
and pull her tighter until the resounding smacks of his naked belly against 
hers filled the air. His breathing became ragged and short. I'm losing 
control, he thought. My god, I'm going out of my fucking mind! 

Fran heaved her hips against his cock, mercilessly. Nothing mattered except 
the sperm-loaded balls which were viscously whacking her thighs and ass, she 
could feel the sopping crevice squish against him, and her only thought was 
his magnificent cock pummeling her battered hole. She wanted Bob's father's 
semen, his white liquid spurting in her belly, and she was completely 
immersed in the deliciousness of his frenzied cudgel. 

"I'm cumming! I'm ... c ... cumming!" Gary screamed and threw his head back 
as though wounded, and then he thrust his cock's full expanse deep within 
the young flailing girl. His mouth fell open and he clawed her buttocks 
convulsively. Torrents of hot white cream spilled from his prick, surging 
through the depths of her body. He continued to sputter and surge, pumping 
deep into her vagina and womb until it overflowed and ran in lewd, white 
rivulets down the wide spittle of her legs. The bursting hot liquid, at the 
same time, set off her climax, the delectable sensation charging through her 
and she poured forth her own juices, mixing and combining with his sperm in 
wild abandon. Gary throbbed in decreasing spasms ... then he let his body go 
limp and moaned in sheer exhaustion. 

Fran collapsed, too, her body still quivering. She lay on her back, 
obscenely positioned beneath him with her legs wide, feeling slightly drowsy 
now, satiated. 

God, there's just nothing like a good fuck she sighed to herself. 
Particularly, she smiled, one by your future father-in-law! 

 Chapter 3 

Randi fled from her house, dazed and reeling with the horror of what she had 
witnessed. She still could picture her husband's face groveling down between 
Fran's open legs, and the girl urging Gary to greater speed as she jerked 
and squirmed beneath his stabbing tongue. Stumbling toward the parked 
station wagon, Randi choked back the racking sob which welled in her breast, 
brushing at the scalding tears which blinded her eyes. 

"Oh God," she cried aloud, "I can't believe it!" She reached the wagon, 
threw open the door and slid inside, her hands trembling so badly she 
couldn't put the key in the ignition immediately. Finally she made the 
insertion and started the car; then, heaving the transmission lever into 
drive, she lurched down the quiet residential street, her mind panicked with 
fear and revulsion. What had come over them? They were both like ... like 
animals, like obscene rutting pigs, displaying their bodies and genitals ... 
and Gary-that horrid, wretched man-had he no pride, no decency? He has 
defiled the marriage vows, soiled the sacred bond between man and wife, and 
all for what? To commit an act of perversion on a bitch young enough to be 
his daughter. A young bitch who was engaged to marry their son! 

Randi had never felt so humiliated and sick of spirit in her life. She could 
not understand her husband's sexual fervor. In going down on Fran, Gary had 
rejected Randi, had callously ruined what little remained of the trust and 
respect between them. Sobbing, Randi pushed her foot to the floor and the 
car leaped forward, sending her farther away, mercifully farther away, from 
the horrible, depraved acts she had just witnessed. 

That whore, she thought bitterly. Fran, the girl Bob loved so deeply. Oh, I 
had a feeling about her right away, right from the first moment in the 
airport. The way she swung her hips and thrust her breasts out like some 
lewd slut. Yes, and later flung herself at Bob, squirming and rubbing 
against his body, exciting him with absolute wantonness. And then-that 
seduction in the guest room. Her Bob, whom she had raised to be a decent, 
moral abiding young man all these years, couldn't he see Fran for what she 
was? Was he so blind with love and devotion that he could overlook her 
corruption and lubricity? 

The thought of her innocent son's unprincipled debasement by Fran galvanized 
her into action. She realized he had to be saved. The private hell that was 
her own life with Gary would be nothing compared to the anguish and torment 
Bob would suffer if he married that degenerate girl. She had to find him! 
She had to blurt out what she had seen and heard, mindful of the pain it 
would cause now but knowing that he would thank her one day, that his future 
happiness would be preserved. 

For a moment Randi thought of Bob returning from San Francisco and 
witnessing what she had, and the unprepared boy's psyche being forever 
scarred at the horror of it. He was due home any time, she thought, possibly 
within minutes. She groaned, wondering if she should have stayed there and 
somehow broken up the lascivious exhibition herself instead of fleeing. 

No, wait-Bob's words came back to her. What had he said at breakfast? Where 
was he going after his job interview? To Joe Levitt's place, that was it, to 
the apartment of his best friend, Joe Levitt! Then he would be there, not at 
home! She still had a chance! 

Randi, the one burning thought of salvaging Bob's security, of protecting 
him from the likes of Fran, piercing through her own plight, wracked her 
brain for Joe Levitt's address in Beaumont, remembering finally that Joe had 
given it to her to give to Bob-and then remembering what it was. 

Randi drove to the intersection of El Camino Real and Reskin Road, and after 
waiting for the light to change, she turned right on the heavily travelled 
El Camino and raced for the town of Beaumont. The communities which 
stretched along the Peninsula below San Francisco were attached like a 
string of sausages, one right after another. Beaumont was three such towns 
away, sandwiched between San Mateo and the affluent Hillsborough, about five 
miles south. Randi drove as fast as she dared, her mind fully absorbed with 
seeing Bob and resolving the agonizing hollowness she felt in the pit of her 
stomach. 

Again the lurid view from the kitchen window flooded her brain, and again 
she relived the salacious nightmare of Gary and Fran on the cement pool 
edge, the way he had been kissing and licking between her legs ... Randi 
squirmed in the seat, horrified that she was unable to blot the sensuality 
from her mind. It was as though the events of last night and this morning 
had changed her, and Randi was forced to confess sickeningly to herself that 
she wasn't the same woman she had been this time the day before. 

The heat and excitement between her husband and Fran began to stimulate her 
own body hotly, against her will. No, no don't let this happen to me she 
pleaded silently, but the more she tried to stop the waves of desire, the 
faster and heavier they rolled and crashed over her body like pounding surf. 
The vinyl seat seemed to push up against her, and Randi sensed the rounded 
edge of the cushion through the material of her slacks; the lack of panties 
heightened the pressure on her sensitive vaginal lips and inadvertently she 
rubbed herself gently against the cushion edge, working the corner of the 
seat deeper against her vulva. Her body began to rock faintly in the age-old 
rhythm of copulation. She felt her vagina moisten, and spread her legs 
slightly for better contact. The roughness of the tightened slacks brushed 
against her rising clitoris, making her gasp and jerk. 

Randi looked guiltily out the side window as she passed an old man in a 
Rambler; then, realizing he couldn't be aware of her actions, she lay back 
and relaxed, mouth open with desire, and continued to grind her cuntal slit 
into the cushion, shivers of revulsion mingling with secret lewd 
stimulation. It seemed like an eternity before she pulled up in front of the 
large apartment complex where Joe Levitt lived. She stayed in the car for a 
long minute, collecting her ragged emotions, trying desperately to get a 
grip on herself. At last, sighing an anguished breath, she slowly opened the 
door and stepped out into the hot sun. 

The apartment building took up a full block, a contractor's special, 
jerry-built-but with rents exorbitantly high. The front entrance had the 
type of stone archway popular in the Twenties, with a pseudo-Byzantine 
courtyard of tile and multicolored plants leading from the street to the 
main door. A wrought iron gate had been installed at the arch, apparently to 
hinder vandals from entering and/or carrying off the sculptured 
lady-with-jug who stood nude in the middle of the courtyard's small 
fountain. 

Randi was afraid that the gate was locked as she approached, but it swung 
open as she tried its latch. There was a sign on the left hand side of the 
gate which said it would be locked after nine at night; another notice on 
the switch plate of buttons set into the stone interior wall read that the 
gate lock was out of order. She checked the name plates below the buttons 
and found one which had J. Levitt and D. Garrett printed on it. Apartment 
314. Quickly she walked to the main door and took the elevator to the third 
floor. 

The building, lacking air conditioning or proper insulation, was hot and 
stifling. The afternoon sun had baked the air in the ground floor hallway, 
and Randi had a passing thought that the apartments on the top floor, the 
third, would be like ovens. The elevator came to a halt, and she followed 
the carpeted hallway toward 314, anticipation rising at the thought of 
seeing Bob and confessing what his girl and her husband had done-were 
possibly still doing. At the door of Joe Levitt's apartment she paused, 
moistening her lips. 

The door was slightly ajar, probably to let in whatever air might drift down 
the hall, Randi thought. She knocked timidly, calling out Bob's name softly 
and then Joe's. No answer came from within. She pushed and the door swung 
wider, still not producing an answer. She walked in, hesitantly looking for 
a sign of life. 

"Bob?" she called out. "Joe?" Silence. 

The small kitchen was to her right, a narrow set of counters piled with 
dirty dishes. Directly in front of her was the living room, replete with a 
stained white carpet, hi-fi stereo system, and modernistic, 
uncomfortable-looking furniture. The sliding glass balcony door stood wide 
open, and through it Randi could hear boisterous shouts drifting up from 
below. 

Possibly they went for a swim, Randi said to herself. She walked across to 
the doorway and then out on the narrow ledge, peering down at the pool in 
the middle of the apartment complex. It wasn't large enough for the many 
apartments surrounding it, and she could barely see the water for all the 
bodies. The crowd was young, made up of bikinied girls Fran's age and men 
similar to Bob and Joe. She knew that most of them were airline stewardesses 
and pilots from San Francisco International Airport, fairly close by, who 
were based in this area. 

She did not locate either Bob or his friend in the throng, and she turned to 
go, thinking that perhaps she had been wrong and Bob had not come here after 
all. She passed the foyer leading to the bathroom and bedrooms, and 
inadvertently she peered into the large mirror hanging there. 

It was placed at such an angle so as to give the reflection of the bathroom. 
Randi stopped, her eye caught by the motion she could see in the mirror, and 
then, horrified, she realized what she was watching. Joe Levitt was standing 
up in the uncurtained bathtub, his lean, muscular body blanketed with soap 
suds. She heard the slosh of water as he leaned over, and saw his flanks and 
cheeks clearly as he took a rubber hose and attached one end of it to the 
faucet. The other end had a wide head which sprayed water as he rotated the 
knobs, and he proceeded to rinse himself. 

Levitt obviously was unaware of her presence. Randi, mouth open, stared at 
him as he washed, and for a second time her mind told her to run. Yet this 
youthful body, so much like Bob's, fascinated her, and she stood rooted to 
the spot, feet unable to move. 

Joe Levitt passed the spray head over himself. The suds disappeared, leaving 
him in full clean nakedness to Randi's view. At first his back was to her, 
satinly bronzed skin rippling with vigor. Around his buttocks was the white 
band of his bathing trunks, accentuating his thighs. Randi's mouth went dry 
and again she tingled with rippling sensuality as he slowly moved the spray 
around. He made little circles around the small of his back, just above the 
darkened crevice of his buttocks and Randi stifled a groan, the small of her 
own back becoming almost alive with emulation. 

Levitt spread his legs slightly and bent down. He had fine, strong legs, 
black and hairy, and his cheeks curved into them perfectly. He bent one leg 
a little more, and Randi stopped breathing, mesmerized, staring at the 
shadowed crotch. As he made one final pass with the spray, she saw the 
begging silhouette of his balls hanging like gourds from between his legs. 
The thought of his cock and what it would look like filled Randi's mind, and 
she found herself desperately wanting him to turn around, show what manhood 
he possessed. 

Levitt turned off the water and climbed out of the tub. In doing so he 
grabbed a velour towel from the rack, and the motion covered his middle. 
Again Randi's imagination went rampant. Levitt rubbed his head and shoulders 
lazily, the bottom of the towel against his upper thighs like a skirt hiking 
up a woman's legs, and Randi glued her eyes to the reflection, straining for 
the first glimpse of his masculinity. Then, he went lower, rubbing his chest 
and stomach, turning, rubbing his flanks on one side, then the other. 

Then Randi's excited torment was over. Feet splayed, towel curved underneath 
and around, Levitt revealed his balls and prick and began to dry them. 
Sensuously he massaged the pubic area, slowly manipulating his pale member, 
moving it up and around with the soft towel. He lolled it side to side, its 
limpness making it roll exposing the flaccid shaft to Randi's hot eyes. Even 
soft it was huge, she thought in a detached way, bigger than Gary's ... was 
it bigger than Bob's? Levitt moved the towel down and stroked his distended 
testicles, the two thick lumps inside-looking like boulders encased in a 
wrinkled paper bag. Then he rubbed himself between the legs and up around 
his anus, and the beginnings of an erection began to show. Levitt stopped, 
putting the towel on the rack but keeping one hand on his cock, moving its 
foreskin lewdly back and forth casually. 

Randi stayed transfixed as the limp cock began to soak blood, to turn from 
the pale thing at rest to an angry instrument, engorging and rising as 
Levitt fingered it. It grew to enormous size, Randi shuddering at the idea 
of it penetrating a woman-herself, perhaps-and its evil head gleamed at her 
with its open eye. 

Levitt let go of himself, and with a sigh began to walk out of the bathroom. 
Move, Randi screamed at herself, run and get away from here. He'll see you 
in a second, realize you were watching him-but she couldn't. He stepped out 
of the bathroom, humming a tune, and then in shock, stopped as he saw Randi. 

"Wha-" Joe Levitt swallowed hard, then stammered, "Mrs. Malone! What are you 
doing here?" 

"I'm-I'm sorry, Joe, Joe," she blurted. "I came to see if Bob was here." 

Joe tried to turn away, his face blushing crimson. Then he saw himself in 
the mirror. "You saw me in there ... " 

"Yes, I did." 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malone," he said weakly. 

He wasn't, Randi could tell. He couldn't be, for as he apologized, Randi 
still had full view of his penis, and what had been an erection in the 
bathroom enlarged still further. It stood out at a forty-five degree angle, 
rock-hard shaft a deep pink right up to the collar of skin under the head. 
The head itself was purple, larger in diameter than the long base, like a 
knuckleless fist above an upraised arm. 

"It's all right, Joe. Remember, I have a son your age." Randi completely 
overpowered by the strange fascination of Joe's penis, reached out and 
touched his back with her fingertips. He gasped. "It's ... nothing to be 
ashamed of," she continued. "Be proud of ... of yourself." 

She was as surprised at hearing herself say those words as Joe was. He 
turned, face a mask of confusion. Randi tried to get her voice back, but the 
only thing which came to her was the fact that she was now staring wantonly 
at his cock, with nothing between them except her thin, too-thin slacks. 

Levitt smiled slightly, then, catching the agonizing heat Randi felt 
coursing through her. He looked into her eyes and saw where they were 
focused, and brazenly he said, "Well?" 

"Joe-" 

"You've done this, you know." 

"No ... " Randi stepped back a pace, her hand to her mouth as the 
realization of the situation, of what he was intimating, flooded her mind. 
"You don't understand, Joe. I-I came here to see my son." 

"He called to say he couldn't make it, that he'd gotten tied up in San 
Francisco." Levitt moved in closer, his long shaft almost touching the 
crotch of Randi's slacks. 

"I'm all upset, Joe," Randi stammered. "Please ... please don't make things 
worse." 

Levitt stopped, frowning. 

Randi, hoping with dulled senses that she had halted his advances, 
continued. "I-I saw my husband and Fran together this afternoon, just now. I 
... I have ... to tell Bob." 

"Fran? Isn't that Bob's girl?" 

"Yes, yes. It was awful." 

"What was awful? How were they together?" 

"Oh Lord, they were naked ... she had him in the pool, playing with him ... 
laughing and teasing him ... making him hard like ... like you were doing 
... " Randi moaned, the remembrance causing more unwanted excitement to well 
up inside her. 

Levitt's cock jumped, and he began to breathe harder. "Go on, Mrs. Malone," 
he said urgently. "What happened next?" 

"I ... I couldn't believe it. They were like mad people. He chased her, 
caught her and threw her down. She spread her legs and begged him to ... to 
..." 

"Fuck her?" 

"Don't use that filthy word!" she begged, almost screaming. She leaned 
against the wall, weakness making her legs tremble. "No, it was worse. He 
kissed her ... there ... between the legs ... " She groaned miserably. 

Levitt drew in a panting breath. "What are you planning to do about it?" 

"Tell Bob. Tell him ... what kind of girl he's engaged to." 

Joe's cock throbbed as he studied her. "That's right ... you could. Then 
you'd get a divorce, for you sure couldn't keep what you know from breaking 
you up with your husband. And then the scandal. That would be a real ugly 
one, and the newspapers would eat it up." 

"But ..." 

"We can't let them get away with it, though. There has been some reprisal." 

Randi searched his eyes for his meaning and was frightened by the lecherous 
gleam in them. "What-what do you mean?" 

"Simple," he said slowly. "An eye for an eye ... a woman for a woman." 

Randi felt the insides of her belly turn, and a shiver crept up her spine, 
sending a wet clamminess through her. She choked. "Are you ... no, you can't 
mean ...!" 

"You liked what you saw. I can't repulse you." He smiled at her. "You 
obviously know what I mean." 

"It's not a matter of that," she stammered, her head whirling. "Two wrongs 
don't make a right ... I'm not like Fran, some slut you can ... " 

Her words were choked off as Joe placed his hand on her hip, and as she 
watched his fingers stroke her thigh through the fabric, Randi's body jumped 
and her breath clung to her throat. She squirmed backwards, but he moved 
closer, his huge cock pressing against her leg and his hands massaging her 
flat, tense abdomen. His face was inches from her own, his breath hot 
against her mouth. She couldn't deny the fascination he held her in, the 
almost hypnotized warmth his hands produced, the thrill of his penis poking 
near her widening vagina. Neither could she ignore the fact that she was 
married, nor of her moralistic background, but then she was overwhelmed by 
the thought of who she was married to, Gary, that beast who thought only of 
himself, his own satisfaction, and never hers. It would be what he deserved 
if his wife screwed around, too. Yes, Joe was right, she thought 
mesmerically, retribution was called for, and what better way than to give 
Gary back some of his own medicine. But, did it have to be with her own 
son's best friend! And then, then Randi dropped her mouth open in utter 
disbelief, as she heard herself saying without any conscious volition, 
whatsoever. "Oh yes, Joe, I know what you mean!" Without thinking, without a 
will of her own, Bob's mother unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged her 
shoulders. The frilly garment slid down and fluttered to the carpet. 

Levitt gasped. "God, but you're beautiful!" 

She took his hands and placed them against her hardening mounds, making sure 
his thumb tips were pressed against her nipples. She looked down at the 
foreign hands kneading her breasts and the rising tide of passion ripped 
through the last vestige of defense. She unzipped her pants and slid them 
part way off her hips. "Take them off, Joe. Hurry!" 

He squatted before her, lips brushing her naval, his hands tracing down her 
tingling side. He pushed her pants down to her knees, taking a moment out to 
slowly caress her pubic area, hand flat against the soft patch of silk-like 
hair, then he moved the pants lower and off her legs, removing her sandals 
as well in one, easy maneuver. Automatically, she spread her legs, opening 
her inner thighs to his probing touch. The hot afternoon air wafted across 
her vagina, sending a ripple of anticipation through her as Joe stood up, 
parting the sensitive lips of her cunt, tenderly slipping a finger into its 
wetness. 

Tremors surged through Randi. She was alive with sensation. Oh, never, 
never, had she known such depraved, wanton craving! Cringing from her own 
desires, she moaned, "Oh, Joe ... don't ... don't tease me! Please ...!" 

"God, but you're a luscious woman!" Joe murmured, and his mouth encased one 
ruby tip of nipple. He began to suck like a child after milk, and Randi 
thought her whole body was afire. She squirmed and her arms snaked around 
his neck, and she began to wrench her hips against his probing finger. A 
momentary sense of shame at what she was doing swept over her even as the 
prurient quivers agitated her body, while slowly and insinuatingly he probed 
deeper and deeper inside her moist, throbbing vaginal cavern. 

Randi moaned aloud and struggled against his burning lips and fingers. 
"Ohhhh ... ohhhh ... ohhhh," she whimpered helplessly, as he continued. 
Ohhhh ... yes ... yesssss!" 

"Other room! Let's ... fuck on the bed!" 

Again the lewd sound caused Randi to react inwardly, but this time she 
sensed a strange excitement as he spoke the vile word and she hissed between 
her teeth, "Yeeeeesssss!" 

Levitt picked Bob's mother up, his arms tight about her naked waist, and 
carried her into the bedroom. "We'll teach that husband of yours to fuck 
around with other girls," he said huskily. 

He dropped her on the covers and she bounced, legs spread wide before his 
lascivious eyes. He knelt down between her ankles and stared at her soft 
black pubic hair and the wide, throbbing lips of her open cunt. They seemed 
to call out to him, to beg him to touch them, to kiss them, to tear them 
apart if he so chose. The hardness of his aroused penis rubbed and made his 
loins ache, and his huge hands dug into her thighs so fiercely that she 
whined from the pain. 

And then he slithered forward, down upon the aching slit between her thighs, 
down to where his head was just above her cunt and the shocking realization 
of what he was about to do made Randi recoil in sudden repugnance. 

"No ... no! You can't do that! It's awful! Oh, God!" Randi moaned and 
twisted, but Levitt's heavy grip held her fast. "Please, my husband never 
has ... never done that to me ... please ...!" 

"Your husband did ... it to Fran ... it's only fair you should have it too," 
Levitt answered huskily, his eyes feasting hungrily on the thin lips, edged 
so delicately with soft, black hair. A droplet of her seeping vaginal juice 
moistened its fringe, then two, and then more in the fashion of a flower 
petal after a rain shower, and her clitoris peeked up at Levitt like the 
morning bud. Randi watched petrified as he placed his thumbs on her opening 
with slow, deliberate motion and drew the soft curls of her pubic hair 
apart, exposing the coral-colored flesh to his lust inflamed gaze. She 
moaned in shame as he breathed against her, the hot air grazing her 
sensitive nerves and then she caught her breath as she saw his face drop and 
his tongue wetly probe her guilt-quivering vagina. 

Her body responded automatically, convulsively jerking, a groan escaping 
from her throat as she ground her hips to the bed in an effort to get away 
from his long, hot worming tongue. "Ohhhh ... my God ... my ... my ... God!" 
The bestial outrage continued upon her defenseless cunt and her stomach 
churned in repulsion and she wailed in animal-like passion as his tongue 
licked her inner thighs, curled around her clitoris and snaked rapier-like 
in and out of her cringing pussy. "Ohhhh ... dear God ... stop ... stop ... 
" 

Levitt shook his head negatively and raced his tongue faster up the dilated 
hole between her open legs. She raised her head up and watched his assault 
in horror, her mind aflame with the realization that ... it was happening to 
her! No, it couldn't be true! The unwanted jolts of pleasure vilely pervaded 
her whole being, proving to her that it was true, all too true, that she was 
being sucked and eaten with all the intensity her husband had given to Fran. 

Levitt's hands slipped under her buttocks and squeezed and cupped the firm 
flesh of her cheeks brutally, his tongue and mouth continuing to grind 
deeper and deeper into her squirming cunt. Involuntarily she raised her 
loins, making Levitt's head bury itself deeper and the debased sucking 
sounds of his labors filled the small room. His hands split the crevice 
between her cheeks, running an exploratory finger over her crinkled rectum, 
and Randi clenched her hands into fists, her vibrant, naked flesh overcome 
by the young boy's merciless abuse. 

Vaguely she thought of Gary and the many times that he had tried to make 
love to her this way, how she had coldly refused. She had never known of the 
pleasures in store for her ... dear God, nor of the abandoned nature of her 
own body. 

Levitt heard her sharp gasp of pleasure as his hands roamed the soft 
yielding crevice of her buttocks and surging with new-found lust, he drew 
her legs up and around his neck, clasping her ankles together like some 
human necklace. He continued to orally fuck her, running his tongue around 
her clitoris in lewd sensuous circles and flailing his head back and forth 
as he darted his tongue deep into her pulsating pussy, feeling her lips push 
against his mouth with increasing intensity. Randi's buttocks spasmed 
beneath his touch, and he touched her anus again; she cried out deliriously 
and he probed the opening with a finger tip. And then, suddenly, he moved 
downward and closed in on the brown budded hole. She wanted to scream but 
instead she moaned in rapture as his tongue flicked against her puckered 
anus, and she closed her eyes as the sensual pleasure surged like wild fire 
through her. 

"Don't ... do that ... Joe ... no!" she said automatically, all the while 
pushing her thighs closer to his mouth, endeavoring to rape her tortured 
rectum with his tongue. "Oh God ... " she cried, leaning back, feeling the 
flesh of her breasts and stomach goose bump. She tossed from side to side, 
her total degradation overwhelming her, but the horrifying realization that 
she had lost control of herself flooded her mind, arousing a sob of shame 
and humiliation. Levitt licked on and on, moving from vagina to rectal hole 
and back again with complete freedom, and Randi's body began to boil with 
the raw nerve ends of pleasure. Suddenly she completely gave in to his lewd 
ministrations. She stopped fighting the intense delight he was bringing to 
her, and her soft body cried for fulfillment, fulfillment she had too long 
been denied, denied herself. She raised her desire-drenched loins to him, 
her only desire the submission to his slightest whim. She groaned her 
throbbing, widespread cunt against his face, reveling to the bottom of her 
soul with the insane throes of lustful enchantment. 

Her body began the slow agony of a building orgasm. Never had she been so 
close to a release, not in all her life. Before she had merely submitted, 
feeling the sensation but not to the point of explosion. She had heard and 
read that females have orgasms, but thought she was one of them that did not 
or could not. Now ... now with Levitt's wet mouth clamped to her vagina, she 
was experiencing for the first time in her life the real flame of desire. 
She writhed and twisted with faint mewls of passion rising from her chest, 
her face wrung with lust and deep, animalistic abandon. 

This was it! This was it! "Ohhh ... ohhh ... ohhhhhhhhh!" She chanted and 
Levitt screwed her harder with his tongue. She was vaguely aware of his 
hands groping and reaching and teasing her breasts and rectum and clit like 
searing fingers of flame, and she panted and wailed with ever-ragged breath. 
His huge unrelenting tongue burrowed ever deeper, making her tingle from 
head to toe. It was like a dream ... a wild, heavenly nightmare! Oh, it was 
wonderful! It was fabulous ... wild ... beautiful! 

She screamed: "I'm going to cum! Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't stop! Don't stop, for 
God's sake, don't stop! Oh, I'm cummmmmiiinnngggg! Aaaagggg!" And then she 
jerked and heaved against her son's young friend, pumping abandonly as the 
hot spasms of orgasm tore through her, lifting her to another world ... 

At last she settled back against the sheets, her heart pounding rapidly, her 
body temporarily satiated. Slowly Levitt pulled his head clear of her cunt. 
"Man, can you move that ass!" he said softly. "You really turn on!" 

She looked at him, the torment between the guilt and the aftermath of 
passion making her eyes wet with tears. She saw him kneeling over her, his 
face twisted lewdly, and her eyes trailed down his broad chest and stomach 
to the erect penis, which stood out like a huge totem pole from his abdomen. 
His hand began to stroke it, pulling back the foreskin, and Randi continued 
to gape at it in complete misery, her own naked body beneath filling her 
with shame as once again the realization of what she was doing filled her 
mind. But even as she stared, faint traces of desire began to build up in 
her again and a new sense of wantonness came alive. His monstrous rod seemed 
to wink at her with its one eye, and Randi was nearly terrorized with its 
size. Dear God ... it would split her apart ... she'd never be able to take 
it all ...!" 

"I'm going to fuck you," Levitt breathed. "When you get this baby all the 
way in you, you're going to really know what fucking is all about. You're 
not going to be able to walk for a week afterwards." 

"No ... no ... please ... I can't." 

"Take it," he ordered, "go on and put it in." 

"Oh God ... " she groaned once more as her hand tightened around his thick 
shaft. Fear welled as she perceived the true enormity of his giant throbbing 
cock. 

"Go on ... " he snapped, lowering his hips to her wide spread thighs. "Put 
it in ... now!" 

He dropped across her, the hardness of his cock surging against her belly 
like some blunt instrument of torture. Randi couldn't move, paralyzed from 
his weight and from the movement of his body against hers. 

She gasped and guided the hard, fleshy shaft to the passion drenched hole of 
her cunt, using his thick bulbous head to part her lips and the electrifying 
contact sent shivers of further pleasure coursing through her. She dared not 
move as he pushed against her, the stretching pressure as he violated her 
causing sharp pain. 

"Oooohhh," he gasped. 

He pushed again, the ponderous head forcing its way into her wet, 
palpitating opening. "Ohhhh. I-I can't stand it ... Please! Please, no 
more!" 

Levitt continued the impalement, his masculinity slowly thrusting inch by 
inch into her cringing passage. He filled her to bursting as he settled upon 
her, and she felt as if every wrinkle, every corrugation of the massive 
flesh was discernible through the stretched walls of her vagina. He lay 
still for a moment, then flexed his cock and lurched deeper into her belly. 

"Aaaaagggggggg!" Randi groaned helplessly, but then as her passage began to 
grow accustomed to the barbaric penis, the whimpers of pain changed to moans 
of pleasure. Levitt began to rotate his hips, grinding his manhood against 
her vagina until the head beat relentlessly against her cervix. He rocked 
above her, stroking in long, easy rhythm. She was too God damn good to be 
true! She was driving him out of his mind! Bob, his own best friend's 
mother, driving him out of his mind with her fucking cunt! 

Randi moved her hips against his in simultaneous harmony, and her mouth 
opened and closed with passion. Beads of perspiration formed on her upper 
lip, and her neck strained with pantings of pleasure. There was nothing left 
except Levitt's giant cock deep within her, pulsating with abandon ... no 
morals ... no pride ... no reality. Her body reacted with lewd sensation, 
and obscenely she begged Levitt to continue. 

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" she quivered in a new abandon. 

"Do what?" he panted, stopping momentarily. 

Randi let the foul words she knew he wanted to hear burst from her lips. 
"Oohhh, baby, fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me ...!" The thought of her 
change excited her further and she groaned and caught her breath as Levitt 
pulled her buttocks tighter to his own surging loins. Randi heaved with 
passion, the pain of a few seconds ago lost to the intense bliss which was 
almost unbearable. Her legs quivered on either side of his thick, impaling 
cock and she shot her tongue deep into his mouth, slithering it in and out 
in a wild semblance of oral fucking while gurgling noises of velvet rapture 
came from her passion-filled throat. 

Gary had never been like this. Never ... never had there been anything like 
this, and not even in her most abandoned dreams did she imagine such 
ecstatic sensations could be gotten from lying under a man ... from the 
mouthing of her cunt to the moment when his huge prick violated her womb and 
filled her with insane pleasure. Randi willed and wanted more, much more ... 
wanted it never to end. Adulterer ... whore ... bitch ... slave ... no, she 
was a woman! A full-blooded, healthy woman at last! 

She writhed her cunt up to him as Levitt jammed her with ever-increasing 
force, lengthening his stroke, drawing his shaft almost out of the fleshy, 
sopping sheath, then plunging downward in quickening strokes as her cunt 
lips clasped it hungrily. Christ, she was exploding underneath him, and he 
heard her grunt and hurtle her wildly sucking vagina up and down on his 
throbbing horn madly. 

"Ohhhhh ... hhhhhh!" Randi moaned as his cock pounded her vagina 
mercilessly. She struggled with her breathing, the vibrant battering she was 
taking making her gasp and cough. 

Levitt's sperm inflated balls slapped hard against her anus, its hairless 
exposed pucker moist from the warm viscid fluid which had seeped down the 
crevice from her cunt. His throbbing sac seemed to split apart from the 
pressure mounting within it, and Levitt's head swam with the increasing need 
to squirt his boiling sperm into her. His loins ached with impending release 
and he rammed her with insane fury. 

Randi cried out again, but from sheer pleasure, and she screwed her tongue 
into his throat as he buried his shaft deeply, and she raised her legs even 
higher to receive his thundering prick. Levitt gaped downward at his manhood 
... Dear God, if he didn't cum soon, he'd go mad! ... and his prick slipped 
smoothly in and out of her delicious cunt, the lips of her clasping pussy 
clinging like a hungry mouth as though it was insatiable and had to have all 
of his rampaging rod. He slipped his hand beneath her buttocks and fumbled 
at the tight brown hole of her anus. 

"Oooohhh ... yes ... yes ... use your finger, Joe!" Randi jerked her ass 
against his finger, and almost brutally forced the spongy orifice to pop 
open and accept the digit. Randi's first reaction was one of great pain, but 
then as her rectal passage became used to the unnatural invasion, she felt 
pleasure-pleasure-pain-and suddenly she tried to skewer the rotating finger 
to the hilt, shoving back against it at the same time she strained to absorb 
more of his warm wonderful hard cock deep in her screaming belly. Levitt 
wormed her anus, feeling his shaft through the thin wall separating her 
vagina from her rectum, and Randi screamed beneath him. She writhed 
abandonly, grinding up and down on both impaling instruments, her toes 
flexing, her inflated breasts heaving, her legs lurching from side to side. 
"Oh ... ohhhhh ... oooohhhhh ...!" Randi chanted, her lovely face contorted 
in the buildup of her second orgasm. 

Levitt grunted and hammered ever further, and he felt the walls of her 
vagina seep the warm, sticky fluid of her beginning climax. She rose up from 
the bed and pressed against his pubic hair, rotating with renewed fire. 

"God almight ... It's happening ... yes ... it's happening again ... I'm 
going to cum ... to cum ... I'm cummmmmmmiiiiinnnnnngggggg!" 

Randi convulsed beneath Levitt, her mouth and cunt sucking feverishly, her 
short hot breath breaking in gasping sobs, her pussy gushing and seething 
around his plundering length. Even her ass hole expanded and clenched in 
spasmodic exaltation, pulling against his finger all the way to the second 
knuckle. Levitt was spurred on by Randi's continued climax, and he dug 
deeper into her flooding slit, forcing her tortured crotch still wider. He 
fucked her like a piledriver machine gone wild. Then he felt the sudden, 
surging waves of his boiling white sperm bubble from his scrotum, and 
suddenly he was lost in incredible sensuality as powerful surges of his 
juice pummelled down his tube and sprayed the inside of her pussy, filling 
her to the bursting point. The hot walls of her vagina milked his penis as 
if they were starving, clasping and unclasping desperately for each further 
squirt. 

Randi's firm young body suddenly collapsed and she fell back to the 
mattress, her belly still quivering from the unleashed tide of her passion. 
Never had such joy existed-her body had been fulfilled completely-and the 
shame and guilt was second place to the satiation she lazily let drift over 
her. 

Then the consciousness of her act burst through her and she thought of where 
she was and who was lying above her, whose thick but receding cock still 
soaked in her vagina. She moaned involuntarily. So ... the desecration had 
now been nullified. She and Gary were even at last. 

"What's the matter?" Levitt asked. "Didn't you like it?" 

"Yes, yes of course, I did, Joe." How could she deny it after her lewd 
performance. 

"Next time will be better, I promise." 

"No ... no, there won't be another time." 

"What ... why not?" Levitt frowned down at her. "Are you angry?" 

"No," Randi said. "I'm very satisfied, as a matter of fact. You were very 
good, and I'll remember it as long as I live ... but it's finished. Please 
... let me up." 

"All right, then ... " Levitt slowly rolled off her, his limp penis coming 
from her pussy with a short sucking sound, and Randi felt the hot stickiness 
beneath her and the soaking pubic hair and felt sick and dirty. Now, with 
the heat of her body no longer betraying her, Randi was torn with despair. 
She looked down her ravaged form, thinking that she could no longer play at 
being better than her husband, she was as bestial as he. No ... no ... maybe 
later she would wake up and find it was a horrible nightmare ... But she 
knew, deep inside, that that wouldn't happen. Mentally she was crushed, 
physically she was bruised and sore, her genitals throbbing with a dull 
continuous ache. 

Levitt grinned as he slipped into a clean pair of shorts. "You're the finest 
woman I've ever known, Mrs. Malone." 

"Th-thank you, Joe." Slowly, painfully, Randi rose from the sheets and went 
to her crumpled clothes. She slipped on her slacks first, not wanting 
Levitt's lewd gaze to feast any longer on her matted femininity then 
buttoned the frilly blouse around her. She retired to the bathroom and 
combed her hair. She looked into the mirror, startled by the heavy, 
sex-filled lines which marred her pretty face. Her disgrace, she was 
certain, showed like the afternoon sun itself. Oh God, why had she succumbed 
to such debasing humiliation? Still, she could not hate Levitt, it had been 
her doing from the first, watching him as she had, and she had to take full 
responsibility for it. Her eyes puddled, running the little remainder of 
mascara she wore. She stopped and wiped her eyes with a towel, then smoothed 
her blouse carefully, moaning as her fingers touched the tender breasts. 
Good God! Supposing she were pregnant! The thought hadn't occurred to her 
before, but suddenly she realized such a thing wasn't impossible. How 
horrible if she were! But there was nothing she could do but wait and pray 
... 

Levitt was dressed in a pair of Levi's and a tee-shirt when she finished in 
the bathroom. "You ... you won't say anything to ... anyone, will you?" she 
asked him. 

"Are you kidding? Of course not." Levitt sat down and crossed his legs, 
opening his crotch area casually to her view. "We got back at your husband, 
didn't we, Mrs. Malone?" 

She nodded mutely, and then said, "There's still Fran. Bob must learn ... " 

"Don't worry about Bob. He'll find out soon enough what kind of girl she is. 
Just ... don't worry." 

"I-I'd better be going," Randi said, licking her lips nervously. 

Levitt shrugged, standing. "Okay," he said. And then, at the door, "Goodbye, 
Mrs. Malone. It was really terrific." 

Randi could only nod uncontrollably and then turn and hurry toward the 
elevator. 

 Chapter 4 

The Austin Healey was parked in the driveway when Randi arrived home a half 
hour later, and Bob stood talking to Gary as he complacently trimmed the 
now-freshly-cut front lawn with a power edger. Randi brought the station 
wagon into the driveway, thinking: Oh God, I can't face Bob now, not after 
what just happened, and I can't face Gary either, oh God, oh God ... 

A guilt-oriented panic seized Randi as she applied the brakes to bring the 
wagon to a stop beside the Austin Healey, and she fought back a renewed 
flood of tears that threatened to pour from her eyes. She threw open the 
door and ran through the garage and onto the flagstone path past the 
swimming pool, dimly hearing Bob call out to her from the lawn area, dimly 
aware that Fran was nowhere to be seen. 

She reached the sliding glass door to the covered side porch and pulled it 
open. As she did, Bob's voice drifted to her through the hot, muggy 
afternoon air, "Mom! Hey, Mom, wait-" 

Randi rushed hurriedly through the house, letting the tears flow freely now, 
coursing hot and wet down her cheeks. She went into Gary's and her bedroom 
and through to their private bath, locking the door behind her and then 
leaning back against it to whimper silently, uncontrollably. Moments later, 
there was the sound of footsteps from inside the bedroom and Gary's voice 
said, "Randi? You in there?" 

"Are you all right, Mom?" Bob asked anxiously. 

She took several deep, shuddering breaths, trying to bring some semblance of 
control into her own voice before answering. Finally, she managed, "Y-yes 
... yes, I'm all right. I just don't feel very well." 

"Do you want the doctor?" Gary asked through the door. There was a note of 
solicitousness in his voice that seemed out of character for him, as if he 
had had a certain remorse over what had happened between Fran and him that 
afternoon. Randi choked back a sob. 

"Mom?" Bob's voice came. 

"No, I ... I don't want the doctor," Randi said. "Just ... just leave me 
alone and I'll be fine. Please." 

"Well-if you're sure ... ," Bob said uncertainly. 

"Yes, I'm sure." 

"Okay. But we'll be right outside if you need anything." 

She heard their footsteps retreating and then the faint sound of the bedroom 
door closing behind them. She continued to lean against the locked bathroom 
door for a long moment, literally torn apart now with her inner torment 
magnified tenfold, feeling as if millions of tiny, invisible, execrable 
creatures were walking on her body, dirtying it, defiling it so that she 
would never be able to make herself clean again. 

Quickly, then, almost feverishly, she began to undress, throwing her 
flare-bottom slacks and her frilly blouse into a heap on the marbleized 
linoleum floor. She stood naked on the circular throw rug next to the stall 
shower, looking down at her breasts, at the fresh bruises her son's friend's 
hands had put there, and then down the smooth curve of her stomach to her 
raised pubic mound, at the dried and alien sperm matting the soft triangle 
of hair there, at the still inflamed cunt lips which Levitt had so abandonly 
manipulated with his hot, hard, probing tongue. She thought of her sexual 
desires, so long hidden and repressed deep, deep within her, and how the 
young boy's eager mouth had awakened her into an enveloping passion, brought 
about the climax that she had never achieved before; she thought about how 
she had fucked him-yes, that was the word, fucked, it had been evil and 
disgusting and that was the only word for what she had done-how she had 
fucked him and let him suck her off, crying out to him; she thought about 
the hideous scene between Fran and Gary in the swimming pool, how it was 
burned indelibly on the retinas of her eyes, and how she had used that to 
rationalize her behavior with Bob's friend. She thought about all of this, 
standing there and looking down at her naked body, and the filthy unseen 
organisms seemed to her mind to scurry faster and faster along every 
conceivable inch of her velvety skin, trailing dung-like putrefaction ... 

A low, tormented, barely-audible moan escaped Randi's lips. Frantically, she 
twisted the Lucite handles on the shower unit built into the tile wall of 
the stall, bringing forth a thick stream of water. She adjusted the shower 
head until the spray became needle points the water, cool at first, grew 
hotter and hotter until clouds of vapor began to billow upward, making the 
room seem like a hazy, humid sauna. Then Randi stepped into the stall, 
gasping as the scalding water beat against her skin and turned it a bright 
crimson hue. But she made no move to leave, to escape the burning cascade; 
instead she stood fast, her mouth open, her eyes closed, enduring the pain 
as if it were some divine punishment, some taste of hell, for her 
transgression only a few short minutes earlier. 

For five minutes Randi withstood the torrent, blanking the pain from her 
mind, soaping her abdomen and her rectum and her loins and her breasts, 
trying desperately to rid herself of the crawling things. Only when the 
water heater emptied and the spray became lukewarm and then cool again, did 
Randi step from the stall, to stand dripping once more on the circular throw 
rug. Dripping, but not clean-oh, God, would she ever be able to feel clean 
and wholesome again? 

Briskly, almost as if she were heaping further punishment on her body, she 
dried herself with a large, fluffy jacquard towel. Her skin, tingling from 
the abuse of water and cloth, glowed a bright, burnished red. Opening the 
door then, she padded naked into the bedroom and went to her dresser; from 
one of the drawers she removed a thick, floor length flannel nightgown-one 
of her girl friend had given it to her as a joke on her last birthday-and 
covered her body with it. She lay down on the bed, beneath the sheets, and 
stared up almost unseeingly at the ceiling, feeling almost drowsy now as a 
kind of warm lethargy began to flow over her, a defensive mechanism thrown 
out by her brain to counteract the terrible guilt which she bore, to relieve 
momentarily the hell she was living internally. 

After a few minutes, she allowed herself to succumb to the waves of 
drowsiness and drifted into a fitful, restless sleep. 

* * * 

Gary came into the living room and sat down in his leather reclining chair. 
Bob, sitting on the divan opposite, said, "How's Mom?" anxiously. 

"She's sleeping now," Gary answered. "Probably only a touch of the flu. Or 
maybe it was just over excitement at your homecoming." 

"I guess that was it," Bob admitted. 

"Sure," Gary said. He tried to meet Bob's eyes, and found himself unable to 
do so. "Well, son, how did the interview go this afternoon?" 

"All right," Bob told him. "I won't know if I've got the job for a couple of 
days yet, but from the way this Mr. Nichols talked it doesn't look bad." 

"Good, good," Gary said. He cleared his throat. Jesus, he thought, how can I 
sit here and talk to my own son when I've spent the afternoon fucking his 
fiance? I must have been crazy to do it. Suppose someone had seen us 
together, had seen me licking that eager young cunt of hers ... Gary felt an 
involuntary rush of blood through his loins at the remembrance of the girl's 
nude, sculpted young body, at the way she had nibbled on his cock and then 
given him a ride like he'd never had in his life. Hell, it's no use lying to 
myself. She's some sweet piece, and I'll bang her again if I get the chance, 
goddamn right. Playing with my ass in the pool the way she was, and then 
taking off her bikini top so I could play around with those beautiful tits 
of hers-she wanted it as much as I did, probably more. A nympho, that's what 
she is, a cock-loving nympho. 

Gary looked at Bob again, briefly, and then averted his eyes. One thing 
sure, though, he thought. I can't let Bob marry her. Shit, she'd be out 
fucking everything in pants the day after they were married if not on their 
wedding night. Besides, she couldn't love him, not really; he's probably a 
regular stud in the rack, a chip off the old block, and there's no doubt 
that he's punching her every chance he gets-maybe she likes it from him the 
most. And with twitching pussy of hers blinding him, he thinks he's in love 
with her. 

But how could he tell Bob without coming right out and confessing to this 
afternoon? Gary wondered. How could he ease the kid down, clue him in on 
what kind of a hot box he had in this Fran Crocker? Maybe if he got Bob 
alone, say up at the country club, got a couple of drinks down him to mellow 
him off, establish a kind of easiness and warmth between them that had never 
really existed before, he could break the news gently, subtly. Sure, maybe 
he'd never been as close to the kid as he should have been, but goddamn it, 
Bob was still his son, his own flesh and blood, and he simply couldn't stand 
by and watch the boy's life ruined by a chick with a cunt that snapped at 
buttered toast. 

Gary cleared his throat. "Say, son, why don't you and I go up to the club 
tonight? It's been a while since we've been out together." 

Bob looked at him doubtfully. "Well, I don't know ... " 

"Sure," Gary said. "Men's night out. It'll be good for both of us. We'll 
have a couple of drinks, just a couple; I know the bartender and you won't 
have any problem getting served. Then we can ... well, talk and sort of get 
re-acquainted. Do you know what I mean?" 

The idea of that seemed to appeal to Bob, although he appeared to be a 
little leery. "I guess we could," he said hesitantly. "But what about Mom? 
If she's sick and needs anything ... " 

"Fran will be here," Gary said. "She ... mentioned this afternoon that she 
didn't much feel like doing anything tonight anyway." 

Bob considered, and then asked, "Where is Fran?" I haven't seen her since 
I-" 

"Right here, dear," Fran's low, sensuous voice said from the hall archway. 
Bob turned on the divan, a wide, possessive grin sweeping his face. Gary let 
his eyes flick upward as Fran came into the living room, stretching 
languidly, her eyes half lidded with sleep. She wore a short, low-cut yellow 
summer dress, drawn tightly in at her waist and flaring out at the bottom; 
two thin straps crossed her shoulders, and a single row of small yellow 
buttons ran from the cleft of her tightly encased breasts to her middle. She 
was barefoot, and her still-damp hair was covered by a small, triangular 
bandana. 

Yawning, she said, "I was taking a nap. I'd been lying by the pool all 
afternoon, and I guess all that sun was too much for me." 

You're a smooth bitch, Gary thought. The sight of her clothed, in the short 
revealing dress, brought his prick almost half erect. Yes, he would fuck her 
again, all right. First goddamn chance he got! 

"Dad wants me to go to the club with him tonight," Bob said to Fran as she 
sat down next to him on the divan. He accepted her kiss, putting his arm 
possessively about her shoulders, staring into her cool eyes. "But Mom's not 
feeling well, and we don't want to leave her alone." 

"Would you mind sort of keeping an eye on her?" Gary asked. "We'll be back 
early, by eleven, and if you and Bob want to go out then ... " 

Fran's gaze flicked momentarily over the faint bulge in his pants, her eyes 
mocking him, her lips puffed and sensual from her nap. That cunt of hers is 
probably pulsing again, ready for another session, Gary thought. 

"No, I wouldn't mind at all," Fran said softly. Then, to Bob, "I think it'll 
be nice for you and your dad to have a night out, dear. Don't worry about 
me; I was planning to watch television anyway. There's a good movie on 
tonight." She chewed on the corner of her lower lip, frowning a little. "I 
hope your mother isn't too sick." 

"No," Gary said. "She'll be all right. She's sleeping now." 

"Oh, good," Fran said with overemphasized relief. "What time were you and 
your dad planning to leave, Bob?" 

"Dad?" 

"Seven-thirty or so," Gary answered. 

Fran's eyes lifted to the sunburst clock on one wall. "It's after six now. 
I'll just have time to make you both something to eat." 

"You don't have to do that, hon," Bob protested. 

"But I want to. After all, I'm going to become a housewife before long, and 
I have to get all the practice in that I can." 

"Okay then, go to it." 

I hope you cook as well as you fuck, Gary thought, nodding. Fran seemed, 
oddly, to read his thoughts and her smile to him as she rose from the divan, 
stepping in front of Bob to conceal his view, was full of promise of times 
as good, and even better, than that afternoon. 

Gary's cock was rock hard as he watched Fran walk, hips swaying 
provocatively, toward the kitchen. 

* * * 

It was dark when Randi awoke. 

At first, she felt a strange sense of detachment and the shadowed, moonlit 
room seemed unfamiliar. She experienced a moment of utter panic, sitting up 
convulsively in the hot bed, looking about her wildly. But then, slowly, her 
mind began to clear somewhat of its sleep fog and she realized where she 
was. 

She drew back the covers, letting her legs slide down to touch the floor, 
feeling the soft shag of the carpet beneath her bare feet. Hot, she thought 
groggily, so hot in here, sweating ... She stood up, her hands touching the 
soft flannel material of the nightgown, wondering why she had put such a 
garment on in the first place, and then remembering vaguely; but her brain 
refused to allow the full impact of her shame to explode back into immediate 
recollection. Instead, the reprehensibility remained vague, finally 
retreating once more into her subconscious. 

Hot, she thought again and she lifted the heavy gown over her head, letting 
it drop to the floor beside the bed. She stood nude, swaying slightly with 
the return of flooding lethargy, for a long moment; then she lay back on the 
bed, not covering herself with the sweat-damp sheets, her eyes closing. She 
began to drift again, drift ... 

Dimly, the drifting sensation passed as she heard the faint sound of the 
bedroom door being opened. She was cogent again, in a dream-like way; she 
tried to open her eyes, to see who had entered, but her lids seemed 
weighted, impossibly heavy, and she couldn't lift them past a mere slit. A 
shadowed figure approached across the darkened room, moving silently, and as 
if from a great distance a voice floated to her ears, "Mrs. Malone? How are 
you feeling now? Can I get you anything?" 

"No ..." Randi heard herself say in a whisper. "No ... who ...?" 

"It's Fran, Mrs. Malone." 

"Fran," Randi echoed blankly. 

"Yes, Fran," the voice said again. 

Go away, please go away, Randi thought, but she was unable to put voice to 
the words. Let me alone, please please ... 

There was a gentle lowering of the mattress as a certain weight sat beside 
her. "You really are beautiful, Mrs. Malone ... Randi," Fran's voice said 
softly, almost soporifically. "Your body ... I never realized before just 
what a lovely body you have." 

Want to sleep, Randi thought. Please, want to sleep. 

But then one of her hands was lifted from the covers, was being stroked 
tenderly between two soft, soft palms. "Poor Randi," Fran said from far, far 
away. "Poor Randi, so cold, so unable to give, poor poor Randi ... " 

The torpor within Randi began to increase now, and Fran's words were 
meaningless; there was only the sound of that soft, hypnotic voice and the 
soothing feel of gentle fingers massaging her hand. 

"I'll rub your head, Randi," Fran said. "Do you want me to rub your head? I 
know how to massage it to make you feel so wonderful." 

" ... Yes ... yes," Randi breathed in a drugged tone. 

She felt Fran's easy fingers massaging her forehead and her temples. 
Contentment flowed through her, and she felt the drifting begin again, 
listening to the hypnotic sound of the voice above her. 

"I know what you need, Randi. You need what no man can give you, what only a 
woman can give you, understanding and a different kind of love, not the 
lashing love of a man, but a gentle love, without pain, isn't that what you 
need?" 

"Yes ... " 

"You're so beautiful ... so beautiful, Randi. You've such beautiful soft 
white skin, and your body is perfect, perfect, do you want me to rub your 
body for you, Randi? Do you want me to massage it like I'm massaging your 
head now?" 

"Yess ... oh, yes ..." Randi said thickly, still not comprehending the words 
she was hearing, comprehending only that hypnotic wonderfully soothing 
voice. 

And then Fran moved her hands across Randi's face and down past the slim 
column of her throat, across her shoulders, down her arms, along her sides, 
moved them slowly around Randi's breasts, carefully avoiding the nipples. 
Her eyes were hotly staring as she drank in the beauty of those perfectly 
rounded globes, with their budding nipples beginning to grow automatically 
erect. Men were lovely, Fran thought, with their great monstrous cocks and 
hot hairy bodies, but it was so nice to have a woman once in awhile, just 
once in awhile, to feel creamy smooth skin and touch the magic wetness 
between velvety thighs; oh yes it was so lovely to have a woman once in 
awhile, a willing woman to fuck, and she had thought Randi would be willing, 
had sensed it instinctively, Randi was that type of frigid female who was 
unable to enjoy the hard battering of a penis, the rough masculine contact, 
was barren under a man's touch; but a woman, a woman who knew what she was 
doing, a woman like her, Fran, could awake hidden desires and passions that 
Randi had never known existed within her. 

Fran's hand's circled Randi's breasts now, and she moistened her lips, 
closing her legs, opening them, closing them, opening them as her cunt began 
to secrete the first anticipatory juices of her lust. She saw the nipples 
rise under her ministrations, growing firm and hard, and she brushed her 
fingers across first one nipple, then the other, then moved her hands up to 
Bob's mother's shoulders again as she stirred beneath her. She began to talk 
again, telling Randi how beautiful she was, what a lovely body she had, 
stroking her the entire time, stroking her shoulders and arms and sides and 
breasts, stroking the rigid nipples, and then she left her hands slide down 
across the smooth flat belly, to touch the first downy pubic hairs, moving 
her hands around and down Randi's flanks, bringing them back again. 

Randi moaned slightly, her hips beginning to gyrate on the bed. Lovely, she 
thought, so lovely, so nice, and one of Fran's long slender fingers parted 
the soft moist crevice between her legs, parted it oh so gently, spread it 
apart, and one sharp fingernail touched the bud of Randi's clitoris to bring 
it immediately erect, stroking it carefully. Randi's hips began to undulate 
more freely on the sweat-soaked bed, and her dazed mind said, ... nice, so 
nice, but who ... who was doing it ...? 

"Give me your hand, dear," Fran's softly gentle voice said. She was 
breathing more quickly now, her fingertip moving more rapidly against 
Randi's clitoris. "Give me your hand." 

Obediently, Randi lifted one hand. Fran held it for a moment, and then let 
it rest on her knee as she reached up and undid the yellow buttons on the 
bodice of her dress deftly, pulling back the cloth to reveal her own naked, 
diamond-nippled breasts. She took Randi's hand, and leaning forward, place 
it against one tit, guiding Randi's limp finger across her nipple, feeling 
her pussy inflame with desire. She bent further forward, touching her lips 
to Randi's parted mouth, letting her tongue flick across the sleep-dried 
softness. Dreamily, Randi raised her other arm and wrapped it about Fran's 
neck, causing a low moan of ecstasy to escape the girl's throat as her 
tongue began to work insanely inside Randi's mouth and her finger began to 
slide with an ever-increasing rhythm up and down Randi's moist slit. Fran 
stretched her body out on the bed beside her, moving against her, feeling 
her own passion growing hot and eager, using her free hand to slide the 
dress down her body to expose her own quivering cunt, moving her head away 
from Randi's mouth and kissing the turgid nipples of her breasts, dipping 
lower to lick at her belly, lower still to touch the silkiness of Randi's 
pussy mound ... 

And suddenly, Randi snapped into instant alertness. Her brain had finally 
realized that it was not a man making love to her. Her eyes flew open, grew 
huge as she saw the girl's ebony head moving at her naked genitals, felt the 
first hot moistness of Fran's tongue. Oh dear God in heaven! her mind 
screamed. What filth was this? What depravity had she, in her dazed torpor, 
allowed? What kind of devil creature was this girl whom her son had brought 
home in love to meet his family? 

Gagging, Randi jackknifed her body upward, throwing Fran off her, sending 
the girl tumbling to the far side of the bed. She gained her feet, pulling 
one of the rumpled sheets which had worked itself loose from the mattress 
tight around her, covering herself from the crouching predatory animal which 
knelt on all fours now on the bed, teeth bared in a bestial snarl. 

"You depraved slut!" Randi screamed in horror. "You vile whore! You ... you 
lesbian bitch!" 

Fran raised up on the bed, her lips relaxing to their normal pout across her 
white teeth. Slowly, calmly, she began to pull the dress upward to cover her 
own nakedness. "Don't act so god damned righteous," she said. "You were 
digging it for a while. What turned you off? It could have been good, you 
know. We could have-" 

"Shut uuuupppp! Shut your disgust ... disgusting mouth!" Randi's voice rose 
in a shuddering scream. "How dare you! How dare you think ... think that I 
would ... would ... " 

"Oh, come on," Fran said. "It's obvious Gary isn't getting a decent fuck out 
of you, that you don't like to fuck at all. I heard what happened between 
the two of you last night." 

Randi's ears pounded at the sound of that word-fuck-the word she herself had 
spoken for the first time in the throes of lustful passion with Bob's young 
friend that afternoon. It hadn't seemed so terrible then, but the way Fran 
spoke it now, casually, vulgarly, it became unutterably obscene to her 
again. "Just because ... because of what you might have heard between ... my 
husband and me doesn't give you the right to assume that I ... I would allow 
anything so disgusting as ... as ... " 

"Oh, shit," Fran said contemptuously. "For somebody who's over thirty, 
you're incredibly naive. So I like to screw another woman now and then, just 
for a little variety; most of the girls I know at school sleep with each 
other as often as they sleep with their boyfriends. There's no great 
goddamned stigma attached to being a little bisexual any more, as long as 
you don't get tied up with some bull dyke and forget about men altogether. 

No, no, no no no! Randi's brain wailed-No no, she couldn't be hearing 
correctly, she couldn't be hearing this girl, this spawn of hell, confessing 
that the barbaric practice of lesbianism was now a commonplace thing on the 
college campus, that lust and perversion were running rampant through the 
youth of today. It was so impossibly evil a thought ... 

"I'm going to ... to tell Bob what you tried to do just now!" she cried. 
Then she began to scream his name. "Bob! Bob! Oh God, Bob!" 

"That won't do you any good," Fran told her. "He and your husband went up to 
the country club a little while ago." 

Oh Lord! "Then ... then I'll tell him when he gets home. I'll tell him just 
what kind of filthy scum he's engaged to!" 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, you cold-cunted old prude!" Fran shot 
back venomously. "He won't believe you, for one thing. He loves me, he 
thinks I'm the greatest thing walking, the best fuck in the world, and I'm 
going to marry him. Nobody ... nobody, do you hear me? ... is going to come 
between us." 

"Why?" Randi screamed, her head tossing involuntarily from side to side, her 
hands entwined in the bed sheet held protectively over her nakedness, hot 
tears of loathing beginning to cascade from her eyes. "Why, why, why? Oh why 
my son, why Bob?" 

"For a lot of reasons," Fran said brazenly, defiantly. "Because he's got a 
beautiful young cock and he's great shakes in bed. Because I enjoy being 
around him. But mostly because I was born in a slum in East Los Angeles, 
where my mother took in neighborhood laundry to support my three brothers 
and me because the son of a bitch who fathered us ran off and left her. I 
worked for five years in a hash house from the time I was fourteen, letting 
a dirty old Greek play with my pussy in the back room while I blew him once 
a night, just to save enough money so I could get into USC for two years. Do 
you know why? So I could find somebody like Bob, somebody who's going to 
make something out of himself, somebody who can give me all the things I 
never had and a lot of good loving besides." 

"I knew it!" Randi moaned. "Oh God, I knew it, I knew you couldn't love him, 
you were just using him for your own ends. A ... a creature like you is 
incapable of love ... incapable of feeling or emotion ... " 

"And just what do you know about love, about emotion?" Fran was standing at 
the foot of the bed now, hands at her sides, her hips thrust forward 
obscenely so that her hair-covered pubic mound was prominently displayed in 
an attitude of defiance. "What do you know of the joys of a good lay, the 
sheer beauty of fucking another human being, man or woman? You're barren, 
Mrs. Randi Malone, and because you are you think any form of lovemaking is 
sick and depraved." 

In spite of her intense, loathsome hatred for this girl, Randi found herself 
smarting inwardly at Fran's words. Because she had been barren, she had 
thought of certain forms of lovemaking as sick and depraved, and because she 
hadn't allowed herself to experience the joys of physical love, but then, 
this afternoon with Joe Levitt, she had become a woman, had reached her 
first orgasm, had had her pussy kissed by a man for the first time, had 
found the battering ram hardness of an inflamed penis enjoyable for the very 
first time in her life. Could it be then, that sexual experience with 
another woman, too, was as deliriously wonderful as what she had known that 
afternoon? No, no she couldn't allow herself to think that way ... things 
were happening too fast, too fast, she had to think of Bob, her son Bob, and 
what would happen if he married this Fran Crocker, of what she would turn 
him into. Randi, even with her new-found emancipation, could not bear the 
thought of her innocent young son's corruption. 

"I don't care what you think of me!" she flung at Fran. "I won't let you 
marry my son, I swear I won't!" 

"Just how do you plan to stop me?" 

"I ... I'll tell Bob, just like I said I would. I'll tell him you ... you 
tried to rape me tonight!" 

"Do you think he'd believe you? Do you think he'd believe his own little 
Fran would do such a thing?" 

"Of course he would!" Randi cried. "I'm his mother!" 

"And I'm the girl he loves," Fran returned. "If it comes down to a choice 
between us, Mrs. Malone, I don't think you'd stand a chance. Think about it 
for awhile, just think about it, and see if I'm not right." Fran retrieved 
her dress from the wadded bedclothes and went to the door. "If you say one 
word to Bob about what happened here tonight, if you try to fuck me up with 
him in any way, I'll turn him against you. I'll make him hate you. I can do 
it, Mrs. Malone, don't think I can't." 

And with that, Fran threw open the bedroom door and went out. 

Randi stood in agonized silence for a long moment, and then she let the 
sheet fall and rushed to the door and slammed it and locked it. Oh, God, Oh 
dear Jesus, what was she going to do? Instinctively, with a woman's acute 
intuition, she knew that Fran could do just what she had threatened, could 
turn Bob against his own mother if she tried to interfere in their impending 
marriage. But she couldn't just sit back and watch her only son destroyed by 
that slut, that self admitted whore-slut. Could she? Could she? 

The tears came in a torrential rush then, and Randi turned and flung herself 
across the bed. She wept uncontrollably in the moonlit bedroom until there 
was nothing left and a tortured sleep enveloped her tortured mind. 

 Chapter 5 

Late morning sunlight, streaming against the drawn window shade next to the 
bed, brought Randi into awareness. She was curled like a fetus, her legs 
drawn up protectively to her breasts and her arms hugging them tightly. 
Sleep-drugged, she managed to part her eyelids to look at the dial on the 
bedside clock radio. She was startled to see that it was nearly ten thirty. 

She lay still for a time, listening. The house was silent, strangely so. 
Gary would be at his real estate office, working, she thought. A small frown 
puckered her forehead as she wondered where Gary had spent the night; 
probably on the living room couch, she decided finally, since he wouldn't 
have been able to open the locked bedroom door when Bob and he arrived home 
from the club. But where were Bob and-and Fran? 

The girl's name was like a cancer in Randi's mind, flooding the entire scene 
of the previous night into her immediate memory. The softness of leftover 
sleep vanished as she thought of that bisexual bitch and the flagrant abuses 
she had perpetrated on Randi's body, of the words she had spoken about Bob 
and how she would turn him against Randi if so much as an intimation of what 
had happened was passed on to him. Her stomach churned as she thought of 
Fran's long slender finger working on her clitoris, of her lewdly naked body 
mocking her, of her foul mouthings of perversion. Randi shuddered, and then, 
quickly, she rolled over and rose, blotting the girl from her brain, 
blotting momentarily the terrible dilemma with which she was faced from 
conscious consideration. 

She crossed to the closet and took the velveteen robe Gary had bought her 
two Christmases ago from its hanger, slipping it over her nakedness. She 
buttoned it part way down, holding the bottom portion closed with one hand, 
and then unlocked the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. She 
called Bob's name, but there was no answer; the sound of her voice echoed 
emptily through the sun-warmed house. 

Randi went into the kitchen and plugged in a fresh pot of coffee. As she 
turned from the coffee maker on the drain board, her eyes caught a glimpse 
of a sheet of ruled note paper on the kitchen table. She picked it up, 
recognizing the neat, familiar handwriting of her son. 

Mom, it read. Fran and I have taken the wagon to Half Moon Bay for a picnic 
and some salt-and-sun. Hope you don't mind. Will be back for dinner. Love, 
Bob. 

It was probably Fran's idea to have the outing, Randi thought bitterly. She 
wouldn't have wanted Bob around when Randi awoke, just in case her words of 
the night before hadn't been heeded and Randi had decided to say something 
to him. Randi crumpled the note savagely and flung it from her. She poured 
some of the now-boiling coffee into a cup, almost scalding herself in the 
fervor. She carried it back into the bedroom, setting the cup on the night 
stand. 

Dear God, what a nightmare she was living! First her transgressions with Joe 
Levitt, then Fran last night ... She opened the velveteen robe and looked at 
her lovely curvaceous body in the full length door mirror. Strange, she 
thought. I don't look any different. Nobody would know, would they, just by 
looking at me? It seems as though adultery and almost-lesbianism and 
orgasmic mouth-fucking by the lips of a young boy, not to mention 
masturbation and lascivious thoughts, hardly change one outwardly at all ... 

Randi sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap. She stared 
at her breasts, at their taut, puckish uplift, and thought of how Joe had 
made them inflate and stand out, had made them come alive. Yes, had made her 
come alive, she was forced to admit that, come alive and beg for his huge 
penis to torture her gaping insides. Randi clenched her eyes shut tightly 
biting her lower lip in an effort to squeeze the erotic hot thoughts from 
her brain. She had never felt so alone, so helpless in all her life. She was 
caught in an abominable trap, with nowhere she could go, no one she could 
turn to. Surely she couldn't go to Gary, for certainly he would brand her 
the whore she had become and end the marriage in scandal. Bob ... Bob would 
be repulsed, knowing his mother had wantonly made love to his best friend. 
And Fran ... there was nothing there save for lust, for that she-devil 
incarnate was the crux of the whole sickening affair, the catalyst which had 
set it insanely off. 

Randi rolled on the bed, her hands brushing her bruised, violated body. The 
fingertips felt good to her hot skin, and in spite of herself, Randi touched 
a tender nipple. The nipple rose, tweaked to life. Oh God, oh God, I 
mustn't! She sat upright again, her breath ragged and pulsating. Control 
yourself. Stop these ... these horrible carnal thoughts! She looked down at 
her naked loins, seeing it outwardly calm but knowing and feeling that it 
was already a seething area of sexual desire. It seemed to twitch and spasm, 
yet it was agonizingly sore. She spread her legs and felt the thin cunt 
lips, tender and raw, and inspected her red, sensitive opening. Groaning, 
she lay back, the blood rising in her cheeks as vivid memories of Joe's 
young virile body and lustful performance drifted through her. 

She found her hips digging back, quivering of their own volition, and she 
couldn't help herself; her hands began to rub the warm hair-lined orifice, 
her palms gently moving back and forth over the moistening lips, feeling the 
tide of rising passion begin to build again. I must be sick ... I can't let 
myself get like this ... I must control myself ... I ... 

And then the phone rang. 

Randi pulled her hand away from her pelvis guiltily. The phone shrilly 
called again. She got onto her feet, not bothering with the robe, and walked 
rapidly to the hall desk and the clamoring instrument. "Yes?" she said, 
putting the receiver to her ear. 

"Mrs. Malone?" A nasal voice, the kind which automatically sent creepy 
shivers along Randi's spine as if some snake had slithered into view and was 
hissing at her. "Mrs. Malone, this is Dean Garrett, Joe Levitt's roommate." 

A tremor of shock ran through her. "Y-yes?" 

"Uhh ..." Garrett hesitated, and Randi could almost picture the boy lick 
pale, dry lips, "I-I think I'll come right to the point." 

"Yes, please do." Her body began to chill, to lose the heat she had 
generated a few minutes before. She wanted the call to end, to be able to 
dress herself in something big and bulky and secure. 

"Well, to be brutally frank, Mrs. Malone, I saw you and Joe together 
yesterday, and I enjoyed it greatly, I must say." 

Randi's jaw dropped and she gasped. She gaped into the receiver, the blood 
rushing to her face in an uncontrollable blush, and the shock of his words 
struck her momentarily dumb. 

When she didn't answer immediately, Garrett went on, "Yes, I would think 
having your escapade seen firsthand would upset you, and I'm positive you 
wouldn't want anybody else to know. We're both adults, Mrs. Malone. I'm sure 
we can come to some arrangement." 

"Blackmail!" she managed to cry. "You ... you're sick! A sick, degenerate 
blackmailer!" 

"You're in no position to call me names, Mrs. Malone." He paused for the 
effect. "I mean, this is Mrs. Gary Malone, the adulteress, isn't it? You are 
the married Mrs. Malone, Bob's mother, who fucked my roommate here 
yesterday, aren't you?" It was a rhetorical, if vulgar, question. He laughed 
cynically, obscenely, in an almost girlishly giggling way. Yes, of course 
you are. And I'll expect you at my apartment in an hour, Mrs. Malone." 

"Wh-what for?" 

"To arrange what silence about my knowledge is worth," Garrett said. "Be 
here, Mrs. Malone." The line suddenly went dead, and the phone buzzed 
horribly in Randi's ear. 

It took a long minute for her to be fully impacted by the boy's odious 
words, and the fact that this vile, reprehensible creature had her in a 
desperate position. She wanted to vomit. What would this Dean Garrett, a boy 
she could recall never having seen before, expect of her? Money? She had 
very little of her own. No, that wouldn't be it. Then ... Suddenly, she 
remembered his leering tone on the telephone, and it dawned on her what he 
was after, the only thing he could be after. 

Her ... her body! 

Yes, that was certainly it. Oh God, what would she do? She had to think ... 
It was no good. To hide, to deny what she had done with Joe Levitt, would be 
foolish. She was trapped, then, forced to return to the scene of the crime 
so to speak, to return to that Beaumont apartment. There was no other way, 
no other way. She had to muster all her courage, face him, try to fight him 
somehow. 

Quickly, Randi dressed in a short beige skirt and thin cotton blouse. Since 
Bob had taken the wagon, and Gary of course had the Healey, she had no 
transportation. She called a local taxi company, waited impatiently for 
fifteen minutes, fidgeting, until the cab arrived, and then instructed the 
driver to Beaumont. 

When they arrived at the apartment building there, the street seemed quiet 
and there was no one about. The sun, seemingly hotter than the day before, 
beat down mercilessly. Randi had a momentary sense of panic, almost telling 
the cabbie to take her back home, but then her desire to protect herself, 
her family, overcame it. She entered the building, rode up to the third 
floor in the stuffy elevator and knocked on the closed door to Apartment 
314. 

The boy who answered her knock reminded her of nothing so much as a weasel; 
thin, sneering, pimply, pale. The mental image his voice had built in her 
mind was not half so bad as what Dean Garrett actually looked like standing 
there before her, and visions of scorpions and rats and cockroaches flicked 
through her mind. He brushed a thin hand through tangled, oily brown hair. 
"Come in," he said in an insinuating voice, grinning in a clammy way. "I've 
been expecting you, Mrs. Malone." 

For a moment Randi felt unsteady and the room began to sway as she stepped 
across the threshold and into the living room. She took a seat on the low 
danish couch, aware that her shapely legs were provocatively exposed to his 
gleaming, lustful gaze. As she looked up at his spittle-wet chin, she had no 
more questions as to his intentions. She tried to rise, to struggle upright 
and flee before his grub-white hands could grapple with her body. 

"No, no, Mrs. Malone. Sit quietly." 

"You ... you must be insane. I won't let you near me, you ... you voyeur ... 
you horrible little beast!" 

Garrett snickered evilly. "Won't you? Perhaps your husband and your son 
would like to learn of your infidelity yesterday afternoon. Perhaps they 
would like to learn that you are a whorey slut, but I have a feeling you 
wouldn't want that information to leak out. Right?" 

Randi moaned and raised her head, her eyes tear glazed. She must fight him, 
to do everything in her power to keep from submitting to his lust. "Don't 
you see ... what you're doing to me?" she sobbed. "I ... love my family ... 
I want to forget what happened yesterday ... please, please let me go!" She 
struggled upright, only to be thrust backward, to be clutched around one, 
pear-shaped breast by the claw-like hand of Dean Garrett. He grabbed her 
hair, jerking her head to one side. 

"Let me up!" Randi screamed. "Take your filthy hands off me, you ... 
bastard!" 

"Shut up, slut!" Garrett pressed his face closer to Randi's, and she could 
smell his obnoxious breath, feel his hands dig cruelly into the sore gland, 
gnarling the tender nipple already abraised by his roommate the day before. 
"We're going to have a party of our own, Mrs. Malone. A nice little party." 

Randi stared wild-eyed at the sweaty boy, his greedy vision devouring her 
luscious form. His scrawny body was stronger than she had anticipated, and 
she knew she was no match for him physically. "Money ... I'll give you money 
... how much ...?" She babbled feverishly while his hand kneaded and stroked 
the smooth flesh of her breast, pinching her nipple painfully with his thumb 
and forefinger. 

"Money I don't need, Mrs. Malone. My dad is a Doctor, and he sees to a fat 
allowance for me." Garrett let go of her breast and threw her off the couch 
by tugging cruelly on her clothing. "No, I want you, Mrs. Malone. Your wild, 
swinging ass. That's what I want." 

"Oh God," Randi moaned and fell back against the floor, her whole body 
displayed to this evil man-child, her skirt folded back to expose most of 
her full, milk-white thighs. 

Garrett chuckled. "It's going to be just you and me for a while, Mrs. 
Malone." His fingers dug into her soft flesh again and Randi whimpered in 
pain. His hand moved down the side of her skirt as he edged over her and 
then over the fullness of her pelvis, and she clutched at his fingers, 
trying to bend them away from her inner thighs. "Oh no ... don't ... stop!" 
Randi groaned, but he ignored her pleas, continuing his explorations until 
he reached the crease of her hot loins. He began to chew on her ear, licking 
the velvety lobe, while he rubbed furiously at her moist cunt through the 
skirt. 

"Now ... open your legs!" he whispered into her ear. "Open ... those legs so 
I can feel your tight, married woman's pussy just like Joe did!" 

Randi lay rigid, unable to comprehend the horror she had let envelope her, 
that had so suddenly begun to overwhelm her. Had she so compromised herself 
that she could allow this monstrous pig to brunt his venomous craving upon 
her tender soft flesh? 

"AAAAAgggggggg!" she cried as he tortured her with a sharp pinch of her 
flesh, forcing her legs wider apart. 

"More!" Garrett commanded. "Wider!" 

She responded until her legs were splayed, the thin elastic panties 
stretched to the point of ripping. Garrett shifted downward and ran his 
white fingers over the material, and Randi jerked from the impact of his 
touch. His hands encircled her buttocks and then grasped the elastic waist 
band of her panties, ripping them from her. They tore and bit into her 
flesh, but he did not stop. He was like an animal, tearing and grunting to 
remove the last barrier to his desires. "Raise your ass!" he hissed. "God 
damn you, raise your frigging ass!" 

Randi complied, tears streaming down her shivering face. The panties slid 
from her round thighs and down around her ankles, and roughly Garrett 
removed them with his thumb and forefinger and cast them from him. Then he 
slid his hands back along her cringing legs and shoved her skirt up around 
her waist. 

"That will do for now," he croaked, his eyes lewdly ablaze by the sight of 
her pink and white cunt. He wheezed as he licked his salivating lips, the 
salacious expression on his pimply face stretching his thin, sadistic mouth. 
"Tell me, Mrs. Malone," he wheezed. "What would your husband and your son 
say if they knew you spent the past two afternoons fucking first Joe and 
then me?" 

Randi did not-could not-answer. She rolled her head away, so that she 
wouldn't have to look at his snickering face, whimpering resignedly, knowing 
in her heart there was no way she could defeat this foul creature ... 
nothing which she could do except submit to his repugnant advances. She was 
completely at his mercy. 

The fanning motion of Garrett's hands tensed Randi's vagina, and she 
shuddered as his fingers brushed gently at the sensitive ridges of her 
pussy, teasingly pressing against the small, soft folds, spreading the lips 
to expose the rising clitoris, bringing it out to thrusting erection. He 
stretched her wider, bending his head to inspect the pink gaping hole which 
nestled so temptingly between her open thighs. 

Randi tried to force herself to lie still and accept it. If she had to 
submit, better that she should try to allow the degradation, not fight out, 
pray for it to end quickly and mercifully as possible. 

"Well, are you willing to cooperate now?" he rasped nasally. His fingers 
continued their maddening assault, probing her moist, hidden recesses, 
teasing her clitoris, sliding down between the soft white cheeks of her ass 
to attack the throbbing bud of her anus. She tried to stifle a low throaty 
mewl as she began to raise her loins to the beginning sensations she had 
known the day before from Levitt's hands. 

"Yes ... yes ... Mrs. Malone," Garrett hissed. He moved closer, straddling 
her legs as his hands worked her juicy pubic area unmercifully. "Now ... 
take out my cock!" 

An unwanted shudder of sensuality passed through Randi at his demand, yet 
still she sought to fight the pin pricks of passion which followed the path 
this thin, cruel fingers had taken. But the exquisite feeling between her 
legs shattered her resistance. The ripples of her quivering belly and the 
hardened nipples of her covered, yet palpitating, breasts destroyed all 
debasement, all humiliation. The straining muscles of her thighs relaxed and 
she rose toward Garrett and obediently stroked the hardened mound which 
protruded along his left flank. 

"Unnnnnnnhhhhhhh!" grunted Garrett as her fingers deftly plucked at his 
belt. He thrust forward, kneeling wider so that the zipper was within her 
easy grasp. She slid it down, moaning. His white, sticky underpants sprung 
outward at her, bulging with the silhouette of his rock-like penis. 

In spite of her revulsion, Randi dipped her fingers inside the elastic band 
of his underpants and tugged at them. With his free hand Garrett helped her, 
until his thin, long prick popped out, the head swollen angrily, its skin 
stretched so tightly that it seemed to shine. A purple vein ran heavily 
across the ridge of muscle lengthwise on the underside of his shaft. It 
pulsed and subsided, pulsed and subsided. 

"Ohno ... no ... noooooo!" Randi moaned. She shook her head violently, but 
her gaze was transfixed by the stiff flesh. She gave a little start as her 
hands encircled it, the lubricant which seeped from its tip sticky to her 
touch. She began to stroke it and massage it, fascinated at the rod, and 
when it jerked in her hand a strange warmth passed through her body, a 
sudden perverse thrill. 

Her very helplessness intensified the uncontrollable flame within her, and 
it was as if her mind blanked out the obnoxiousness of the young man above 
her. The last spark of revulsion died and then the strange thought that 
whores did this all the time for money ... for a price ... gripped her. But 
wasn't she, too, being paid in a sense? 

Garrett's fingers moved inside her, taking momentary command of her body. 
They began a slow, rhythmic thrust and she found herself squirming against 
them, endeavoring to swallow them in her hot, vaporous cunt. Her ass floated 
up of their own volition and she moved her legs up, and then out crab-like, 
so that her whole passion-obsessed cunt was exposed to the long white 
fingers fucking into her. Tiny moans of pleasure rippled from her lips in 
helpless cadence to the lewd pummeling, feverish manipulations within her 
warm, pulsating depths. Her mind exploded with new, wanton, alien thoughts. 

Oh God ... I love it ... I love it-His ... his cock ... oh, why doesn't he 
take me? I want it in me ... Oh God, I want it in me ... why doesn't he fuck 
me ... fuck me like the horrible whore I am! 

Suddenly Garrett pulled his hand free, and moving slightly higher he pushed 
his pants down over his knees. His thin frame was fish-belly white, but her 
eyes saw nothing except his bone-handle penis jutting like a lever from his 
loins. 

"Turn over, Mrs. Malone!" he panted. "Hurry! Back against me and place your 
knees on either side until your ass is directly above my cock!" 

A tremor of fear passed through Randi, but only briefly as her morals no 
longer hindered her. Her vagina was hopelessly drenched from his sensuous 
stroking fingers and she knew any protest would be futile, empty, 
meaningless. She turned over and raised her soft, resilient buttocks to him. 

"Take my cock ... and put it in your ... asshole, Mrs. Malone!" Garrett 
ordered in a gasping wheeze, "It will be painful ... probably very painful 
at first, but ... nothing good is very ... easy." 

Without conscious thought, the dazed Randi reached behind her and grasped 
the trembling shaft, then guided its swollen tip to the tiny brown ring of 
her hairless rectum. Garrett's prick leaped at her hand and he jabbed 
against her as she worked the head back and forth in her cunt juices to ease 
the point of beginning penetration. She still had not fully comprehended the 
lewd command he had given her until suddenly she felt him reach down and 
guide the hard rubbery tip of his cock up from her vaginal lips and into the 
soft, yielding moons of her upraised buttocks. 

Christ! Garrett had never seen such a voluptuous asshole. His sperm-loaded 
balls tingled as he surged forward, prying open the luscious still tightly 
clenched moons, wider and wider until the slit parted. Randi squirmed and 
whined, but she couldn't slip away. 

"Oh my God ... Not that. Please!" 

"Put your knees out wider, Mrs. Malone!" Garrett snapped. His blunt cock 
head rode against her tightly constricted anus, and then he thrust his own 
knees outward and spread her apart until she thought she would split. He 
slipped his finger deep into the rubbery flesh of her rectum and began to 
probe, sending mounting, but unwanted, pleasure waves rippling through 
Randi, as his other hand sensuously massaged her excitedly throbbing 
clitoris. Abruptly, in spite of her horrified repulsion, she strained her 
buttocks back on his finger as she suddenly, in her helplessness, began to 
revel in her corrupt subjugation. Then he jerked his finger quickly out, 
causing Randi to wince, and her eyes bulged as she felt the blood-maddened 
prick begin prodding and working against her tightly clenched rectal 
entrance. She felt the cords of his thighs shove against her and the 
straining, elastic ring of her anus suddenly gave way to the unrelenting 
pressure. 

"AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!" she screamed, her face contorted from agony and 
forgotten shame. "Oh my God!" She tried to twist her head back and stop his 
depraved assault on her defenseless, virginal rectum. 

Oh God, it's so big ... But it's in ... it's inside me! ... Just the tip ... 
like a huge baseball bat tearing my backsides asunder ... Oh dear God ... I 
don't care ... I don't care ... This is my punishment ... yes, yes ... the 
punishment I deserve ... I want you, oh mighty cock ... all the way up my 
asshole! 

Garrett grinned insanely down at his slender prick stuck in the end of Mrs. 
Malone. He moaned as he locked his sight on the hardened rod which 
disappeared in the wide-stretched oval opening between the white, now 
quivering mounds. He jerked slightly, Randi screaming in torment-again as 
another small portion of his penis slid into the tender brown flesh; then, 
as he lay still, the anus drew out slightly, puckering around his impaling 
cock. His prick was so hard he thought it would shatter. His balls felt like 
cement blocks and been tied to them. They throbbed with unbelievable aching. 
Some men wait a lifetime for suck a fuck! It was hardly possible for him to 
believe that this woman, Bob's mother was subjugating herself like a bitch 
in heat to him, Dean Garrett, the original ninety pound weakling, the 
emaciated eighteen year old wizened nothing whom the girls never would go 
out with. Yet this beautiful bitch was here kneeling before him with his 
cock locked inside her asshole like some whore begging for mercy. Jesus, he 
was going to ram it to her good, like the squirming bitch deserved! 

"AAAAGGGGGGG!" Randi groaned with each inch he pressed into her tight, hot 
passage. And yet, she still waggled her ass and skewered herself father down 
on his prick, burrowing its never-ending relentless length in her bowels. Oh 
God, I'm being punished ... I'm punishing myself for all the misery of my 
husband and Fran and Joe ... yes, beautiful sweet pain ... There! I can feel 
the hair of his loins against my ass. I've taken all of him ... It's home! 
... Oh, it's horribly marvelous! 

His pelvis smacked loudly against her soft quivering ass cheeks as with a 
grunt he sank to the depths of her rectum. His balls swung hard against the 
gaping hole of her vagina, and Garrett thrust yet one-half an inch further. 
Randi whimpered, but like the slave she had become, screwed her buttocks 
tighter back upon his impaling member. And she kneeled slave-like, lost of 
all control, the pain suddenly gone as she reveled in the perverted 
sodomizing of her defenseless anus. Garrett flexed, and she made a choking 
sound as her soft flesh grappled hotly around his cock. For Randi there was 
now only desire in the place of the shame and humiliation of before, and the 
uncontrollable spasms of delight began to build with each buffeting charge 
of his jabbing penis. She twisted around to look at the effect he was having 
on her, her teeth bared in beast-like rapture at the sight, and Garrett, 
too, watched his wild thrusting into the split crevice of her sensuously 
wiggling buttocks. 

Randi wallowed obscenely, raising and lowering her hips almost to the tip of 
his lust-hardened cudgel, then back down to drive it deep within her burning 
channel, the blunt intrusion firing every fiber of her being. She rested her 
head upon the rug and reached back with her left hand and caressed the sperm 
bloated sacs which pounded her ass cheeks, running a fingernail over the 
bottom of his prick as he lunged in and out, marveling at the feel of them. 

The young boy became aware that her action caused even more sensation than 
he had thought, and his lust increased wildly. He saw her right hand dip 
back and he heard wet, sloshing sounds as she crazily thrust her fingers 
into the hairy folds of her cunt, deep in her vagina. 

My breasts are as bloated as his testicles ... I can watch my fingers 
between them as my cunt swallows more and more of them ... He's watching 
too, his eyes wide with excitement as I fuck both him and myself. At last I 
have completely impaled myself ... and it's all my own doing! 

Trancelike, lost in the revelry of the bliss, she looked up just as the 
bedroom door opened and Joe Levitt stepped out, naked. He walked slowly 
across the floor to Randi, his large prick held high by his rubbing hand. 
The long balls swung against his legs, and Randi surged back against Dean 
Garrett and her hands even harder. She was unable to speak, to loosen her 
grip from the obscene trap she was in as he knelt before her fear-contorted 
face. 

"Hello, Mrs. Malone," he said, grinning. "Glad to see you're enjoying 
yourself." 

"Oh God! Oh God, she's everything you said she was!" Garrett groaned, his 
body contorted, pumping wildly. 

"Do you like it, Mrs. Malone?" Levitt asked solicitously. 

"Oooooh, God ... ohhhhhhhh ... what are you ... doing here ... what ..." she 
moaned out helplessly between her tightly clenched teeth. 

"What do you think, Mrs. Malone?" Levitt said. "Helping my roommate get a 
little of my friend's mother's ass, that's what. And planning to get a 
little something myself." 

"No ... no ... oooooooohhhhhhhh!" Randi's eyes rolled upward, catching 
nothing but Levitt's massive penis rising above, seeing every ridge and pore 
of it as he lowered himself still further toward her mouth. 

"Put your hand on my cock," he commanded, his legs widespread before her 
cringing face, close to her ears. Then, sensing she had no choice, her hand 
wrapped around his huge masculinity, and she shivered with wanton carnality 
at the touch. She began to work her hand roughly up and down, watching its 
foreskin pucker over the engorged head, then wrap itself over the shaft. She 
rested her stroking hand on her elbow, but her left hand still sank itself 
in her steaming cunt, vigorously flaying the livid orifice in time to her 
slow masturbation of Levitt. With her own fingers she could feel the young 
boy's cock slipping in and out of her anus through the membrane of her 
vaginal walls, and the fire of her loins increased, demanding more than a 
single finger to feed its insatiable appetite. She inserted another and then 
a third, and still it wasn't enough. 

"Suck me!" groaned Levitt, palpitating in front of her, "Kiss my prick! Suck 
it, baby, that's what I want!" 

Without hesitation, without thought of what he was asking of her, she tasted 
his cock, tasted a male member for the first time, and its distinctive spice 
instigated wild uncontrollable tremors through her. 

Oh! I love it! I love his prick! ... Oh what I've been missing all these 
years! It tastes so good! She washed his penis, lavishing her warm tongue 
over its base, along its thick underside to the coronal ridges sticky and 
protruding from its foreskin, playing and caressing it with every lapping 
stroke. She grazed its smooth, rubbery head with her teeth, tickling the 
parted hole with the point of her tongue, then returned down and to the sac 
of sperm, the wire hairs tickling her tongue as saliva dripped excitedly 
along the organ. Randi went wild with frenzied new emotions, thrilling with 
the erotic fermentation of his cock and testicles. She trailed her tongue 
between his widespread legs, painting his inner cheeks and stiffening her 
tongue against the rough, sphincter of his anus. 

God! She loved it in her mouth! She loved to fuck him with her mouth! She 
wanted his sperm to load her throat and fill her stomach! Quickly she 
trailed her tongue back over his balls and along the heavy shaft and then 
slipped her lips down over its head. 

Randi continued to manipulate his prick as she encompassed the spongy crown, 
then let it sink full length to her throat. Her head bobbed up and down as 
Joe groaned and thrashed beneath her. Her own fingers were charging ever 
faster in her cunt, and Garrett was pumping madly in her rectum. Any second 
now all of them would cum, she could sense it, and the knowledge brought new 
heights of dizzying pleasure. Yes! Yes! She couldn't wait for the hot, 
sticky sperm to bloat her bowels and fill her mouth. Crazily she rammed 
against Garrett, and faster she sucked Levitt, her tongue swirling 
voraciously as his blood-filled prick pumped crazily into her sensuously 
ovaled lips. Her cunt began to quiver and pulsate, and then ... 

Garrett screamed and unleashed a torrent of obscenities above Randi. She 
thrust her fingers to the hilt in her curt as she felt the first hot boiling 
squirts of his semen fill her back passage, the white cream bubbling over 
her asshole and streaming down to the floor. 

She shivered under him, never losing the rhythm of her mouth on Levitt's 
cock. Her eyes widened as her breasts heaved, and Levitt's pubic hair 
brushed against the sides of her mouth as she all but swallowed his fleshy 
hardness. Oh God ... I'm going to ... yes, yes, yes ... I'm going to cum ... 
Harder! Harder! She dug her fingers yet more wildly into her vagina, 
twisting and turning to catch their every motion. Then she felt the tremor 
of her climax sweep through her and her pussy flowered with warm hot gushes 
of lewdly cascading fluid. 

Levitt felt her jerk and spasm, and her cumming produced a violent reaction 
in him. He looked down at her writhing mouth and whipping hand and he 
plunged further, deep, deep inside her throat. Her lips sucked his prick 
like life itself, and he moaned uncontrollably. He yelled out: "It's here! 
Oh, suck harder! Milk my ballllllssss!" 

Randi pounded her mouth and hands frantically up and down on his thick 
shaft, and then Levitt's cock began a sudden spasmodic action and he grabbed 
her head and held it to him as it spewed hot jets of sperm deep in her 
throat. Randi continued to suck, swallowing the gushing cum, her adam's 
apple bobbing in rapid sequence. She continued to suck, swirling her tongue 
around to wipe him dry. His groans of pleasure simmered to sighs of 
contentment, his hands no longer pressing against her head, and the giant 
penis gave one last spurt of remaining seminal fluid. 

Garrett pulled his now limp prick from her forever stretched rectum, the 
sound an oddly lewd pop, and Levitt pushed her away. Randi pressed forward 
again, though, and began to lick the base of Levitt's penis where the tiny 
tufts of pubic hair were matted with the cum which had escaped her tightly 
closed lips. She could feel him jerk beneath her and a moment later it was 
clear of all escaped juices, glistening wet from her saliva. She watched it 
with eyes inches away as it slowly deflated and sank to softness. 

"Man, that was something!" Garrett breathed from behind her. He looked at 
the almost obscene trickle of semen along her chin. "God almighty!" 

Levitt looked amused. 

Randi lay back, her face buried from them as reality slowly returned to her. 
She heard them rise and walk into the bedroom, Garrett gathering up his 
clothes, and moments later she saw them return, pants and shirts on. 

"I guess you must hate us now, Mrs. Malone," Levitt said quietly. "But you 
have to admit, it was good." 

Slowly Randi looked up at the young man. He grinned down at her 
affectionately. She found her own lips spreading in a little smile and she 
replied: "Can ... can I trust both of you never to tell?" 

"Promise," Dean Garrett said. "That's a promise." 

"You ... you'll never try this again, will you?" 

"Oh," Levitt said nonchalantly. "We might discuss that point the next time. 
Okay?" 

Randi felt her breath quicken involuntarily. "Yes," she answered very 
softly. "Okay. Let's see what happens." 

 Chapter 6 

Shortly before nine Tuesday night, Fran said, "You know what I'd like? Some 
ice cream. I don't know why, but I've got this terrible craving for ice 
cream." 

Like hell you've got a craving for ice cream, Gary thought. You've got a 
craving for about ten inches of big throbbing cock. He thought about her 
fervently whispered words to him alone by the pool when he had arrived home 
from the office this afternoon, "I'll make some excuse so we can be alone 
tonight. All right?" Christ yes, it was all right. It was fine, wonderful, 
Rumdandy. 

He said now, "Hey, ice cream sounds like a good idea. Listen, I'll drive you 
to the store if you want." 

"Okay," Fran said. "You don't mind, do you, Bob?" 

Bob, sitting on the divan, immersed in the sports section of the newspaper, 
made an affirmative comment which sounded like, "G'head, s'okay." 

Fran turned her smoky gaze on Gary for a single instant, and then moved 
toward the door. "We'll be back in a little while, darling," she called. 

Gary followed her, and they walked to the garage and the Austin Healey. Fran 
was a step ahead, and he watched the undulations of her youthful rounded ass 
beneath a yellow mini skirt. Jesus, he had half a hard-on already, just 
thinking about those hot, hungry cheeks grinding away under his pounding 
pecker. I'm going to fuck you purple, he thought, you rotten little bitch. 

They reached the garage and slid into the little sports car. As Gary brought 
its engine to life, he found himself thinking about Sunday night's outing 
with Bob at the country club. It hadn't worked out the way he'd thought at 
all. They'd had that couple of drinks and talked about things openly- 
college, the future, women-in a way they had never been able to do before. 
But Gary had found that he was incapable of telling Bob about his fiance. 
Oh, he had brought up the subject, asked Bob what he knew about the girl and 
all that, but the light that shone in his son's eyes when he mentioned Fran 
Crocker had been too intense; he couldn't bring himself to intimate that 
maybe she wasn't all he thought she was, much less lay it on the line. And 
there was another reason, too, Gary had to admit that; a selfish reason, a 
reason of pure lust: he wanted to throw another fuck into that tight-pussied 
little whore, and another after that, and another ... 

No, Sunday night hadn't worked out. But things would, somehow; they had to, 
he'd see to it. His son's well-being was more important than some hot-assed 
chippy, wasn't it? Well, goddamn-it, wasn't it? 

Savagely, Gary threw the Healey into reverse and backed out of the driveway 
with tires squealing. Fran looked at him with sensual expression, and he 
felt his cock surge with anticipation; oh God, she could drive a man crazy, 
send him right over the edge. Especially when he had a wife like Randi, a 
cold fish who shriveled up inside every time he touched her ... 

Randi. She had been acting kind of strange the past couple of days, now that 
he thought of it. Like tonight, the way she had hustled out immediately 
after dinner, taking the wagon. Some meeting or other, she'd said, but she 
had seemed nervous as a cat. Gary grinned to himself. Maybe she's got a 
lover stashed away some place, and she's gone off to meet him. Sure, that 
would explain that kind of preoccupied air about her the past couple of 
days; the way she's drawn in on herself, won't talk to Bob or me or Fran 
except in monosyllables. Yes sir, old Miss Iceburg probably has some young 
stud stashed away, all right. 

And I shit gold bricks twice a day, too. 

He began to laugh as he took the Healey through the gears. He turned onto 
Lawson Avenue, a large thoroughfare which would take them to a nearby 
shopping center-or to the low-tree-studded private foothills beyond. 

Fran pivoted toward him on her side of the two-seater. He had the top down, 
and her black hair fanned behind her like the flowing mane of a sleek mare; 
he could smell the perfume she was wearing, the near musk of her body. 
"What's so funny?" she asked over the roar of the engine and the whistling 
passage of air. 

"Not a thing," he answered, chuckling. 

"I'll bet. Where are we going?" 

He grinned at her. "I thought you wanted some ice cream." 

She moistened her lips. "You know what I want." 

"No, tell me." 

"I want you," Fran said. Her voice had lowered in pitch, had become throaty. 

"What do you want? Tell me exactly what you want." 

Fran began to breath harder. She leaned against him on the seat. "I want 
that big fucking cock of yours twitching around up inside my stomach," she 
whispered close, and then her tongue darted out and began to explore his 
inner ear, hotly, wetly, maddeningly. 

Gary felt a spasm of excitement course through him at the contact, felt his 
balls begin to ache and his prick begin to leap into hardness. He kept both 
hands tightly on the wheel, his eyes on the road. There was a street up 
ahead which would take them on a winding snake-like path through the nearing 
foothills, and he didn't want to miss it. He knew of a spot up there, in a 
copse of eucalyptus; he had taken a waitress from one of the restaurants 
near the country club there one time, a young snapper who had let him fuck 
her in the asshole ... 

Gary forgot all about the waitress as Fran's hand came onto his thigh and 
climbed upward to the bulge of his erect cock. She began to stroke it, 
gently, back and forth with the palm of her hand as her tongue darted in and 
out of his ear, in and out, her hot breath blowing sweet against the lobe. 
His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, and moments later he swung the 
Healey onto Echo Ridge Road. They began to climb past expensive, well-kept 
homes and before long, the area became less populated. 

Jesus, Gary thought, I'm going to shoot my wad in my shorts if she doesn't 
stop rubbing like that! 

Fran had his zipper down now, had taken his blood-engorged prick from his 
shorts. Her nails traced a delicious pattern along its underside, up and 
down, up and down, and her tongue assailed his ear madly now, as if she were 
fucking him there, about to climax. Then suddenly, her panting, wheezing 
breath and her tongue left his ear, and her head dipped down as she scooted 
her body lower on her side of the car. Her warm, saliva-moist lips came in 
contact with his prick, encircling the swollen head, and an electric shock 
ran through Gary's body. He almost lost control of the little sports car, 
its headlights stabbing crazy, jagged holes into the empty blackness of the 
road; but then he managed to straighten it out as Fran began a gentle 
sucking motion on his cock, taking it deep into her throat, those nails of 
hers maddeningly tickling his balls, tickling the base of his palpitating 
member, causing boiling sperm to built in his scrotum. 

Up ahead he saw the side road which he sought. He turned there, one hand 
leaving the wheel to push Fran's head harder down against his loins, causing 
the entire length of his huge prick to slide into her convoluting mouth. 

"Not so fast!" he breathed urgently. "Jesus, not so fast; I'll pop my nuts!" 

But Fran only increased her mouthing of his cock, letting her tongue ream 
the opening in the glands, tantalizing it voraciously with her flaming 
breath, running her nails faster along the underside of his wet, burning 
prick. Dimly, Gary felt his balls build to the bursting; he wanted to push 
her head away, but all he could do was grind her mouth down harder on his 
organ, his fingers splayed on the back of her head. 

"Ohhhhmmmmmmmmmmmm!" Fran gurgled, sucking harder. 

"Oh godamnitttttt!" Gary wailed. "I'm cumming! I'm ... cum ... 
cummmminnnggggg!" 

Waves of intense, pin wheeling light flashed back of his eyes as his balls 
exploded his load of sticky white semen, sent it gushing through his 
spasming cock and into the soft, fleshy warmth of his son's fiance's 
hungry, waiting mouth. She accepted the churning, seemingly endless flow as 
if it were some life-sustaining liquid, mumbling incomprehensible noises 
deep in her throat. His body jerked convulsively, and his foot came crashing 
down on the brake, causing the little sports car to fishtail violently; his 
hands fought the wheel as his sperm flooded deep into her still sucking 
mouth and throat, as the torrent of his climax made him almost incoherent 
with rapture. 

The Healey finally shuddered and died off on the side of the road, its nose 
pointed at the base of a huge eucalyptus tree some four feet away; Gary's 
cock finally shuddered and died inside Fran's now-gently-nibbling mouth. He 
fell back against the seat, his eyes closed, as she let his deflating prick 
slide wetly from her lips, raised up, and kissed him full and hard on the 
mouth, his own still-warm semen smearing over his lips. 

"Now," she said huskily, beginning to unfasten the yellow mini skirt and 
grinning hungrily, "It's your turn, loverdaddy." 

* * * 

Randi lay stretched out, nude, beside the satiated, sleeping form of Joe 
Levitt, her son's friend. Smiling in the darkness, she reached out a hand to 
touch the flaccid penis between his legs, so limp and innocuous now, cradled 
in the soft hammock of his balls, when only moments before it had been a 
hammering weapon of excruciating pleasure. She stroked it fondly, 
remembering how his lovely cock had brought wave after wave of marvelous 
climax washing over her, time and time again. How many times had she cum? 
She wondered languidly, fondling his pecker, feeling the first signs of 
renewed life begin to show in it as it pulsated lightly under her fingers. 
Had it been four times? Five? Or more? Oh, so lovely, so very lovely and 
wonderful. 

Randi sighed contentedly. She was glad Joe had called her that afternoon, 
glad he had demanded her to come to his apartment tonight. She remembered 
how her cunt had tingled maddeningly at the thought of what would 
happen-what had happened-when she arrived. She had been so nervous all 
through dinner; had Gary or Bob noticed? Well, no matter if they had. They 
wouldn't have any idea what the reason for her skittishness had been. 

It was really amazing, she thought as she played with the young boy's cock. 
There was simply no guilt left within her; she had not felt any remorse, any 
shame, since yesterday when both her anus and her mouth had lost their 
virginity in one mesmeric crash of orgasm. She had realized her total 
emancipation immediately after leaving the apartment, had fully realized it 
then though she had, of course, known it while sucking Joe's magnificent 
cock and feeling Garrett's young, eager shaft ripping into her rectal 
passage. It was as if the two boys had combined to purge her of all 
inhibitions, all guilt, purge her forever; it was as if she had been reborn, 
was a new and different woman, although the body and the memories were the 
same. She was a hedonist now, a lover of pleasure, of the hardened male 
member, of sex in any form; there was nothing ugly or sinful or wrong in 
that, was there? No, of course not; she had lived all these years under a 
terrible delusion. How could there be anything wrong, how could she have 
thought there could be anything wrong, with wonder and bliss and total 
ecstasy? 

She could almost understand Gary's enrapture of Fran, could almost 
understand the girl's admitted love of fucking both male and female. She was 
that way now, too, or at least she had come to love the fucking of a man. So 
how could she really blame them for what she knew they would probably be 
doing again, perhaps even right at this very moment? Oh, it was true that 
she still didn't want Bob to marry Fran, she didn't want her son married to 
that girl because ... well, it just wasn't right, that was all. Still, she 
no longer hated Fran as passionately, as all-consumingly, as she had before 
... 

Levitt's young prick was beginning to come alive under her gently massaging 
fingers, growing rigid, swelling to gigantic proportions. She rolled onto 
her side, stroking his member with practiced ease now, making it as hard as 
a diamond shaft. Levitt moaned in his sleep; his eyes finally fluttered 
open. 

Randi kissed him wetly on the mouth, fondling his balls tenderly. "Want to 
sleep some more?" she asked teasingly. 

"No," he said. "Hell, no." He raised himself to an elbow, looked into her 
eyes and then down at her stroking hand on his rod. "I sure don't!" 

"Do you want to fuck me again?" 

"Yes!" 

"Do you want to fuck my cunt or my asshole?" 

"Both! I want to fuck both!" 

"Which one first? Which one, Joe?" 

"Your cunt! I want to fuck your cunt first!" 

"How? How, Joe?" 

Levitt was panting uncontrollably now, his buttocks arching under Randi's 
quietly moving hand. He reached out, found the soft, still wet slit of her 
pussy, began to roll her clitoris around excitedly with the tip of his 
finger. "Dog fashion!" he whispered. "Get on your knees!" 

"Like this?" Randi panted, getting onto her knees, leaning forward on her 
hands as she released his prick. 

"Yes!" Levitt raised up, got behind her on the bed; he tickled her asshole 
with the inflamed head of his cock, dipped it lower to move along the 
exposed sperm-drenched hole below; with one hand he squeezed one of her 
breasts, pinching the nipple, sending intense bursts of passion through 
Randi. 

"Now!" she moaned to him, waiting for that wonderful young tireless cock of 
his to tear inside her, to fill her, to cum and make her cum, to give her 
what she had just acquired these past few days. "Fuck me, Joe! Shove it into 
me and fuck me until I scream! Make me scream for you!" 

And when he plunged forward, ripping into her, she did scream for him, and 
she kept screaming for him until the world and the universe exploded in one 
blinding, searing, kaleidoscopic, rapturous burst of light over and over 
again until her passion-dazed mind thought it would never stop ... 

* * * 

Randi was relaxing with a tall gin-and-tonic on one of the chaise lounges 
beside the pool. It was late Thursday afternoon now, and the drink was her 
fifth since two o'clock. 

She felt pleasantly euphoric, lying there beneath the warmth of the sinking 
sun overhead. For some reason that she couldn't explain, she'd also taken a 
fondness to liquor in the past couple of days; the raw, oily taste of gin 
had an oddly pleasing quality on her tongue, and she liked the carefree, 
floating feeling it gave her after a while. She had always thought alcohol 
to be potentially dangerous, had always been wary of its effects, had only 
taken a drink or two at parties and get togethers to be sociable, had never 
really been drunk in her life. Well, she had still never been drunk, not 
really you understand, but she knew she was high today-as she had been high 
yesterday-and it was such a lovely way to spend an afternoon. High, 
floating, high, high, high ... 

"Hi, Mom," Bob's voice said close by. 

Randi started momentarily, and then smiled dreamily as she turned to see her 
son standing beside the chaise lounge, "Bobby," she crooned. "Where have you 
been all day?" 

"Had to go to San Francisco to see about that electronics job," he answered, 
frowning slightly. "Remember, I told you at breakfast?" 

"Oh, yes, of course," Randi said. She stretched languorously, and her soft 
breasts fought at the obstructing material of her thin halter; muscles 
rippled along her thighs. "How did things work out, honey?" 

"Well, pretty good, I think. I should know for sure by Saturday." 

Randi lay looking up at her handsome young son, as the hard pectorals 
stretching taut his thin knit shirt, at his lean tapered waist, at his 
faintly bulging groin. Such a magnificent manchild he is, she thought 
proudly. So much more handsome than Joe Levitt or Dean Garrett, so much 
stronger, so much more beautifully proportioned, so much more ... 

"Say, Mom, are you okay?" he asked. His eyes went to the glass in her hand. 
"You look kind of funny. Have you been ... drinking?" 

"Just one or two gin-and-tonics," she answered. "Do you really mind, Bobby, 
dear?" 

"Well ... no, certainly I don't mind." 

"Good," Randi said. "Good, honey." 

"Listen, Mom, I was wondering if it would be all right to have a sort of 
small party here on Saturday night. Like a going-away party, you know? I 
thought I'd invite Joe Levitt and Dean Garrett and their dates, and maybe 
another couple or two." 

"Joe Levitt?" His mother was taken back for a moment, but quickly recovered. 
"Why, yes, that sounds like a nice idea, Bobby. A party would be lovely, 
wouldn't it?" 

"Sure," Bob enthused. "We could go swimming, possibly, and maybe ... well, I 
thought you and Dad wouldn't mind if maybe we had a little beer or 
something." 

He was interrupted by the rumbling echo of the Healey's exhausts, heralding 
Gary's arrival home from the office. Randi saw the little sports car slide 
to a halt behind her wagon, and the tall, husky figure of her husband step 
out. 

Bob said, "Excuse me a minute, Mom. I want to talk to Dad about ... 
something." 

Randi nodded, and he moved quickly along the flagstone path to where Gary 
stood. She heard him say, "Can I see you a minute inside, Dad?" and Gary 
answer, "Sure, Son." Then the two of them went across the lawn and through 
the front door of the house. 

Randi drank the remaining liquid in her glass and placed it carefully on the 
circular metal patio table next to the chaise lounge. She lay there for a 
time, and then, deciding she would like another drink, she got to her feet 
slowly. Whoops! she thought, stifling a giggle, as she swayed unsteadily for 
an instant. Mustn't fall down now, mustn't do that. She picked up her glass 
again and then started carefully toward the open glass doors of the porch. 

She stepped into the cool interior of the house. Just as she did, the 
telephone began to ring. One of the three extensions in the house was on a 
stand in the hallway near her, and Randi stepped there and lifted the 
receiver. But before she could acknowledge, Bob's voice said, "Hello?" 

He had probably picked up the phone in the kitchen, she thought, 
simultaneous with her answering. She started to replace the receiver in its 
cradle when a familiar voice said, "Oh, hi, Bob. This is Joe Levitt." 

"What's doing, Joe? Listen, I was just going to call you." 

"You were?" 

"Yeah. What are you doing Saturday night?" 

"Well ... I've got a date with Sally Enders." 

"Groovy. What's Dean doing?" 

"We're doubling. He's taking Donna Whalen." 

"What're you planning to do?" 

"Oh ... go to a drive-in, I guess. You know." 

"Yeah, I know. But listen, I've got a better idea. I'm going to throw a 
little party here at my place. We'll have a little beer, maybe some hard 
stuff. My folks don't give a damn." 

"Well, now ... " 

"There's also going to be an added attraction." 

"What's that?" 

"Movies," Bob said. 

"Huh?" 

"Films, dig?" 

"What kind of films?" 

"The best kind. Eight millimeter, in living color." 

"Jesus! You don't mean ...? 

"Don't I?" 

What were they talking about? Randi wondered. Films? What possible type of 
films could Bob be planning to show? She knew she should hang up, but she 
was curious now ... 

Joe Levitt's voice said, "Where are you getting them?" 

"My old man." 

"You're kidding." 

"Not a bit." 

"I didn't know he had that kind of stuff." 

"He doesn't," Bob said. "He knows somebody at the country club who has a 
whole collection." 

"How'd you talk him into getting them for you?" 

"No sweat. We had this long man-to-man talk the other night, see, birds and 
the bees crap; for some goddamned reason, he seems to think we need to be 
buddies. I had to play it cool, of course, but I talked him into it. Just 
now. I had to tell him just the guys would watch them, you know, but you'd 
better believe we'll let the chicks see 'em." 

"Then your old man and your ... your mother won't be there?" 

"Hell, no. He said he'd take Mom out." 

My God! Randi thought. They were discussing stag movies, those ... filthy 
things you got in Mexico and South America! And Bob-her sweet innocent 
Bob-was going to show them Saturday night, show them to Fran and the girls 
Joe and Dean would bring! But how ... how could that be? Bob wasn't like 
that ... Was he? Was he? 

"About ... about these films," Levitt said softly. "Are ... are they really 
good. I mean ... you've never seen them yourself, have you?" 

"No, but if I know this guy my old man is getting them from, they'll be 
beauts. Probably as good as the ones I've seen myself down at school." 

Down at school? My God, My God, he's ... he's watched stag films before! Oh, 
Bob, Bob, how could ...? 

"Do they actually ... show fucking?" Levitt asked breathlessly. 

"Shit, yes." 

"With close-ups?" 

"Sure." 

"The old ... the old balls bouncing off the chicks' assholes?" 

"Yeah." 

"Oh, Jesus! And do they suck one another off? Sixty-Nine?" 

"Goddamn straights they do." 

No, no she wasn't hearing correctly! She couldn't be hearing correctly! That 
wasn't Bob talking on the phone with Joe Levitt, that couldn't be Bob 
talking! Not Bob, not her Bob ... 

"What about the ones with ... with dogs?" Levitt asked eagerly. "Will there 
be one of those?" 

"I hope so," answered Bob. "I remember a scorcher with this Doberman 
Pinscher. Big son of a bitch, with a tongue as long as my pecker. It kept 
licking this redhead's cunt, up and down, and then it climbed on and with a 
cock the size of a thermos bottle and threw a fuck into her like you 
couldn't believe ... " 

Randi let the receiver fall loudly into its cradle, not caring whether Bob 
realized that he was being overheard or not. She fled into the living room. 
In spite of herself, she had felt while listening the first tingling 
moistening of her own cunt at the sound of Bob's salacious description, at 
the mental image his words had produced of a huge, hulking canine with its 
long red tongue and sleek, lean loins and monstrous animal cudgel violating 
some girl's body on a flickering screen ... 

Oh Bob! her mind cried. Oh Bobby, you've grown up, you've really grown up, 
you've really changed! You're no longer incorrupt, no longer the manchild I 
thought you to be, no longer my sweet little boy! 

She ran to an ornately-carved cadenza set against one wall, where most of 
the liquor supply was kept; slid back its louvered doors and took out the 
bottle of gin. Oh God, O Jesus, but she needed a drink ...! 

 Chapter 7 

Randi worked steadily on a quart of gin all day Saturday, sneaking little 
nips when Bob and Gary weren't looking. They seemed not to notice that she 
seemed to float about the house a little higher off the ground with each 
passing hour. Fran, who had been shopping that afternoon in San Mateo, 
realized Randi's state when she arrived home at five, but she only smiled 
and said nothing. 

At seven, Gary came out to where Randi was sitting by the pool, her eyes 
glassy and a little out of focus. "What the hell?" he said. "You sick or 
something?" 

"Why no, my darling husband," she said, giggling. "Not at all." 

"Well, you'd better get dressed. Bob's friends will be here pretty soon." 

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed now?" Randi murmured. 

His eyes moved slowly over the thin halter she wore, the revealing, 
almost-bikini shorts. "Do you want the kids to see you half-naked?" he 
snapped. 

"Why not?" She lifted one arm lazily in a gesture of uncaring. 

"Goddamn it, you little prick-teaser!" Gary hissed. "You get inside and into 
some decent clothes, you hear me? I'll slap that cold ass for you if you 
don't!" 

Fuck you, you big old bear, she thought dreamily. And wouldn't you like 
that? Wouldn't you like me to fuck you like you've always wanted, wildly, 
abandonedly, with my cunt sucking your big old hairy cock dry? Wouldn't you 
like that? Well, maybe I will; maybe I'll fuck you like I fuck Joe Levitt 
and Dean Garrett. And like Fran, bitch-Fran, fucks you. Because my ass isn't 
cold any longer, not cold at all, my big old animal bear of a husband ... 

Swaying, Randi stood and went into the house, letting her hips swing to and 
fro lewdly before Gary's watching eyes. She decided to have a shower, and 
the time she spent under the lukewarm spray sobered her somewhat, although 
not enough to take off the edge of her euphoria. She combed her long blonde 
hair carefully, causing its silkiness to shine with hidden highlights, and 
then dressed in a thin, back-zippered velour sweater and a pair of toreador 
pants. She went out into the living room. 

Levitt and Garrett had already arrived with their dates. Joe's girl, Sally 
Enders, was tall, willowy, auburn-haired, with a slim figure which would 
have reminded Randi of a model's if it were not for the fact that her 
breasts were large and up-tilted beneath a tight angora sweater. A 
cream-colored mini skirt revealed slender, bronzed legs. Donna Whalen, 
Garrett's date, was a fleshy brunette with too much make-up on her mouth and 
huge breasts which Randi knew would sag pendulously when she was nude. She 
wore a wildly psychedelic pants outfit. All four of them were sitting on the 
divan, the boys' eyes moved appreciatively, hungrily, over Randi as she 
entered. 

"Introduce me to your friends, Bob," she said to her son, who was standing 
next to Fran beside a card table which Gary had set up in one corner of the 
room. On the table was a huge galvanized tub, filled with ice and a pony keg 
of draft beer Gary had bought for the party; large paper cups ringed the 
table, and her husband was busily filling these for the others from the keg. 

"You know, Joe, I think," Bob said. He quickly introduced the others. 

"So verrrry nice to meet all of you," Randi purred, secretly enjoying Gary's 
warning look and the hint of embarrassed color which splotched his cheeks. 

He quickly distributed the cups full of foaming brew to the assembled 
youths, and then said lightly to Randi, "Well, I guess we'd better let these 
kids enjoy themselves without a couple of old chaperon's." 

Randi looked at him in a sultry way. "Where are we going, dear?" she asked 
sweetly. 

"Out for a drink and then maybe to a show," he said between pursed lips. His 
eyes flashed ominously. 

"All right," Randi said. She allowed Gary to come forward and take her arm 
and lead her into the hallway. "Goddamn you!" he snapped then in a low 
voice. "What the hell's the matter with you?" 

"Nothing's the matter with me." 

"You were acting like some hungry old slut in there and you know damned well 
you were!" 

Randi made a mock pout. "I'm sorry, darling." 

Gary studied her for a moment, as if trying to interpret the look in her 
eyes, her actions only moments earlier; it was obvious that he didn't know 
what to make of this strange behavior in his heretofore invariably 
predictable wife. Finally, he shook his head sharply and led her to the 
front door. He called a good night to the group in the living room, and then 
hustled Randi outside. 

They took the wagon, Gary driving, and went to a nearby cocktail lounge 
which was quiet and dimly lit. They sat in a rear booth, with tall 
gin-and-tonics. Randi sipped at hers, smiling over the rim of the glass. 

"You're ... different somehow," Gary said. "I don't know what it is, but you 
seem to have ... changed the past few days." 

"Have I?" 

"Damn it, yes. You're not the same woman you were a week ago." 

Randi laughed throatily. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am a different woman." 

"It's almost as if you were ...," Gary's voice trailed off, and he took a 
long swallow from his drink. 

"As if I were what?" she asked. 

He had been about to say, "As if you were finally realizing what life was 
all about, finally tuning in on how damned sweet and provocative it could 
be." But he couldn't put voice to the words. She would probably have laughed 
at him if he'd said it, anyway, this mood she was in. Besides, he knew it 
was all just his imagination, that she was putting on a facade for some 
reason of her own; that it was all meaningless. Because beautiful, stacked, 
and dead-cold inside was the true and accurate description of Randi Malone 
nee Car-stairs. Oh, there had been a time when he thought she would someday 
change, someday outgrow her frigidity and her fear of living; hell, he'd 
never have married her after she'd gotten knocked up if he'd felt 
differently. Now, there were appearances to keep up for the sake of his real 
estate business, and if it weren't for occasional, consuming affairs like 
Fran Crocker, he'd have blown his mind a long time ago. 

Gary rotated his glass reflectively between his palms. Jesus though, he 
thought, there's no getting around the fact that she'd really be something 
fine if she'd somehow, miraculously, groove; goddamn yes, she'd be something 
to blow a man's mind in another fashion if she really did change. 

Randi said, "I'd like another drink, dear." 

"All right." 

He slid out of the booth and went up to the bartender. Randi smiled to 
herself in the booth. Gary didn't know what to make of her attitude, she 
knew that, and his confusion pleased her immensely. She patted her hair. 
Well, maybe one of these days, one of these days soon, things would become 
crystal clear to him. She would have to think about that. 

She found herself wondering what was happening at the party now, if Bob had 
begun to show the stag films yet. In spite of a faint, inbred disgust at the 
idea of lewd movies, she had to admit that the idea of watching other people 
fucking intrigued her; yes, and aroused her, too. Even now, she could feel 
her cunt moisten beneath the toreador pants, could feel her nipples grow 
turgid beneath the velour sweater. Even Bob's wanton words on the telephone 
two days before, the revelation to her of his lack of innocence, didn't seem 
so terrible any longer; the only thing which seemed to matter at this very 
moment was the tiny pulsing sensations which the imagined action of the stag 
films had caused in her clit ... 

Gary came back with the drinks. "Here we go," he said. 

She regarded him over the glass as he slid back into the booth, the rising 
waves of passion in her pussy causing her to squirm on the cushiony leather. 
I want to see them, she thought, I want to see those stag movies, see what's 
happening in them. Shall I tell Gary that I know about them? No, no, he 
might not take me home then. But if I make an excuse, pretend that I'm sick, 
he'll have to take me home. If I know him, he'll try to take me in the back 
way. It won't matter, though, because I'm going to see them anyway, no 
matter what he does. I have to see them, I just have to! 

"Gary," she said, leaning across the table, "I don't feel very well ... " 

* * * 

The beer had flowed freely from the moment Randi and Gary left home, and 
conversation turned from the more prosaic topics of school and business 
prospects to off-color remarks and dirty jokes as the three young couples 
drank progressively larger amounts progressively faster. 

Bob sat on the floor in front of his father's leather reclining chair, and 
Fran sat between his spread legs with the smooth curve of her back and hips 
pressed against his groin. His right hand circled her waist, fingers resting 
on her pubic mound, feeling the warmth of her feminity through the thin 
material of the micro-mini skirt she wore. The others were still on the 
divan, but no longer sitting casually there. Joe Levitt had his arm about 
Sally Enders' shoulders, and he moved his fingertips across the swelling 
mound of one of her jutting breasts; her hand rested on his thigh, gently 
kneading it, moving higher and higher with each stroke of his fingers on her 
tit. Dean Garrett, his face sweating, held Donna Whalen's hand in his lap, 
moving it back and forth lightly across the noticeable bulge in his slacks; 
she kept crossing her legs, uncrossing them, crossing them again, as if her 
young pussy was twitching irresistibly. 

Bob finished telling a particularly vivid joke, and the punch line was 
greeted with howls of appreciative laughter. He threw down the remaining 
beer in his paper cup, gave Fran's cunt a light teasing stroke with his 
index finger, and then slid back away from her. He gained his feet. "Listen, 
everybody," he said with a wide grin. "I've got a little surprise for you!" 

"Hey, now!" Levitt said. He moistened, his lips, winking over at Dean 
Garrett. "Hey, now!" 

"What is it, Bob?" Sally Enders asked, leaning forward. As she did, she let 
her hand slide upward to cup Levitt's balls and prick, squeezing them 
gently. 

Fran turned to look up at him from the floor. "Yes, what is it, lover? 
Something groovy?" 

"It's groovy, all right," Bob leered. "Good and hot!" 

"Well, what?" 

"You'll see." He left the room then, only to reappear moments later with 
several reels of movie film and a movie projector in a leather carrying 
case. He displayed them with pride to the others. 

"Oh wild!" Fran squealed. "Are those what I think they are?" 

"You'd better believe it!" Levitt said from the couch. His hand had 
completely encircled Sally's left breast and was kneading it abandonedly. 
Her hand remained on his prick, rubbing now with the palm of her hand. 
Almost in unison, Donna's hand-needing no guidance from Garrett now- was 
stroking Dean's erect cock. 

"Holy Jesus!" Garrett exclaimed, breathing rapidly. "Put 'em on, Bob, will 
you?" 

"Yes, yes, put them on!" Donna urged. 

Fran seemed to be squirming her tight young ass on the rug, opening and 
closing her thighs, pressing the soft folds of her cunt together as even the 
thought of what she was about to see stimulated her maddeningly. 

Bob grinned and began to thread the projector in one corner of the room, so 
that it was focused on the bare white wall opposite; there was no need for a 
screen. Then he switched off the single lamp and drew the drapes over the 
patio window, plunging the room into complete darkness. Then he touched a 
switch on the projector, and a large square of light illuminated the wall. 

At first there was only the light, but after a moment or two a small, 
feminine bedroom flashed onto the wall in full technicolor. In the middle of 
a wide double bed, a young girl lay reading a book. She was completely nude. 
Her firm, ripe breasts were starkly white against her sun-bronzed skin, the 
nipples a dark, blood-red and the aureoles a brownish gold. Her stomach was 
flat, curving softly into abdomen, and her pubic area was covered with silky 
auburn hair that matched the long tresses which framed her beautiful face. 
Her legs were parted slightly, just enough so that the camera was able to 
pick up the glistening folds of her vaginal lips and a faint hint of her 
youthful clitoris. 

As she read the book in her hands, the young girl's eyes began to lid and 
her pink tongue came out to moisten her lips several times. The rise and 
fall of her superb breasts increased, and her cream-white buttocks began to 
rotate on the bed. It was obvious that what she was reading had aroused her, 
had brought waves of passion flooding through her. 

Suddenly, her hand rose up from the book and began massaging her breasts in 
small, tantalizing circles, thumb and forefinger squeezing the nipples until 
they became even redder. Her hips continued their rolling motion, until, 
finally, her legs scissored wide to expose to the camera the entire length 
of her now moist cunt and the throbbing, rigid clit nestled within. Her hand 
left her breasts then, circling down over her stomach, down over her silky 
pubic hair, down between her legs so that the tips of her fingers revolved 
over the pulsating clit. Then they left it to travel slowly, agonizingly 
slowly, across the bronzed perfectly formed thighs, but only came back to 
her lust-dampened furrow as if drawn there by magnetic current. Her hips 
raised up, her legs jackknifing into the air as her finger began to tickle 
the bud of her clit, tickle it faster and faster, and she threw her head 
from side to side with an expression of sheer ecstasy on her flushed face. 
The tiny puckered hole of her anus seemed to throb invitingly beneath the 
rapid manipulations of her fingers in her open cunt. 

"Hot damn, she's really giving it to herself!" Dean Garrett's voice rose out 
of the darkness, breathless with his own arousal. Donna Whalen had his fly 
open now, his rigid prick standing upright in her gently stroking hand. She 
had her eyes open wide, fascinated by the sight on the wall. Garrett moved 
across his body to the zipper on the side of her psychedelic pants, brought 
it down; his fingers moved then to the elastic top of her panties, slid 
inside and began to worm their way lower. 

"Look at that tight little pussy of hers move!" Joe Levitt exclaimed. His 
excited young cock, too, was now exposed in the flickering light from the 
movie on the wall. Sally Enders was caressing it between the palms of her 
hands, her head resting on his chest. Levitt's hand had climbed inside her 
angora sweater now, inside her bra to tweak the rigid nipple, he put the 
other on Sally's auburn head, forcing it lower, lower, until it was only 
inches above the swollen, palpitating head of his cock. 

On the floor, with Fran again between his legs, Bob had put his hands 
underneath her thin blouse, pushing aside her bra to cup the full, fever-hot 
globes of her tits. Fran was squirming her young, firm buttocks tightly 
against his hammer-hard shaft, her anus seeming to beg for his rod to push 
inside. He took one of his hands from her tit and dropped it to her 
micro-mini, wheezing hard now, and let it slide along the curve of her hip 
to her panties, drawing them down over the full mounds of her ass and then 
slipping inside to follow the crevice between her cheeks. Fran gasped as his 
finger found her anus, insinuated itself inside and began to saw slowly back 
and forth. 

In the flickering technicolor film, the young girl was masturbating with 
almost insane concupiscence, her legs still upraised and her hips rolling in 
an impossible fever of motion on the rumpled bedclothes beneath her. But 
just as she apparently reached the point of climax, there appeared in the 
range of the camera a huge, furry form which bounded in a long, graceful 
leap onto the bed. It was a massive Great Dane, it's enormous jowls parted 
and its long, furled tongue panting wetly, redly, as it nuzzled the girl's 
upper body in a friendly way. 

The girl became immobile at the touch of the animal's cold snout, her knees 
still drawn up to her chest and her finger positioned on the tip of her 
inflamed, erect clitoris. Then, slowly, she began to smile. She patted the 
Dane's gigantic head, and then pushed it lower, wiggling her body around on 
the bed until the well-lubricated slit of her passion was within close 
proximity of the dog's lolling tongue, patting her mound invitingly. 

Tail wagging, the Dane lowered its head to the girl's trembling, 
moist-haired crotch and sniffed. Then its tongue snaked out with a long 
exploratory lick on the fluted edges of her cunt. The girl shuddered 
excitedly, her hips beginning to move again. The dog ran its tongue wetly 
the full length of her pink vaginal lips, from the puckered ring of her anus 
up and over her oscillating clit, then back again, then up again, flicking 
relentlessly deep within her. She jerked and rolled on the bed, her mouth 
opened wide with silent mewls of sheer delight, as the monstrous Dane lapped 
the juices of her flaming pussy. 

"Goddamn, that bastard has a tongue a foot long!" wailed Donna. "Ohhh, God, 
I wish that was my cunt he was licking up there!" Her hand began to move 
faster and faster on Dean Garrett's prick, causing the cum to boil in his 
balls and his body to jerk convulsively. His finger was like a piston gone 
mad in the damp folds of her pussy, and he made little moaning sounds of 
pleasure as the moment of his orgasm neared. 

Sally had taken Joe Levitt's cock into her mouth now, nibbling and biting it 
lovingly. Her eyes were still wide open, fastened on the images shining on 
the wall, as she moved her lips on his hardened shaft. "Ohhhhhh!" Levitt 
moaned. "Harder! Suck it harder, Sallllllyyyyyy! Oh, Yessss, yessss, oh will 
you look ... at that ... ohhhhh! ... that goddamned dog ... licking her 
twat!" 

Fran's hips swirled on Bob's bludgeoning finger in her anus. Then, mewling, 
she raised up, pulling the digit out with a wet sucking sound, moving her 
knees outside his legs so that she straddled him with the soft white globes 
of her buttocks directly above his groin. "I don't ... want your finger ... 
anymore!" she cried, her eyes feasting on the orgy between dog and girl. 
"Your ... cock! I want your cock in my asshole, lover!" 

Panting with salacious excitement, his brain swirling from the beer he'd 
drunk, Bob obediently removed his blood-hard rod from his pants. "Hold it 
... steady!" Fran groaned, and Bob let his hand circle the base of his 
shaft, making it even more rigid than it already was, a huge throbbing 
hammer handle. Fran sank back, moaning as the swollen gland came in contact 
with the tiny ring of her anus, crying out in intense passion as the head 
slipped into the puckered opening, almost screaming with delight as she sank 
back with a sudden lunge to skewer herself all the way on Bob's immense 
cock. She began to rock back and forth, slowly at first, then more rapidly 
as her lust increased and the expanse of her asshole widened to accept the 
circumference of his member. 

The girl in the film had reached down now to grasp the Great Dane's ears, to 
pull its enormous head closer to her well-lubricated slit, to pull its nose 
into her vulva. She maintained this position for several seconds, her body 
undulating wildly, her hands imprisoning the Dane's head in her cunt. But 
then the animal pulled backward, breaking her grip, its tail slapping to and 
fro like some great metronome, and began to nuzzle the glistening, quivering 
white cheeks of her buttocks. Its snout nosed her anus momentarily, and then 
began to root between her pelvis and the bedclothes, raising her buttocks 
even higher. 

It was as if the girl had gone insane with her lust, as if the dog's 
relentless tongue had snapped every cell in her brain. Her lips were twisted 
into a mindless contortion of uncontrollable heat as she turned on the bed, 
knelt with her spread buttocks elevated to the eye of the camera. The Dane 
needed no coaxing. It mounted the girl immediately, its forepaws sawing at 
her waist in a kind of embrace, and its shining, wet, brilliant red penis 
dove into view from its concealment in the furry sheath of the animal's 
loins. The tapered head slid in and out of the damp crevice as the Dane 
fought to bury its cock in the waiting girl's cunt. 

Looking back over her shoulder, her hips rotating madly in anticipation, the 
girl reached back to grasp the slippery organ, its redness contrasting 
almost ludicrously with her soft pink cunt lips. It slipped from her 
fingers, but she grasped it again, guiding the huge penis into her slit, 
spreading the opening wider and wider until it seemed as if she would surely 
split apart. The animal bucked wildly, driving his immense cudgel deep into 
the girl's squirming pussy, slammed home; its monstrous, hair-covered balls 
bounced against her defenseless pubic mound as she lunged backward to meet 
the panting dog's forward thrusts. Its forepaws hugged her waist more 
tightly now, as she began to rotate her hips more abandonedly beneath the 
Dane's pistoning loins, her face, turned toward the camera, was contorted 
even more mindlessly, even more salaciously, as the monstrous dog drove its 
crimson penis faster and faster, deeper and deeper, into her moist vagina 
... 

* * * 

The house was dark, seemingly deserted, when Randi and Gary arrived home. 

"I wonder where the kids are?" Randi asked innocently as the wagon drifted 
to a silent stop beside the Healey in the garage. 

Gary shut off the headlights and opened his door. "They're probably, uh, 
sitting in the dark," he stuttered slightly. "You know how kids are when 
they're alone." 

Oh, yes, Randi thought. She pressed her thighs together tightly. I know how 
kids are when they're alone. She thought of Joe Levitt's young, rigid 
cock-and of Dean Garrett's-and a trembling wave of anticipation took hold of 
her. "Let's go inside," she said quickly. "I-I think I'm going to be sick." 

"All right," Gary answered. "But we'll go through the back door. We don't 
want to disturb Bob and his guests, do we?" 

"No, no, we don't." 

They followed the flagstone path around to the rear of the house, and Gary 
unlatched the door with his key. They entered silently, moving along the 
hallway to their bedroom. He whispered, "Why don't you get undressed and 
into bed? You'll feel better after you've had a good night's sleep." 

"Aren't you coming to bed, too?" 

"No, I-I think I left the pool heater on this afternoon. I'd better go out 
and turn it off." 

"Suppose the kids want to go swimming later on?" 

"Well ..." Gary faltered momentarily, and then said with conviction, "I 
don't think they will. I doubt if Bob's friends brought their suits." 
Quickly, then, he turned on his heel and started quietly back along the 
hallway to the rear door. 

Randi stood in the darkened bedroom doorway, and laughed amusedly to 
herself. It was so obvious why Gary wanted to leave her alone that his lame 
excuse of the pool heater was almost ludicrous; he, just as Randi, had 
become aroused thinking of the stag films which Bob was showing, knowing 
that his son really wouldn't be projecting them for Joe and Dean but for the 
girls as well. 

Yes, Randi thought, and knowing that the watching of stag movies sexually 
stimulated the viewer so intensely that the eventual participation in 
lustful games was profitable, if not completely imminent. 

He had told her that himself, once, just as she had heard it whispered by 
others of her acquaintance. Consequently, and conversely, her own arousal 
had been heightened not by the prospect of seeing strangers fucking on a 
screen-but at the prospect of seeing people she knew, Joe Levitt and Dean 
Garrett and their dates, fucking in the flesh. 

As well as the prospect of seeing her son Bob fucking that little bitch 
Fran. 

Breathing heavily now, Randi left the doorway and began to make her way 
stealthily along the shadowed hallway toward the right-angled entrance to 
the living room. 

* * * 

The firm, resilient breasts of the girl in the film danced tightly beneath 
her writhing body as the huge Great Dane drove his flailing hot monster deep 
into her cunt. Her mouth was open and her lips formed words of lustful 
encouragement to the beast buried within her, urging him to fuck her harder 
and harder, to spew his searing animal sperm deep into her belly; she had 
been reduced to nothing more than a quivering mass of flesh beneath the 
Dane's hard pounding cudgel. 

As the reel reached its conclusion, the girl's torso whipped madly from side 
to side as she began to experience the first overwhelming bursts of her 
tremendous, building orgasm. The Dane's impossibly long tongue lolled onto 
her frantically swirling auburn hair as the dog fucked deeper into her 
furrowed crotch. She rammed her buttocks with renewed frenzy against the 
animal as her cum flowed through her, as the first spurts of releases from 
the dog's flame-red cock leapt like molten drops of fire into the very core 
of her body. Thick sperm oozed from her cunt as it clasped the jerking prick 
of the dog, began to trail down along the backs of her thigh; and then, 
suddenly, after one final ramming jolt of her buttocks, she collapsed 
forward to lie gasping in sweat-soaked bliss on the bedclothes-and the 
Dane's penis deflated into its furry crevice as it nuzzled gently her 
moistly slick body in bestial thankfulness. 

And then the film ended, abruptly, leaving only the glimmering square of 
light to illuminate the living room wall ... 

"I'm ... I'm going to ... to cccuuummmmm!" Joe Levitt screamed from the 
divan as Sally Enders' ovalling lips sucked wildly on his cock. His hips 
heaved, bucked, shoving the engorged shaft full into her soft warm throat, 
and his fingers kneaded and tweaked her large, now-naked breasts painfully 
in the throes of his passion. "Ohhhhh, Ummmmmm, suck it suck it suckittttt!" 

Beside the thrashing couple. Dean Garrett was burrowing his thick, dripping 
tongue into Donna Whalen's ear as her hand worked masterfully up and down 
his prick. He was almost there, almost, ... His finger twirled around her 
clit with insane fury, causing little staccato groans of pleasure to jerk 
from between her hotly moist lips. 

"Cum with me!" Garrett squealed. "Cum with me, I'm going to blow your hand 
off with my load, ohhhhhh!" 

"Yes, yes, yes!" she squealed. "Blow it off, Dean, blow it off. I'll cum 
with you, I will, will willlllllll!" 

On the floor, Bob's fingers massaged the quivering white moons of Fran's 
soft, wildly rotating buttocks as his granite-like cock sawed in and out of 
her sensitive, sweating anus, faster and faster, his balls tingling with his 
impending climax, her hips rotating in wide frenzied circles above him. His 
hands squeezed her magnificent tits until the flesh overflowed his fingers, 
causing her to cry out in pleasure-pain and ram down harder on his rampant 
shaft ... 

Oh my God! Oh my God, I'm watching my own son fucking a girl! I'm, watching 
him experiencing the most wonderful, the highest pinnacle of pleasure known 
to mankind! Randi stood quivering in the darkness of the hallway entrance to 
the living room, her body pressed tightly to the wall but in such a position 
so that she was able to see clearly in the flickering light of the movie 
projector the writhing young bodies in their various excited, abandoned 
embraces. 

One part of her mind returned to the tag end of the film, to the full-color 
images of that monster dog and the young girl and the animal's rampaging, 
scarlet penis heaving into her lust-lubricated pussy. Randi felt her own 
cunt helplessly secreting a continual flow of her passion juices, soaking 
her panties, and the impossible sensations of delight which tingled her clit 
and her turgid, sensitively-aching nipples. Watching her own son sodomizing 
his girl, and the maddening undulations of the others, had aroused her to 
such a high state of passion that she knew she had to find release, and find 
it soon, or she would positively blow her mind! Ohhh God! she thought, 
squirming in the darkness, lowering her hand to cup her own moist cuntal 
mound, running her finger along her furrow outside the toreador pants. I 
want a cock inside me! I want a big, hot, moist, sticky, wonderful cock 
burrowing inside me right now! Flicking me, splitting me apart, filling me 
with buckets and buckets of hot delicious male cum!" 

Bob was moaning on the floor now, moaning in unbridled ecstasy. "I'm ... I'm 
... almost there! I'm going to get ... get my nuts ... anytime now! Ohhhhh, 
yesssss, Frannnn, I'm going to cum ... I can feel it ... in my balls ... " 

"No, no, no!" Fran chanted, swirling above his plunging cock, unable to slow 
the delirious momentum his monstrous rod had instilled in her body. "No, 
don't cum yet, lover ... don't ... cum yet, I'm not ... ready yet ... " 

But Bob was too far gone, the effects of the beer he had drunk causing great 
billowing waves of white-hot sperm to swell his balls to the point of 
bursting. Randi watched enthralled, spittle flecking the corner of her full 
red lips. As Bob's hands left Fran's breasts to grasp the gyrating hips at 
her waist, Randi inserted her hand inside the toreador pants and inside the 
elastic top of her panties, fingers sliding along her wet slit and coming to 
rest on the erect bud of her clitoris. She began to rock with silent 
pleasure, watching Bob jam Fran down on his pulsating cock, preventing her 
from slowing the motion of her buttocks even if she had been otherwise able 
to. His spongy, dampened penis filled Fran's rectum to the fullest; she 
could all but feel it touching her vital organs through the membranous inner 
wall. 

And then Bob cried out, pulling her down even harder onto his searing prick: 
"I'm cummmmm-iiinnnnnnnnggggggggg!" 

"No, noooooo!" Fran wailed in unison. 

Randi's finger moved with lightening speed on her wildly throbbing clitoris, 
sending rapturous wonder through her belly, as she realized that Fran's cry 
had gone unheeded, that it had been too late. Bob's buttocks came up off the 
rug, grinding his loins against Fran's soft globes, as the first quick, 
sticky spurts of his semen erupted from the bloated sacs of his balls. It 
streamed deep up into her wide-stretched rectum as he bounced her wildly up 
and down, fucking her mercilessly, causing more of the lava-like flow to 
burst with machine gun rapidity into her defenseless opening. 

I want to be fucked, I want to be fucked, I want to be fucked his young 
mother's mind sang as she continued her masturbation. She willed the 
grinding bodies of her son and his fiance not to cease until she had, even 
in her own small way, been able to relieve herself. But it was not to be. 
She moaned almost aloud as she saw in the projector's wavering light her 
son's prick throb out its last remaining gusts of cum, and then, almost 
immediately, begin to deflate. She saw it slip out of Fran's anus, thin 
strings of his hot seminal fluid following it, ringing and dripping from the 
girl's open, puckered little hole; saw Bob fall back on the carpet as the 
girl had fallen forward on the bed in the film, exhausted. 

Trembling terribly, Randi continued to manipulate her clit-but somehow the 
sensation wasn't the same, even though Levitt and Garrett and their girls 
were still locked in orgiastic positions of ecstasy. She moaned again, 
audibly this time, but not loud enough for anyone to hear. 

Fran, crouched on all fours now straddling Bob's prostrate form, turned on 
him suddenly with her teeth bared animal-like in the half-light of the room. 
"Goddamn you, you son of a bitch!" she snarled. "Why didn't you wait, why 
didn't you wait? I didn't cum, you bastard, oh you bastard I didn't cum!" 

Bob didn't reply. His head was turned to one side, and Randi could see that 
he was almost comatose from the sheer physical exertion of his cum and from 
the lingering effects of the draft beer. 

"Wake up, damn you!" Fran hissed. "Wake up and finish what you started! My 
goddamn cunt is churning ...!" 

And mine, and mine, Randi's brain chanted involuntarily. But leave him 
alone, can't you? He'll be all right if you'll just leave him alone and let 
him rest for a while. 

But Fran, still caught up in her passion, wasn't about to leave him alone. 
She grasped his now limp prick between her thumb and forefinger and pinched 
it, shaking the member from side to side in anger. "Get hard, oh goddamn 
you, get hard, get upppp! I need you, you bastard, I need you in my cunt!" 

As she spoke, Randi heard a surreptitious sound off to her right, heard it 
clearly in spite of the gasping and panting of the couples still undulating 
on the divan. She recognized the sound instantly as a footfall on the 
hardwood floor of the foyer, and suddenly she realized that Gary must have 
been watching the scene in the living room just as she had; that he had made 
his way around the house and let himself into the foyer with his key. 

As if to corroborate her thoughts, she saw the heavy, muscled figure of her 
husband emerge from the shadowed foyer and step into the dancing projector 
light. His face was contorted, and she knew instinctively that he had been 
as sexually aroused by what he had witnessed as she had been. He stepped 
forward, dropping to one knee on the carpet beside his son's prone, nude 
body, and the trembling girl above him. "Fran!" he whispered urgently, "Oh, 
God, Fran!" 

Her head jerked up, and she raised herself into a kneeling position. Her 
breasts jutted brazenly forward, covered with the slick sweat of lovemaking, 
and her pubic area glistened wetly in the light; but she made no attempt to 
cover herself, made no attempt at false modesty. "You were watching!" she 
breathed, as if the idea intrigued her. "You were watching the whole time!" 

"Yes!" Gary breathed. "Oh, Jesus, I saw you and ... and ... Bob ... what you 
were doing ... Oh, Fran, I've got a bone on like I've never had before!" 

The girl began to tremble at his words, her eyes lowering to the bulging 
front of his pants. Gary said, "I heard what you were saying: that you 
didn't cum, that you needed a cock inside you." 

"I do!" she moaned. "I do!" 

Gary slithered forward, taking her by the shoulders, pulling her off his 
son's sprawled form and tight against him. His hand found one of her 
breasts, squeezed. "I want to fuck you!" 

"Yes, yes, yes!" 

"I want to suck your pussy, too! I want to suck your pussy before I fuck 
you!" 

"Oh, Christ, yes!" Fran's hand dipped to his belt, tugged furiously at it, 
drew his pants down with tremulous fingers; his shorts were next, and then 
his throbbing rock-hard member leapt into view, looking purplish and hugely 
grotesque in the wavering light. 

Randi, watching from the hallway, sucked in her breath sharply. She had 
almost forgotten what Gary's prick looked like, it had been so long since he 
had last fucked her; and then, she had been the old Randi, the unchanged 
Randi. Now, seeing its gleaming head, the few drops of lubrication oozing 
and shining from the small opening, she began to tremble violently. Ohhhhh, 
but I never realized that he has such a marvelous penis! Such a wonderful 
cock! I can almost feel it inside me, ripping and tearing inside me ... But 
it's not going to be inside me, it's going to be inside Fran, inside that 
bitch Fran who only moments ago was fucking my son! I can't let that happen, 
can I? I can't ... but how can I stop it without going out there? If I do, 
Gary won't want to fuck me, he'll be angry because I broke up what he's 
starting with Fran ... 

Fran was rubbing Gary's lust-rigid prick between the palms of her hands now, 
making liquid sounds deep in the folds of her throat. His hips began to 
rotate under her ministrations, but he hissed: "Not here! Bob ... might wake 
up! And ... and the others ... " 

"Where, then?" 

"Not ... not my bedroom ... Randi's there ... Bob's room ... Ooohhhh, yes, I 
want to fuck you in my son's own bedroom!" 

"Yes, yes, ohhhh, yesssssss!" 

As Randi watched, Fran and her husband rose as one, the girls' hand wrapped 
tightly around his aroused, hardened cock, Gary holding his lowered trousers 
at his thighs. They stumbled toward the hallway entrance, and Randi, in 
sudden fright at being discovered, pressed back deeper into the shadows. 
They passed by her, the sound of their hot, lust-filled breathing seeming to 
fill her ears. When they reached the door to Bob's bedroom, two away from 
Gary's and hers and adjacent to the guest room across the hall, Gary shoved 
open the door and they lurched inside. Randi heard it click shut loudly 
behind them. 

What am I going to do? she thought frantically. Oh God, I'm so hot, my pussy 
is so hot, and my own husband is in there with our son's fiance! But it's 
my own fault; I let him go in there, I just let him walk in there with her 
hand wrapped around his great, monstrous, lovely cock ... 

She looked back in to the wavering light of the living room. Moans of climax 
and impending climax met her ears from the mass of naked and near-naked 
flesh on the divan as Joe and Dean and their girls fucked and sucked in 
oblivious passion, neither knowing nor caring what was going on around them. 
Randi's eyes dropped to the prone form of her son, lingering on his satiated 
nudity. Suddenly, Bob stirred, as if wakened by her gaze, and rolled over 
and then into a sitting position. He looked about foggily, seeking Fran but 
not finding her. Then he stumbled to his feet and started towards Randi. 

He thinks she's gone into the bedroom! Randi thought. He thinks she's gone 
into his bedroom to wait for him! I can't let him go in there, I can't let 
him find his father and Fran together ... Or can I? The suddenness of that 
prerogative rendered Randi motionless as her son reached the hallway 
entrance, started past her, his young white cheeked buttocks swaying 
provocatively as he moved along the carpeted corridor. Yes! Yes, I can! I 
can let him walk in there and find them together, all right, find out just 
what kind of a slut he intends to marry! She won't have him, that way! 
She'll never have him that way! 

Almost mesmerized by a strange feeling which seemed to flow through her, 
Randi followed Bob quietly down the hallway. There was no thought of the 
other consequences of Bob discovering his father and his fiance fucking 
together, no thought of the alienation of father and son; of the hatred 
which could develop between the two; of the possible break-up of their 
marriage ... 

She was only two steps behind her son when he opened the door to his 
bedroom. 

 Chapter 8 

As Fran and he entered Bob's darkened bedroom, Gary groaned involuntarily; 
her fondling of his cock had made it harder than a chunk of granite. He 
kicked the door shut and, turning, thrust his loins at the girl, his hot 
breath seething through his clenched teeth. 

"Get naked!" Fran whispered. "Now, Gary!" 

Fingers trembling spastically, Gary shed his clothes and stood nude before 
her. Fran giggled softly, and then dropped to her knees, bending his huge, 
jutting protuberance to her aching lips. She kissed its head, licking with 
the tip of her outstretched tongue, relishing the bittersweet taste of his 
penile secretions. She bathed his thighs and then nuzzled her mouth to the 
base of his cock and the throbbing brown gourds of his balls. 

Gary stared down at the dark outline of the girl, seeing in the dim light of 
the one window her bobbing head plunging over his white bullock-sized prick. 
She slobbered lewdly, the saliva of her voracious mouth drowning the cock in 
a sea of rapturous licentiousness. He began to fuck her mouth, jerking and 
bucking his thighs to drive his dripping shaft deeper into Fran's engorged 
throat, feeling the back of her mouth with his sensitive head as it grazed 
the lust-choked pink ridges above her tongue. She can take it! he thought 
wildly. She can take all of me, all of any man! 

Just like that piece in the film. He shivered at the sudden remembrance of 
the young girls hair-covered pussy being pummelled by the giant ramming cock 
of the dog. Christ! He had really been turned on, just like the kids, seeing 
those films again. 

Gary grasped Fran's flaying hair and guided her head on his shaft. He thrust 
harder into her oral cavity, pumping like the dog had done, almost ready to 
split his groin with the mounting pressure of his cum. Fran was just like 
that punch board on the screen-lewd, perverse, whorish. She'd take a dog, 
that was for sure. She'd fuck anything. Yeah, yeah, she'd suck anything, 
too. She loves cock in her mouth. Gary gasped for breath, heavy steel bands 
seemingly constricting his chest. Oh God, Oh Jesus, Oh Christ, she'd suck 
and suck and suck! She'd suck that Goddamn dog too if she had the chance! 

Gary humped and pummelled Fran's greedy lips, his eyes crazily devouring the 
sight of his cock disappearing inside, his mind whirling with the picture 
and the added recollection of the girl in the movie. "Ohhhhh!" he panted. 
"Don't stop! Don't stop, Fran ... " 

Fran suddenly ceased her sucking and, pulling her head back, let his pecker 
slide out of her mouth. She laughed, then kissed the straining head. "No, 
you're not going to cum yet, big daddy. I had one disappointment tonight. 
I'm not going to have another!" She stood and fell back on the soft bed, 
legs wide and knees drawn up to her breasts so that Gary had a full, 
panoramic view of her lust-soaked vagina and feathery-globed buttocks. She 
clamped her hands around her legs and spread them wider. "Do it to me, now! 
Gary, do it to me now!" 

Gary groaned, sucking in his breath at the beautiful sight which feasted his 
eyes. The lewd itching of his cock and balls had reached the unbearable 
stage, and the pounding build-up of semen was making his whole body cringe 
with aching. Yet he felt mesmerized as he gazed at the softly shadowed cunt 
with its sleek combination of curling pubic hair and thin, almost 
fluorescent pink silt running the length of her crotch, the rising and 
falling contours of her swelling breasts and surging thighs. He leaned over 
her and pressed his thumbs on either side of her cunt, the delicious odor of 
her bittersweet vagina assailing his nostrils. Tiny drops of seminal fluid 
trickled from his painfully throbbing organ, slipping down the gaping head 
and stickily wetting his matted pubic hair. 

"Kiss my cunt!" Fran mewled. 

Gary slowly lowered his head until he was inches from her twitching pussy. 
He felt her warm inner thighs as they pulsed and quivered expectantly and he 
heard her breath stop as it caught in her throat. Then he leaned still 
closer and opened the fleshy lips around her erected clitoris, touching the 
bud with the tip of his tongue. Fran shook convulsively and reaching 
forward, put her hands on his head and pulled his mouth to the moist, 
waiting furrow. Gary let his devouring lips and flicking tongue completely 
envelope her cunt, searching out the wet, hidden areas of special delight as 
he became more familiar with her fleshy, ovaled cuntal mouth. 

His son's girl friend cried and clutched him tighter, her groans driving his 
mouth to faster and more frantic action. She was completely lost in 
enrapturement, every muscle of her thighs strained toward his maddening 
inquiry between her legs. He plunged his tongue deeper, only to withdraw it 
slightly and rim the ragged pink edges, taunting it mercilessly. 

"Oh! Ohhhh! Agggghhhhh!" she panted, splaying her legs out wide to allow 
Gary more access. He could feel her sopping flesh churn around his long 
extended tongue as the walls of her ravaged vagina opened and closed in a 
lewd sucking motion, attempting to milk his tongue, pull it deeper within 
her insatiable hole. It was as if he were being swallowed by a hair-lined 
whirlpool, devoured completely. Her legs snaked back to close over his head 
and shoulders, trapping his face against her soft, squirming young pussy. 
His nose was pressed against her clitoris, forcing him to inhale the pungent 
aromas of her lusty, gluttonous cunt. The tang made him wild with desire. If 
he didn't fuck her soon, he was going to burst! 

He involuntarily began to thrust against the bedspread, flexing his tortured 
penis against the pliant mattress. Every thought of discovery was lost; he 
was past caring who watched them now. Nothing mattered except the pulsating, 
inflamed young pussy of his son's future wife which was wrapped around his 
hungry, searching mouth. 

"Jesus! Jesus Christ!" 

Bob breathed the words in an explosion of breath as he stared into his 
dimly-lit bedroom, seeing the writhing couple on his bed, recognizing them 
through the haze of beer and satiated sleep. His jaw hung slack in wonder. 

Randi, standing just behind him now, looking over his shoulder, lingered her 
eyes on the carnal activity of her husband and Fran. It was worse than she 
had imagined ... or, again, was it better? The bitch's legs were banded 
about Gary's head in a vice-like death grip, uncontrollably panting and 
groaning and demanding for her cunt to be suckled faster and harder by his 
slavering poker-hot tongue. She flung her buttocks abandonedly, her cunt 
glistening in the dim light, and Gary pumped the bed with his loins as if it 
were a woman, making slurping and sucking noises. 

"Bob ... Bobby," Randi said suddenly, the words exploding from her lips 
before conscious thought. 

Bob half-whirled, his eyes blinking rapidly, a look of horror in his eyes. 
"Mom!" 

Randi wanted to say something comforting to him, to tell him it was all 
right, but her throat seemed swollen shut to such simplicities. Looking at 
his muscle-ridged nudity only inches away from her, at his now-half-erect, 
incredibly large young cock, filled her with dizzying waves of unfulfilled 
lust. Her belly and loins were aflame with more of the blinding passion 
which had been fostered by the film and her partial masturbation and the 
writhing couple before her. 

"Mom, I ..." Bob began, and then faltered, seeing in her eyes the 
unmistakable signs of sexual arousal. Hesitantly, he let his gaze flick back 
to his father and Fran on the bed. 

Randi heard herself say, "God, are they enjoying it, Bobby! They're really 
enjoying it!" 

"Christ, yes!" Bob's voice breathed near her ear. "I'm ... getting another 
hard-on just watching, even if it is Dad and my girl!" 

Randi's eyes lowered involuntarily at the sound of his words, seeing his 
young, blood-swollen shaft leap outward from his loins, stand immobile and 
proudly erect there. Her breath caught in her throat. "Bobby!" she 
whimpered. "Bobby ... " 

"Look at them ... look at them go, Mom!" he hissed between compressed lips. 

And, suddenly, Randi knew that within her son was a perverted desire which 
made him not only watch silently while his fiance-the woman he supposedly 
loved-was mouth-fucked by his own father, but which aroused him completely 
and totally as well. She could no longer deny his sexual awakening, that he 
was now a man with a man's yearnings and perversities, and that he was a 
desirable, virile, male with a monstrous lovely hard-on who was excited by 
his own mother's nearness! 

Randi lost all control of herself then, for she was consumed by the force of 
her latent lust. She ground her teeth together, mewling "Bobby!" deep in her 
throat, and squeezed her gushing pussy together with her thighs. She was 
boiling inside, boiling, and she moaned at the force of her emotional heat. 

Bob, still infused by the sight of Fran and his father's lewd performance 
and by the awareness of his mother's arousal, began to unconsciously knead 
Randi's hands over his sides and then over his bare belly, pulling his 
mother tighter against his hip. Randi could feel the heat of the one white 
ass cheek throb against her pubic mound, and she pushed eagerly against his 
buttocks. 

"Oh God, Mom, look at them go! Look at Dad suck Fran's cunt!" her son 
hissed, his mind an independent entity of its own. 

Randi's hands were also like separate entities, moving within Bob's grasp, 
moving over his upper torso. A last, dying protestation crossed her mind, 
dimly: No, no! This is wrong, all wrong, so very wrong! This can't be 
happening! Not my own son, not Bob, good sweet Bob ... Dear God, but my cunt 
is on fire! 

She felt Bob's abdomen. He groaned, still not moving from the bedroom door. 
In front of them Gary and Fran were still in the throes of their desire, 
making lewd, wet noises which only intensified the unquenched passion 
between mother and son. Then, as if controlled by an alien force, Randi 
broke Bob's grip and explored down further on her own, boldly stroking the 
curls of pubic hair, feeling his young muscles tense beneath her scouring 
finger tips. Randi trembled with maddening wickedness. Oh God, the worst of 
sins ... my own son ... I can't do this ... but I want to ... I want to feel 
his prick ... I've wanted to for a long time ... yes, yes, admit it ... I've 
wanted my own son to fuck me! 

Randi plunged both hands to Bob's stiff, throbbing penis. Without further 
hesitation she took the straining shaft in the clenched fists of her hands 
and the fluttering sensations in her breasts moved to her loins, setting 
them afire. Bob choked on his own gasping breath, but made no move to 
resist. He crushed himself against his mother, jerking his loins in her 
grip. 

Randi felt wildly free at last. Now, as she dared to do what she so long had 
resisted, she realized what had been the root of her sexual problem all 
along. By repressing her desires for Bob, by hiding the carnal love of his 
growing body from even herself, she had shut off all interest in physical 
respite. The frustration and resentment had built and festered like an angry 
boil, ruining any relationship which might have grown between Gary and her, 
her and any other man. But the exhilarating freedom she was now overwhelmed 
with as she fondled her son's prick showed her the falseness of her previous 
ways. Most every Godfearing, Bible-spouting person would condemn her, loath 
her for what she was doing-but were they right? Was she not a better, more 
complete woman now? Oh yes!-Oh yes! 

Randi sighed, the tactile sense of her hands rubbing the lovely young penis 
making her more excited than she had ever been before. And then, Bob 
suddenly turned, ramming his magnificent prick into her belly as he pressed 
her to him. His hand caressed one of her breasts, transmitting feeling she 
could understand. The warmth of his cock spread like wild-fire through her 
toreador pants, and then she was lowering them, pulling them down with 
shaking hands. His huge, mastiff-sized prick insinuated itself between the 
soft, nylon folds of her thin, white panties, causing her thighs and abdomen 
to leap, and Bob's hand snaked under the thin velour sweater to move her 
brassiere up. One firm, heated breast bulged out, into his waiting grasp as 
she pressed her pussy tightly to him. 

"Goddamn!" Bob hissed. "I can't stand this! I ... want you, Mom!" 

"I know! I want you too, Bobby!" 

"I want ... I want to ..." he gulped, faltered. 

"Yes, yes ... you want to fuck me, son!" 

"God, yes!" Bob gasped breathlessly. "Where? Where, Mom?" 

"Here ... on the floor next to ... Fran and Dad!" 

Bob clenched Randi to him, his lips swarming; over hers with tenderness and 
compassion and sexual desire. She felt his teeth against hers and then she 
opened her mouth and his tongue rammed into her, toying with her lips and 
tongue and inside ridges. 

She sucked on his tongue, her eyes tightly shut, and she moved her loins 
just far enough from the boy to slide her panties from her hips. Now they 
stood, pressed tightly together, their thighs nude white together, 
inseparable, his cock see-sawing the lust-drenched cleft between her inner 
legs as they kissed in increasingly maddening passion. Randi trembled with 
the excitement of incestuous infidelity. They slowly made their way into the 
room, past the still squirming bodies of her husband and her son's girl 
until they were beside the bed. 

Bob knelt on the soft rug, then, and began to strip the soft, nylon panties 
from her long, slim legs, then unzipped the velour sweater. She crossed her 
arms luxuriously over her head and stretched, the thin sweater cresting over 
her out-thrust breasts. The cool air grazed her nipples, and her naked 
wantonness in front of her lusting son made her flesh tingle with thrill. 
The image of her and Bob writhing in intercourse on the floor-as they would 
be surely in a few short, short moments-added immensely to the forbidden 
sensuality, and she unhooked the brassiere and slid it off, cupping her 
throbbing breasts tightly as she did. 

Bob moved his hands slowly up her thighs. "My-my God, Mom! I never realized 
you were so beautiful!" She watched him as he bent and kissed her pubic 
mound, his hands still pressing her sides. She swayed in the darkness, the 
overwhelming enrapturement of her boy tonguing her vaginal lips causing her 
to lose her balance. 

She moaned, the thought of her feelings of Tuesday night returning dimly. It 
was true that she hadn't wanted Fran to marry Bob; she still didn't want 
that. She pressed her hands to Bob's dipping head, gripping his hair 
tightly. She didn't want him to marry any girl ever. 

She wanted him all for herself! 

Her glance caught Gary's head as it probed Fran's inner thighs, making the 
girl undulate in a growing spasm of delight, her own hands massaging her 
breasts, pinching her nipples, sliding down her ivory belly to encourage 
Gary's sucking between her wide-splayed legs. Good, lovely! Randi thought, 
dreamily. You've lost your hold on Bob, you little bitch. He's mine, now; 
mine alone. 

Gary slid his hands under the young girl's increasingly urgent buttocks, 
moving them so that her crotch pressed his face tighter. He nipped gently 
the folds of her cunt, revealing the widening hole as she mewled and panted 
above. His tongue slavered incessantly, fucking her in ever increasing 
thrusts. Then, as he sank into her widely yawning cavern, he heard the first 
faint rustlings beside the bed. Somebody had joined them ... was watching! 

The tiny sounds increased, and Gary heard the short, staccato unmistakable 
sounds of lovemaking. The groans, the intake of breath ... and then the 
words, "My God, Mom. I never realized you were so beautiful!" 

His whole being froze into immobility. What the hell was going on? Had 
he-could he have-heard right? No, no, of course not. He tried to raise his 
head to see who had come in, but the tightly imprisoning legs of Fran only 
pressed him tighter, forcing his mouth back to her insatiable cunt. 
"OOOOHHHHHHH, don't stop, Gary. For God's sake don't stop sucking me!" Fran 
wailed, heaving and thrusting her buttocks hungrily up against his swirling 
tongue. 

Gary returned to the wet, open cunt before him, new desire fanned by the 
thought of the couple next to them. It was one of the other kids, that was 
it, well what the fuck, let them watch, he was past caring really. He began 
to lick and suck harder, wishing he could see the couple. Was the boy 
sucking the girl as he was sucking Fran? Was she naked, or was her dress 
just raised and bunched up around her waist? His mind produced a thousand 
pornographic pictures as his tongue lashed out in renewed fury. Fran crooned 
in ecstasy. She was building to an uncontrollable eruption, a driving 
tempest which would soon shatter her pussy with a orgasm like she had never 
experienced before. 

His licentious ideas were interrupted by a series of soulful gasps. It 
sounded like a woman dying. "OOOOOhhhhh!" came the female groan, a familiar 
voice which his ears refused to identify. "Oh ... God, let me down, let me 
down beside you." 

Then came the murmur of another voice, another familiar voice. "I'm going to 
fuck you, Mom! I'm going to fuck you right now!" 

"Yes, yes ... OHHHHHH!" 

Gary's tongue froze in mid-stroke. Fran shoved her cunt forward but he paid 
no attention to its lubricated folds, his brain reeling with the 
comprehension of just who the couple was beside the bed. His own wife was 
begging for their son to fuck her! He couldn't believe it! He tore Fran's 
legs from around his neck, her pleading shriek, "Keep sucking ... keep 
sucking!" lost in the roaring impact of his realization. 

He stared in utter shock at Randi and Bob. It couldn't be ... no, not that 
... but it was happening, happening right in front of his own eyes! 

Randi sank to her knees, and Bob's tongue moved up along her quivering 
belly, dipping momentarily into the curvature of her navel in passing, then 
tenderly licking one nipple, tantalizing it, his lips sucking the aureole to 
her gasping pleasure. The sudden hiatus in the bed's rhythmic sway told her 
Gary had heard them, was now aware of what was going on. But she didn't 
care, didn't care! In fact, she couldn't wait for him to look up from the 
little bitch's all too public pussy and see her and their son absorbed in 
wonderful, terrible carnality. A shiver of sheer vitriolic depravity 
traversed her body. 

Bob gasped as she pressed against him. "Oh damnit!" he moaned, his words 
almost unintelligible as his mouth sucked her fevered breast. Then he 
removed his searing hold and looked up at her lovingly and said again. "I'm 
going to fuck you, Mom! I'm going to fuck you right now!" 

The words surged through her, the sensations of desire almost sending her 
into orgasm then and there. Her belly churned with the pleasure building 
deep in her loins. She moved closer, fusing herself to Bob, and together 
they rolled on the carpet. 

"Yes, yes ... OOOhhhhh!" she moaned. She had risen up now, straddling her 
son, looking down at the youthful body. And he in turn seemed to grow 
beneath her lascivious gaze as a flower buds beneath the warming rays of the 
sun. He spread his legs wide, opening his inner thighs to her lusting gaze. 
She barely heard Fran's cry as she demanded that her cunt be sucked more; 
Randi's hand reached out with frantic plundering for Bob's hot, stiff cock, 
all else forgotten now, all else unimportant. His penis pulled gently in her 
grasp, and tenderly she began to stroke it, her eyes fastened on its girth, 
its rigid detail! How you have grown, Bob, my love. I remember when your 
cock was but worm size, cradled by almost invisible balls and a diaper's 
fluffy whiteness. How good it looked even then. And later, as you grew and 
it increased in size ... yes, I remember the thrill of seeing an erection on 
you the first time, how I secretly yearned to fondle and kiss your beautiful 
manhood. And now you are a man, and it is searching and growing for your 
mother ... how wonderful ... 

Randi bent and kissed the unseeing eyes of her son's prick, and then smiled 
up at him tenderly, moving her other hand along the taut muscles of his 
abdomen and along his heaving chest. His cock throbbed against her cheek, 
and kittenishly she rubbed her soft face against it, smelling it, caressing 
it with her fingertips, learning every ridge and curve with passionate 
fervor. Bob sighed and moaned, shaking his head in ecstasy, his tongue 
licking his dry lips. 

"Oh God, Mom! Don't stop! I love your touch on my penis ... " 

His vulgar words spurred Randi further, and she raised her head, breathed 
deeply, and then plunged his shaft deep into her mouth. She began to wiggle 
her hips, mewling hungrily as her son's now vibrating prick nearly reached 
her palette, tickling the soft folds of her throat. Her hot breath against 
his pubic hair made Bob ripple with delight and he began to fuck her mouth 
with long and bold strokes. His cock tasted like the finest ambrosia filling 
her salivating cavern with ever demanding pulses. Randi cupped her son's 
sperm-laden balls with both her hands and started to squeeze and manipulate 
them with innate and loving skill while her throat continued to expand and 
contract in her increasing desire to suck him to climax. 

I want his cum ... all of it ... I want to swallow his cum and have it boil 
within me ... My son came to me as seed, and now he will cum again as seed 
... 

Christ, what were they doing? 

Gary gaped at the incredible debauchery being performed before him. Goddamn 
them, my own wife and son, so help me God I'll kill them both for this! His 
mind was completely turmoiled by the sickening picture of incest, the 
thought of his lovely wife whimpering and purring with increased and 
prurient bliss as she sucked Bob's shaft. In embittered shock, sick at soul, 
Gary lay in anguish between Fran's wide-spread legs. 

Then, suddenly, waves of guilt rippled through him. He was the cause of 
this! Yes, he! They were not at fault, did not deserve the wrath of his 
punishment. As he looked at his wife and son in their carnal abuse, he knew 
that the momentary need of fucking Fran was not worth the price he was now 
paying. The plaything begging to be suckled meant nothing to him, yet the 
rendering of services which he had fostered could be endless in their 
consequences. 

"Gary ... don't stop ... please don't stop!" moaned Fran, her hands 
entangled in his hair as she pressed his face back to her wet, steaming 
cunt. 

Oh God, what have I done? Gary's mind asked sickly. But even as tormented as 
it was, he could do nothing but allow his head to be returned to Fran's 
hungry, throbbing vagina again, was incapable of all else for it was too 
late now, too late. 

Then, as though to assuage his guilt, the thought of his wife sucking Bob 
suddenly began to excite him, the immoral act of hers so much more terrible 
than his adulterous tryst with Fran as to make any anger, any revulsion, any 
hatred disappear. His cock hardened on the coverlet below and he slid his 
hands beneath Fran's buttocks, pulling her to his mouth, lost in the total 
sensuality of the situation. 

"Oooohhhhhh!" he heard his son groan. "I'm going to cum! I'm going to spurt 
my load in your mouth, Mom ... " 

Gary lifted his head again, the salaciousness of Bob's depraved words 
causing him overwhelming lust. He stared at the two of them, the sight of 
his son's hard shaft almost completely absorbed between his wife's ovalled 
lips increasing the sensation a thousand fold. Jesus Christ! he cried 
silently. She's really sucking him! 

Randi massaged the soft resilient skin of Bob's testicles and tantilizingly 
used her left hand to stroke the hardened shaft as she drank in his cock 
rhythmically. Her tongue swirled at its apex, maddeningly flicking across 
the wide split of the glands on top. Bob arched his buttocks as he fucked 
Randi's mouth, the pink edges of her lips pulling out as he withdrew and 
then clinging greedily as he shoved his rod back in, further and further 
into her engorged throat. 

Suddenly Bob groaned and removed his saliva-drenched penis from his mother's 
mouth. "I ... I've got to fuck you!" he moaned. He wriggled down on the rug, 
moving under Randi's hovering legs until the tip of his penis quivered just 
below the thin, red cunt lips of her widened crotch. He jerked upwards, 
feeling the smooth, rubbery head rub against the softness of her pubic hair, 
running it along the furrow of her pussy. "Fuck you, Mom ... gotta fuck 
you!" 

Gary's eyes enlarged at the sight of his wife's wildly undulating ass as she 
ground her open vagina against his son's demon shaft. "Oh, yess ... yes ... 
yesssss!" she crooned and she reached down and with one hand parted the 
quivering lips of her vagina, running a forefinger exploratory inside, 
shivering with its impact, while with the other hand she guided her son's 
stone-hard cock to the hungrily awaiting hole, a mixture of desire and fear 
permeating her whole being. After a single moment's hesitation, she plunged 
her boy's cock against her cunt, expanding the resisting lips almost to 
tearing. 

"Oh God, you're so big, Bobby, dear, your prick is so big! I ... I can't 
take it all ... Nooooooo!" 

She struggled as Bob's shaft lurched inside her, impaling her far more than 
she had estimated. She was truly filled with her son, with her flesh and 
blood. Bob put an elbow beneath him and looked down between them at her 
flaying crotch as his hardened cock crushingly thrust up into her soft, 
pulsating vagina. Then, with one huge surge, he buried his giant cock all 
the way up in her tight, quivering belly. 

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH" Randi screamed uncontrollably. He bloated her 
bowels with his cock, every wrinkle insinuating against the sides of her 
vagina. He flicked upward once more. 

"UUhhhhhhhhh!" 

Again! 

"Aaaaagggghhhhhh! Oh my God! Dear Jesus!" Randi wailed. 

Bob flexed his elephantine hardness, raising another deep groan from within 
his mother, but it was a lesser sound of torture, for she was becoming 
accustomed to his inhuman size, and the hot passion of fucking took over. 
She glanced at his chest, dropping her head down so it nestled his shoulder 
as she kneeled over him. "Oh please, son ... please! I want you to fuck me 
hard! I never dreamed it could be so good!" 

Bob began a slow revolving motion with his loins, grinding his penis tightly 
up into her naked cunt, expanding her helplessly impaled pussy with 
ever-increasing sawing action. He thrust upward unmercifully, in and out 
with battering, tearing regularity. His hand crept across her curved spinal 
cord and played along the crevice between her naked buttocks until his 
finger found the raw, puckered anus pointing ceiling-ward. He rubbed his 
finger there briefly, teasing her rectal opening like another hot, probing 
tongue. 

"OOoohhhhh!" Randi gasped. Her hips began an automatic gyration as finally, 
Bob dipped his finger through the tight nether ring of his mother's anus and 
wormed it deeply into her warm, spongy interior flesh. He moved it in a 
circular motion, expanding the tight hole until the palm of his hand lay 
flat against her buttocks. Randi writhed and cried above him in the double 
ravishment of her genitals, and the outrageous dual defilement of her naked 
loins brought masochistic pleasure surging through her body. 

Bob moved his other hand around and felt the soft, hair-lined folds of her 
pussy where it clasped wetly around his cock. He fondled the gently 
contracting lips, bringing further mewls of delightful sensation from his 
mother's mouth, and he could feel the ever-widening passage of her seething 
vagina milking his prick in greedy desire as he continued to plunge in and 
out ... 

Gary moaned at the sight of his son's pistoning penis violating his wife's 
insanely grinding cunt, but he had little time to think further, for the 
room was suddenly flooded with light, and the lewd carnal scene exploded in 
vivid reality. 

"Goddamn!" exclaimed Joe Levitt. He stood naked, his hand on the light 
switch, his thick cock jutting like a small, purplish log in front of him. 
Leaning beside him was Sally Enders, and behind them were Dean Garrett and 
Donna Whalen all nude. Sally grinned hotly, her eyes glittering with 
unquenched lust at what she saw in the bedroom. 

"Jesus!" she whispered, "Isn't that the old lady down there?" 

Garrett peered over her shoulder, his hand squeezing her breast. "You're 
right! Holy God, it's Bob and his mother!" 

"Look at them go, will ya?" Garrett said wheezingly. "They're fucking like 
it's the end of the world!" 

Gary sat up on the bed, rolling Fran aside with his sudden move. "Wha-" 

All eyes were on the wildly licentious couple as they screwed abandonedly on 
the rug. Gary groaned, but his eyes were glued to Randi and Bob, just as the 
eyes of the others were, listening to the wild sucking sounds of his son's 
hot, pounding strokes. 

"I don't believe it!" Levitt choked. He stepped over to the couple, but they 
were too wrapped in ecstasy, much too far gone, to know or care who else was 
there. Garrett joined him and then squatted down next to Randi's undulating 
buttocks. "She was a good fuck, all right, but never this good!" he 
breathed. "Look at that cunt of hers travel, just begging for cock!" 

Gary wanted to scream. How Goddamn innocent he had been! Bob was not her 
first affair, not by any means. He should have known she had fucked others 
before. Levitt and Garrett ... who else? Oh my God how many others had she 
fucked? 

With the ease of intimate knowledge, Garrett lay down beside Randi and 
placed one of her hands on his throbbing, hardened prick. Mindless with 
lust, she obediently clasped his rod and began stroking it in time with her 
undulating hips, her eyes tightly closed. She manipulated Garrett's cock, 
moaning ever increasing chants as Bob continued to thrust deep into her 
cunt, her buttocks waving in the obscene kneeling position. Bob's finger 
still jerked in her tightly, clenched rectum, and with the lights on, Gary 
could see her anus pucker and nip at the slender prong, ramming back on it 
as she swung up from the monster violating her cunt below, then surging 
downward, then up, then down. 

Sally Enders groaned and dropped to her knees in front of Levitt, taking his 
waving cock between her lips as she had during the film, pulling on it as 
though it were a milk-giving teat. Donna slid to the floor and inserted a 
finger, then two, into her dripping cunt, and legs splayed wide began to 
masturbate, the slushing of her manipulations and her cries of ecstasy 
mingling with the other lovemaking noises. 

Even as he watched tormentedly, Gary could not believe the nightmarish orgy. 
It was beyond his comprehension. Oh God! Randi, his wife, getting fucked by 
their son in front of carnal-excited youths! The sight of their actions and 
the sounds of the rampant abuses filled his brain, making it real with 
insanity. He had never dreamed of such debauchery, such depravity-and his 
sweet, puritanical wife was at the very core of it. Her wild mewls of 
passion were more than he could tolerate. He had to join in this lewd 
pillaging of the senses, take her, punish her and himself! He had to fuck 
her too, like the dirty little whore she was! 

He leaped from the bed, holding his cock as if it were some bludgeoning 
weapon. "I'm going to fuck you, Randi I" he yelled. "Do you hear me? I'm 
going to fuck you in the asshole!" 

"Ohhhhhhh!" moaned Randi, as his words penetrated her almost insensate 
brain. "Ohhhh yes, darling ... I want you in me, too!" 

"Ummmmmm, aghhhhh!" Bob wailed in unintelligible agreement. 

Just the thought of fucking Randi while his son screwed her underneath, 
while she handled another man's prick, stirred Gary's loins further. He 
could contain himself no longer. He lunged at the puckered anus nestled 
between his wife's soft gyrating buttocks. 

Randi could feel the pit of her thighs and stomach hot and moist, and the 
savage force of her son's pulsating cock brutally batter her cervix, causing 
her to grunt uncontrollably. She heard her husband's wild cry of desire, and 
a tingling thrill raced through her, making her fuck down on Bob that much 
harder. Yes, this is what I want, both of them, both men in my life inside 
me, all around me, all through me at the same time! The first realization 
that Gary was also important to her sifted into her passion-crazed mind, and 
the desires built proportionately within her. Then Gary tore Bob's finger 
from her anus, almost ripping the walls of the tight little hole and making 
her squeal with piteous pain. "Aaaaagghh, God!" She clenched her buttocks 
together, only to have her husband stretch it again with the palms of his 
nervously quivering hands. 

Gary opened her buttocks wider with his thumbs, probing at her already 
abused anus with his finger, widening and preparing it for his penetration. 
Randi removed her hand from Garrett's hardened, pulsating cock and turned 
her head. She could see Gary stroking his big, blue-veined prick. He pulled 
his foreskin back, exposing the huge bulbous head, and then aimed it 
directly for her anus. She spread open her thighs in anticipation. Behind 
her, Levitt had rejoined Sally Enders, and they were on the floor, fucking 
flagrantly, their own passionate cries forced the Whalen girl to maddening 
self-abuse on the carpet. Garrett got to his feet now, and ran to Donna, 
tearing her fingers aside, and then driving his cock into her with furious 
intensity. She screamed frantically as his giant penis ripped at the walls 
of her cunt, and then mewled with delight. Randi turned her attention back 
to the pressing need of Gary, and she reached between her legs and guided 
his stiff cock to the tight puckered entrance of her rectum. 

Then she held her breath as the smooth, rubbery head popped suddenly through 
the tight elastic ring, and Gary caught hold of her shoulders and shoved the 
entire length of his great weapon up to its hair-covered hilt, his balls 
rapping against the backs of her thighs. She cried out, first in pain, then 
in utter abandoned ecstasy, as she felt both cocks buck and jerk inside her, 
with only the thin membrane between the parallel shafts. She groaned aloud 
like some animal bitch in heat as both husband and son skewered her like a 
helpless ragdoll between their hardened, rampaging rods of flesh. Then, as 
if on a prearranged signal, they began to fuck into her in unison. Gary 
withdrew slowly, and Bob did the same until only the heads of their cocks 
remained inside her-Gary's held only by her ravaged sphincter ring and Bob's 
by the pink-rimmed lips of her insatiable cunt. Then they rammed 
simultaneously, driving deeply up inside her, their stiffness pushing 
against each other along the parallel channels of her cunt and rectal 
passages. 

"More!" she was able to groan. "I want more!" 

They gave her more, fucking her with constant rhythm that made her think of 
waves crashing upon a beach. Again and again and again they pounded against 
the pink island of flesh between her open orifices. She didn't want it to 
end, ever, not ever ... 

"We're together!" she panted, grunting under the double strokes of sheer 
joy. "We're really together for the first time. Oh ... I love ... you ... 
both ... yes ... yes ... a family. We're ... a family ... at last!" Randi 
knew her mouth was open, that she was saying what she felt deep in her 
heart, but at the same time the rolling thunder of sensation made her 
disembodied, entirely free. 

Fran, moaning and uncontrollable as she watched the trio writhing next to 
her, scampered off the sheets and squatted her own twitching pussy over her 
fiance's gaping, passion-twisted mouth. Her cunt hairs tickled Randi's nose 
as the girl settled down on Bob's curled tongue, and a small part of Randi's 
mind couldn't help but think of the night Fran had tried to make lesbian 
love to her. She stared at Bob's wet darting tongue lapping Fran's soft, 
parted cunt lips, heard the girl cry out with delight as she heatedly gave 
vent to the rising passions of her body. Randi looked up momentarily, seeing 
Fran's thin fingers busily toying with her full, ripe breasts, rolling and 
squeezing the hardened nipples in a way only a woman can. Randi began to 
tremble with even more fire from the strange forbiddenness she was part of; 
no, was truly the heart of. Her upbringing had never even intimated this 
sort of thing, let alone the vile, degrading but yet somehow perfectly 
proper acts she was already performing with her husband and son; but her 
being so filled with torment, and her overpowering lust made her prey to the 
alien love. She bent forward, her hips still not missing a stroke of the 
powerful fucking cocks in her cunt and asshole, and cheek to cheek, she 
added her mouth and tongue to those of her son's. 

Fran thrust forward, her soft, curling fleece brushing warmly against 
Randi's cheeks. "Oh, yes, Randi darling!" she wailed, realizing what was 
happening. "Oh yes, yes, yessssss!" 

Randi pressed her lips closer, kissing and licking Fran's seething furrow 
from the bottom to the top, kissing simultaneously Bob's frantic mouth as 
she moved around the girl's sensitive labia. Then she licked upwards, 
parting the cleft and her tongue lashed out at the exposed, erect clitoris. 
Fran began to rock explosively against the two invading tongues, and she 
clutched her breasts in desperation. She gasped for air, ever surging 
against Bob's and Randi's hungry, searching mouths. Randi licked every inch 
of the girl's groin, even her nose was buried in the slippery, eel-like 
pussy, and she was immersed in the depraved lovemaking of Fran's steaming, 
throbbing cunt. 

"Now ... Dad ... Oh now, I'm going ... to ... cummmmmmm!" Randi heard her 
son say from beneath her, and then the rhythm of their fucking increased, 
and she had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming out her own building 
agony. Fran surged closer, enveloping her face again, her wet pussy exuding 
a delicious odor. Gary and Bob drove faster, faster, faster, and Randi felt 
her son's cock lurch against her womb and his nozzle begin to spew forth an 
endless torrent of white boiling seed. 

"OHHHHHHHH, I'm ... cummmmminnnggg!" he howled. 

Gary tore every last inch of his prick into her bowels, panting madly. "Fuck 
me!" he yelled. "Fuck back, Randi! Fuck back!" His body began to convulse as 
he clawed her waist with his fingers, and she rammed against him in one 
final fury until she felt the first spluttering squirts of his sperm shoot 
deep into her rectum. Still her son came in her vagina, adding his bursting 
dam of hot liquid fire, and she was being filled, slowly filled; ever 
increasingly the walls of her whole belly were inundated by the thick flood 
of cum. 

Fran howled like a wounded predator, and then shuddered violently as her own 
pinnacle of orgasm began to tear through her. She toppled onto her back, her 
hips jerking wildly, knees pulled to her bosom. 

Oh Christ, Oh heaven above, I want to cum! Now, with my boy and my husband 
still inside me ... yes ... we'll all cum together ... as a family ... 

Then Randi cried out: "Yes! Yessssss ... I'm cummmmmmmmmmiinnnnnggggggg!" 
She yelled again, her orgasm enveloping the very core of her being, and she 
heaved and bucked as the last spurts of semen filled both her cunt and anus. 
The force was unbelievable! Never had she thought there was so much pleasure 
from sex, from anything on earth! Her brain reeled and her thighs trembling 
as the sensual climax churned through her ... 

She fell forward finally, a long time later, half conscious, upon her son's 
still heaving chest. 

Bob and Gary stayed inside her, their cocks slowly softening little by 
little. Dreamily, she felt their sperm ooze out of her orifices and dribble 
down her legs front and back to pool beneath her knees. A long time later, 
they withdrew gently, lovingly, together. 

"Jesus!" Gary murmured, falling on his back, exhausted. 

"You were wonderful, Mom!" Bob said in a whisper, stroking her hair 
affectionately. 

Later, after the others had reached their climaxes, and they had all rested, 
they began anew. Throughout the long, long night, they performed every 
conceivable perverted and lewd act by twos and threes and fours and more, 
all morals and ethics cast aside as the most base and sordid animal 
instincts overtook them. Toward sunrise, all of them drifted into sleep, and 
Randi never felt Gary's strong arms pick her up and lovingly carry her to 
their room and lay her on the clean, soft bed. 

 Chapter 9 

Randi smiled at the two-page letter and placed it carefully, tenderly on her 
writing desk. She leaned back in the chair and sighed in a relieved way, her 
eyes shining happily. 

Gary entered from the kitchen and crossed to her, placing one of the two 
gin-and-tonics he carried on the desk before her. He patted her fondly on 
the arm. "What's Bob say, dear?" he asked. 

She looked up at him, smiling. "He likes his new classes. He's taking some 
kind of engineering course from a Professor Daniels which he seems to think 
is very interesting." 

"That all?" 

"No. He wrote that he's met a new girl. A Lynn Majors. Walked her to class 
yesterday." 

Gary nodded. "Good. In school again for less than a week and moving right in 
on the quail." 

"You ... don't mind not seeing Fran again, then?" 

Gary moved his hand over and rubbed the palm gently over Randi's jutting 
breast. "Not one bit. She was a little too much for Bob, I thought." 

"And for you?" 

"Well, let's say she could take all I could give," he replied, chuckling. 
"No, I'm glad they broke their engagement. Bob should fool around more 
before he settles down, and Fran certainly wasn't one for anything steady." 

"They found out in time, thank God." 

Randi pressed against Gary's wandering fingers, then turned and stood up. 
She nestled against his chest warmly. "We found each other, too, Gary, for 
the first time ... in full." 

"We have, haven't we, darling?" 

"Yes." 

Gary kissed her passionately. "Have I ever told you that I'm married to the 
best piece of tail in the world?" 

"Really?" She lowered her hands and fondled the crotch of his pants lightly. 
"And ... do you love her too?" 

"More than anything," he whispered fervently. 

Randi hummed to herself with pleasure. Everything had worked out so well 
since the night-long orgy several weeks ago. She and Gary had come together 
as man and wife, and their sex was now wild and abandoned and fun for both. 
She had stopped seeing her son's friends, Garrett and Levitt, their sadistic 
hold over her ruptured for good. Besides, she didn't need them any more, not 
with the love her family could provide. 

Fran, too, was gone for good, her engagement to Bob shattered as her true 
nature was revealed to him that same night. The special possessive love a 
wife-a mother-must receive from her man, must then give in return, was not 
within the girl's capacity; and Bob, once his eyes were open, was quick to 
realize this fact. He had stopped thinking of her as anything more permanent 
than a choice piece of ass. 

Randi relaxed against her husband, raising her skirt to her waist with a 
casual ease to allow Garry room to caress her moist, warm cunt. The erotic 
fires Bob had flamed within her still burned, had not even begun to smolder, 
and her puritanical past was burnt forever. The delicious enjoyment of Bob's 
final night at home had let her discover the joys of limited sexual 
appetite, and she had been happy these past days with just Gary. One man and 
one woman. Yet she also realized she had enjoyed the pleasures of variety 
too well to go without again. 

"Honey," she whispered as they moved toward the waiting bedroom, "Honey, I 
can't wait for our boy to come home again, can you?" 

Gary grinned at his wife. "I think the summer vacation will be relaxing to 
all of us," he said. "And we'll all be together, as a family, again." 


THE END
