Mother's Little Helper
by Peter Jensen 


Introduction 

Like mother, like daughter. 

Heard that phrase before? Sure ... we all have. But little has been written 
on the subject. Freud dominated the intricacies of filial relationships by 
his concern for the Oedipal relationship, the unconscious tendency of a 
child to be attached to the parent of the opposite sex and hostile toward 
the other parent, and as the name of the complex indicates, the psychiatrist 
was mainly interested in the son's relationship to his mother. 

But Freud wrote of his times and his experiences, and life in a middle-class 
Viennese home of Jewish extraction around the late Nineteenth Century can be 
considerably different than life now, life in other cultures. Freud pointed 
directions and asked question, and he was the first to admit that he didn't 
have all the answers. 

Other tendencies, other drives also play their roles on the relationships 
between parent and offspring, and one such different way is the theme that 
Mr. Jensen has taken to explore in his latest novel Mother's Little Helper. 

Freud based his findings on a female-dominated life, one where the father 
was around but was the subordinate parent who gave unquestioning love to his 
children. But in America the male is more apt to be the dominant, ruling 
often in absentia because of his heavy commitment to his career. What 
happens to a child-a daughter of exceptional beauty-when her father is away 
most of the time and she has just entered the adult world of sex? What 
happens when her mother, long denied the pleasures of marital relations, is 
forced to come to terms with herself, her daughter, and the daughter's 
boyfriend? And in this novel, drawn with the etched truth of an actual 
clinical case history, what happens when the mother and daughter who are 
alike physically and mentally are torn by their love for one another to the 
point where all facades are stripped away and the very foundations of their 
souls are laid bare and exposed? 

Author Jensen has asked these provocative questions, and he answers them, 
frankly and intimately. He has taken from his long years of actual 
sociological study and made the characters come alive so that the reader can 
grasp more than just the dry, arid facts of reality, and live the torment 
and indecision and the breath-taking climax as mother and daughter strive to 
solve their inner guilts and outer frustrations. Mother's Little Helper is a 
realistic novel of modern America-not Victorian Vienna-and has as its base 
the kernel of truth in the saying: like mother, like daughter, extrapolating 
from the Oedipal complex the unsaid reason for the antagonism between parent 
and child of the same sex-the subconscious combat for understanding love. 
Its raw truth and courage is expressed in lucid clarity in the final pages, 
for it is how and why persons snarled in such psychological webs make their 
adjustments that is the crux of the matter. 

This important contribution to literature and the texts of behavioral study 
should be on every table and in every library, for rather than a grim 
warning, it is a commendation for humanity to tie tighter the bonds of love. 

Like mother, like daughter ... like could very well be happening on your own 
neighborhood street. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER I 

Anne Terrence had always hated bus depots. 

For one thing, they always seemed to her to be dirty, full of grime and dust 
and old, discarded wrappers, and after nearly twenty years of married life, 
she resented the bad "housekeeping," public building or no. For another 
reason, Anne disliked the smell of bus depots, especially in the bathrooms 
on the few occasions when she had had to use them in emergencies. The 
buildings had the wrong odors, masculine odors she relegated to the same 
distaste as the grimy walls and floors. Smells of old clothing and unwashed 
bodies, sweat and dried urine, cigars and engines. The kind of smells her 
husband, Jack, used to come in with after a day of hunting or fishing or 
working on the old family car. Of course, that was many years ago, before he 
had worked his way up in the company, but still ... 

But bus stations bothered her for other, more subtly unconscious reasons. 
Anne would never admit it, never consider herself as anything but a liberal 
humanitarian, and certainly not a bigot or prejudiced person. But while 
color of skin or religion had never been a problem for her-how could they 
be, when she lived in a nice, all-white, WASP suburban tract ?-the line 
between poverty and money was still underneath her surface. She judged by 
it, though never putting it in so many words. Bus stations were for 
have-nots-airline terminals for the haves. Going to the airlines terminal to 
meet Jack from a business trip was a happy occasion for her because it 
reminded her of what she is, what she has-coming here, in the center of the 
blighted downtown section, mingling with the others on the cold terrazzo 
floor and hard, worn, wooden benches, reminded her of what she had been, 
what her childhood had never afforded. 

For before Anne had been married to Jack Terrence, she had come from the 
only poor family in Dunthorpe, a semi-exclusive residential area outside of 
Portland, Oregon. Her father was the head gardener for most of the plush 
estates and large homes in the wooded section, having a few lackeys under 
him and a couple of battered pickup trucks, and her mother was a school 
teacher at the private school all of the Dunthorpe group sent their children 
to, and as a result Anne was able to enroll. It almost would have been 
better to have sent her to a public school with others of her economic 
milieu, because she was constantly faced with the impact of money. She was 
treated well, and had many girl-friends-and later boy-friends-but 
nevertheless, she couldn't invite her friends to go swimming at her house, 
or play tennis, or much of anything except watch a black-and-white TV 
(second-hand at that). And while she went to the Cotillions and formals, 
there was never enough money to buy her the right kind of gown, so she 
normally ended up borrowing a girl-friend's last-year's right formal. 

And when she had traveled, she had traveled by bus. 

Well, she wasn't rich now, and she didn't live in the local equivalent of 
Dunthorpe-but dammit, she was past the point of having to go by bus. 

And the last reason she hated bus depots was because of the way the wretched 
old men inhabited the dark, evil-smelling corners with their open flies and 
empty Tokay bottles would ogle her. Anne Terrence belied her age, her few 
months past thirty-eight, looking more like a woman a decade younger. She 
spent the time and the money to insure that the healthful glow of youth was 
instilled in her, that the natural ravages of aging were held at bay for as 
long as possible. The same egocentric drive which had spurred her to become 
more than her parents, to push Jack up in the jungle echelon of advertising 
management, to join clubs and become as important a member in her community, 
worked to make her fear the creeping of years, the loss of her beauty. 

She was aware that her body was still firm and proud, with globular breasts 
high and firm, ruby-crested with perfectly formed nipples; a belly that was 
flat and showed no striation markings from her one child birth-the reason 
she and Jack had gotten married was that product of over-zealousness; hips 
and thighs carefully trimmed of excess fat and legs long and slender and 
deeply tanned; a gently curving pubic mound downy soft with the same honey 
blonde color of hair as which crowned her head and shoulders. Her face was 
round, her chin a perfect complement-neither too sharp or too wide-to her 
protuberant cheekbones and deep-set blue eyes which had the aura of depth, 
like forest glade pools of crystal water. Her nose was freckled, as was her 
cheeks, and would crinkle deliciously whenever she was laughing. Or annoyed 
at something. 

At the moment, sitting there on one of the cold hard benches, stiffly erect 
and clutching her alligator-skin purse closely to herself with both hands 
protectively, her nose was wrinkled with discomfort. She was well aware of a 
fat, balding man who had purposely sat across from her and was staring with 
lewd, eagerly hungry eyes and malicious grin at her. It was June, hot enough 
so that she hadn't worn a coat when she had come to the depot, but feeling 
his insidious gaze worm through her, she now wished that she had worn the 
bulkiest, most covering fur coat she had. Her short, above-knee skirt and 
thin velour blouse might not have been on at all; it didn't matter how she 
arranged her legs, it was as if the man could see all the way up between 
them, up past her soft, inner thighs to her vagina and the softness of her 
pubic triangle. She knew exactly what was on his prurient mind, knew the 
sick, deranged thoughts which spun daydreams of salaciousness through his 
perverted brain. The way he was dressed in near rags; the lumpy, be-spotted 
corduroy jacket, the baggy, filthy suit-trousers, the scuffed brown 
shoes-they all signaled the kind of crude beast he was, what his 
single-minded desire was formed from. The gutter. 

And if there had been any doubt in the repugnated housewife's thoughts about 
the carnally-excited male across from her, it was totally alleviated by the 
way he unconsciously stroked the long neck of a smoke-colored wine bottle 
with his fingers. Lightly, delicately they moved over the slender, hard 
glass shaft, up and down.... 

Why didn't he go away! Why didn't he leave! She had been here before him-and 
she'd be damned if she was going to acknowledge his perversions upon her by 
moving. He'd only follow anyway, or she might end up sitting near somebody 
still worse.... 

She glanced up to the large clock on the wall over the ticket windows for 
the seemingly thousandth time. Four-ten-another five minutes and the bus 
from Constantinople would be in. If it was on time. She prayed that it would 
be early for once instead of its more normal habit of being late. Hurry ... 
hurry ... let the bus arrive so I can get my daughter and leave.... 

Her thoughts turned fondly and eagerly to her lovely, similarly 
blonde-haired daughter. Victoria-a regal name fitting a lovely, queenly 
child, and when she thought of her daughter, a deep and possessive love 
flooded over her, a strange ache filling her that at times bothered the 
mother with its intensity. Perhaps it was because she was determined to give 
to Vicky the material benefits she had coveted enviously as a child and 
never had, as well as all her love. Perhaps it was a product of guilt, as 
Vicky was a product of that one crazy night in Anne's father's garden swing, 
a night two months before Jack had married her somewhat against his will. 
Perhaps it stemmed from the more recent evolution of Jack's growing 
disinterest in Anne as a sexual woman, and her natural inclination to seek 
an outlet for her chained feelings of familial affection. Perhaps it was a 
combination of all three factors and others-but the effect was that as she 
waited for the bus, Anne Terrence was able to forget momentarily about her 
hatred of depots and the ugly, drooling lecher across from her. 

She recalled the last time she had seen her daughter, that previous 
Christmas, just before Vicky had left for the second semester of her 
sophomore year at Whitmire College. It had been the last time she and Vicky 
had had a good, old-fashioned woman-to-woman talk, one of those rarities in 
this age of generation gap. Anne and her nearly twenty-year-old offspring 
were naked, lying in the steaming fog of the Rasmussen's sauna bath-a gift 
from Harlow Rasmussen to his wife, and installed in their basement. Ginny 
Rasmussen had invited the Terrence women over for a showing of her gift, but 
at that moment, Anne's best friend was gone, on an errand for her husband. 

like an opium dream, Anne conjured up the vision of her daughter lying on 
the wood-slate bench while she sat with her arms around her legs on the 
floor. Enshrouded in the sauna steam like a genie appearing from a bottle, 
her daughter looked like a miniature facsimile of the mother. Her pert face 
had the same cheekbones and cute, up-tilting nose, the same burning eyes, 
the same rich, full lips. Jack had enhanced his child with pale, 
irridescency to her skin which made her all the more beautiful, the mother 
thought. Vicky's breasts weren't as full as her mother's because they hadn't 
fully matured yet: they never would be quite as developed, but they were 
exquisite pear-shaped mounds of their own right, as if carved in alabaster 
by a master sculptor. Her buttocks were more boyish, even more lithe and 
provocatively resilient than her mother's, undulating as she walked in 
perfect coordination with her satiny inner thighs and legs like the stalking 
of a predatory, feline cat. 

Vicky had done most of the talking. It seemed that during the just-completed 
first semester of her second year she had met a Junior transferred from 
State, and the way she talked about him made Anne's heart freeze with 
anxiety. Bill this, Bill that; Bill did and was everything to the girl's 
mind, and she outright as much told her mother then that Bill Hanley was the 
love of her life ... Anne had cautioned her daughter, fearing an alienation 
and misunderstanding if she pressed the issue too much-she had read enough 
psychological books to know the danger of that-trying to make it clear that 
Vicky was still young, much in need of experience and education to think of 
tying herself down to one man. Vicky had laughed, told her that she wasn't 
thinking of marriage, not for a long, long time. And neither was Bill 
Hanley. 

Anne had sighed inwardly, sure that the infatuation would soon die, as 
Vicky's multitudinous other boy-friends had come and gone. Just because she 
herself had been pregnant and married by Vicky's age didn't alter the fact 
that Vicky was still her child, her only child, and not ready to try flying 
from the nest ... 

But the letters from Whitmire College had continued to speak of Bill Hanley. 
He's done this, gone there ... they'd went here, done that together ... And 
finally had come the last letter before the school year had ended, the one 
which had staggered Anne Terrence, though she bravely didn't show it when 
she read the portion which didn't show it when she read the portion to Jack 
which had so bothered her that night: 

. . . and Bill has decided that since his father can't afford him to work on 
the farm this summer, he is going to come to Kingsport with me. Won't that 
be wonderful? He's got a job offer in a pharmacy-not much, but it will pay 
for next year's tuition at Whitmire-and he'll only be across town from us. 
He doesn't have a place to live yet, and would it be all right for him to 
stay in the small room off the basement until he can find an inexpensive 
apartment? He'll pay you for it, and the food he eats. Please let me know as 
soon as possible. Please say yes, mother and daddy.... 

No! had been the first mental reaction the mother had had. No, we can't let 
a strange boy live here. It wouldn't look right, what would the neighbors 
think? "No," she had said to Jack, "I really feel that it would be 
inconvenient for you, dear...." 

But Jack Terrence had only looked up from his paper and replied, "Yes. Why 
not? The boy is obviously poor-" the word had struck the very core of Anne's 
being, making her wince-"and needs help. What the hell difference does it 
make to me? It'll make Vicky happy, and it's no skin off my nose. Maybe I 
can even arrange for a better job at the agency, if Bill turns out to be 
half-way clean and intelligent. Personally, I don't care if he has hair 
growing down to his butt, though old Samuels would scream...." 

"But the neighbors, Jack," Anne had argued frantically. "To hell with those 
busy-bodies," he had snapped. "I can't understand how you can regulate your 
life around that bunch of do-gooding, prissy snits." 

"Jack! That's no way to...." The evening and the rest of the night had 
swiftly degenerated in a loud, churlish fight, a heated, intemperate 
lambaste which had been happening all too frequently lately. 

The result had been that, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to take pen 
in hand, Anne had written her daughter that Bill could stay at fifteen 
dollars a week, room and board. And now, coming in on that same bus with her 
darling Vicky was this boy-boy! My God, he is a man now, legally as well as 
physically, the mother considered haplessly-and she would have to be nice to 
him for the sake of her family. She had tried to explain it as best she 
could to her friends, but there was still the side-long glances, the 
oddly-phrased comments about it, and she knew that- 

"Mother!" 

Anne Terrence snapped out of her reverie, blinking and looking around 
confusedly. "Mother! Mom! Over here!" Anne stood, smiling broadly as she saw 
her daughter waving from across the station. Why, she must have been 
thinking so hard, she allowed the bus to arrive and didn't even realize it! 

"Vicky!" she said in return, and hurried over to where her daughter stood, 
two powder-blue suitcases beside her on the right. She was as beautiful as 
ever, the mother thought, and a tear formed in each eye. A lump of motherly 
devotion rising thickly in her breast and choking her words. They hugged one 
another fondly, patting each other's back the way women do, and then Vicky 
said: 

"I want you to meet Bill, mother. Bill Hanley, this is my mother." 

Anne now saw the tall, deeply bronzed young man standing on Vicky's right. 
He had a short-sleeved shirt bulging with chest and arm muscles, Levi's 
tapered and slim over well-developed thighs and legs. The pants were a 
little too tight, Anne thought primly; the stretch of fabric over his 
genitalia was so prominent as to almost be obscene ! That instantaneous 
reflection as she looked at the boy made her blush for a fraction of a 
second-what was she doing, looking there, at his bulging young virility. 
What was she thinking? Then, as she studied the boy's face, she realized 
what it was which so un-nerved her. 

Bill Hanley was considerably like Jack! 

The superficial features were different. Bill had a craggier, squarer 
countenance to his face, and his hair was black, un-like Jack's brown. And 
Bill Hanley wore it long, as was the style for the young generation, but not 
unkempt or dirty-it came to his collar and was neatly trimmed with long 
sideburns coming to the bottom of his earlobes. Jack had a soft wave to his 
hair, which for some reason embarrassed him, so he had always cropped his 
hair short. And Bill's nose was longer, with an indentation at the 
bridge-Vicky had written he played football-and his eyes were heavily 
lidded, giving him a sloe-eyed appearance. 

But it was the other things, the mannerisms and handling which struck the 
mother. The way his mouth curled into an infectious grin, showing white, 
even teeth; the way he held out his hand when she shook it and the firm but 
not harsh grip of his fingers. The tilt of his head, his stance, with his 
feet slightly angled, the way Jack always stood. It was uncanny! 

"I can tell you were thinking the same thing as I did when I met Bill, 
Mother," Vicky said. "I wanted to surprise you, see if you caught the 
resemblance to Daddy. And you did, without me telling you!" Vicky giggled, 
and tenderly hugged Bill's arm protectively. "Isn't he wonderful?" 

"Come on, Vicky," Bill said in a low, masculine, but embarrassed tone, "You 
keep saying that, but I don't know...." 

"It's ... it's true, all right," the mother said, still shocked by the 
choice her daughter had made. "You look very much like Jack, in a way. 
You're the way Jack behaves, I guess is the best way to put it. Why, when I 
shook your hand, it was like the first time I'd met my husband, Bill." She 
smiled uneasily. "It gave me quite a start." 

"I'm looking forward to meeting Mr. Terrence," Bill Hanley said. 

"He's out of town for the next few days, I'm afraid. But there'll be plenty 
of time to get to know one another-since you're staying with us." The last 
sentence was difficult for Anne, but she said it without showing her inner 
forebodings, even managing another smile. Anyway, now that she'd met this 
boy, seen the fact that he was a younger edition of her own husband, it 
wouldn't be as bad. Perhaps ... 

"Well, let's get going," Vicky said. "Where's the car?" 

"I was lucky and found a parking spot across the street." 

"Fine." Bill Hanley picked up his suitcases, which were on the other side of 
him close to Vicky, and Vicky picked hers up, her mother taking one of the 
cases. The three of them walked out of the depot, and the late afternoon sun 
basked down, covering them with its grace. But inside, Anne Terrence felt an 
ambivalence of warmth and coldness, for as glad as she was to see her 
daughter, she was extremely unsettled by this meeting. 

Bill Hanley. Her insides churned with strange, unwholesome thoughts as she 
kept looking at him time and time again. Just like her husband, back in his 
young virile days, back when he made love to her with the utter abandon of a 
Viking marauder. The recollection made her tingle inside, down deep in her 
belly and vaginal opening, a sensual throb as if she was getting sexually 
aroused ... That bothered her, as did the very presence of her daughter's 
boy-friend, even one as seemingly nice and well mannered as Bill. Bill 
Hanley was a threat of a two-fold nature, a double-edged sword which the 
lovely mother sensed, but didn't fully comprehend. She was drawn to him and 
yet repelled, and the mixture coiled through her body as if looking for a 
place to land and strike ... 

* * * 

Anne Terrence lay in her bed that night, chiding herself for her inability 
to sleep. After all, her daughter was nearly twenty, fully capable of 
handling herself. And Bill Hanley had been the solicitous, gentlemanly youth 
that Vicky had led her to believe he was in her letters. The ride home, the 
pre-dinner cocktails-suitably weak for the two younger ones, of course-and 
the dinner itself had all gone well, Anne had to admit. There had been 
laughter and much talk, and many amusing anecdotes told about college life. 
Vicky had never been warmer or more vivacious, and her mother could see the 
beautiful, charming woman she was becoming. It pleased her, made her think 
that all of her sacrifices and work was paying dividends of the nicest type 
imaginable. There's nothing more satisfying than to see one's child turn out 
to be a wonderful person, not to mention a voluptuous young beauty. 

And Bill was just as loquacious, captivating in his ability to tell stories, 
and Anne found herself genuinely interested in his plans for the future and 
his dedication to getting there. She sensed that inside him was the same 
drive she had had, directed differently, of course, because he was a man. 
And what a man. The more she was with him, the more she considered Bill 
Hanley not just a accidental copy of her Jack, but beyond that, sort of a 
bigger-than-real replica. He was like a young lion, large of sinew, big of 
paw, loose of joint-conscious of his strength and managing instinctively to 
move and speak with impressive control of it. 

She would have had a hard time controlling herself if he'd been around 
instead of Jack, she thought-and Lord knew she hadn't been able to control 
herself with Jack. At first, those two-score years ago, the young Anne had 
not been attracted to him; he was not of the rich crowd, but was on its 
fringes, as she was-though his father was far better off than hers, and the 
fringe came mostly from the fact that the elder Terrence family lived in a 
different, farther-afield neighborhood. But after a few dates, she became 
fascinated with the young man that Jack Terrence was, fired by his 
enthusiasm for going into the business world after he finished college and 
going to the top. And she believed. She wanted to believe so badly ... 

And then, that night of nights, which altered both their lives forever. How 
many times had she gone over that still vivid memory in her head? she 
wondered dazedly as the lovely, now more mature woman, lay between the cold 
sheets. How many times had her mind run over the incident, like a strip of 
film looped and joined on a continual replay? Too many, to bloody many ... 
but still it went on and on inside her brain, making her moan and thrash 
with guilt and shame, just as it had the after it had happened, and the day 
after ... and the month after when she feared, and the month after that when 
she broke the news of her pregnancy to the horrified Jack ... 

Anne and Jack had been on a swimming party, and he had driven her home that 
fateful evening. Both were very high on rum-and-coke, and aroused by the 
near nakedness of each other in their bathing suits-her white latex, molded 
to her like a second skin, and Jack in colorful briefs. They had been 
necking on the beach along with the other couples, and their heated 
pressings of bodies and lips with the similar actions of their paired-off 
friends had made them build to an almost explosive level. She could tell his 
throbbing arousal by the huge bulge in his trunks, the way that the cloth 
seemed to give off waves of lewd excitement, and there was the tantalizing 
wet spot where his hardening penis was pressing its tip against it. The 
salacious sight in turn excited her more, making her breasts harden and her 
nipples become jeweled rubies moving against her bra. 

Her parents weren't home; the note they left had said they wouldn't be back 
until very late. Anne and Jack sauntered out into the small yard, clinging 
together, rubbing thigh against thigh, bare shoulder and leg against 
shoulder and leg. In the back, by the small greenhouse, was the padded 
garden swing, and before either of them knew it they were on the soft 
mattress covering, lust consuming all rationality. Jack was kissing her, and 
his feverish hands were unzipping her swim-suit, and she ... oh God, she was 
arching her back to allow him to ... 

Anne squirmed on her bed now, her face drenched with the sweat of her 
tortured memories, and her vagina ached, throbbed the way it had back then. 
Shocks of prurient emotions traveled her spine, her muscles, her flesh; she 
moaned as if delirious and continued her dream-like reverie ... 

The swim-suit was pushed away and down, and Jack's hand was suddenly 
squeezing and cupping the nakedness of one of her exposed breasts, his lips 
leaving her mouth to suckle one trembling nipple hungrily. His other hand 
was still peeling the swim-suit bottom from her hungry loins, down off her 
writhing hips, down past her moist pubic hair, down her legs, and she ... 
Lord, yes, she helped kick off the restraining garment. And then he tore at 
his trunks, making both of them naked, and Anne gasped at the immensity of 
his swollen cock jutting so hugely from his loins. Then he was between her 
legs on top of her, and her brain was a seething cauldron of uncontrollable 
desire. She called to him to stop, that she was a virgin, but he was beyond 
hearing, and she ... yes, she was silently begging for his huge penis to rip 
through her hymen and fill her moist, pink-rimmed pussy to its fullest, to 
surge into her untouched young belly, slide through the hair-covered, 
lubricated valley and fill her with his naked maleness. She was ready, and 
her head flailed around her moaning face, her taut young breasts trembling 
on her chest as she prepared herself for him, for the first taste of 
masculine entrance. 

And then he was there, his cock jerking inside her like a roaring express 
train, and great billows of intense pleasure swirled through her loins. He 
heaved and pumped, and she bucked wildly back against him, instinctively 
locking her legs around his churning buttocks and crying out for more, 
farther, deeper. Finally, with a scream erupting from the two of them 
together, he had filled her hotly sucking young vagina with boiling, surging 
spurts of liquid fire, of his young virile sperm in an inundating, 
never-ending flow. He also filled her womb with the tiny seeds of life 
though neither knew it then, of course ... 

A wave of crimson shade now made Anne blush violently. I can't go on like 
this, thinking of that terrible night, of the unashamed abandonment of 
everything I believe-and the consequences. Thank God my daughter, the result 
of that wild, erotic night, hasn't inherited the corruption of her 
beginning.... 

It was the same way every time, the hellish thoughts tormenting her, her 
mental struggle to avoid them, her capitulation ... and worse, her physical 
surrender as well, for as she lay there, mewling and writhing from side to 
side, a strange series of involuntary sensations were bursting deep in her 
stomach and loins. She didn't have to look down at her negligee-clad body to 
know that her nipples were hard now, as they had been on that night, or that 
her pubic hair was moist from the droplets of lubrications which her mental 
images had forced her cunt to secrete in anticipatory excitement. She was 
aroused, aroused as she always was whenever she let herself think about her 
and Jack making love-the way it had been, but seemingly wasn't any 
longer-and there was no longer any effort on her part to delude herself that 
she wasn't. 

She bit her lower lip, trying to stem the tide of sexual fury which lashed 
through her vagina, her belly, up through her breasts, resisting as best she 
could with every bit of determination, the overwhelming desire to touch 
herself, to roll her nipples in her fingers, and then slide her hand down to 
her pussy, down among the soft, fleecy blonde curls and into the wet, pink 
lips of her hungrily waiting vagina. She had on other occasions, 
manipulating her little clitoris and her yawning, sucking cunt until her 
release exploded inside her, but she knew that it was wrong ... that to 
masturbate did something to you, like give you pimples or made you crazed. 
She didn't know; her mother had always avoided that subject, just as she 
didn't care to discuss any aspect of sex. But that's how Anne had been 
brought up, and the guilt of her transgression in the backyard swing was 
compounded by the more fearful guilt of being so wicked as to finger herself 
to orgasm from the very thought of it. 

"No ... no," she moaned to herself. "I won't ... I can't!" 

If only Jack was here, she thought haplessly. II only my husband was here to 
satisfy my craving, but he's way away. Gone on another of his damned 
business trips. Business, always business it had turned out, and she wasn't 
a wife to him any longer but only a housekeeper and cook. Sometimes she 
thought that it was her own fault that she was reduced to the life of a 
near-celibate, for in the early years of their marriage she had prodded and 
nagged for him to work and climb, and then climb some more. He had, and now 
he was carrying the responsibilities of two men in hopes of getting a 
promotion to vice-president. But God! There were times when she wanted his 
body, his penis ... she wanted sex, and she needed loving. But as the work 
increased for Jack so his interest in her had declined, and now, refused the 
physical gratification she desired, she grew increasingly restless and 
frustrated, and thought more and more of that wild "one time" of their youth 
twenty years ago. 

Even when Jack was home, he was generally more interested in going to sleep 
than anything else. He was content, at forty, to live out the rest of his 
life with making love to his wife eight, ten times a year. And Anne had not 
had a full, satisfying orgasm since Christmas. Anne moaned distraughtly, 
clenching her fists to keep her hands from touching her swollen breast and 
pussy. Stop it! Stop it! Abruptly, she sat up, shattered from the force of 
her emotions. She thought that it was no good, lying here like this-it only 
made matters worse. She was wide awake, and the rest of the house was 
sleeping quietly. Around eleven, Vicky had retired to her room and Bill had 
said goodnight and gone downstairs to the side room which had been fixed up 
for him. She was the only tormented soul here, and she was going to have to 
do something in order to get a moment's peace. 

She got up, her bare feet soundless on the thick carpet. Her thin, pink 
negligee, with its bright red bow tied just below her heaving breasts to 
give the gown an Empire look, trailed diaphanously behind her as she walked 
to the hall door. A cup of coffee, she thought ... no, not coffee, that 
would only make matters worse. A glass of milk perhaps, and a sandwich, or 
maybe some of the pie left over from dinner ... 

As she entered the living room, preparatory to going into the kitchen, she 
heard a murmur of voices from the basement. The steps were right beside her, 
and she couldn't help overhearing the muted sounds wafting up from below. 
She stopped, puzzled. The lights were off, Vicky and Bill were in their 
respective beds ... she listened intently. But there were voices all right, 
oddly distorted voices, like the co-mingling of grunts, whispers, pleas, and 
mewls. 

Perplexed, she took a few steps down the stairs until she could lean over 
the railing and hear more clearly. The sultry voices suddenly were 
intelligible, and they became the distinct, separate voices of her daughter, 
Vicky, and her boy-friend Bill Hanley! Anne's hand flew to her mouth, and 
she stifled a horrified shriek which threatened to burst from her 
constricting throat. Her eyes bulged in the dimness, wide with disbelieving 
shock and revulsion, and she recoiled on the stairs, groping hysterically 
for the railing to keep herself from falling. 

For the words she had heard the most distinctly were the unmistakable 
passionate tones of her daughter. Vicky was crying out madly: 

"Yes, Bill! Ohhhhh, yes! yes! You've got such a beautiful hard cock! I love 
it inside, love it filling my cunt! Ohhhhh! Fuck me, Bill, fuck me like this 
forever! Ohhhhhhh!" 

 CHAPTER 2 

Anne Terrence felt an incredible dryness in her mouth and throat as she 
heard the lewd exchange of words. She wanted to turn and run up the stairs 
to her room, escape the vile, disgusting talk which had suddenly invaded her 
home, her sanctuary, but her legs wouldn't hold her, her feet wouldn't move. 
She could only stagger downward another step. 

"Ohhhh, Vicky, Vicky!" came the panting voice of her daughter's young lover. 
"Wrap your legs around me and pump your pussy on my cock! That's it, keep 
pumping me! Ahhhhhh!" 

Torturously, as if she needed to reassure herself that her mind was not 
playing tricks on her, that her ears could be believed, Anne held her 
breath, waiting for the next terrible outrage to be committed on all that 
was sweet and good, all that was important to her-her only daughter. 

"Ahhhhh!" Vicky cried out abandonedly. "Fuck up into me with your cock like 
that again, Bill! Ahhhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" 

Anne was sweating freely, her body wet underneath the sheer nightie, beads 
of perspiration running down between her tightly constricted chest and belly 
to her pussy below which was tingling madly, salaciously, wickedly; for a 
moment she thought she was going to faint. A sudden wave of excitement was 
sweeping over her, making her confuse for one delicious moment what was 
going on in the little room off the basement with what had happened in the 
garden swing so long ago. She was exchanging places with her daughter in her 
imagination, and it was she that was getting fucked so beautifully rather 
than Vicky. She tried to clear her senses, for she felt dirty, betrayed-and 
yet the passion climbed steadily, building faster and faster in a tornado 
that threatened to take command of her sex-starved loins. 

Transfixed by her own inner devilments, Anne was unable to stop herself from 
being drawn to the little room, carefully tip-toeing forward across the 
basement floor to the door which was slightly ajar. Her mind of boiling 
emotions prodded her onward, the lucidity at what she was doing, and the 
self-loathing she experienced because of it, fuzzed with the incoherency of 
mingling the reality of now with the dreams of twenty years ago. 

She reached the door and secretly pushed it open, seeing the dull yellow 
glow of the small table lamp set on a spare table Jack had arranged. Then 
the small day-bed-little more than a thick cot-wedged beside the table, a 
borrowed chest of drawers on its other side. But Anne Terrence wasn't 
looking at the furnishings; she was staring wide-eyed at the writhing, 
crashing couple on the bed, at the carnal, lewd side-show of her only 
daughter and the strange young man who resembled her husband ... Her mouth 
opened and she breathed raggedly but silently, and her vagina began to beat 
with an effervescent pulsation, flowing wetness of spiraling arousals down 
between her legs. 

Vicky Terrence, her youthful, beautifully crafted body completely naked, lay 
on her back with her slender legs raised high in the air, her ankles and 
feet spread wide and straining to touch the ceiling. And Bill Hanley, his 
sinuous body glistening with sweat, was astride her like a rider breaking a 
wild mare, his firm, hard buttocks charging powerfully up between her open 
thighs in a rhythm as old as man itself, and he had his lips tightly 
fastened to one of the girl's tender budding breasts. There was the soft 
slap of their naked, young flesh meeting, and the wet surge of Bill's hard, 
shining cock penetrating her hungrily clasping little cunt, and the ecstatic 
expressions of sheer delight on both their faces as they heaved and bucked, 
flexed and jerked. One of her slim hands was pressed hard into her 
boy-friend's muscular driving buttocks, down in the crevice between his 
cheeks, and her finger was slowly revolving inside his arched, clearly 
visible anus, following the tempo of his strokes by fucking his rectum in 
return. 

Anne's brain reeled convulsively, unable to fully fathom the scene in all 
its degrading nuances. God, oh God ... she kept repeating internally, 
aimlessly ... God, my daughter is a virgin ... she must be a virgin ... this 
can't be happening to my innocent little girl ... 

Bill ceased his powerful drubbing of the teenager's cunt, and drew back, the 
wetly glistening shaft of his hardened young cock in full view now to Anne. 
He knelt, his penis still poised at the hungry mouth of Vicky's hair-fringed 
passage, leering and panting down at her. The young girl moaned and jerked 
uncontrollably. 

"Say it," he demanded harshly. "Say that you want me to fuck you!" 

"I did! I did already, Bill, honey!" Vicky moaned, panting. 

"More! Beg for my cock! Beg for my cock to cum inside of that hot little 
cunt of yours!" 

"Yes! Yes, Bill! Shoot my pussy deep and full! Fill me up! You know that I 
love your hot cum inside me! It makes me cum! Ohhhh, please, bury your cock 
in me again, lover, bury it until it shoots!" 

Anne watched in horrified fascination at the boy's gleaming expanse of penis 
which throbbed lasciviously in the light, and the way her lewdly squirming 
young daughter seemed to be mesmerized by the rigid, palpitating rod of 
flesh ... 

Then, with a leer of triumphal pleasure, the young man levered downwards 
again, sinking his heated penis far up into Vicky's young belly again, and 
the mother heard her emit a low, almost painful squeal that made Anne wince 
from the harsh force it echoed. And in Anne's em-pathetic weakened state, it 
was as if Jack was in there, driving his large penis into her vagina, and 
that she was lying beneath his crushing weight and not her daughter ... 

Bill was hammering fiercely into the young girl's wide-splayed crotch now, 
his lips once more fastened on her sweet, bursting nipple. And as Anne 
watched her daughter being fucked within an inch of her life, she began to 
lose the last vestige of control which had so narrowly contrived to stop her 
upstairs in her own, private bedroom. Her mind was drugged by the debauch, 
beclouded by the miasma of heat and fire and remembrances of yore, and 
though a dim voice somewhere in the back of her mind tried to tell her to 
rush in and stop the two of them, but to no avail. She was past all rational 
thought and action, and her flesh was entirely separate from any 
restrictions her mind might have wished to place on it. 

Her right hand slid down along her slippery, trembling body, down the flat 
plane of her sides and across her pulsating stomach to rest on the 
honey-colored curls of her moist pussy. Passion was melting her loins, 
flowing through her blood, and her other hand pressed her breast of its own 
volition, making her gasp as her thumb and forefinger gently rolled the now 
diamond-chip hard nipple around and around. 

Her own mewlings, soft as they were, were still loud enough to have been 
heard by her daughter and Bill Hanley had they been listening. But they were 
incoherently thrashing on the day-bed in wild abandonment, and Anne could 
have screamed herself hoarse and probably not have bothered them in the 
least. She gathered the hem of her sheer pink nightie, slowly sliding to the 
floor to sprawl with disjointed and unabashed immodesty as her naked thighs 
and moist, pink cuntal mound were exposed to the same soft light and cooling 
night air as played upon the nude young lover's flesh. The triangular center 
of her abject desires was now totally open as she splayed wide her slim 
legs, tucking her nightie around her waist; the young mother lowered her 
right hand while still undulating her left on her breasts, rubbed her 
vagina's wet inflamed lips as she had done in times previous. Only this time 
she knew it was worse, far worse, far more evil and perverted because she 
was doing it while watching the salacious rapings of her innocent daughter, 
her lovely teen-age child whom she thought was a virgin, had wanted even now 
to believe was unsullied-but wretchedly had to admit had been accepting 
lover's embraces for some time. 

"Ohhhh, Bill, faster! Faster!" Vicky chanted on the bed. "I'm almost there, 
Bill ... I'm almost ready to climax! Ohhhh! Cum! Cum! Cum!" 

"Ohhhh," Bill Hanley wailed in response. "Yes! Yes!" And he arched and 
bucked his body against hers in a renewed onslaught to their mutual orgasms. 

Anne rubbed harder and harder now, her middle finger sliding along the wet, 
softly protuberant cunt, teasing her clitoris by running a nail around the 
erect, quivering little feminine phallus, feeling wave after wave of 
consuming pleasure ripple through her. She dropped her left hand from her 
breasts and insinuated first one, then two, and at last three fingers in the 
open, moist vaginal tunnel between her perking spasming thighs. In and out 
... in and out, in a mockery of the sex act she was staring at so intently. 
In and out ... straining her body for the release she felt eminent, and her 
mind from not shouting out the name of her husband as Vicky was crying out 
the name of the boy fucking her. 

"Bill! Bill! Ohhhh, Billll! Noowwwwww!" 

"Yes, Jesus, here is comes! Uhhhhhhh!" 

The mother was caught up fully in the wild frenzy of the moment, her hands 
flaying desperately over her wide-spread pussy as she watched the 
near-stranger of a young man empty his pulsing testicles of their huge 
build-up of semen, flooding her daughter's young cunt with his hot, burning 
white seed. 

Want to Cum, want to cum too....her crazed mind chanted insanely, and Anne 
studied the carnal climax before her with a mixture of jealousy and 
loathing, imagining herself under that grinding cock as it loosened the 
gates of its cum, dreaming her buttocks were the ones which were jerking 
tightly up against the boy's loins, wishing her vagina was so filled with 
his thick liquid that it was inundated as Vicky's was. The overflow was 
cascading richly from the girl's tightly quivering cunt lips, dribbling down 
her pink, wet lips, between the clenched crevice of young ass cheeks to pool 
on the white desert of bottom sheet. 

Anne gazed at the stream of ejaculations running down between her daughter's 
wide split buttocks, and just as Bill's cum triggered her daughter's orgasm, 
so too did it set off her own climax. The floor opened up, the earth shook 
cataclysmically, and all the lights of the world flashed before her tortured 
retinas. The lovely, bewitched mother strained and stretched until she 
thought her limbs would fall off, and she lifted herself off of the floor in 
a trembling, spasming arch of completion, grasping her cunt with both hands 
tightly and squeezing and rubbing and clawing.... 

I'm aiming ... oh I'm aiming with my daughter, with everything I have, just 
the way I did with Jack.... 

Then, drained and exhausted by the enormous release of her tensions, she 
collapsed on the floor, breathing harshly. Fogged noises came dully to her 
ringing ears, but they were of contentment and not of discovery. She peered 
with filmed eyes dully and saw that her daughter and Bill Hanley were 
cradling each other in their naked arms, cooing and kissing in the aftermath 
of their lovemaking, still oblivious to the fact that they had been watched, 
spied upon by Vicky's mother. 

Then, suddenly, jarringly, Anne Terrence returned to terrifying reality, and 
the sheer sickness of her perverted thoughts, of her silently chanted 
desires snapped in one thunderous peal the spell which she had been under. 
Her fingers froze between her legs and then she slowly removed them like 
cretins of loathing, and she groped herself to her feet, her whole being 
whirling with shock. The mother released her nightgown, backing away as she 
still stared uncomprehendingly at the young couple on the day-bed, and then 
Anne turned and fled, stifling a terrible, agonized cry of horror. 

Up the broad, carpeted steps to the first floor she ran, then down the hall 
to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and locked it-but she 
couldn't lock out the sheer, numbing pain in her soul. 

Blindly she slid under the sheets and held herself in a fetal position, and 
tried to will herself quiet, her trembling body consumed by confusion and 
pain, anguish and disgust. Filth seemed to crawl over her like myriad 
insects on her flesh-only the feeling came within, and not on her skin-but 
she seemed to be able to sense thousands of tiny, fuzzy legs scuttling over 
her loins and breasts, their dry, hairy legs raising goose-flesh which 
rippled from loathsome revulsion. 

But she knew deep inside herself that those insects were figments of her 
imagination, creatures of her own guilt. Whatever her daughter and Bill 
Hanley were doing, their actions weren't anywhere near as despicable as 
hers, she thought sickly, and she had no excuse, no reason to hide behind. 
She wondered darkly if she should take a shower, if the ritual of cleansing 
herself outwardly might help sanitize her inwardly, but no ... she would 
never feel clean and wholesome again. 

Wretchedly, Anne finally allowed herself to relax her nearly spasming 
muscles, and she stared up at the dark ceiling, allowing a lethargy to come 
over her; a welcomed escape from the mental torture her mind threw up to 
protect her sanity. After a few minutes, a wave of drowsiness drifted over 
the woman, and sleep, blissful and healing sleep let her sink to 
unconsciousness, relieving her from the purgatory she considered that she 
had made for herself in the last half an hour. 

* * * 

Came the dawn, and awakening to it young 

Vicky Terrence felt a sort of bubbly effusion of warm contentment and the 
tickling promise of more. Sweet lover that he was, Bill had been more than 
his usual stallion-ish self last night. As she lay in her own bed now, the 
muscles of her inner thighs pleasantly aching with the almost superhuman 
drubbing that she had been given by her boyfriend's wild, untamed fucking, 
she smiled at the rich thoughts of her "home-coming" celebration. 

She was a very lucky girl, she knew that. For one thing, Mother had been 
more understanding than she had thought she would be about Bill Hanley. She 
loved her mother deeply, didn't want to have the great divide between 
herself and her mother that so many of her girl-friends at college 
complained about. But still, it takes a lot of doing for a woman as devoted 
as her mother obviously was to accept the fact that her child was grown up, 
was ready to go on her own, to set up her own nest. . . 

In this case, the other "nest" was Bill Hanley. It had been love, she 
thought, at almost first sight. Stupid, perhaps-something out of romance 
magazines, but at least for her, it was true. She sometimes doubted if Bill 
felt as strongly for her-but then when she was in his arms, as she had been 
last night, his cum mingling with her climactic releases in her vagina, she 
felt at peace with the world and totally loved. She was gone on the boy, 
enthusiastically allowing him full control over her tender body ever since 
he had first fucked her following the Halloween dance last year. She 
couldn't tell her mother that, naturally; her mother wouldn't understand 
that this was the way the modern generation did things. Why, there were 
hardly any passionate sounds of love coming from her parent's bedroom in all 
the years she had lived in this house-did they ever make love? They must 
have at least once, she giggled to herself-she was here, wasn't she ? 

Well, the girl decided that she wasn't going to grow old that way. Bill had 
taught her the secrets and wonders of the flesh, brought her the knowledge 
of her body and its workings, and she and her boyfriend blended their 
genitals and mouths in every conceivable variation at every possible 
opportunity. His large, rock-like penis thrilled her as he would arch over 
her, ready to plunge it into her inexperienced but willing young pussy, and 
lovingly she often caressed in return, running her hot, fevered hands up and 
down the firm yet pliable shaft of flesh, masturbating him until he would 
groan and shoot great spurts of hot white semen onto both of them. And then 
there were the other times, the ones before and after their acts of love, 
during which they would talk of love and sex and the future, so that she had 
been assured for the most-part that she had not given herself in vain-that 
their coupling was on a more inspired plane than pure physical 
gratification. But even if she was wrong, that it turned out that 
Bill-certainly not an inexperienced lover as she-was using her and lying to 
her, she felt that her relationship with him was satisfying, and her desire 
for him was still a raging fire. 

She knew that there was still one of those heart-to-heart talks upcoming 
with her mother-perhaps with Daddy as well, if he ever decided to stick 
around long enough. But there wasn't the time now, she told herself; she was 
already late, having overslept from her wild, orgiastic night in the 
basement room with Bill. She had an interview with a cosmetics firm in 
Kingsport who was looking for representatives; it would be a perfect summer 
job if she could get it. 

In a hurry, she wriggled out of the bed's little-used covers and padded 
nakedly to her bureau. There wasn't even time for a shower now, or 
breakfast-she'd have to dress and run if she was to make the interview 
appointment on time. She found a clean pair of panties, and she pulled them 
on tightly until the smooth round cheeks of her firm young buttocks and the 
soft, still tingling and wet mound of her cunt were snuggly encased in its 
thin nylon mesh. She looked down to find a bra, and caught the reflection of 
her tight panties in the mirror, and the way they accentuated the throbbing 
split of her vaginal lips, still swollen from her recent fucking. But she 
didn't feel the slightest pang of remorse, only satiated pleasure. Then 
quickly she slipped into a frilly white blouse and light green mini-skirt 
and picked up her comb to untangle her hair. As she looked into the mirror 
and studied her blonde waves which, like her mother's, gently curved over 
her shoulders, she saw that her mini-skirt clung to her buttocks and was 
more than provocative on her tanned thighs, slightly creasing in front where 
her legs joined her hips. With a sudden awareness she realized that one 
could almost see the swollen lips of her pussy, but it didn't matter-the 
cosmetics company wanted good-looking sensual girls-and had made a point of 
suggesting such clothing be worn on the interview. 

She quickly walked into the living room, and almost passed her mother before 
she realized that Anne was sitting there, staring moodily into space. She 
stopped short, blinking with surprise. 

Anne Terrence sat in her negligee and flowered-print bathrobe in an odd, 
hunched-over position, her arms tightly folded to her chest. Even more 
surprising, the young daughter saw, was the open bottle of Madera wine on 
the mahogany table beside the settee and the half-full tumbler of the smoky 
liquor in her hand. 

"Mother," she said, frowning. "Mother, what are you doing?" 

Anne's answering tone was sort of vague and lost, and perhaps a little 
blurred. "I ... woke up early," she said. "I couldn't sleep very well." She 
turned her head to flash a brief smile at Vicky. "The sunrise is lovely 
isn't it ... ? " 

"Yes, but-" Vicky paused, perplexed. Did she know something? Did mother hear 
them last night? She licked her lips, frightened for a minute. "What's the 
matter, Mother? You sound so strange." 

"Nothing ... nothing ... But everything in Anne's voice said that there was. 
"Here," she continued, patting a place beside her, "come here and sit by 
your mother. I'd like to talk to you." 

"I don't have much time. I have an interview with-" 

"I know, you wrote all about your possible job," Anne said morosely. "But I 
won't keep you long." 

Troubled by her mother's behavior, Vicky did as she was asked. She placed 
her hands in her lap when she had sat down. "Are you sick?" 

"Oh, no," Anne said hollowly. "I ... only wanted to talk to you about. . . 
well, about Bill." 

"Oh," A cloud came over the daughter's eyes; her mother wanted that kind of 
talk. 

"You ... seem very close to him," her mother said after a strong sip of the 
wine. "Do you like him a lot?" 

God, if you only knew how much, Vicky thought, but replied: "Yes, yes I 
guess I do, mother. He's warm and good to me." 

"Do you ... want to marry him?" 

The sudden words, the intensity of the question, brought Vicky upright. Why 
was her mother suddenly so concerned? She had never given that impression to 
her, had tried very hard to allay such fears-which were at the present 
groundless. "No, I've told you before, Mother, that Bill and I may be going 
together, but gee, that's what all the kids do today. I'm planning to finish 
my education first, and I'm not thinking of marriage until after I graduate. 
Honest!" 

"And ... and children?" 

"What are you driving at, mother?" 

Anne desperately wanted to blurt out what was eating at her heart, to tell 
her daughter what she had witnessed in the downstairs room last night, but 
the magnitude filled her with awe. She couldn't bring herself to speak. She 
wanted some kind of affirmation in the faith she had in her child after 
spending a wretched night and lurid nightmares, to be told that Bill would 
stand by 

Vicky should their making love end in the same kind of situation that she 
had found herself in twenty years ago. She wanted some avowal from her 
daughter that the lewd hedonism of last night-and obviously of before-was 
more than just the gratifications of the physical, that Bill and Vicky were 
"in love," and that had been carried away with their affections. At least 
that would give some form of legitimacy, as tenuous as it might be. There 
was no way of passing off her own wickedness, Anne thought miserably, but if 
she could only have the assurance that her daughter was still a good girl at 
heart ... 

But for all of her previous beliefs, she couldn't truly bridge the gap 
between mother and daughter-the generation gap was a bottomless chasm when 
it came down to the important matters of life. She drank the wine again, 
feeling its liquid fire calm her shattered nerves, and knew that this talk 
was hopeless. She wasn't up to it. Maybe later, after some of the raw wound 
had had time to heal. . . 

"Nothing, Vicky," she sighed, taking a deep breath and trying to manufacture 
a smile for her daughter. "I ... I guess I'm just an old fuss-budget with a 
bad night under her belt." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, yes. You go on to your appointment. You don't want to be late." She 
finished the glass and poured another jigger from the handy bottle; it had 
been a fresh one when she'd started. 

"I'll stay," Vicky offered, deeply concerned now at her mother's peculiar 
actions. "Really, I'll stay if you want." 

"No, please. I'm fine." 

"Well, all right. I should be gone until at least the early afternoon," she 
told Anne, rising and smoothing her skirt. "I'll take your car if it's all 
right, and Bill can fool around the house until I return." 

The mother nodded, her head low. "Where is Bill this morning?" 

"Asleep," Vicky said and then added hastily, "I guess, he can use one of 
Daddy's swimming trunks, can't he, if he wants to use the pool?" 

"Of course," Anne said, again lost in her troubled world. "Why don't you get 
a pair out and leave them downstairs before you go...." 

Vicky did, placing them on a basement table beside the small room's door 
along with a fluffy towel. The door was closed, as she had carefully closed 
it after leaving Bill's arms late last night and running naked up the stairs 
to her own room. But she could hear his soft snorings. Let the poor boy 
sleep, she thought with a broad smile; he's earned his rest. 

She said good-bye to her mother as she went out the door, but Mrs. Terrence 
hardly acknowledged. As Vicky climbed in the Ford-the family's second 
car-she hoped that her mother was all right as she had insisted, and that 
she wouldn't get drunk on the Madera. That would be terrible, she thought 
grimly as she backed out of the driveway. Her mother had never liked liquor 
much in the past-was she becoming an alcoholic for some unknown reason? 
Don't be silly, she chastised herself; A person isn't an alcoholic just 
because she takes a drink in the morning. No, her mother was merely upset 
because of Bill and not having Daddy home to help, and the general 
excitement of her coming home. And as her mother had said, she hadn't been 
able to sleep well, so perhaps she's sipping the wine to relax and will go 
back to bed later. 

Yes, that must be it, she concluded, and disregarding her stray and 
unwelcome portents of deeper, darker things to come, she headed for 
Kingsport and her job interview. 

 CHAPTER 3 

Anne Terrence seemed to pass the morning without moving, as if all muscular 
control was gone from her body-other than the automatic, controlled motion 
of her hand with its never-empty glass of Madera wine. She stared stony-eyed 
out the window, out over the porch which served as the roof for the basement 
patio, at the green lawn rolling gently upwards from the patio to encircle 
the large, tile pool. Beyond were a hedge of large plants and trees, cutting 
off her acreage from those of the surrounding neighbors. All was peaceful, 
all was quiet outside ... 

But inside the distraught wife and mother were the roaring breakers of her 
storm-tossed emotions. She should have asked Vicky to stay, to sit by her 
and somehow get through the wall of agony which had cut communication. Then 
perhaps the deadening effects of the wine wouldn't have taken over so 
completely, dulled her to the point of stupefaction-the only crutch that she 
had been able to find so far. She knew that she was on the verge of breaking 
apart, of suddenly snapping into a thousand pieces like a brittle piece of 
crystal glass. What Anne didn't know was how or when that shattering would 
happen, and she tried to stem the cracks, afraid of the sharp forms the 
fractured remains of her being would take. 

She knew that she was drunk, was aware that the chances were she wouldn't be 
able to navigate if she tried to stand. But she didn't care. Nothing 
mattered to her any longer. Nothing except somehow saving her lovely 
daughter from the clutches of prurience. 

She didn't hate her daughter's young boyfriend. Bill was only a man, doing 
what a man is built to do-contrary to how she'd been living latelyand while 
he personified the problem, was the easily identifiable head which would 
have to roll, there was the intuitive knowledge deep inside Anne that simply 
by removing Bill would only be a temporary solution. Vicky would only go out 
and make love with another man, perhaps in spite the next time to get back 
at her mother. 

Yet Bill Hanley had to leave. No question about it, Anne thought. First, and 
most importantly, because he was currently the one fucking her daughter-yes, 
that's right, fucking; no use mincing words at a time like this, she said to 
herself. Bill Hanley wasn't in love with Vicky, but only taking what the 
girl was willing to give. He was a lewd, rutting animal, and no matter if 
her daughter did think she was in love with him, Anne knew better. She could 
see, couldn't she? She had eyes-and she had seen, last night, for no 
genuinely loving man would subject a woman to such degrading as to demand 
that she beg for his penis to ejaculate up inside her! No, Bill had to go 
for Vicky's sake. 

And for her own, as well. Bill was just too damned much the way Jack was, 
the way unconsciously Anne wanted Jack still to be. That was, as she 
reflected over her licentious actions last night, the reason why she had 
gone temporarily insane. If it had been another man, she would have been 
able to. control herself, she was sure of that, but his-likeness was 
overwhelming to the point of distracting her to enslavement. She sighed, 
finishing the Madera wine bottle. Well, as soon as Bill wakes up, she'd talk 
to him ... 

She didn't know what the hell she was going to tell him-probably the truth, 
a partial truth anyway, about catching him and Vicky together. She'd ask him 
politely to go and warn him that if he didn't then she would be forced to 
tell Vicky's father about him. 

It might not solve everything perfectly, she told herself, but it would be a 
start. Later, after she had been able to come to some kind of terms with 
herself, made an adjustment with her desires and sick fantasies, she could 
confront her daughter and tell her why Bill had left. He would be gone 
without explanation when she returned today, and Vicky would be owed an 
explanation as soon as possible. Then, after the summer had passed and 
things were more rational, Vicky could return to college, and would probably 
be over her infatuation for the boy. 

Mrs. Terrence hadn't decided whether to confide all of this to her husband, 
when her thoughts were suddenly brought abruptly to an end by a sound 
outside. 

Splash! Water spilled over the edge of the pool, and she saw the shimmering 
spectre of a bronzed body swimming from the far end of the pool. 

Bill Hanley! He had awakened and had gone outside for a dip! Nervously 
agitated, a restless 

Anne, watched him, frustrated at the fact that he hadn't come upstairs first 
and been confronted by her before this. She wanted to get this over with 
just as quickly as possible, to get him out of her house and life; bag and 
baggage, so that she could begin the slow road to sanity and healing. She 
stood on shaky legs and walked bare-footed to the plate-glass window, 
holding onto the draperies for support. Damn you, damn you ... hurry up and 
finish your little swim, you pervert ... 

Her eyes were magnets drawn to him, at his lithe and graceful strokes in the 
warm pool water as he moved in perfect form. She swallowed heavily, her 
tongue strangely thick in her mouth, her eyes having a difficult time 
focusing. She shouldn't have drunk so much-but how else could she have 
gotten up the courage to express her convictions? She leaned dizzily against 
the window casement, moistening her lips, and asked herself why she was so 
upset by that boy. So he looks like her husband? So! She wasn't a teen-ager 
any more-she was old enough to be Bill's mother! 

Hanley pulled himself out of the pool, the sun glinting off the water beads 
on him like sparkling light off of fish scales; he padded dripping to the 
low diving board at the near end, but a few feet now from where she was 
standing limply. His muscles rippled as he walked and his copper skin 
reflected his youth, his virility, his confidence. He climbed on the board, 
poised there preparatory to diving, and Anne saw the bulge of his penis and 
scrotum in the outline of Jack's too-small swim briefs. God, but that boy is 
built, she thought hazily, I wonder if he's got a penis longer than 

Jack's? Then her blurred, drunken thought produced a picture of it, sunk 
deep down in her daughter's wide-stretched little vagina the night before, 
and she knew the answer. 

Shocked, not so much by the answer but by the audacity of her question, Anne 
reeled backwards a step, groaning at her still unsettled emotions. My God, 
am I that sick? she asked herself in horror. She flushed at the obvious 
prurience of her reflections and averted her gaze just as the young boy 
executed a graceful dive off the board and his lithe, virile body slipped 
smoothly through the surface of the water. 

Why couldn't she control her restless urgings, her sensually incited 
feelings? She couldn't seem to get her mind off the lewd, the depraved, the 
evil ... off of her daughter's boyfriend. Oh, Jack, hurry home, please hurry 
home, she fervently prayed, squeezing her eyes shut. With him here, his body 
and not Bill's to be constantly before her, then maybe she could re-orient 
herself and stop the terrible gnawing hunger in her belly. 

She staggered blindly to the liquor cabinet, wanting another drink to calm 
herself. There was no more Madera wine, so she poured a glass of gin from 
the decanter and drank it hurriedly, without thinking. The gin hit like a 
small explosion, spreading through her like the tendrils of a disease ... 
but the liquor didn't help diffuse her agony or remove her restlessness, but 
only intensified the feelings she neither understood or wanted. She turned 
back after draining the glass, more unsteady than ever. 

The blue-green water of the pool was now empty. 

Anne shuddered, drawing in a deep breath. The young boy must have finished 
and gone inside, she thought. Good ... good ... now she could get this 
wretched business out of the way. 

Using the furniture as support along the way, realizing that she was now 
totally drunk but not willing to allow the opportunity that her daughter's 
brief absence had provided and afraid that more sober she wouldn't find the 
ability to speak her mind, Anne stumbled for the stairs to the basement. 

Bare-foot, she made her way down the steps slowly, holding the rail for 
balance, blinking rapidly in a futile effort to clear her vision. She 
entered the basement area as silently as she had the night before, and with 
just as much of a surprise waiting for her. She froze in wildly shocked 
immobility, her inebriation making the view all the more breath-taking. 

Bill Hanley was standing in the middle of the room, his tautly muscled young 
body facing away from her, his naked flanks presented clearly. He was drying 
himself slowly, luxuriously with a fluffily towel, rubbing his back and legs 
with languid, loving motions. She stifled a moan of embarrassed excitement 
and felt the small of her own back tingle with the lurid sight. He spread 
his legs slightly, bending forward to wipe his thighs, and his testicles 
were dark shadows hanging from between the crevice of his buttocks. A 
gripping desire settled in Anne's stomach, the lascivious wish to again see 
his youthful penis, and unwantingly, Vicky's mother found herself mentally 
willing the boy to turn around ... turn around and show his genitals to her. 
Instead, the boy rubbed his chest and flanks, his inner thighs, everywhere 
except where Anne's tortured mind had settled upon.... 

God! What was happening to her? 

She didn't know what was making her react in such a sex-crazed manner, what 
was making her stare at him with a tingling in her own loins growing 
stronger, centering in her aching pubic area and in the taut firmness of her 
unrestricted, barely covered breasts. She had come down here to stop this 
boy's corrupt seductions of her daughter, to send him away before any more 
trouble could happen, but here she was, bleary-eyed and open-mouthed, 
gawking with wet, growing lewdness, as ... as drunkenly despicable in her 
fascination as that wino looking up between her legs in the bus depot had 
been! She was no better than that dirty old man! She cried out to herself; 
no better at all, and was fast becoming as much a gutter-rat as he was! 

No. . . no ... I don't want this to be happening! Noooo! 

But Anne Terrence's body, goaded by the releasing euphoria of the Madera 
wine and gin, betrayed her in spite of her misery and self-flagellation, 
powerfully over-ruling her will with an iron force. Unable to resist, the 
aroused young mother breathed faster and faster, excited and tormented at 
the same time, as slowly her daughter's boyfriend pivoted slightly and 
revealed his balls and fresh young cock to her. 

Feet splayed, towel curved underneath and around, the young man began to dry 
his pubic area in soft, sensuous massages, slowly moving his now limp shaft 
of male flesh around in the towel, exposing it on all sides to the woman's 
fevered eyes. Then he moved lower and stroked his distended, gourd-like 
testicles, rubbing between his legs and up around his anus where last night 
her daughter had so willingly pushed into with her finger. Then he flipped 
the towel aside and placed his right hand back on his penis and began to 
slide his fingers casually up and down it. 

Anne stayed on the staircase transfixed as petrified, she saw the boy's once 
flaccid cock turn a stronger reddish color and engorge from his 
manipulations, rising until it was the enormous size she had seen the night 
previous. A low sigh, a moan of pleasure bubbled from his lips as he shut 
his eyes for a moment and flicked his hand swiftly back and forth over the 
now erect member, making it stand out from his black-haired loins at a 
forty-five degree angle, rock-hard, and its burgeoning, thick blunt head a 
deep pink. 

Why ... why he was masturbating! With a cry she was unable to choke away, 
Anne mewled helplessly with the lascivious sight of his masturbation, 
falling back with her hand over her mouth as the sound erupted spontaneously 
from her liquor-weakened throat. 

Hanley whirled around, dropping his hand, his eyes filled with fright. 
"Wha--! Mrs. Terrence! I ... I thought you had gone with Vicky!" 

"No, I've ... been home all the time." she managed, swallowing hard, 
stammering confusedly. This wasn't the way she had planned their talk, not 
at all! She wasn't sure, her mind whirling with heat and alcohol, exactly 
what to do now. 

"Then . . .you've been watching me, haven't you?" An incredibly knowing grin 
slowly spread on his features as he sensed her sudden confusion. 

"You were, weren't you?" he demanded after his first question only drew a 
blushing silence. "Standing on the stairs there, getting your jollies 
watching me play with myself. Weren't you, Mrs. Terrence?" 

"No ... no...." she protested weakly. 

"Yes," the college boy said softly. He took a step for her. "You wanted to 
have a good look at all of me. Naked, and I bet you liked seeing me beat 
off, too. I bet you're all hot under that little night-gown of yours," he 
added cockily, grinning with an all too apparent smirk. "Well, you wanted to 
see me naked and here I am. Admit it!" 

"No!" Anne blurted irrationally. "No, I didn't want any such thing! I don't 
need to! I've already seen you naked!" And then she realized what she had 
said and groaned piteously, sinking to the stairs. Bill Hanley, puzzled, his 
original confidence sagging, walked over to the stricken woman. "You ... 
what?" he asked incredulously. "You've seen me naked before now? When?" 

"Please-please don't make things worse," she said, stiffening her resolve. 
"Just ... get your clothes on and leave this house." 

Hanley stared at her for a minute, and then put his head back and laughed. 
That was all; laughed 

-but it stirred the anger of shame and anguish in Anne's drunken mind. 

"All right, if you must know," she retorted, her face crimson, "I saw you 
last night. You and Vicky, on the bed in your room you were ... you two 
were...." She choked on the words, an unwanted sensation of excitement 
welling up in her at the remembrance. 

"Go on, Mrs. Terrence," Hanley urged breathlessly, his cock jerking hard. 
"What did you see?" 

"I ... I couldn't believe it," she gasped. "You and my daughter, her beneath 
you, her legs spread, begging you to ... to...." 

"Fuck her?" 

"Don't use that word!" she blazed suddenly. "And what are you planning to do 
about it." 

"Make you leave." 

"And if I don't?" 

"You will, or else ... or else ... I'll tell Jack, I'll tell Vicky, I'll 
tell the police!" She was rapidly losing the last bit of her control, and 
all thought of a rational discourse with the boy had long since fled her 
distraught, turmoiled mind. "I swear I will!" 

Bill's cock throbbed as he studied her, mulled over her threats. Then he 
said smoothly, "Oh, no you won't!" 

"I will! I will!" But even Anne detected the hollowness inherent in her 
promised actions. 

"You do, and I'll guarantee that it will do you more damage than me. For one 
thing, you'll have a scandal on your hands. I don't know about your husband, 
perhaps his business can stand such a bit of juicy news, but you, Mrs. 
Terrence, just think what a story like this would do to your reputation and 
standing in this charming community. Oh, I know all about your kind," he 
went on in a crude tone. "My mother was a slave to that kind of 
creamed-chicken luncheons and claw-mongering bridge biddies. I know all 
about your kind." 

"No," Anne gasped, but her face was a deadly pale. 

"And think about your daughter for a minute. You think I raped her? Far from 
it. You try to break us up, and she'll come with me. That I can promise 
you." 

"But ... but you don't love her!" 

"Whether I do or don't doesn't matter. What matters is what you are going to 
do in the next few minutes." 

Anne stared at her daughter's lover fixedly, her mind a swirling fire of 
total disconcertion. Her carefully considered battle plans were in disarray; 
her most controlled management of her secret desires had crumbled as if made 
of clay; and now, with the shattering blow of once more being confronted by 
his naked, hotly aroused and fully erect penis, Bill Hanley's vaguely 
disguised lustings lanced through her amour to strike fear and unwanted 
desire in her heart and she was at the edge of collapse and breakdown. 

Her eyes were like shallow puddles, wide and mirroring her thoughts, and 
Hanley, a boy whose years had held the carnal knowledge of men many times 
his senior, read the concerned young mother's eyes correctly. 

"I'll stay here for as long as I like," he said snidely. "And I'll fuck your 
sweet little daughter until hell freezes over if I want to!" 

Anne felt tears brim her eyes, spill down over her cheeks and drop to wet 
her sheer, thin negligee. She knew that she shouldn't be crying, that it 
wouldn't do any good, but she felt too wretched and indecisive, so disturbed 
and crazy from the alcohol, that the flood was a reaction and she let the 
tears flow freely, pouring from her like cascading rain, sobbing brokenly 
beside the naked, still hard-cocked young boy. 

Dimly she was aware that Bill Hanley had moved closer and his hand was 
touching her shoulder as if he had relented in his cold, callous, merciless 
onslaught of her senses, and dimly she smelled the odor of his clean body. 
He smelled like Jack after a shower, after he had been in the pool, she 
thought peripherally, and she allowed her head, her eyes blurring the 
close-up image of his erect penis and balls cradled in his lap as he sat on 
the steps with her, and she cried deeply and despairingly. 

Bill Hanley felt the warm, resilient flesh of Vicky's mother tight against 
his, felt her quivering body beneath his circling arm. Goddamn! Oh, it was 
going to be good, really good ... The blood in his cock was throbbing like 
mad, and his balls ached with the prurient anticipation racing across his 
flesh. Damn, he wouldn't be able to last much longer; he was going to have 
to screw this voluptuous older woman or shoot his cum all over her right 
there on the stairs. 

"Listen," he whispered in her ear. "Listen, I'm sorry. I think we should be 
friends ... Good friends...." His words were a long, planned flow of honey, 
mesmerically smoothing murmurs which, combined with his nearness and 
nakedness and excitement, would slowly have the effect on her he desired. He 
began to stroke the satiny skin of her shoulder and upper arm gently, and 
continued to intone softly. 

"Don't think about it, Mrs. Terrence ... Don't think about the way I and 
Vicky looked on the bed last night, the way my penis was inside her, sliding 
up and down, the way she held me tightly, wanting more ... Don't think about 
it, Mrs. Terrence...." 

Bill Hanley felt her warm breasts pressing against his rib cage and her 
nipple hardening slightly, and he smiled lewdly as he continued the soft 
hypnotic sounds. He knew that even though he was saying not to remember, 
that his spoken lewdnesses were doing just the opposite-the tortured mother 
was thinking even harder of her daughter and himself fucking away on the 
day-bed, and that the mental images were in turn causing unmistakable, if 
unwanted, arousal in her body. 

And, perversely, that was what was happening to Anne Terrence. She could 
feel a certain twitching deep within her belly and her vaginal orifice began 
to secrete droplets of lubrications, moistening her naked inner thighs. She 
tried to will her body to cease its tingling ardor, but the images were too 
vivid, Bill Hanley's nude and throbbing maleness was too close, and her 
mental exhaustion and alcoholic stupor were too numbing ... 

He continued to stroke her shoulder, letting his hand slide slowly and 
lightly down her side, knowing it was having the desired electric effect 
upon her. She sobbed against his bare chest, finding a gentle security from 
his stroking ... she began to whimper softly ... And all the while he was 
whispering words in her hair, words constantly bolder and more 
corrupt...."Don't think, Anne ... no, your daughter and I were fucking, and 
fucking is the right word and should be used ... but you mustn't think of 
such things ... it only makes you excited...." 

Anne was breathing faster now, and then her daughter's boyfriend brought his 
hand casually and lightly against the swelling mound of one of her breasts, 
rubbing the pliant quivering, globes tenderly through the sheer nightie. He 
heard the sharp intake of breath, felt the shudder of muscle spread through 
her body in a shock wave, and convulsively she stiffened against him. But he 
didn't stop caressing her breast, running his thumb freely over her nipple, 
and his cock leaped in his loins, throbbing with the victory he felt was now 
imminent ... 

A warning voice in Anne's mind penetrated the lethargy her hapless state of 
affairs had placed her in. "No...." she gasped, trying to jerk upright from 
his clasp. "No ... What are you trying to do to me?" 

"Come now, Mrs. Terrence. You want me, don't you? You want me to love you 
like I loved your daughter ... that's why you were watching us last night 
and didn't say anything then ... that's why you were staring at me on the 
stairs ... that's why you're holding me now. Be honest with yourself, Mrs. 
Terrence ... you want me to fuck you...." 

"Oh, God...." she moaned to the room, because she was truly unable to deny 
his words. Be honest with yourself ... and to be honest, she wanted him, 
this young replica of her husband, this living memory of the way things had 
been once with Jack. But still she tried to fight the tiger inside her, and 
she jackknifed against the dark-haired boy, squirming her hips on the 
carpeted steps, turning her body away from him, him and his hard, up-thrust 
cock which seemed always in front of her. 

And in doing so, her mouth brushed the boy's lips; he kissed her suddenly, 
grinding his lips, completely engulfing her mouth and flicking his tongue 
forward immediately to enticingly meet hers. No ... this is wrong ... I love 
Jack, and I love my little Vicky ... I can't let this happen ... ! Anne 
crazily thought, but already her mouth and lips and tongue were responding. 
The primeval urges of the strong, young male and the unrequited, long denied 
body of the tortured mother were far, far too strong, too basic in nature to 
allow the artificial restraints of social pressure to interfere, and she let 
Bill saw his tongue mercilessly in and out of her mouth, and continue to 
pinch her nipples and cup her breasts, and she made tiny, rising-excitement 
mewlings deep in her throat. 

Jack ... Bill ... Jack ... Bill ... Her wine-and gin-liberated brain, 
pinwheeling with the salacious buildup of her sexual being-the very essence 
of womanhood, the most important physical half of her body, the portion 
which controlled her attitudes, moods, and chemistry-excited by the way the 
naked boy's pulsating cock rubbed against her bare, white-fleshed 
thigh-tortured by her self-incrimination and doubts-began to weave a spell 
around the situation she was finding herself responding to more and more 
fervently. Once again, as had happened last night, her mind fantasized that 
it was her husband, Jack, kissing her, molding her breasts, running his hand 
down, down, to her involuntarily aching cunt ... 

Hanley's fingers had pushed the flimsy material aside now, grazing his touch 
against the curling strands of her soft, downy pubic hair. He let his hand 
slide still lower, until his middle finger was in sudden, heated contact 
with the warm, damp furrow of her excitedly palpitating vagina. She tried to 
stop herself, remembering this was Bill doing it to her ... then it was Jack 
her husband, again, and it was all right ... Bill ... Jack ... Bill ... and 
then everything became a whirring blur, the two men blending into one who 
was nameless, but just a man, a man who was willing to cultivate the puffed, 
hair-fringed softness between her legs, her pink-fleshed cunt her husband 
had deserted ... Oh God, she couldn't stop it now, she liked it ... she 
liked it ... 

Automatically she spread her thighs, opening her inner legs to his probing 
touch. The heat of desires mingled with the blistering rage running rampant 
in the testicles and cock of her daughter's naked young boyfriend, and the 
warm air of the June day wafted across her now exposed vagina, sending 
another ripple of wonderfully rising sensations through her as Bill moved 
down on the steps, so as to be able to better part the sparse hair-lined 
lips of her already moistened cunt and tenderly slip his middle finger 
inside. 

"God, but I want you," Bill said huskily, and Anne thought that her whole 
body was afire. Shame at what she was doing swept over her flesh even as the 
wanton craving agitated her loins, and with depraved sureness, the boy 
probed deeper and deeper inside her moist, throbbing vaginal cavern. I'm a 
bitch ... a slut ... a whore ... she told herself in utter capitulation. I 
can't help myself ... I'm sicker than I ever imagined ... but ohhh God I 
don't want it to stop ... 

Anne moaned aloud and struggled against herself vainly. "Ohhh, ohhhh, 
ohhhh...." she whimpered helplessly as he continued to jerk his middle 
finger, then two, in and out of her hungrily clasping cunt hole. 

"You want me to fuck you with my cock, Mrs. Terrence?" Hanley asked with 
sneering confidence. 

"No, please ... don't ask ... don't...." 

But he had to, he had to subjugate his girlfriend's beautiful mother just as 
he had had to force her daughter to bow to his whims. The cruel and 
malicious streak which curled deep inside young Hanley's soul, covered 
though it may have been by a charming and mannered exterior, rose to the 
surface at exciting times like this, rose as surely as oil on water. He 
grinned with lecherous, gleaming eyes afire up at the now humbled, now 
surrendered Mrs. Terrence and moved his hand still faster inside her tender, 
moistly sucking cunt. "Yes! You will tell me you want to fuck me! Tell me 
Mrs. Terrence, tell me like Vicky told me last night ... Tell me you want my 
big cock inside you ... Tell me you want me to fuck you...." 

Anne moaned aloud and struggled against his burning fingers. "Oh, God, 
ohhh...." His carnal words invoked her to react with strange, blood-pounding 
need. "Oh, Yesss, Jack ... yes, fuck me, Jack...." 

"Not Jack, you bitch! Bill! My name is Bill." 

"Bill!" Anne screamed hysterically. "Bill, fuck meeee!" 

The boy scooped up Vicky's mother in his strong, muscular arms before she 
knew what was happening and carried her into his small bedroom, dropping her 
on the unkempt covers of his day-bed while he closed the door. He gazed with 
lewd, rapturous intent down at her sprawled, wide-legged naked body, her 
negligee up around her slim waist, her robe open like the wings of a bird in 
flight. He drooled anticipatorily as he looked upon her blonde-curled pussy, 
completely and abandonedly splayed in feasting array below him. "Tell me 
again," he groaned, rubbing his thick shaft up and down as he stood over the 
insensate mother. "Tell me again, only this time tell me about my cock!" 

"Ohhh, no! Not on this bed! This is where you ... did it to my daughter! 
Noooo!" 

He laughed raucously. "Then just think that you're Vicky while I'm pounding 
up inside your sweet little cunt the way I was hers. Now tell me, you slut, 
before I get angry!" 

A foaming tide of salacious passion ripped through the final cloth of her 
defense like a hot knife through butter. She looked up through tear stained 
eyes at the strutting boy, at his giant, hard cock jutting from his 
black-haired belly, at the oozing drop of seminal fluid emanating from its 
unseeing glans eye, and her mind was immersed in her sexual whirlwind. 
Without considering, without a will of her own any longer, Anne dropped her 
mouth open and heard herself say: 

"Yes, Bill! I want your cock to cum inside me, fuck me until I cum too! Fuck 
me here, Bill, on this bed! Fuck me hard, just like you fucked my daughter!" 

 CHAPTER 4 

The lovely, startlingly sensual Vicky Terrence walked out of the Phileaux 
Building in downtown Kingsport, smarting with indignation and embarrassment. 
She headed up the street, her face still flaming red, her lips pressed 
tightly together with firmness. 

Of all the nerve! she said to herself. Of all the goddamned nerve of that 
man! She didn't seem aware of the lewd, covert gazes the men gave her as she 
passed them, her skirt swirling around her tender, dark-tanned thighs and 
smooth-skinned legs, or the way they would stop and turn around to catch a 
brief glimpse of her panty-clad buttocks undulating provocatively. She was 
too mad, too burned up to do anything but want to get home and tell her 
mother and Bill what had happened on her interview. 

She had gone to the cosmetics firm in good faith, dressed the way they had 
asked, and taken their blasted tests. But that sick old personnel director, 
Steffesson, with his beady eyes covered with old Ben Franklin glasses, and 
his crawling hand inching up her leg ... why, he made it all but stated that 
if she wanted the job, she'd have to take her clothes off and let him fuck 
her on his office couch. Ugh! what a disgusting idea, him and his wrinkled 
old leathery cock ... 

Wait until I get home and tell what happened to me! she thought, fuming with 
rage. No job is worth that sacrifice! I'd rather starve ... 

* * * 

Lust-rutting Bill Hanley dipped his finger back into the wet, eagerly 
trembling passage of Vicky's mother's hotly burning cunt, teasing the 
hardened little button of her clitoris, playing with it as he crawled over 
her on the bed, reveling in her abandoned, capitulating cry for his cock. 
Christ, he thought, she realty's turned on, even more than Vicky gets! I bet 
that little daughter of hers is just as wild after a few years, just like 
Anne is-mellowing like good wine, not the vinegar so many older women 
become. Hot damn, this one wants to be fucked; when they get like her, all 
fired for cock, nothing else matters, nothing else at all. He wondered how 
her husband is able to take care of her? Bill smirked; well, he was going to 
take care of her! 

"Mrs. Terrence, baby," he crooned. "I want to fuck you just as much as you 
want me to. But first I want to do something else...." 

Anne stiffened momentarily at his use of obscene words, but his finger 
playing maddeningly with her vaginal opening and clitoris had overcome all 
hesitations ... she was too far past the point of no return for anything to 
matter. She watched with drugged, sex-filmed eyes as he knelt lasciviously 
between her ankles and stared at her soft blonde pubic hair and the wide, 
throbbing lips of her open pussy. They seemed to beg for him, to call out to 
be touched more and be kissed, and the hardness of his penis ached and made 
him quiver as he dug into her thighs fiercely with his fingers. Then he 
slithered forward, down upon the wanton slit between the mother's thighs, 
down to where his face was just above her vaginal flesh. In shocked 
realization, Anne saw what the boy was going to do to her, and she sucked in 
her breath in horror. 

"No ... no, Bill. Fuck me, please fuck me ... but not that! It's awful!" She 
moaned and twisted, but Hanley's heavy grip held her in bondage. "Please, 
Bill, my husband never has ... I've never allowed him to kiss me there ... 
ohhh, please fuck me instead...." 

"Then I'd say it's about time you had your cunt licked," Bill said huskily, 
his eyes groveling on the thin lips, the delicate fluting of light hair. 
"Vicky loves me to lick her cunt...." 

"Ohhh, no, no...." mewled Anne, and the sudden picture of her daughter 
submitting to this boy as she was doing, her slim, young legs parting to 
allow him to kiss her pussy, lick her, tongue her to climax burst into 
Anne's mind, making her still hotter with the lewdness of her imaginations. 
Droplets of her seeping vaginal juices moistened the curls of her pubic hair 
like a morning shower on the petals of a pink rose, and her clitoris peeked 
up at Bill in response to her excitement. Bill placed his thumbs on her cunt 
with slow, deliberate motions and drew the soft, wet pubic hair aside, 
exposing her coral-pink flesh to his inflamed gaze. She moaned and wriggled 
in shame as he breathed against her, the hot air sending her raw nerves into 
a state of ecstasy ... and then, petrified, she watched as the boy dropped 
more and his tongue wetly probed her guilt-throbbing vagina. 

The mother's body responded automatically, convulsing in grinding jerks to 
the slather of his hot, worming tongue. "Ohhhh, my God ... my God...." The 
bestial outrage continued upon her defenseless cunt, and her stomach 
churned, and she wailed in animal-like passion as his tongue flicked her 
inner thighs, curled around her clitoris and snaked rapier-like in and out 
of her cringing pussy. "Ohhhh, stop ... stop!" 

Bill Hanley shook his head negatively and raced his tongue deeper into her 
dilated hole between her quivering thighs. She raised up her head and 
watched his battering assault in horror, her mind fired with liquor and 
sexual passion and the knowledge that it was happening to her. To her! No, 
it couldn't be true! The unwanted jolt of electric pleasures were pervading 
her whole being, as though, proving to her sense that it was happening, that 
she was being sucked and eaten down between her legs by her own daughter's 
boyfriend. 

Bill's hand slipped under her squirming white buttocks and cupped their firm 
flesh brutally, his mouth continuing to suckle her thrusting cunt more 
slavishly than ever. Involuntarily she raised her hips and allowed the boy 
to bury his face still further in her now openly clenching vagina, and the 
wet sucking sounds of his mouthing filled the small room. His one hand 
teased in the crevice between her ass cheeks, running an exploratory finger 
over her tiny puckered rectum, and Anne clenched her hands into fists, her 
vibrant, naked body overcome by the merciless abuse. Vaguely she thought of 
her husband Jack, and the few times so many years in the past when he'd 
attempted to make love to her this way, and how she had primly refused. She 
had never realized the store of pleasure which this could give ... 

Hanley heard her sharp gasps as his hands roamed the soft, yielding crevice 
between her buttocks, and surging with still hotter lust, he drew her legs 
up higher and spread her already splayed cunt wider so he could orally fuck 
her in lewd sensuous circles. He ran his lips around her clitoris, then 
darted his tongue deep inside her pulsing pussy, feeling her vaginal lips 
almost puckering and kissing him back with increasing intensity. Anne's 
buttocks spasmed beneath his touch, and she cried out deliriously as he 
probed the opening of her anus with his fingertip again. And then, suddenly, 
he moved downward and levered the tip into the tight pink hole, making her 
want to scream with torment and pain-but instead she closed her eyes to the 
new wild-fire spreading through her body and moaned with rapture. 

"Don't ... oh, Bill, don't do that," she mewled automatically, but her 
thighs pushed closer to his mouth and she leaned back, feeling the goose 
bumps on her stomach and breasts. She tossed from side to side, her total 
degradation overwhelming her and she sobbed from horrifying realization that 
she had lost control. The boy licked on and on, moving from vagina to rectal 
hole to clit with complete freedom, and Anne's body was boiling with the 
raw, naked flashes of pleasure. 

Her body cried out for fulfillment which her husband had so long denied her, 
and unable to fight it, she raised her desire-drenched loins to the boy, 
submitting gratefully to his slightest whim. She jerked her throbbing, 
widespread cunt against his mouth and lips, sunk her buttocks back on his 
painfully invading finger, reveling in the insane throes of her lustful 
enchantment. 

"Ohhhh ... Ohhhh ... Ohhhh...." she chanted in rhythm to the boy's hotly 
sucking mouth, and her body began to build ever higher, ever higher toward 
her coming orgasm.... 

* * * 

Vicky pulled the Ford into the driveway and got out. Much of her original 
anger had dissipated on her drive home, but nevertheless she was deep in 
indignant thought when she unlatched the front door and walked in. 

"Mother? Bill?" she called out, but the house seemed strangely quiet. 
Frowning, she closed the door, looked into the living room, kitchen-even 
walked as far as her mother's bedroom, thinking she might have gone back to 
bed. She didn't hear anything from the basement. She called out again, 
received no reply, and decided that they might have gone outside; Bill would 
be in the pool, and perhaps her mother was sitting in the shade or sunning 
herself. 

The daughter sauntered onto the porch, looked out over the grass and pool. 
Nothing. Puzzled, she stepped from the porch, down to the flagstone patio, 
turning every which way in an effort to see if anybody was home. She peeked 
in the basement window-large, floor-to-ceiling ones with a section as a 
sliding door-but only saw that the door to Bill's room was closed. 

Well, she told herself, Bill is still sleeping. Perhaps mother went visiting 
... She opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside the basement 
playroom, a strangely odd feeling of impending disaster filtering through to 
her, clouding her already bad day. 

"Bill?" Still no answer ... I'll walk him up, and won't that be fun, since 
Mother evidently isn't here! 

She walked across the parquet floor and opened the door to her boyfriend's 
little bedroom. She stood frozen, her tender young features draining of 
blood, and she choked back an initial shriek of utter surprise as her vision 
swam close to insanity by the lewd exhibition of her nakedly entwined mother 
and her boyfriend. 

Her own mother! That was the most hideous part, seeing her own prudish, 
virtuous mother, who as far as Vicky was concerned, was the ultimate in 
virtue! There she was, lying on her back in a lewdly sensual position of 
unnatural sex, her legs raised high in the air as Bill, her own boyfriend 
that she had brought into the house, buried his head between her inner 
thighs! My God! How could she! Vicky slumped against the door, sick to her 
soul, the breath which she had been going to scream with knocked from her 
lungs. 

Anne was clutching the black hair of Bill Hanley now, her eyes squeezed shut 
and her pelvis grinding madly against his face. Vicky could see her 
boyfriend's wet tongue lash out at her mother's nakedly exposed pussy like a 
huge red carpet, disappearing into the soft, hair-lined slit of her 
widespread vagina, and Vicky heard the resultant ecstatic chants mewling 
from her mother's passion-crazed mouth, broken and slurred. 

"Ohhhh . . .Ohhhh ... Ohhhh . . .I" Vicky couldn't believe her eyes or ears, 
or the tight sensation gripping her in the depths of her belly. The brutish 
tableau was beyond her comprehension, her one overpowering thought that 
somehow, someway, it was her mother's fault. That this spectacle of 
unabashed lust was the result of a nymphomaniac, rolling with any man she 
had an opportunity to be with, including her daughter's boyfriend. Goddamn 
Mother and her lectures on morality and purity and watching out for me ... 
what a bunch of crap! 

The daughter was unable to attach any guilt for the carnal scene before her 
to Bill. Bill a man after all-and more importantly he was a man that she 
thought she loved. Defiant with the stubborn pride of a teen-ager, 
rebellious at the slightest hint of criticism about him, determined to prove 
to the world-and herself-that her first choice that she had made on her own 
wasn't a mistake in judgment-Vicky saw him not as he was but as she 
desperately wanted to believe him to be. 

She had come from college with a wary chip on her shoulder, feeling on the 
defensive toward her mother because of Bill figuring that she would have to 
argue and fight for parental approval. 

And she had been ready, her loins girded; to her, this morning's little talk 
before she had left for the appointment had been an opening round, a sort of 
skirmish to test the defenses, and she had mentally strengthened her 
resolve. Nobody was going to take away Bill from her, nobody!-not even 
herself. 

So as she looked at the boy, at the rigid cock wavering and his face and 
tongue pressed in the wide furrow of her mother's moist pink cunt, she 
believed adamantly that he was the victim, not the perpetrator.... 

Moreover, the years of filial bond with her mother, drawn more intensely 
because of her father's interest in his work, had instilled in her closeness 
that made what Anne was doing even more of a betrayal than if she had been 
just another girl. Anne, as close is resemblance to Vicky as Jack was to 
Bill, was like a carbon copy of the younger girl as she writhed and moaned 
hedonistically under the boy's oral ministrations, and this added to the 
shock and hurt of having found her mother there. Vicky was enraged and 
bitter by the even more flagrant abuse of essentially seeing herself, a 
mirror image of what it was like when Bill sucked her cunt. It was a 
terrible lampoon of the love she felt! A filthy satire of what she 
considered to be above the animalistic ruttings of two people copulating! 
Instinctively defiant at what she subconsciously considered to be a 
perverted characteristic of her relationship with Bill, she still felt a 
close-knit projection with her mother, one which made her wince with pangs 
of simulated passion-and this closeness only brought home the pagan ritual 
of cunnilingus fuller. It was like adding color to a black and white photo, 
making the details, the richnesses stand out sharply, to etch forever on the 
retinas of the tortured girl. 

Vicky Terrence was more than her mother's daughter in physical looks; she 
was considerably like her mentally and emotionally. And in the same way that 
the previous night Anne stood watching her daughter being fucked and thought 
about herself being the one to receive the pumping cock, so too Vicky, 
ashen-faced, gaped at her mother being lashed with her boyfriend's tongue, 
and Vicky loathed her mother then, could have killed her at that moment with 
pleasure-but all the while her pussy tingled as if Bill was licking her to 
lewd inflamation instead. 

Hate is never deeper than when it is between two previous friends. 

Vicky watched in anguished fascination as Bill worked at the widespread 
tightness of her mother's pussy-she could see the pink flesh and the dark 
hole of the cuntal mouth, the stretched, wetly slick place where she had 
been conceived and later was birthed. Suddenly the boy pulled his head up 
from between Anne's legs and stared up at the lovely woman with obscene and 
glittering eyes. "You want me to fuck you now, Mrs. Terrence?" 

Anne moved her hips against the bed, beads of perspiration forming all over 
her breasts, stomach, and legs, and yes ... yes she wanted Bill's giant cock 
deep within her, pulsating with abandonment; she had no morals, no pride ... 
no reality. Her body reacted with lewd abandon, and she obscenely begged 
with the foul words she knew he wanted to hear. "Ohhhh, yes, Bill, fuck me 
... fuck me ... fuck me!" But call me Anne when you do! Oh God, call me Anne 
and fuck me!" 

Vicky wanted to raise her hands to her ears and blot out the terrible 
vileness she heard pour from her mother's lips! There was no question in her 
mind now as to who had seduced whom-she had heard her mother demand Bill 
fuck her, and now her terrified eyes beheld still further proof of her 
mother's dissolution as Bill levered over between her widespread thighs. 
Anne reached forward with quivering hands and grasped his cock, just as 
Vicky did when she was panting for his cock in her, and teased its purplish 
shaft of flesh and he poised it over her gaping saliva-drenched cuntal 
valley. Then Bill strained downward, and Anne guided his immense, steel-hard 
rod into her hungrily trembling vagina, letting it slip past her wet, 
petaled pussy lips, driving it with abandoned ease deep up into her belly. 

"Ahhhhh," the mother sighed rapturously as the young boy began to pound her 
loins mercilessly, his sperm-inflated balls slapping hard against her anus 
where only moments before his finger had been and his mouth had licked and 
his tongue had flicked. Anne cried out again from sheer pleasure, and she 
raised her legs heavenward to receive more of his thundering cock. His prick 
slipped smoothly in and out insatiably, his throbbing testicles threatening 
to burst from his imminent climax and Bill swam with the increasing need to 
squirt his burning cum into his girl friend's voluptuous mother's open cunt. 
Anne slid her hands down his gleaming, heaving flanks and rested momentarily 
on his white, hollowing buttocks, then her fingers spread and pulled him 
toward her gluttonously, while below her cunt flowered in spasming 
acceptance. It swallowed the whole of his plunging cock with surging desire, 
and small, piteous pleas of passionate supplication rolled from her fevered 
lips. They were lewd and filthy supplications, ones which Vicky had never 
dreamed of using when she cried out her lusts to Bill, ones which she had 
only heard in whispers from the most daring girls back at college! 

Vicky held her breath and stood there as if glued, her hands over her cuntal 
loins, unconsciously rubbing herself as her mind hazed and reeled from the 
complete nadir of this lewd, perverted fucking. Her mother was grinding 
faster and faster, groaning and moaning desperately, demoniacally coupling 
with her daughter's boyfriend with a fury unequalled by anything Vicky had 
ever done, and she couldn't stand any more! Her heart and soul was a turmoil 
of revulsion and lewd, empathetic responses, and her buttocks quivered 
spasmodically with unwanted fever. Suddenly Anne gave a high, unearthly 
squeal and her loins jerked upwards against the tightly clasped penis sunk 
deep in her salaciously demanding pussy. 

"God Almighty! I'm cuuuummmmiiiinnnggg!" 

Bill Haney hammered further, feeling Vicky's mother's vaginal walls contact 
and seep the warm fluids of her beginning orgasm. She rose up from the bed 
and pressed against his pubic hair, rotating with renewed fire. Then he felt 
the hot white sperm in his scrotum bubble up and then he was lost in the 
incredible force of his powerful ejaculation which sprayed the insides of 
her pussy, filling her full as the night before he had filled her daughter's 
cunt. The rich milk spurted, as to Vicky's horror, she could see 
clearly-just as clearly as her mother had seen last night-the white overflow 
cascading from the wide-split hole of the cunt. The loud cry of the lewd 
couple, the sight of seeing her boyfriend's seed spilling so wantonly from 
her mother's vagina broke the final link, and Vicky was suddenly free from 
the subjective bondage which had chained her immobile and silent. 

In a sense, with the orgasm, so she had realized her release, and now as 
sanity returned to her mother and Bill, so did it to the teen-ager. Vicky 
ran stumbling in the room, eyes blind with tears. 

"Mother! You whore! You bitch! I hate you!" 

 CHAPTER 5 

Anne Terrence's orgasm shot through her like a jagged bolt of lightning, and 
she was unaware of space or time as the young boy's joined her with his 
surging cum, her mind whirling with the unleashed tide of her long-untouched 
passions. Then her body collapsed and she fell against the day-bed mattress, 
her belly quivering from the satiation she let drift lazily through her. 

"Mother! You bitch! You whore! I hate you!" 

Vicky! Anne sat upright, and with terrifying clarity all feelings of sex 
were ripped from her as she saw her daughter rush toward her, her firm young 
hands in fists, and tears pouring down her cheeks. Oh, God! This was the 
worst possible thing that could have happened! She had started out with 
plans to rid her child of lewd sex, and here she was, caught in the very act 
which she had decried. Fear was sheened on her face, adding an unhealthy 
pallor to her. "Victoria!" she whispered. "What. . . what?" 

"How could you," the daughter raved, crying and choking, quivering with the 
torment and fury which blurred within her. "How could you, you sick slut! 
Whore! Bitch!" she repeated in spitting anger. 

Bill Hanley was off of the mother like a flash. He groped for his underpants 
and slacks, which he had draped over a chair the night before when he and 
Vicky had gone to bed. "Vicky, honey...." 

"Shut up," the girl snapped, turning on him. "You just shut up, weakling! 
Can't you keep your cock to yourself whenever a woman throws herself at you? 
Can't I trust you when my back's turned?" 

"But-" Anne was going to say that Bill had seduced her, only her daughter 
wasn't going to have any of that. 

Vicky lashed out, "Don't lie to me, Mother! I saw you! I saw the way it was, 
you begging him to fuck you, acting like a sex maniac, a nympho! I saw, and 
you can't tell me Bill was at fault. Why, he's half your age, you bitch!" 

A low animal moan of anguish escaped from Anne's lips, and she tried to turn 
on her side and curl up in a ball to cover her shame. "Oh God, God in heaven 
... no ... no...." 

"Yes! I was standing right there and heard it all!" 

Tears came from Anne's eyes in a flooding stream. Vicky had caught them, 
seen Bill with his face between her legs, seen him fuck her long and hard, 
seen her cum ... She was soul-sick and filled with self-loathing at the 
betrayal of her body, and the moral turpitude which she had allowed to 
overcome her. Her guilt had been bad enough before, compounded last night by 
her sick, but at least private, depravities, but this ... this was too awful 
to contemplate. Her young daughter had caught her ... 

"Vicky ... Vicky...." she whimpered in supplication. 

"You saw us, did you?" Bill asked, a slight smirk forming on his handsome 
young features. 

"You saw us-" and then he began to laugh. "Christ, what a family! You were 
watching your mother ... and your mother was watching us last night! 
Hahaha...." 

"What?" It was the daughter's turn to blink unsteadily. "You mean ... you 
mean that when we were ... when we...." 

"That's right, when we were fucking! You and mother are really two of a 
kind, honest to God." 

"Well, I don't care!" Vicky said hotly, this new, lewd piece of information 
only incensing her more. "It only goes to show what kind of sick person you 
are, Mother. Watching Bill and I making love, and then ... seducing him 
while I was gone! What's with you anyway? Did seeing us turn you on so much 
that you had to try some of his cock? Well?" 

"Ohhhh," Anne moaned, writhing as if in great pain. 

"Take me out of here," Vicky said stiffly to her boyfriend. 

Bill, having gotten some semblance of control back, bewildered but not 
unhappy over the fact that Vicky had misinterpreted the situation and was 
blaming her mother for it, had been dressing quickly. As he buckled his 
pants, there was an evil gloat festering inside his brain, one which had 
objectively gotten a great deal of cruel pleasure from this pitting of 
mother and daughter against each other, and satisfaction from the wedge he 
had unwittingly driven between them. What the hell, he didn't care about the 
mother, nor all that much about Vicky if the truth be out. . . he'd take 
full advantage of the situation, though. Still, Vicky's sudden request 
caught him off guard. 

"Bill, I don't want to stay in this house one more minute," Vicky said 
coldly. "Take me away. Anywhere, I don't care." 

"Please, Vicky," her mother cried out, "Please try to understand ... Oh, 
God, don't leave...." 

"I understand what you did last night, you voyeur. I understand that you 
ended up by being screwed by a boy. My boyfriend! I understand that you're 
nothing but a fucking whore!" 

"Oh, God, honey, you mustn't hate me, please don't hate me ... I ... I need 
help, not hate ... I couldn't control myself ... I-" 

"Save it for Daddy when he comes home," Vicky sneered contemptuously. 
"Explain to him why his daughter has left home!" 

"Vicky!" her mother groveled. "Nooooo!" 

"Are you ready, Bill?" 

"Yeah, yeah sure, Vicky." 

"Then let's go. I'll be back later," Vicky said to her mother, "but only 
long enough to return the car and pick up my things. Good-bye, you wicked 
bitch, and when I leave again, I'm never going to return. Ever! You're no 
mother of mine! You're not fit to be one!" 

The hapless, trembling, utter mortified Anne buried her face in the bed of 
her sins, rocking with uncontrollable sobs now, and then she heard the door 
slam and wretchedly know that her daughter had left ... perhaps for good. 
Anne Terrence moaned involuntarily, the desecration of her life total, and 
now, with the heat of her body no longer betraying her, she was torn by the 
torment of her despair. She looked down at her ravaged form, thinking that 
she was beyond all hope, that she had lost her daughter ... and most surely 
would lose her husband once he had discovered her adulterous conduct. 

Maybe later she would wake up, find that this was another of the nightmares 
which had kept her tossing and moaning all the previous night ... but she 
knew, deep inside, that this wouldn't happen. Mentally she was crushed, 
physically she was bruised and sore, her genitals throbbing with a dull, 
persistent ache only slightly less than the ache in her heart. 

For five minutes Anne lay comatose on the day-bed, trying to blank the pain 
from her mind, her head pounding with the perverse need to think ... Think 
... Oh, God, what could she do? So concentrated on her guilt and shame, and 
the reasons causing her remorseful action. It was impossible, she glumly 
concluded. The recollection of Bill's weaseling tongue and sodomizing finger 
made her cunt tingle and her anus tighten as if wanting more ... she was a 
sick woman, and unfit as her daughter had shouted at her, for the indelible 
fact was that she had enjoyed it, had participated in the lewd rape of her 
body even if Vicky was wrong about her starting it? What difference did it 
make who started it? She had allowed her long-entombed feelings and the 
alcohol and the lascivious sights of last night and today affect her so 
thoroughly that she had willingly responded as an equal partner in wild 
abandonment. 

Slowly, painfully, the distraught Mrs. Terrence arose from the sheets and 
smoothed the crumpled negligee and robe over her flesh, not wanting to be 
confronted by any of her sperm matted femininity, and then barefoot, she 
made her way out of the small room and up the stairs. Her house was empty, 
silent-as was her soul. She retired to the bathroom and combed her hair, and 
looked into the mirror, startled by the heavy, sex-creased lines which 
marred her face. Her disgrace showed like the afternoon sun itself, she was 
sure, and she had to take full responsibility for what had happened-much in 
the same fashion as Vicky had irrationally blamed her for it. There was a 
closer bond between the mother and daughter than either had ever 
anticipated, which had made the break that much more cutting, more deeply 
wounding. Her eyes puddled, and she had to wipe them dry with a towel, and 
inadvertently, the material brushed her swollen, tender breasts. Good God! 
Suppose she was pregnant! The thought-a part of the whole parallel between 
Jack and Bill which ran rampant through her crazed head-was a possibility 
which seemed to her as almost fated. How horrible if it was true! But there 
was nothing she could do but wait. 

Wait ... wait for her husband to arrive from his trip. Wait and possible by 
the time Victoria returned, the daughter would have had a chance to cool 
down and her mother a chance to collect her scattered wits. That was the 
only thing she could do, Anne grimly told herself. Wait and see if the anger 
and hatred so righteously displayed would have abated somewhat so that some 
kind of adjustment and perhaps even a reconciliation could be effected. 
Wait, and pray that the slim strand of hope would be true. The fervent plea 
that it would be was the only thing stopping the mother from taking a razor 
to her wrists on the spot and end her suffering. 

And though the thought was left unsaid, Anne Terrence would seriously 
consider suicide if and when Vicky did reject her once and for all. . . 

* * * 

"Where are we going?" Vicky asked as Bill Hanley drove the Ford through the 
twisting residential streets. 

"I thought you didn't care," he grinned at her. 

"I ... I don't," she said pressing her lips tightly together. "Not really." 
She glanced sharply at her handsome young boyfriend. "But don't you act so 
high-and-mighty, you animal." 

"Hey, I thought you still loved me," Bill said in an injured tone. "I 
thought you'd forgiven me." 

"Well ... I have. I guess." 

"Look, it was all your mother's doing, just as you said," Bill lied. "She 
came downstairs while I was getting out of my swimming trunks. She paraded 
around and played with my cock and, Christ, honey, you know what that does 
to me." A whine crept into his voice as he tried to worm his way back into 
the girl's good graces. 

"Yeah, makes you fuck," Vicky said, still angry. 

"Well, sure. It makes me fuck. I'm a man, ain't I?" 

It was the wrong thing to say. The light of indignation simmered in Vicky's 
eyes as she snapped: "And lick her cunt and God knows what all before I 
caught you two!" 

"Hey, wait a minute. You watched us for some time, you know. You could have 
broken us up, right? But you didn't. Why not?" 

Vicky turned away, embarrassed and sullen. "Never mind." 

"Oh-ho! I can have all the shit you sling, but you're Miss pure-heart, is 
that it?" 

The young, beautiful girl, her face splotched with red, hunched against the 
door and folded her arms. "Let's change the subject. Where are we going?" 

"Well, I don't want to go to a motel; we don't have the money. Tell you 
what, I've a friend in Kingsport who lives with his chick, see? I'd have 
asked them if I could have stayed the summer, but what the hell, they want 
their privacy, and anyway, I wanted to be near you for balling." 

"Don't talk that way. 

"Balling," Bill said again insolently. "And shit and fuck and cock and tit 
and balls and cunt. There. I like to use words that way, and I've heard 
enough of them out of your pretty little mouth to-" 

"All right! Who is this guy?" Vicky was beginning to think that things 
weren't turning out with the idea she had in mind. She wanted to escape from 
all the lewdness, not get more of it. 

"His name's Gary Simmons. Lives over on Chestnut, out by the railroad 
tracks. Ain't much of a place, but what the hell." Bill shrugged, indicating 
his whole attitude toward the situation-if Vicky had been looking out for 
such signs. He was now unsure just how wise it had been, taking this girl 
along. It was fun fucking her at college, and the set-up at her parents had 
been cool, but he wasn't about to saddle himself with her, not with so many 
other girls to fuck. But the scene back in the basement room had been 
unnerving, catching him off guard, and he hadn't offered any resistance to 
her demanding to leave-in fact, that had been his general plan, though not 
with Vicky included. 

But for the moment he was stuck with her, and if she was planning to stay 
around, then she was going to have to do some mighty fast growing up about 
sex. Gary Simmons was the kind of guy who took what he wanted and to hell 
with the consequences, and Bill knew without asking the price his friend was 
going to exact for letting him and Vicky stay at his apartment. Naturally, 
Bill got Gary's girl in return-petite, apple-breasted Laura Conklin, with 
hair as black as his-but that didn't change the fact that he was going to 
have to do a lot of ground-work to get Vicky to go along with the girl 
friend swap. 

Bill had been saving Gary for later, when he had the young girl so eating 
out of his hand that she'd fuck anybody to please him. Now there wasn't the 
time for the slow build-up; Vicky would either come through or get the hell 
out-and as the saying went, if she didn't want to lay, then it was tough 
tittie. 

Well, no time like the present. "Vicky," he said, turning the corner onto 
the freeway leading cross-town, "Vicky, tell me something. Did you like the 
sight of your mother and me fucking?" 

"Bill! How can you ask--? " The horrified gasp was deep. 

"Well, you watched an awful long time." He chuckled lewdly. "I bet you did, 
didn't you? Watching us on the bed." 

"No," she said too quickly. "I was sickened." 

"Come on, tell the truth. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's exciting to 
watch other people fucking, Vicky. That's why there's so many films and 
books and pictures about sex. Jesus, honey, it's all normal, natural. You 
know, fun." 

"You sound as if you liked fucking my mother," Vicky said cold and harshly. 
"You act as if you did, you really do." 

"What the hell, I did!" 

"Enough to cum, too!" the girl said, becoming indignant. 

"Yeah, and she's one hell of a fine lay, let me clue you in." He grinned 
lasciviously at her. "Fucks a lot like you, a hot, tight little pussy that 
feels almost like it has teeth." 

"Of all the sick things to say!" she snapped, her eyes flashing darkly. 
"What do you mean she fucks like me? You ... you and her looked like two 
wild animals the way you were going at each other!" 

"More like human beings, baby," Bill interjected. "Now calm down and hear me 
out before you jump out of the car. Face facts, Vicky, you enjoy me fucking 
you, don't you?" He waited a dramatic moment, but received no answer. "Well, 
I certainly haven't heard any complaints while we're balling, now have I? Of 
course not, and that's because you were having a great time, and if you'd be 
honest with yourself, you'd admit that you enjoyed watching, too." 

"But we love each other, Bill," the anguished teen-ager retorted with a 
moaning wail. "Or at least I thought we did." 

"Sure, kid, sure," the handsome collegiate said hastily. "But lots of people 
believe that swapping mates enhances their own love for each other, see. 
They figure that sex is good, clean fun that can't hurt anybody, and when 
you're with the one you love, you put all of your heart into it, making it 
ten times better than with anybody else." 

"Group sex!" Vicky gasped. 

Bill waved his hand in a cast-off gesture. "Call it what you want. The thing 
is that kids our age see sex for what it really is. It isn't dirty the way 
your mother and father were brought up to believe. This is the age of 
freedom, right? Well, why shouldn't a person be free inside as well as out? 
Drop the chains and give yourself over to physical gratification, and then 
the loving is better, more enriching." 

"Is ... that what you want me to do?" Vicky said in a narrow voice, her eyes 
suspiciously lidded as she looked at Bill. "Screw anybody that I want, just 
to get to know him better?" 

"I didn't say that, baby," Bill replied. He wanted to, but he could sense 
her unwillingness to agree, her raised guard at the idea he would like her 
fucking around with others. She would have to-if he was going to be able to 
fuck around on her. He backed up a few paces to leave him room to maneuver. 
"I'm saying that I understand things like this, that's all. In all honesty I 
can't look you in the eyes and say that I didn't get my kicks while fucking 
your mother. But I'm also saying that what happened back at your house 
doesn't make any difference between you and me, see-and if you wanted to 
sleep with some other guy, I'd understand and not hold it against you." 

"You ... think my mother feels that way, too?" 

"Now," Bill said gruffly. "Your mother is over thirty. She's got too many 
hang-ups. She's probably back their wailing and crying and beating her 
breasts. And all over nothing." He turned off the freeway and pulled around 
a couple of blocks and then parked. "Well, here we are." 

Vicky climbed out, dazed and confused, and looked up at the flaking paint on 
the stucco-walled apartment house. The grass was uncut along the front, and 
the sidewalk was cracked, and a downstairs window was boarded where a huge 
hole had been punched through its glass. She shuddered, but didn't say 
anything, only followed Bill as the boy started down the pitted macadam 
drive to the rear of the building. 

His talk in the car had been very unsettling to her; so much had happened in 
so short a time to disrupt her life that she was wide open to new 
suggestions and new directions. Bill's arguments for a pagan, amoral life 
was contrary to all of the ingrained precepts of her training. They were 
wrong ... or were they? Hadn't she just seen the hypocrisy masked by her 
mother's Victorian and Puritan ethics ? She couldn't accept what her 
boyfriend had suggested, though she knew that a great many prominent and 
otherwise strict-principled people exchanged keys, lovers, wives and 
husbands with no outward loss of morals or signs of decay ... and she had to 
admit that she had been excited by watching her Bill fucking her mother, 
enjoyed the prurient sights and sounds just as her boyfriend had correctly 
assumed. Oh, God, she didn't know what to think, much less what to do. The 
vast, boiling anger toward her mother had subsided a little bit, although 
she was still bitter and resentful and hated her in a cool detached sort of 
way. She wasn't going back there to live, she knew that ... but that was all 
she knew. 

Gary Simmons lived on the second floor, in a back apartment which smelled 
something like ring-worm carbolic. It was small and grubby and cramped, with 
gold and fuchsia wallpaper in a wild, psychedelic pattern, oil-cloth 
curtains, furniture made of boards, sawn barrels, and rattan, and empty wine 
bottles were scattered in all the corners. Gary Simmons fit the apartment. 
He was pale, thin, small-shouldered with nervous and watery eyes that 
blinked with rapidity. He had an oval face, wide browed and narrow of chin, 
and a wiry moustache and goatee so straggly and thin that Vicky thought she 
had more hair down between her legs than he had on his face. He kept pulling 
at his whiskers as he talked in a nasal voice. 

Vicky had the creeps, but Bill and Gary patted and pounded each other like 
long-lost cousins, whooping and hollering at seeing one another again. She 
had never heard of Bill mention Simmons before, and was sorry as she emptied 
a couch cushion of newspapers and sat down that her boyfriend had thought of 
here as a place to visit. How could a girl allow herself to live in such a 
pig sty? but evidently one did-Bill had mentioned that a girl was living 
with Simmons. 

And whenever Simmons looked over at her she got a cold chill in her bones, 
for his eyes seemed to eat through her with a gaze of a ferret lusting after 
a plump chicken. 

"Where's your girl?" Bill asked, sitting down beside Vicky. 

"Aw, visiting some guy with twenty dollars to spare. You know how it is, 
Bill. Gotta make money anyway you can these days." 

Vicky was horrified, and looked at Simmons with renewed revulsion. He was a 
pimp! A panderer for his girl friend! But Bill seemed to shrug it off 
nonchalantly. "Well, Laura's a good chick. She'll give the guy his money's 
worth." 

"Long as she brings the bread home, I don't care what she does!" Simmons 
laughed in a high little giggle which curdled Vicky's flesh. 

"Well, what have you two been up to, anyway ? " Bill asked. 

"Just got back from North Africa. Tangiers ... Algiers ... all the spots. 
Got a nice mess of slides from the trip. You wanna see them later?" 

"Are they ... interesting?" 

"Hell, man, aren't they always?" 

This time both young men laughed at some private joke, making Vicky feel 
very uncomfortable and left out. She wanted to leave, but knew that she 
couldn't say anything, not after making the scene in her mother's home the 
way she had. 

. . . She'd stick it out; Simmons wasn't going to harm her any, not with 
Bill here. 

"Vicky and I want to stay here tonight, if it's all the same," Bill said. 
"We had a little heat from her old lady." 

"Sure, we'll make a party out of it. Show the slides and all." Again there 
was a wicked lilt to his voice which made Vicky crawl. 

"All right, Gary," Bill nodded. "Ahh, you wouldn't have brought back 
anything else from North Africa, would you?" 

"Well-" 

"C'mon, Gary, this is no time to hold out on me." 

"I see what you mean," Simmons said significantly and seemed to look 
directly at the young girl. Vicky frowned. 

"Well, don't just stand there, boy," Bill prompted good-naturedly. 

Simmons grinned and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later he 
reappeared with a small, lacquered box, the ornate kind sold in bazaars in 
the countries he'd been to. He opened the box lid and showed its contents 
proudly; inside were a dozen or so brown-wrapped, crudely made cigarettes. 

"Marijuana!" Vicky gasped. 

"Don't act so surprised, Vicky," the boy laughed. "Hell, we've smoked enough 
grass at college." 

True enough, she had to admit. It was the "In" thing-and everybody knew that 
marijuana was safer than liquor; no hangovers, no possible addiction the way 
some drunkards were on the bottle, and it gave a pleasant, relaxing euphoria 
like a martini or two. After a rough day of studying, she and Bill would 
light up a "joint," and suck in the burning-honey smell. That is, when they 
had the money, because grass was expensive, and the marijuana at Whitmire 
was often so cut with other stuff that it was very weak and impotent. 

"This is special," Simmons said, passing the box around. "Straight from 
Turkey. It's a ... a little stronger than you might have been using before, 
Vicky." 

Vicky took one without hesitation. A joint right now would help settle her 
nerves, her pain and mental suffering. "You mean it isn't cut as bad ? " 

"Well, you might say that," Simmons replied with a knowing smirk. "You know 
what kind it is, Bill. You've had it before." 

Bill nodded. Damned right the black-haired college boy knew what the special 
grass was like ... he'd taken a date like Vicky over to meet Gary one night; 
a young, innocent and as it turned out, virgin girl who had had three of 
those cigarettes, stripped off her clothes and climaxed four times with 
every guy in the room, and ended up the night by sucking the neighbor's 
German shepherd off, swallowing the dog's cum. Yeah, he was well aware of 
the drugging effects of this uncut, straight stuff. He had a hard time 
swallowing the lewd chuckle rising in him as he watched the naive young girl 
as she reached over and allowed him to light her cigarette for her. She 
sucked in the cloying smoke as she held the marijuana joint between her soft 
warm lips, letting the fog swirl in her lungs before exhaling. She drew 
deeply over and over, reaching for that state of relaxation when the horrors 
of what she had seen her mother and Bill do would evaporate from her 
tortured mind, would leave her free and happy.... 

She took another cigarette when the first butt was little more than ash 
between her fingers lighting it and repeating the process, never aware that 
what she was doing would have been all right back at college, but that these 
"special" cigarettes were dynamite compared to a firecracker-both deadly, 
but in a matter of degree, rather than in kind....Drawing deeply, exhaling 
... and before she was fully aware of its insidious effects, her head was 
spinning and she could feel herself weaving slightly on the couch. She tried 
to hold herself steady and found that for some reason her mind couldn't work 
her muscles or ligaments She opened her mouth and forced thick words out 
with careful enunciation. "Wooee! You were right, Gary! These are strong!" 

Vicky had never felt better in all her life than at that moment. Nothing 
mattered; she was carefree and blissful, and she felt a warm comradeship, a 
wide-open loving with the world. She laughed and talked, and laughed some 
more, for everything that was said seemed to strike her as hilarious. 

"How's it going, Vicky?" Bill asked her as he handed her a third cigarette. 

"I'm flying tonight!" she gasped breathlessly. "I'm ready to take off ... 
Mmmmmm!" 

You ain't just a kidding, you're going to take off, the boy thought craftily 
to himself. He placed his arms around her and cuddled the young, stoned girl 
close to him, letting one hand hang as if accidentally over her breast, 
grazing it slightly as he moved. 

"How about those slides now, Gary? It doesn't look like Laura will be coming 
home in time to join us." 

"Join us?" Vicky blinked, her head whirling. "Join us for what?" 

"Why, for the slides, of course," Simmons replied with a chortle, and once 
more went into the kitchen. Moments later he had a small silver screen set 
up against the back wall, and a slide projector on a table beside the chair 
in which he had been sitting. He stood by the light switch on the wall and 
asked: "Ready?" 

"Yeah," Bill called back, "Roll 'em, DeMille!" 

The lights were out and for an instant before the first slide was projected 
on the screen in front of her, Vicky was in total darkness. She felt 
confused and uncertain, but the marijuana in her system dulled her sense of 
impending danger, and she lay back on the dirty cushions, snuggling to the 
warm, beating chest of Bill Hanley, and allowed herself to relax. The drug 
warmed her blood, and it was so nice to be here, in her lover's arms ... and 
oddly, she began to notice that being so close to his masculine piquancy, 
his strong grip which so feather-lightly ran across her bra-encased breast, 
was beginning to give her familiar, prurient sensations tingling in her 
pelvic area.... She tightened her inner thigh muscles, even crossed her legs 
so as to choke the growing agitation that was mounting there. And as she did 
these things, the screen lit up with a rectangle of the first, brilliantly 
colored photograph. At first, it was out of focus, but then Simmons 
corrected the lens and everything came into view readily. 

She saw bigger than life a group of four brown-skinned boys and girls, 
obviously caught in a picture of wild dancing. But the native children were 
all nude, not in the nakedness of innocent children but with the brazen 
display of their pubic areas that only adults can so lewdly expose. The 
girls' taut breasts were small and tight with coal-black hard nipples in 
jouncing eroticism, and the boys had stiff penises jutting from their almost 
hairless loins in boorish pursuit. 

My God! Vicky couldn't believe the slide! "What ... what is this?" she heard 
herself question. 

Simmons tittered. "A fertility rite, Vicky, often performed in North Africa 
and the Middle East. This one happened to be taking place in the village of 
Dumbala, some distance from Tangiers." 

The evil looking friend of Bill's switched to the next slide ... and it was 
even worse! The young Vicky was dumbfounded by the extremely detailed shot 
of two of the native girls clasping two slender young cocks, obviously in 
the act of massaging them and stroking them, and in return their own 
buttocks were thrust out behind them as if awaiting some further joy of 
perversion....Then a thrilling third slide, even before Vicky was able to 
gain her breath from the last one; a brown-skinned girl, who couldn't have 
been past her first year of puberty, was being taken from the rear and Vicky 
saw clearly that a boy's long cock shaft was sliding in the tenderly 
stretched ring of her rectum! The child had her mouth open in a silent cry 
of ecstasy....Then another, this one of a girl being rammed in her thinly 
etched pussy with its delicate fringe of hair by a boy's stiff penis, the 
picture that of an impalement like a matador on the horn of a bull.... 

The lewdly portraited sights had involuntarily started her blood racing 
through the young teenager's veins, obscene sensations began slowly churning 
in her stomach, pelvis, and loins, increasing in a vortex of incredulity at 
what she was viewing. Why ... why the next one showed that same little girl 
being taken with two cocks, one in each of her rear orifices! The boyish 
cocks were sunk deep in her, hairless testicles slapping her skin like palms 
on a drumhead, Vicky sucked in the smoke from the drugging cigarette, and 
squirmed down onto the couch, feeling the tough material press her buttocks 
and dampening crevice. Her thin panties soaked up the moisture and she 
squeezed her thighs together to hold down the unwanted fermentations growing 
there. She swallowed dryly and continued to smoke without thinking of what 
she was doing, only knowing dimly that she was on dangerous ground and 
wasn't sure just what to do about it. She didn't want to make a scene ... 
but my God! Those pictures were exciting her, Bill's closeness, his hand on 
her bare leg the way it was now ... Ohhhh....She squirmed downward again, 
the lewd sight of the wild orgy on the screen holding her nearly spellbound, 
and the secretion band of her panties pulled tight into the split of her 
loins, rubbing against her vagina and its sensitive, pink-fleshed lips. She 
felt minute throbs beginning to pulse in the hardening bud of her clitoris 
and she gritted her teeth and smoked more of the grass in an effort to hold 
in rein the forbidden delights throbbing stronger and stronger down between 
her legs. 

I mtist get hold of myself! For God's sake! What's happening to me! 

But it was of little avail. The heat of the room, the lulling sensual 
effects of the aphrodisiac cigarettes, the debauched scenes of open lust 
were not to be ignored by her young body which was already aroused by the 
lewd perversion of her mother and Bill fucking earlier. Everything was 
working its depraved effects on the girl, and she couldn't resist the 
building fire in her wet, swelling pussy and throbbing, hard breasts. No 
matter how hard she squeezed her thighs together, the flames were fanned by 
the progression of lurid slides that the silently snickering Simmons threw 
upon the screen. She moaned and panted and was becoming terrified that she 
was losing control of herself. 

Just as Bill knew she was.... 

Just as Simmons knew she was.... 

And the two boys waited impatiently for the final warping of her tender, 
young mind by the "special" marijuana, gloating more openly with every 
passing minute over what they knew from past experience would happen next. 

 CHAPTER 6 

Vicky raised up on one elbow. "I ... I don't want to watch any more of that 
fertility rite, thank you," she stammered, her brow beaded with sweat, her 
young body quivering with unwanted arousal. 

"All right," Simmons said casually. "They were about over anyway. How about 
a look at the villa that Laura and I had while we were in Tangier ? A very 
nice one in a small beach community outside of the main town." The boy began 
to slide the projector back and forth hurriedly to get to the right 
selection. "Had a lovely place with a private beach and everything." He 
sighed almost wistfully. 

"Fine ... fine." Vicky murmured under her gasping breath. She lay back 
again, raising her knees now with the soles of her feet hooked on the edge 
of the cushion, and she held her legs tightly together while her skirt fell 
back to expose a portion of her smooth, tanned thighs. 

"Now the first series of shots was taken on the patio overlooking the 
Mediterranean. You can see it in the background; the villa was on a cliff 
that was very sheer. Lovely place, really...." Then he added. "Oh, the girl 
is my Laura." 

Vicky saw ... and then she saw! She made out the face of Gary Simmons and of 
a girl who was no doubt Laura ... and they were both naked! 

Laura was on her knees on the stone patio and Gary Simmon's long, thick cock 
was plunged in the small, black-haired girl's flowered cunt. Vicky was 
spellbound as she studied with repulsive fascination as Simmons fucked into 
Laura with a leaning back of his body so that he in turn could watch the 
sight of his pale, hard penis stuck in the soft, hair-rimmed flesh of 
Laura's throbbing pussy. 

"My God!" the young girl gasped, "You're ... you're. . . ! " 

"Of course," Simmons purred. "I'm fucking Laura. Beautiful, isn't it? Man, 
look at that expression on her face. Oh, she was loving it that day, I can 
tell you." 

"Oh, no, no, stop! ... stop!" Vicky pleaded at his obscene talk, writhing 
beneath the newly creeping hands of Bill Hanley on her smooth, tingling 
flesh, groaning from the indescribable electrifying shock surging through 
the frayed nerve-ends of her drugged body like a thousand sharp needles. Her 
buttocks churned desperately into the cushion as sudden hot flames sprang up 
from her soft inner thighs and danced wickedly higher and higher ... she 
closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see the horrible things that 
Gary Simmons was doing to Laura, and what the black-haired girl was doing in 
return to him, and she strained to blot them out of her mind ... but it was 
impossible to eliminate the maddening sensations that Bill's constantly 
caressing hands were causing her. 

Suddenly the boy's hands dug into the softness of her flesh and she 
whimpered in pain. His hand moved down, his hot breath against her cheek, 
and his fingers were cruel in the narrowness of her waist, the full rounded 
curve of her hips and the hardness of her cuntal valley below. She clutched 
his hand as his fingers gathered the folds of her skirt and he reached to 
touch the crease of her hot loins. 

"No ... no, not here, not now, Bill ... please ... we're not alone!" 

"I know," he chuckled lewdly in her ear. "I know, and I don't care. I want 
you, Vicky. Right now I want you...." 

"But Bill, there's Gary here," she whimpered. 

He rubbed furiously at her panty-clad vagina. "So what? He doesn't mind. 
What the hell, I've fucked in front of him before-" 

"You what?" 

"-and he's fucked in front of me, too." He slipped one hand away and then 
Vicky heard Bill open the front of his pants and dreaded to think of what 
was going to happen next. "Now, go on, baby," he said sharply. "Take out my 
cock." 

An undesired shudder of sensual excitement quivered through the young girl 
at his command, yet she couldn't do as he asked. It ... it was somehow so 
wrong to be so unashamed, and she fought the pin-pricks of sensation which 
rose up through her belly. "No, please...." 

Once again Bill reached over for her, well aware of the hopeless battle 
raging within his drugged girl friend. He slid his hand under her skirt and 
along the soft, warm flesh of her inner thigh and she merely moaned, no 
longer trying to stop him. He squirmed his fingertips beneath the elastic of 
her panties and with thumb and forefinger on the fleshy lips of golden pubic 
hair lining the outside of her moist, pink cunt, he spread them slowly, 
teasingly apart. Vicky lay back, holding her breath, still unable to offer 
more than token resistance to his hands coursing over her body. 

Her marijuana weakened moral strength, her pruriently crumbling will power 
would not sustain her ... and her resistance shattered with a groan and a 
sliding of legs to a sprawled, widespread position. The exquisite feeling of 
air rushing over the rising bud of her clitoris rippled through her now 
jelly-like muscles and out into the nipples of her excitedly throbbing 
breasts, destroying all feeling of debasement, humiliation, thought of the 
other boy's presence, or anything else but the delightful pleasures building 
within her. The straining thighs relaxed and parted loosely as she rolled 
toward Bill with a low surrendering moan. 

And as if of a mind separate of hers, her hand moved across his pants and 
slid inside his open fly and clasped his heavy, thick cock. And to her 
horrified amazement, she found that her fingers, of their own volition, were 
pushing his jockey shorts aside and bringing the hard, fleshy rod out of its 
prison, out until it stood up menacingly and erect in the dark room, her 
long fingers wrapping themselves lovingly around it. 

"Ahhhhh, that's it, baby," Bill grunted. He undid his belt and top trouser 
button, and allowed Vicky to slide his pants down, and then his shorts, and 
now he was nakedly displayed on the dark couch. In spite of her revulsion at 
the renewed thought of the other boy in the room, the marijuana-induced 
sex-stupor made Vicky stroke and caress his throbbing cock, manipulating the 
long foreskin up and down over the corona just as if they were in the 
privacy of their bedroom back at college. Then she slid her hand down his 
long shaft to its base and then below, to cup and squeeze his sperm-bloated 
testicles reverently, cupping them with inherent affection, then trailing 
back up to pinch at the beautifully formed pole with tiny, nipping 
pressures. 

Her hips ground of their own volition hotly down against the cushion and she 
heard her own purring, animal-like sounds emitting painfully from between 
her passion-clenched teeth. She couldn't believe it! Yet, it was happening 
to her, by her.... What is happening to me ? she thought confusedly. I must 
be going mad! I'm as unashamed as my mother, for God's sake! But I can't 
stop myself ... I want to touch Bill's cock! I have to touch it. . . oooooh, 
God! 

Bill lay on his back, not touching Vicky now, luxuriating in the submission 
that had fully overtaken the girl. She was kissing his neck, his cheek, his 
ears and eyes and lips, her hot, wet, little tongue licking at him 
wildly.... 

"You may undress the rest of me," he said coldly and immediately she 
responded, unbuttoning and pulling off his clothes. "Gently!" he snapped. 

"Yes, yes, darling," she stammered, not knowing or caring any longer what 
spell had come over her, her glazed mind filled only with the credo of his 
magnificent cock. And when she was done, he said: "Now your own things, 
Vicky. Get naked!" 

She stood from the couch, standing in the bright light of the projector, but 
not caring, not caring that the beady, groveling eyes of the lascivious Gary 
Simmons was on her as well as the boy's who had taken her mother so wildly 
this very same afternoon. She stepped out of her skirt and then unfastened 
her blouse, unhooking her bra with momentary hesitation, then continued as 
if prodded by some unseen force. Released of their confinement, her swollen 
young breasts seemed to beg for touching; she paused and smoothed her hands 
carefully over them, touching her ruby nipples in guarded wonderment. Ohhh, 
that felt so good, she took a deep breath, unable to fathom the gentle, 
daze-like lethargy she was experiencing, and then she rolled down her flimsy 
wet panties and allowed her hands to slowly travel back up her long slim 
legs and thighs and touch delicately the lining of her soft-edged vagina. 

Gary Simmons was mesmerized with the breathtaking loveliness of the young 
blonde as she stood in the projector's light. Her sleek, firm body was an 
entrancing combination of swelling breasts and thighs, and he gaped at the 
velvet-like, honey-covered silken down that she was exploring gently with 
her fingers now, the junction of her slightly spread thighs. The thin, red, 
hair-lined slit running the full length of her open crotch caused his mouth 
to water, and his tongue licked his rubbery, thick lips with anticipation as 
he watched the glassy expression in her eyes. Soon ... soon she would be 
his.... 

Vicky caught the other boys hungry gaze, and her brain was a turmoil of 
mixed emotions, for while she knew this wanton display of her young body to 
Simmons was not only unnecessary but entirely immoral, there seemed little 
that she wanted to do to stop it. And the lewd itching in her breasts, her 
loins and her belly was reaching an uncontrollable state.... 

"Get down between my legs," Bill ordered, watching her full young breasts 
dance and her lush, round buttocks sway as she crawled on all fours to his 
command, her beautiful long blonde tresses pouring down over her shoulders 
like a cascading, golden waterfall. "Now lick my cock, baby. Put my cock in 
your mouth and suck...." 

She did, even though this had been one of the things she had never done to a 
boy before; making him cum with her hand was one thing-but kissing a man on 
his penis was something only perverts did, only sick people! But I must be 
sick ... as sick as Mother, because I can't help myself ... I want to suck 
his cock, just like he wants ... Dear God ... 

Vicky lavished Bill's quivering penis before her with her warm, wet tongue, 
brushing and grazing from its base along its wide underside up to its 
hardened cockhead, washing, playing, kissing with long hungry strokes ... 
then back down to its base and to the black-haired pubic growth and then 
lower, down around his distended, bloated sac of testicles, hot from their 
load of sperm. 

Ohhh, I love it! I love it! 

Her first taste of pungent male spice instigated wild tremors of delight in 
her young body, and she uncontrollably balanced herself on one arm while she 
reached back with her other and slowly, tenderly felt her breasts and 
nipples, belly and thighs. Ohhh.... Vicky was wild with frenzy, the churning 
in her stomach and vagina with a spasming need that she had never dreamed 
existed and which was driving her to the point of orgasmic madness. God ... 
she loved this! Quickly she trailed her tongue back over Bill's testicles 
and along the heavy shaft to its throbbing head, and with a tiny groan, 
slipped her lips wetly down over it. God! She wanted to suck his sperm into 
her throat and belly! 

She began to suck and lick in earnest now, the powerful stimulants of the 
slide pictures and the marijuana coursing through her body in a rampage of 
sexual fire, and though a small shudder of revulsion at what she had allowed 
herself to do passed through her momentarily, she realized that the 
exquisite deliciousness of Bill's cock was wonderful. She felt the hair of 
his pubic loins against her chin and lips, his testicles sweeping against 
her with every thrust, and as greater sensations of abandoned ecstasy grew 
to burn her vagina still hotter, nothing mattered but the sweet agony of the 
lewd desires which rippled through her naked flesh, nothing! 

Not even Gary Simmons disturbed her now as she strove to milk her 
boyfriend's balls of their building sperm and in doing so stave off the 
unquenchable fire of lust consuming her insides. He came over to where she 
was on all fours, Bill on his knees before her straining and pumping in a 
lewd mock-dance of the sex act, and stared down at the buffeting duo, lust 
contorting his face. The sight of his friend's hard shaft of male flesh 
absorbed between the lips of the girl's widely ovaled lips increased his 
already fervid longings a thousand-fold, and he hissed out his breath as he 
saw Vicky take her hand that she had been running over her own body and use 
it to massage the soft resilient skin of Hanley's testicles, then 
tantalizingly stroke the boy's cock-base as she continued to suck 
rhythmically up and down. He couldn't stand it any longer! He had to fuck 
her from behind, fuck her right then and now! 

Quickly Gary Simmons shed his clothing, and then stood with his long, 
jutting cock throbbing like a wild stallion. He grabbed Vicky's flailing 
white buttocks and leaned down over her back, thrusting his penis roughly 
against the crevice of her smooth white buttocks. The expanded narrow 
cunt-slit was visibly throbbing with its lips parted anxiously, its wet pink 
furrow held together by the squirming of her thighs up against his hungry 
loins. 

Vicky could not see the face hovering over her buttocks, but her passion and 
drug-filled mind was aware of her boyfriend's friend behind her-aware of 
what he wanted to do to her while she was so desperately sucking Bill's 
penis in her mouth. She felt the full length of her open vaginal slit 
palpitate anxiously, greedily ... Dear God! This can't be me! I'm going to 
be fucked by both boys ... and I want that.... 

Everything which had ever meant anything to the poor, lust-enflamed girl was 
torn asunder as she lay in crippled defeat between the two boys. What she 
was allowing to be done to her was the absolute opposite of everything she 
had stood for, everything she had believed in ... everything which had 
prompted her to leave her mother ... and yet there was no turning back. She 
had to have the two hardened male cocks fucking into her at the same 
time-had to-had to ... 

Oh God, I'm sick ... sick ... but I can't help it ... can't help it! 

She flexed her cunt muscles together in a last-ditch attempt to evade the 
dual ravishment, but neither that nor her mental denials of her sanity 
helped to ward off the lust-incited Gary Simmons. Her brain was a maze of 
distorted thoughts, and she couldn't apply what thinking capacities she had 
to anything but what was being shoved into her vagina, Simmon's huge 
invading cudgel. In fact, the throb of her internal sinews seemed to incite 
his large, alien penis, and it plowed its way deeper into her vainly 
resisting passage. She felt the walls of her cringing pussy clasp around it 
like a glove, and she sensed its every fleshy ridge as her nerve ends 
transmitted enormous pleasures. 

Dear God! This isn't happening! her mind kept repeating over and over, but 
she knew it was, and the pungent odors of Bill's cock slithering in and out 
of her lips stung her flared nostrils and she began to insanely run her 
tongue faster over his pumping shaft and bulging head. She may have been 
sick, a whore like her mother, she thought crazily, but she didn't want this 
to stop! Her cunt contracted involuntarily as the lascivious thought raced 
out of control through her marijuana-fogged mind. 

Gary Simmons drew the girl harder to his loins by grasping her ivory 
buttocks with his clawing fingers and jerking her back. He felt her moist, 
slippery hole of a cunt flower open more to receive his cock to greater and 
greater depths. The cords on her neck and her lips around Bill's penis were 
hard and tense as she writhed beneath the two monstrous cocks which skewered 
her naked young body between them like a pig on a spit. 

"Now, baby," Bill hissed down at her, "beg for it. Beg like I make you do 
... only beg for both of us." 

"Mmmmmmm," Vicky mewled, her mouth still taut around his drubbing prick. 
"Ohhh, yes ... yes...." Her words were muffled and indistinct, but deeply 
felt, for all control of her body was gone. 

"Beg me to cum in your mouth, baby," he commanded, continuing to grind his 
cock into her wet, quivering throat. 

"Yeah, and beg me too," snarled Simmons, digging his fingers cruelly into 
the softness of her tender buttock-cheeks. "Now, damn you!" 

"Ohhhh, yes ... fuck me, both of you....R-ram your cock in my cunt, Gary, 
and yes, darling Bill, cum in my mouth!" She babbled, the thought of her own 
lips spewing out those lewd desires for the first time in her life sent new 
lascivious thrills swirling through her, and she rotated her hips from side 
to side around Gary's huge, rigid penis, her wide-spread pussy dilating in 
time to his rhythmic fucking. She was hopelessly impaled between his driving 
cock in her vagina and Bill's penis shoved tightly in her mouth, and now, 
moaning and mewling between them she began to twist and squeal wantonly 
under the double ravishment and thrust up against both men more urgently. 
Her small white teeth nibbled her boyfriend's cock as it surged with 
increasing tempo in her sucking mouth, and she clenched her thighs in a warm 
milking action against the pillaging cock methodically screwing her warm, 
wet cuntal channel. 

The ecstasy of the moment rose within Vicky as she tried to suck with the 
massive cock fucking her from behind, and as it slammed harder and harder 
into her cunt, the hardened shaft caressing the smooth walls of her vagina, 
the blunt tip would batter her cervix and pummel it hard. The room was 
lighting up in strange colors for the girl, blinding and flashing and 
mingling with the electrifying shocks that were shooting through her body to 
the seeming depths of her very being. 

Bill Hanley felt the softness of her tongue swirling around the apex of his 
penis and flicking magically all around his shaft, and he flexed his 
buttocks, watching the girl's honey blonde head bob up and down as she 
worked her buttocks relentlessly against the hammering, still swelling cock 
of his friend. It was a masterful sight, he thought, watching it, though he 
wondered why she didn't choke. Great whorls of heat were building in the sac 
of his testicles, and he could see tiny rivulets of sweat rolling in thin 
droplets from the side of Vicky's firm, white-skinned body as she bucked 
between him and his friend like a demon driven mad. 

Suddenly Simmons groaned aloud and wailed: "Jesus! Fuck harder! Fuck back, 
you bitch, I'm about ready to blow my balls! Ohhhh ... fuck back! Fuck 
back!" 

Vicky responded immediately, wallowing obscenely in her pleasurable but 
debasing subjugation, raising and lowering her buttocks against the boy's 
expanding cock, driving it back inside her, deep up into her belly, sending 
vibrations of delight coursing through her. She was completely helpless to 
stop herself, and she knew it and swam in the carnal knowledge ... she was 
punishing herself, openly feeling she deserved his painful drubbing, for her 
loins were on fire more than ever, and she was forced to feed her seething 
hunger with all of the abandonment of the worst slut in history. She 
deserved this, deserved this and more ... yes, yes ... more! More! 

Gary screamed as an insane man, and Vicky pounded back at his pelvis 
frantically with her ass, squeezing and milking at his palpitating cock 
vigorously in an attempt to bring about her own climax. Then she felt the 
hot boiling liquid of his sperm shoot deep up into her cunt ... Oh God, this 
is when I cum with Bill. . . but I'm not there yet ... I want to cum. Good 
God, please . . J can't! I can't ... the aphrodisiac marijuana had too 
strong a grip on the girl, and though she felt every contraction of Simmon's 
penis as it jerked out its great load of hot, white cream, still her own 
orgasm was that minute hair away.... 

She punished herself violently in her effort, then felt his bludgeoning cock 
grow soft and limp in her hotly clasping pussy, and she cried out in her 
anxiety. 

"Ohhh, don't leave me like this! Ohhhh, make me cum!" 

"Haaa," chortled Bill from above. "You aren't going to cum for a long time 
yet, not after all those cigarettes you smoked. Now suck me, bitch! Suck me 
harder!" 

In a hopeless quest for her own satisfaction, in a wild, maniacal need for 
fulfillment, Vicky sucked his lust-hardened penis like a wanton whore, and 
the thick, pummeling instrument disappeared into a strange, lengthening 
fusion with her face as Bill drove with hollowing buttocks, sinking his 
penis far into the girl's mouth until his course pubic hair brushed the tip 
of her nose. His testicles danced lewdly beneath, slapping in unison with 
his thrusts hard against her upraised chin. Then, his climax rolling out of 
his balls like a thundercloud out of the sky, Hanley suddenly jerked his 
cock from her sucking lips, holding his huge, red gland about two inches 
away from her ovaled mouth. 

"Oh, no, Bill ... please, I want it! I must have it!" pleaded the stricken 
girl, groaning with her agonizing and overpowering fire of unfulfilled lust 
fanning out of control in her pulsating cunt, and tried to pull him to her, 
her mouth gaping wildly at his jumping prick. 

But before she could close her widely open lips over his cock again, it 
began to spew hot, sticky cum directly into the searching cavern of her 
mouth, and the thick, quick spurts streamed from the tip like milk from a 
cow's udder, filling her waiting mouth to the brim. Vicky swallowed 
voraciously, trying not to loose a drop of the hot, lust-inciting fluid as 
her Adam's apple bobbed up and down, rapidly attempting to keep up with the 
wildly ejaculating cock squirting its load of lewd male cum into her face. 
The young Gary Simmons groaned at the obscene picture of the girl's 
self-inflicted humiliation as his friend throbbed out the last of his cock's 
stream of semen, and then a thin string of sticky white fluid ran from its 
blunt head to her glistening wet lips, and as he watched wide-eyed, Vicky 
desperately moved forward to take Bill's deflating shaft between her closed 
lips. 

Then Bill rolled over and lay stretched out on the floor, gasping 
contentedly. "Ahhh," he murmured. "Not bad, not bad." 

"It'll get better," Gary said, grinning. "You know how beginners are. Lots 
of enthusiasm but lacking discipline." 

"Ohhhh," Vicky mewled. She had almost been ready to cum again when she felt 
Bill's hot sperm spewing deep in her mouth and throat in great, gushing 
torrents, and the way it billowed heat in her stomach when she was 
swallowing the white, burning ejaculations-but she was still just seconds 
away. She pounded her feet desperately on the floor, her end so near and yet 
so far. "Please, Bill ... please fuck me now...." 

Hanley chuckled. "In due time, Vicky. I'll fuck you in a little while soon 
as I rest a bit." 

"Noooo!" she cried out. God, her cunt was on fire! What had happened to her, 
to be out of her mind this way? Sick ... sick....But the young girl was 
unable to stem the unleashed beast in her loins, and she kicked out wildly. 
"Didn't I please you both?" she cried out unashamedly. "Are you trying to 
punish me?" 

"Your sucking was miserable," Bill said contemptuously. "But I'll teach you 
the right way in a little while." 

With an empty groan, Vicky rolled over and gyrated her thighs, her own hands 
manipulating ineffectually the sperm-flooded slit between her legs, greedily 
digging into herself in an effort to reach the impossible heights that the 
double cocks of a moment before had sent her to-only to betray her to the 
hell of unfulfillment. 

"Jee-zus!" Simmons exclaimed. "Look at that little pussy move, will you!" 

"Yeah, I think that she might turn out as accomplished as your girl, Gary. 
What the hell, maybe we'll get her to turn some tricks. I can use the coin 
back at Whitmire, and I know half the football team would pay damned dearly 
to get into her sweet pussy." 

Dear God, is that what he wants? What now? Is this the path I chose? The 
utter repulsive horror of what her lover's words had implied shot through 
the girl like a spasm of electricity. She stopped her hand, momentarily 
shocked beyond the point of insensate desire, and in that second of clarity 
she saw many things. She lay on her back, her legs still splayed wide as she 
stared with newfound horror at the boy who had somehow tricked her into 
becoming his slave through weird, demoniacal drugs. But now, in the wake of 
their played-out passions and her deep-set remorse, she was able to gain a 
modicum of control over her senses, at least momentarily. "You ... you mean 
you'd make me a whore?" she gasped in disbelief, her foundation of love for 
Bill sorely shaken. "I won't!" 

"Well, as Truman said, baby: 'If you can't stand the heat, get out of the 
kitchen.' " He was leering and confident of his power. "You will if I want 
you to, Vicky. You just fucked a guy you hadn't met before an hour ago, 
didn't you? And like I told you in the car, you ended up digging his cock. 
Well, lots of guys have cocks, and one is just about as good as 
another-except mine, naturally." 

Vicky shuddered, torn between the hot desires scorching her still throbbing 
vagina and the twinges of guilt and shame that flickered through her 
confused thoughts. She slowly dragged herself to her feet, knowing that she 
had to get out of his horrible apartment, out into the sane, clean world 
again if she was ever going to break the chains of her betrayed body. Bill's 
plans for her future were so horrid that she bit her lower lip in 
self-revulsion to the point where she drew blood, his filthy words sending a 
wave of nausea coursing through her.' 

Dear God ... forgive me ... I lost control of myself, and I've almost become 
an addict to sex and drugs ... I must get out.... 

She had never felt so alone in her life. She saw now that her lashing 
hatred, her irrational accusations toward her mother weren't justified. Her 
mother's words, begging forgiveness, understanding and love filtered through 
her dazed mind, and Vicky realized that what had happened here, to her, had 
happened more or less the same way back at the house. Her mother had fallen 
prey to this Bill Haney, and he was unfit for anybody's love and affection 
or loyalties. He was incarnately evil.... 

She was caught up in his abominable trap, and while still confused as to how 
or why, she knew that once she was out of his web here, she had to go home. 
She had to talk to her mother and tell her that she had grown up and seen 
the truth, and that she was the one who wanted to beg for forgiveness and 
love and understanding. And maybe, just maybe her mother would accept her, 
dirty and defiled as she was, and the two of them could make some effort to 
face life together. 

She scooped up her clothing, preparatory to putting it on. 

"Hey, bitch," Simmons growled. "Whaddya think you're doing?" 

"Leaving," she said sullenly. 

"Oh, no you're not," the boy snarled, and grabbed her harshly by the arm. 
His eyes were beady and cruel, and Vicky's heart pounded as she sensed with 
horror his gaze on her breasts and soft, wet buttocks and cunt. 

"Aw, for Christ's sake," Bill grumbled. "Stick around, Vicky. I told you I'd 
fuck you in a little while, soon's as I get my cock up again." 

It snapped, then, the spontaneous bursting in her head that crashed reality 
down over her with a shattering force. She turned and twisted from his grip, 
biting the boy's hand as hard as she could. His howl was only dim in her 
ears and her brain pounded with the insane, single desire to run ... run ... 
Bill clutched at her heel, but she was already racing naked for the door, 
her breasts jiggling wildly and her lungs threatening to burst from fear and 
exertion. 

"Don't lose that piece of ass!" she heard behind her, and then she was at 
the door, charging out into the merciful darkness of early night. She was 
sped on by the knowledge of what would happen to her if she was caught, and 
the single idea made her uncaring that she was without clothing, without 
pride, without anything except terror. Her breath came in short gasps and 
her legs felt as of rubber and she crossed the short lawn of the apartment 
house bare-footed. She kept her eyes on the Ford, hoping that the spare keys 
were still in the glove compartment ... hoping that she could get away in 
time.... 

"Goddamn, that's a little fast bitch," the naked and panting Gary Simmons 
said at the door of his apartment. He was standing there, watching the 
retreating form of the nude girl as she dashed for her car. "Look at her 
tits bob!" 

Bill was right behind him in the doorway, anger darkening his face. "She'd 
rather run through the streets bare-assed than stay here with us. Goddamn 
her. Well, hell-let her go. I'm not about to run after her like this, my 
cock and balls flapping in the breeze. I'd get picked up sure as shit for 
indecent exposure." 

"What-what are we going to do?" 

Bill turned back toward the darkened, smoke-filled room. A slight, evil grin 
began to twist his lips cruelly. "I have an idea where she'll roost," he 
said. "Yeah, she'll head right back to Momma, I bet. And if she does...." 

"What, go home? I thought she had trouble with her old lady." 

"She does. She caught us fucking. But she's the kind that'll go back there 
and beg for forgiveness. I should have known better than waste my time on a 
little snit like her, but say listen, Gary-when is Laura coming home?" 

"I dunno, hour, maybe two from now. Why?" 

"Well, we'll all use your car then and go visiting the Terrences. I got this 
thing going with her mother, and if Vicky isn't there, we can go riding the 
old lady. She loves to fuck, let me tell you." 

"And if Vicky's there?" Gary asked lewdly. 

"Why, then, there'll be five of us. That marijuana hasn't worn off yet, not 
by a long shot. She'll calm down, and when she does, it'll start working on 
her just as hot as before. You know that." 

"Yeah, yeah," Simmons agreed, nodding his head with glee. "Hot damn. Either 
way, we'll be busy tonight." 

He closed the door and together the two boys went back into the living room. 
They spent the time before Laura came home with the car by watching the 
slides, smoking, and planning out what they would do to the voluptuous 
mother-daughter combination once they got their hands on them.... 

 CHAPTER 7 

Anne Terrence lay in her bed once again, using it as a refuge in which to 
cradle her tormented body. A bath had been of little help, and though she 
had rubbed herself to a rosy pink with the large towel, she still felt 
soiled and unclean. Now, pale and ice-water cold, she curled up nude on the 
coverlet and enmeshed herself in the net of guilt she felt was enclosing 
her. She tossed and moaned, chastising herself with mental whips because of 
her succumbing to the temptations her daughter's young boyfriend had so 
blatantly provided. She swallowed many times, her shame-parched throat dry, 
and looked down at her firm body that was nakedly displayed as she lay in 
silence in her torment. 

There she was, she groaned, in all her depravity and degeneracy, in all her 
evil glory-snowy crests of rounded breasts and her flat, unmarked stomach, 
and the golden, clover-honey color of her silken pubic hair. As she looked 
at herself, she miserably realized that her dream had been shattered once 
and for all-that she had lost her daughter, all that was important to her in 
her life, in one wild, senseless orgy. 

Where was Vicky? her mother groaned anew. Was she safe? Oh, God, she wished 
that her daughter was here with her. The horror of having her teenage 
offspring fall prey to Bill Hanley's devilish sexuality, of having her 
tender mind permanently warped by what she had seen her mother and boyfriend 
do, made Anne want to be sick. 

For a crazy moment, she thought about calling the police and reporting that 
the Ford was stolen ... then the idiocy of her idea came to her, and she 
slumped dejectedly, for while she might learn the whereabouts of Vicky that 
day, no good would it do-and it might get her daughter into trouble, and 
then most certainly Vicky would never forgive her. And then everybody would 
know just what kind of woman she had allowed herself to become-including 
Jack. Jack would be repulsed, brand her the whore she, herself, felt she 
was, and rightly so; her friends and neighbors would shun her like a plague. 
What a nightmare this day had become! 

She recalled with anguish how she had bucked and twisted under the thick, 
hardened penis of young Bill Hanley, and once more she looked down on her 
radiant, shining body, but strangely, she couldn't see the traces of her 
dissipations as she had thought were there before. As she concentrated on 
her breasts, she thought of how the boy had taken their taut, puckish uplift 
and made them come alive; made her come alive, she was forced to confess; 
and beg for his young cock to salve her tongue-tortured vagina. She squeezed 
her eyes shut as the erotic recollections flooded through her ... she felt 
the infernos of Dante, and the torment in her was more vivid than the 
agonies suffered by her daughter. For the blonde-haired mother had had 
nearly twice as many years to become infused with the mores and ethics of 
society, and a stricter society at that, and yet there were many more times 
the years of sexual experience. Now her body had been reawakened from the 
lulling gray shadow-world in which her husband's neglect had stored it ... 
and her new awareness, her re-found fire and lust was much higher than 
Vicky's relatively innocent plane of experience. 

Her fingertips cooled her hot flesh and in spite of herself, Anne found that 
she was touching one nipple, making the rosebud flower and harden. 
Shuddering, repulsed by herself, she quickly took her hand away, only to 
have it settle, unguided by herself, like some perverse demon down on her 
naked loins. Her pink-rimmed cunt lips seemed to twitch and spasm through 
their lustrous covering of softly curling pubic hair, and as tender as her 
well-fucked vagina still was, she involuntarily spread her legs out and drew 
the lips apart so that her pussy slit and tiny peeking clitoris were 
visible, and the darker opening to her cunt opened, tingling-- 

Groaning, she shivered, the blood rising in her cheeks as more vividly than 
ever the memories of her daughter's young, virile boyfriend came back, with 
his thick, pulsing cock and heavy, swaying testicles, and the way he had so 
arrogantly fucked into the moist, creamy pussy which was now quivering of 
its own volition down between her thighs. 

Her hips dug back against the insurgence of her imaginations, and before she 
could gather the necessary strength to resist her aching distraction, she 
began to rub her palms lightly around her inner thighs, spiraling ever 
closer to her hair-fringed cuntal valley, her fingers gently moving back and 
forth over her flesh ... a tide of rekindled passion beginning to flow over 
her once again, a flame only slightly banked by her climax with the boy 
named Bill-- 

Then she heard the front door slam, and she shot bolt upright. Who could 
that be? Vicky? Was Vicky home? Shamefaced, Anne grabbed for her coverlet, 
something to hide her nakedness should she be found in this lewd 
position-but before she could, the bedroom door burst open, and her 
completely naked child ran to her, throwing herself on the bed, tears 
streaming from her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks. 

"Victoria! Baby! What ... ? " 

"You were so right, Mother!" Vicky wailed, crawling onto the bed like a tiny 
child after a nightmare, seeking solace and comfort. "Oh, it was awful! It 
... it was terrible!" The anguished daughter, her slim, taut loins 
quivering, her body wracked with sobs, openly wept piteously, her face 
pressed to her hands. "Help me ... oh, help me, Mother...." 

"But, but I don't understand, my darling," Anne said, now thoroughly 
alarmed. She sat up, putting her arm around her girl. "I thought you hated, 
me, despised me for what I did...." 

"No, no, not any longer," Vicky moaned, chokingly. "I'm no better than you, 
Mother. No better at all. If you're sick, so am I." 

"Oh, Vicky, my baby!" Anne cried, and drew her daughter to her breasts, 
hugging the girl tightly to her, trying to conquer her own rising anguish at 
her child's fevered misery. She didn't know what exactly had caused this, 
had stripped her child nude, had transpired to bring about this radical 
reversal of feelings-but no matter. She was Vicky's mother, and she was 
worried and upset just over the fact that her daughter was so emotionally 
overwrought. "Now, now," she comforted, her hands caressing the child's back 
and shoulders as Vicky moaned, and Anne hugged her instinctively, smelling 
the young, sweet hair and feeling her daughter's firm, round breasts against 
her own swelling globes, nipples against nipples. Her own eyes brimmed with 
sympathetic responsiveness, and she was at a loss to know what exactly to 
say. 

"I'm ... I'm not fit to live," Vicky moaned. 

"Yes, you are, darling," her mother cooed. "I don't know what's happened, or 
why you're so upset and naked, but I can say that you're the best girl a 
mother could ever want and ... and nothing you've done could make you unfit. 
. . nothing." 

"You ... you really mean that, Mother?" Vicky whimpered. 

"Vicky, I love you more than anything in the world, and when I thought I'd 
lost you today, I wanted to kill myself. You're my light, my life...." 

"But I've been so bad, so sinful!" 

"I've ... I've had to think a lot about sins, dear," Anne said ruefully, 
tenderly kissing the tear-stained cheek nearest her, still running her hands 
over the soft warm back. "I've had to somehow come to terms with myself, 
too, you know. I'm ... I'm like you said, unworthy of being called a mother. 
I let you down so badly...." 

"No, Mother, I understand now....I understand perhaps with more knowledge 
than you could guess. You are my mother, and I love you deeply." 

"Your grandmother," Anne said in a sort of reverent tone, thinking back when 
she had had to break the news of her pregnancy to her own mother. "Your 
grandmother once told me that while you might not approve of what a loved 
one did, you couldn't stop loving them anyway. She was right...." 

The mother and daughter lay on the bed for a long while then, silent and 
rocking together in mutual love, rebuilding the faith and trust they had had 
for one another over the years. The minds of both were whirling with their 
own private thoughts of guilt and remorse, which only strove to cement their 
common bond further. Finally Vicky was able to stop sobbing. She blinked and 
drew away from her mother just enough to wipe her swollen, red-rimmed eyes 
with the back of her hand. 

"M-mother, can I talk to you ? " she asked in a soft whisper. 

"Of course, honey!" 

"I mean really talk, Mother. I ... I don't think that I've been mature 
enough before for us to let our hair down, but after what's happened to ... 
us, maybe we can be closer than just mother and daughter. Maybe we can strip 
ourselves of our antagonisms as ... as, well, as we are stripped of 
clothing." 

Anne stared at Vicky, into the other's pain-flecked eyes, and was disturbed 
both by the basic concepts her daughter had said for one of such tender 
years, and because what Vicky had said was true. The time had come if it 
ever was to come for her to drop the barriers, be honest and frank. She had 
no moral righteousness to preach anyway, no soapbox of thou shalts and shalt 
nots, not after this afternoon, and she vowed to open up all her normal 
restraints now, when it was far more important to be herself than those 
other times when she couldn't help her basic nature. In a crazy way, all the 
hurt and fear she had gone through were beginning to turn out for the 
better, she thought, and as she looked at her daughter, she seemed to feel 
calmer and more loving than ever before, unified. In perfect communication 
now, she and Vicky would find a way together without false barriers or 
hidden questions. 

"Darling child," she said contritely, "after what you walked out on this 
afternoon, with me fucking-" she swallowed at the word, but now was the time 
to call a spade a spade-"fucking with your boyfriend-" 

"He's not my boyfriend," Vicky spat vindictively. 

"Bill, then. Well, I don't feel in any position to give advice. I am just 
overwhelmed with your willingness to consider me an equal, a friend." She 
gazed at her daughter's angelic face, so similar to her own. 

"No, Mother, no, I must have your advice. I ... I'm so confused and 
miserable. And you've had so many other men...." 

"Me? Lord, no! I was a virgin when I met your father and Bill was the first 
other man I've ever known. Cross my heart, Vicky." 

"But I thought-" Vicky was patently surprised. "The way you were acting with 
Bill, I was positive you'd had many men before. You ... you were so wild 
with him." 

A glassy-eyed film settled over Anne momentarily. "I told you then, darling, 
that I couldn't help myself. I'd been without sex for so long...." 

She trailed off, embarrassed in spite of her promise to be completely free. 

"You mean you and Daddy haven't been making love much? I know that. I've 
known it for years, on account of not hearing many noises from your bedroom. 
I used to sneak out and sit by your door at night while you were talking, 
and I'd hope you'd make love. I got all excited the few times when you did. 
God, Mother, I'd go crazy not having the one I love fucking me, and fucking 
me often." 

A slow red shine flowed over Anne's features. "I have had a hell of a time," 
she said hollowly. "I thought I'd go mad when I wanted Jack and he wouldn't 
wake up. I ... I think that's what made me lose control, Vicky, when I saw 
your Bill naked in the basement today. He ... he reminded me of Jack years 
ago." 

"And last night? When you saw us fucking, did it remind you of you and 
Daddy, too?" 

"Oh yes, very much so. I got awfully excited." 

"What did you do?" the girl asked breathlessly. A strange hot tingling was 
beginning in her belly at the idea of her mother watching her and Bill fuck, 
standing there and getting hotter and hotter and hotter.... She wanted to 
know, because she recalled how she'd been aroused so violently when she'd 
seen the same thing.... 

"I ... I...." Anne couldn't say it. She just couldn't admit what she'd done! 

"I'll tell you something, Mother," Vicky whispered, her heart pumping 
faster, sending the still virulent smoke of the sex-laden marijuana through 
her blood, up to her brain, down to her breasts and vagina. "I'll tell you 
two secrets, in fact. I got excited watching you and Bill today, too, just 
like you. I was so excited that if you hadn't cum, I was going to have join 
in. Or-or do what I did when I used to sit outside your bedroom door," she 
blurted, unable to control her mouth, the words of truth which rolled from 
her heart. "I would have played with myself." 

"I did," her mother heard herself whisper. "I sat in that open doorway last 
night and I fingered myself until I came. And I've done it before when I've 
gotten so hot I had to have relief." 

"Did ... did you ever use a handle of a hairbrush or something like that?" 

"Oh, never ... only my fingers." Dizzy with her confessions, Anne first 
stared at her hands as if seeing them for the first time, then down at her 
golden-fleeced vagina which had felt their touch so often. "I was fingering 
myself when you came home," she admitted haltingly. "I couldn't stop 
myself." 

"I know ... I know what it's like," Vicky said. She gazed with an 
electrifying intensity at the same soft pubic mound where her mother was 
looking ... and her breath caught in her lungs. She turned on the bed, 
unable to take her eyes off the displayed sexuality where she'd seen Bill's 
cock slide in and out, and from which had spurted his overflowing sperm, and 
which now in her imaginings she dreamed of fingers whipping back and forth 
and over.... 

She stared, enamored for some unknown, unthinking reason, still stirred 
sensually by the drug in her system, and though she had seen other nipples 
and breasts and vaginas of other girls at high school and college, she'd 
never reacted this way before. It was because her mother was her own 
flesh-and-blood, and she was instinctively attracted to the womb which had 
produced her; there, so close that she could touch it, was the heart of her 
conception, softly protected by the curve of one firm, downy-soft thigh and 
the slightly puffy lips. Her own genitals began to tingle, lewdly in 
response to her words and thoughts.... 

"I used to use that yellow hairbrush you gave me for Christmas when I was 
ten," Vicky murmured in a fevered hush. "Then, when I was at Whitmire, one 
of the girls showed me a vibrator, a round, candle-shaped one made of 
plastic and that ran on batteries. They're cheap, and when I used it, it 
reminded me of a man's cock...." 

Anne swallowed hard, agitated by her daughter's immodest talk-of her own 
perverted admissions. She had always been so ashamed of having used her 
hands to curtail the hunger of her unrequited sex drive-and the thought had 
never occurred to her to use anything else as a stimulus. Her stomach was a 
thousand butterflies, her breath seemed to grow harder to draw into her 
lungs, and she realized with a wrenching guilt feeling that as Vicky talked 
about what she did with that vibrator at college, her hips were beginning to 
quiver and her breasts were actually throbbing in response to her own 
daughter's immoral practices. 

". . . I bought one at the drug store," Vicky droned on mesmerically, lost 
in her world and staring openly at her mother's now trembling vagina. "I'd 
sit in a big chair in my dorm room and read a text for homework, and when 
the urge would hit me, I'd turn on the little vibrator and run it up and 
down the crotch band of my panties. I'd let it play there, buzzing and 
tickling like crazy until I couldn't stand it any longer, and then I'd slip 
out of my panties, spread my legs on the arms of the chair and slide it up 
and down my open pussy. When I felt my orgasm nearly there, I'd throw the 
book aside and jam the round, smooth tip of the vibrator up inside my cunt 
as far as it would go ... and I'd squeeze it and squeeze it and squeeze 
it...." 

"Vicky, don't...." Anne moaned, a deep wetness pervading her responding 
cunt, and little droplets of unwanted desire began to form on the fleecy 
pubic hair covering her slowly swelling vaginal lips. She groaned and 
inwardly fought off her sexual chemistry, clenching her inner thighs 
together. "Vicky, darling girl, don't go on like that. You're only 
disturbing yourself." 

The girl swung her gaze to her mother's face. "Are we bad for doing that? 
Tell me, Mother ... are we Wicked to masturbate?" 

Anne had always considered herself so, but under the necessity to answer her 
daughter, she realized that her own mother had been wrong, that the only 
thing wicked about masturbation was the guilt she had for so long attached 
to the act. "No, no Vicky. We're women, with women's drives and needs. We're 
only human." 

Vicky's response caught in her throat. "Then was Bill right? Is pleasure the 
only goal, and everything else artificial restraints? I sucked his cock 
tonight, Mother," the girl said in a rising voice, near hysterical. "I 
sucked his cock and he came in my mouth while another boy, a perfect 
stranger I'd never met before fucked me in my cunt at the same time from 
behind!" 

"Vicky! You're ... you're getting too upset! Calm down, and let's talk this 
over," Ann cried, alarmed again at her daughter's flaring excitement. 
"Please calm down!" 

But Vicky, crazed by the marijuana in her head, tortured by experiences her 
youthful years hadn't prepared her for, demented by an attraction toward her 
mother she couldn't even find words to describe, couldn't have stopped the 
billowing emotions flowing through her for anything. The calmness of the 
previous few minutes had been like the eye of a hurricane, a brief repose 
between the whirling winds of chaos on either side as the storm moved onward 
... and now her mind and body were in the flux of tornado-like deliriums 
surging through her. 

"I wanted them, Mother! I wanted Bill and Gary in the same way you wanted 
Bill! For a purely physical fuck! To hell with who they were! I couldn't 
have cared less, and I still don't!" Quaking with uncontrollable agony, the 
young girl once more sank down and tremblingly clenched at her mother like 
she was a life preserver. With near incoherency and still climbing hysteria, 
the girl babbled in short, terse words what had taken place since she and 
Bill had fled the house. 

"Oh, my darling little girl," Anne moaned pathetically, "how horrible." 

"Why? Why isn't Bill right and all women should spread their legs for any 
attractive male who passes?" 

Anne was speechless for a few moments. So that was what was bothering her, 
she thought. She held her baby girl to her and tried to cuddle the warmth of 
her passionate love for her, tried to ease some of the terrifying 
recollections of what her daughter had done since she left the house. All my 
fault, she said to herself sickly. She was driven to it by my getting fucked 
by her boyfriend.... 

She knew that that wasn't exactly true-that Bill Hanley was inherently 
corrupt, and that Vicky would have had to face the facts of his debauched 
view of living sometime or another. But it had been combined in the most 
sordid of situations, the catching of her own mother writhing nakedly with 
him-and that had shattered the poor girl's psyche far more than perhaps 
another time, another place would have done. Yet even as she held her 
daughter, Anne realized that Vicky had uncommon strength of character, that 
though what she had gone through had all but snapped her mind the way a 
short circuit will burn a fuze, there was still the chance that Anne might 
be able to do something to stop her daughter's self-loathing and disgust 
which gripped Vicky's pain-wracked soul, and she might still have a chance 
for a normal, happy, and love-filled future. 

"No, Vicky ... love and sex can't be separated so casually. I wanted Bill, 
and I enjoyed being fucked by him-I have to honestly say that to you-and I'm 
not sure whether I would have been able to resist him again. But Bill is 
wrong when he says that women shouldn't have feelings involved. We do. We 
bear the children and have our loves, and where along that scale a woman 
decides to make love is something which has been controversial since the 
world began. I can only answer for myself, and tell you that as long as 
you're physically unscarred, then try to forget it. It's no use torturing 
yourself for it-you can't go back in time and erase what transpired. Watch 
yourself more closely in the future. Nobody but us will know what has 
happened-you're never going to see Bill again. We can both help each other 
in that way." 

"Is ... is that how you feel, Mother?" 

"Yes. I've been far worse than you about sex, but talking to you, darling, 
has made a lot of things clearer in my mind as well. The advice I just gave 
is the advice I plan to take." 

Vicky was sitting up now, and Anne focused her loving eyes on the curves of 
her lithe young body, its tiny, firm ripples and pear-shaped breasts, and 
the way her inner thighs were pressed around her vagina. Wisps of yellow 
pubic hair, still wet and matted with male sperm peeked from between her 
closed inner thighs, and as Anne looked at her daughter adoringly, she began 
to regard Vicky not as a child any longer. She was a woman, having had men 
and received pleasure, and there was no use denying the fact that they both 
had committed the same immoral transgressions of the flesh. Their 
transgressions seemed to tie them together more closely, closer than just 
friends, for there was still the filial ties, and things were a little less 
terrifying for the two of them as together they smiled tentatively at each 
other. 

Vicky looked down and spread her legs. She saw past her tiny hardening 
nipples and white breasts her sparsely-covered pubic mound, with its thin, 
pink slit and curly hair lighter than her mother's pubic hair. She placed a 
tentative finger at her cuntal valley, opening the coral smooth flesh to 
view. It was wet, glistening with the still heavy layer of her orgasmic 
secretions and Gary Simmons' recently-spewed sperm. 

"You're not revolted by me then?" she asked softly. "You're not just saying 
this to make me feel better, and all the while you're nauseated by the sight 
of that other boy's cum on my legs and pussy? You still love me ... after 
all this?" 

"More, darling," Anne said fervently. "More than ever." She sat and then got 
an idea, and quickly she padded across to the bathroom where she got the 
still damp washcloth she'd used in the bath. "Here," she said, coming back 
and lying on the bed. "Just to show you what I feel, I'll wipe you off, just 
as if you were a baby again, needing changing." 

"I'd like that, Mother," Vicky said, and obediently stretched out on the 
coverlet, her brain oddly filling with the weird heat of drugged arousal, 
and she looked down her body at her mother, and then up along her mother's 
firm, lithe body which was stretched out alongside her, at the rounded 
beauty of her breasts and buttocks, and the way that her so near, so close 
hair-covered cunt was tantalizing the smoldering fire in her belly. She 
stared at her mother's vagina, trembling, unable to stop the lewd thoughts 
in her head as she saw the soft-downed pink lips glint and the hint of her 
clitoris peek from its folds. God, my mother has a beautiful cunt....I 
wonder if she thinks I've got a beautiful one too.... 

Anne smiled at her teen-ager's face and then looked down past the slender 
column of Vicky's throat, across her smooth, tanned shoulders, down her 
sides and breasts, down to where her hips swelled from the slimness of her 
youthful waist. Anne drank in the loveliness of her creation, and admired 
her child's abdomen and legs, and then turned her attention to the 
glistening wetness in front of her, Vicky's velvet-smooth thighs, which for 
some reason were now slightly trembling.... 

"Open your thighs a little more, darling," Anne said, and found that her 
chest was suddenly constricted and her throat tight. An inexplicable 
sensation tickled Anne's stomach, as if she was anticipatorily excited by 
her daughter's cunt. She couldn't understand it, any more than she had been 
able to explain any of the other happenings of the last two days, and could 
only try and clear her head of the unwanted stimulations. With a soft 
moaning hiss Vicky rolled her legs aside, and Anne gasped at the enticing 
sight of her tender, pink vaginal slit with its fleshy lips a reddish color 
as if swelling with desire, and her blonde pubic hair matted with the 
commingling white-hued juices of her recent fucking. 

Anne took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, and quiveringly, she 
raised the washcloth up to her daughter's wet, soft vaginal slit and stroked 
it back and forth. 

"Ohhhh," Vicky moaned, and spasmed suddenly from the delicious contact. The 
marijuana burst afresh in her blood and marrow, lighting the insane fires of 
her unquenched lusts, and although she tried to stop herself from reacting 
openly to her mother's touches, telling herself that it was wrong, her cunt 
tingled with every cleansing stroke of the warm, rough-edged cloth. 

Anne continued to brush her daughter's pubic hair and cunt tenderly with the 
damp cloth, drying the blonde curls, fluffing them, moving down one soft 
inner thigh, then another. Intense stabs of desire radiated through Anne, 
and in half-revulsion, half-captivation, she took the cloth back to the 
moon-shaped buttocks and the barely mature long pink valley of her 
daughter's cunt, and unable to resist, she began to once more stroke Vicky's 
pubic hair and vaginal lips. The girl shuddered and gasped for air, her 
pulsating legs spread still wider for her mother to touch, one leg bent in 
the air as Vicky turned and arched her loins forward, as if she was enjoying 
the lewd contact. Anne could see the hairless, puckered mouth of her anal 
opening now, and shuddered reflexively. Something perverted, something more 
wrong and more degenerate than the acts she'd allowed to be done to her body 
before was beginning to take mass in her belly.... She was becoming excited 
by her own daughter! She was actually attracted to the dainty pink flesh and 
nestling clitoris which had suddenly begun to become erect in the sweetly 
trembling folds! 

Vicky had always considered oral love between women as incredibly abhorrent, 
and had turned it down the few times she had been propositioned at college. 
But as inexorably passionate fingers touched her inflamed pubic lips and 
hair, and parted the soft, moist hot crevice to gently stroke the open slit 
between her legs, the young teenager undulated her hips slightly and felt 
her pussy secrete more juices of desire. Charged with the sexual 
fermentations of the marijuana, spurred by her lack of climax at Simmons' 
apartment, she was powerless to stop the pleasure of her mother's contact. 
She gazed sideways wide-eyed at her mother's vagina beside her, at her 
enticing pink flesh and the honey-dewed, sparkling droplets which Anne was 
unaware of having formed uncontrollably on her own soft skin. Vicky breathed 
the musky, female scent, quivered as she fought for control, and then unable 
to, reached out with one, tentative, trembling finger and brushed it over 
the lower belly and inner thighs, circling the coral edges of her mother's 
cunt. Her skin was so soft, so warm and satiny ... so good to touch.... 

"Vicky!" her mother gasped with a groan. "What ... what are you doing?" She 
jerked, her body convulsing from the lancing touch. It was undeniably 
pleasurable, and an electric shock rippled through her from her child's 
softer, lighter feel.... She looked with agony at the sensitive pink flesh 
before her own burning eyes, at the golden triangle of her child's pubic 
curls and taut ruby lips and the way that even more of the delectable young 
cunt was flowering open as Vicky widened her legs still more, The mother 
trembled and moaned from the salacious and unwelcomed passions convulsing 
her belly and loins, for her daughter was still moving her fingers around 
her pussy, stroking like feathers, and Anne was unable to stop from arching 
her buttocks and letting one leg slowly rise and bend in response. 

She fought it with all her might. "Stop, Vicky ... stop before it's too 
late....Ohhh, Vicky, Vicky ... enough, enough, no more!" she begged weakly, 
wretchedly aware that she couldn't stop the mounting sensuality which had 
overtaken them. But her pleas died in a strangled mixture of sob and sigh 
and her body pulsed as her mind cried out in fevered rejection. 

Vicky was beside herself now, and she extended her middle finger and ran it 
along the partially open slit of her mother's pussy, up and down, entranced 
by the way it slowly parted and made a slight sucking motion for more. She 
located the hard clitoris and tweaked it, rubbing it around and sliding her 
other fingers in the moistly throbbing mouth of her cunt, her mind a 
revolving whirlwind of dreams and passions, as if she was fingering herself 
too, the way her mother had said she had done while watching her and Bill 
fuck last night.... 

Anne rolled her head from side to side, and in a futile gesture of anguish, 
mewled: "Oh God, Vicky, you've got to stop! This is wrong!" 

"Is it, Mother? Why? Isn't this what we've been talking about? I mean when 
you get down to the fundamentals? We love each other, don't we?" 

"Yes, but-" 

"If we love each other, and we want each other, then that's when we should 
enjoy sex--It must be that way.... You said so...." 

"No, but we're...." She shuddered, choking, for Vicky had slid her finger up 
inside her cunt and was teasingly massaging it around. 

"Love me, Mother," Vicky breathed urgently. "Take me in your arms and love 
me, for I'd rather be loved by you than the men who have loved me 
before...." 

A tortured gasp erupted from the mother's throat, and unable to control 
herself any longer, she dipped her head forward and her hot breath blew 
searing flame into the open, pink well of her daughter's vagina, and her 
tongue snaked out and made tingling contact with the girl's wet cunt, and 
she heard her daughter gasp and shiver and cry for more ... more! Anne kept 
telling herself that this was the most horrid of all perversions, and shame 
made her tighten her vagina against the invading fingers of Vicky's wildly 
churning hand, but that only caused further lascivious delights to ravage 
her loins. Unable to control her inner desires-for Anne wanted to love her 
daughter, and sex was a part of loving as she had told her daughter-she 
lashed out with her moist tongue and licked and kissed Vicky everywhere-and 
Vicky in turn parted her thighs and drew her one leg higher and outward so 
that her mother could have more access to the seething flesh between her 
thighs. 

Her fingers still madly worming around, the young daughter let all thoughts 
of right and wrong, immorality or depravity sweep away as she clutched the 
excitedly throbbing buttocks of her mother with almost spastic strength with 
her other hand and tangled her lips and mouth in the golden curls of her 
pubic hair. She licked hot molten paths all the way along the cuntal lips, 
right down to her mother's tiny puckered anus, then back up again, to where 
she nipped the quivering clitoris with her sharp, white teeth, smelled the 
beautiful bouquet of female aroma coming from her mother's heated loins, her 
own pussy aching with twin devils of mouthing and the excitement of her 
oft-repressed, secretly desired longings. 

"Ohhhh," Anne moaned in a muffled voice. "Ohhhhh." Ripples of loathing at 
what they were doing coursed through her, but all was overridden by the deep 
inundation of sensuality and passion. I can't do it to Vicky ... not my own 
daughter.... But there was no alternative, no way to avoid the smashing 
realization that she had always wanted to explore the wonderment of Vicky's 
body, to become one with her as she had become one with her husband.... Her 
head oscillated slavishly as she abandoned herself to lesbianism, to 
incestual lesbianism. Her body heaved and pumped against her daughter's 
mouth, her thighs widening and she drew Vicky's wet, richly pink cunt closer 
into her face. Her mind swirled in the ambivalence of wanting and yet not 
wanting this lewd, incestuous carnality to stop. 

What's possessed me ... possessed us both ? her confused, sex-starved mind 
queried. I'm on fire ... ohh, this is wrong ... ooh but good.... But the 
forces exerted on her flesh and her mind were too overwhelming to allow her 
to answer her own questions, for after all of the pain and suffering she had 
gone through-starting with the insidious buildup of years of frustrated 
neglect, and culminating in shame and despair over her daughter-her brain 
was more than willing to simply give up and allow passion and delight and 
total abandonment to her private desires dominate her actions. 

Anne's head moved her mouth along her daughter's smooth, passion-moist slit, 
orally fucking Vicky harder and faster, sliding her hot, wet tongue far 
along the child's throbbing, hair-fringed cunt and reveling in the 
unintelligible whimperings Vicky made as she in turn swirled and flicked her 
lips and tongue around her mother's velvet-like interior of pulsatingly 
moist pussy-flesh. She brought her hands around Vicky's hips, pushing her 
thighs up until the youngster's saliva-drenched vagina was pressed tight and 
draped around her wet, slavering cheeks, and Anne spread her legs wide so 
that her daughter could cup her soft, white buttocks and thrust her pink 
young mouth deep, deep into the searing liquid depths of her open loins.... 

Neither of the two women undulating on the bed heard the soft, surreptitious 
entrance of the three young people. The three who stood transfixed in utter, 
obscene awe at the lascivious sight before them. 

Gary Simmons sucked in his breath. "Jeezus! You said that they'd both be 
home when you saw the Ford, Bill, but I never-" 

The voluptuous young girl with them, Laura Conklin, grinned excitedly. "Man, 
what a kick! I wish my old lady liked sex that much. Gary, if we ever have a 
child, can we raise it to-" 

"Shut up, both of you," hissed the fevered Bill Hanley. He was astounded by 
seeing his girl friend caught in the sexual fury of lesbianism. He stared 
incredulously, for not even in his most debauched imaginations had he ever 
dreamed up such a combination, and here it was, spread like a picnic before 
him! The sight of mother and daughter simultaneously absorbed in their 
writhing, undulatingly sucking of each other's cunts, at the matted pubic 
hair and pink vaginal flesh and the way they both greedily clung with lips 
and mouths, licking and sliding their tongues from their respective 
clitorises to the tenderly pink buds of their anuses, made his drug-stoned 
mind shatter. 

The three watched the slaving women buck and spasm their way to orgasm, 
heard the mewls and muffled moans of enrapturement, and then the sight of 
the lesbianic, incestual orgy brought their boiling passions to a crest. 
They had hoped to be able to somehow trick or coerce either the mother or 
daughter or preferably both into games of sex, Laura greedily a participant 
after she had come home from her afternoon trick with a customer, but if 
they were going to have their share, it was obvious to them that there would 
be a lot of catching up to do! Quickly, as if on a prearranged signal, the 
three young persons stripped off their clothing and stood naked for a 
moment, still captivated by the sight. 

Simmons, standing scrawny and almost overshadowed by his immense, swollen 
cock, began to stroke it lightly, pulling the shaft skin back and forth and 
letting the fiery cum build in his testicles, while he wide-eyedly watched 
the two nakedly churning women on the bed. 

"Ohhhh, I want the mother," he moaned, rocking on his heels. "Ohhhh, I want 
those hot wild lips of hers on my cock!" 

Bill Hanley flashed him a look, his eyes twin beacons of lust. He chuckled 
lewdly. "Take the mother, then. Me, I'm going to take Vicky again, and I'm 
going to take her a way she's never let me fuck her before! But she's got no 
choice this time! I'm going to fuck her in the ass!" 

The two boys walked stiff-legged over to the bed and climbed on. 

 CHAPTER 8 

Anne writhed and moaned on the bed from the delectable firebrand lickings of 
her moist, hot furrow, the gentle probing of her daughter's tongue and 
fingers in her vagina and anus. The feverish passion she had allowed to 
completely engulf her was returned double-fold, driving her tongue into the 
hot, clasping channel of Vicky's cunt, and closer and closer her own orgasm 
was spinning. 

Vicky strained her loins into her mother's mouth with all her strength. The 
marijuana was now working its full effects on her again and coupled with the 
abandoned welcome to her unmentionable desire of making love with her 
mother, she was beyond the point of intelligible comprehension. She mewled 
incoherently and wound her warm and smooth thighs around the tongue which 
was being thrust so rapaciously into her. The smooth, velvet lining of her 
vagina clasped her mother's mouth, squeezing her tongue tightly until she 
thought she would go insane. She was insane-with a madness of total 
surrender to the lure of the flesh. Her drugged mind reveled in wickedness 
and she screwed her buttocks up tight against her mother's face and her 
soft, hair-covered skin and tiny naked anus was sending uninterrupted 
delights surging through her body. There was no today, no tomorrow, only the 
deep, dark hole of lust and flesh, of mouth to cunt, cunt to mouth. Sweat 
poured from her tender body as she strove wildly for what had been so 
elusive all day-her climax. She didn't realize that the boys and the girl 
were with her until long after her mother had, and when she did, she no 
longer gave a damn. 

Anne felt the bed sag and then warm, hairy flesh near her upper body, 
settling close to where her daughter's wide-splayed legs were. She looked up 
and dimly at first saw something long and thick and jutting out. In one, 
gasping moment she realized that it was being extended toward her face, and 
that it was a penis! She suddenly wanted to scream, to fling herself from 
the bed and run, but she was incapable of movement between the force of 
Vicky's tongue and hands holding her genitals tightly and the still not 
rational clearness in her mind. 

She knew that the strange, crazed man on her bed wanted her sexually; he was 
naked, his cock was huge and hard, and the gleam in his maniacal eyes was 
unmistakable. But she didn't know who he was, or how he had gotten there. 
She moaned in mortification that anybody, stranger or not, should have seen 
her and Vicky like this, shamelessly cavorting against all the holy laws of 
nature and man. She started to sob, wishing the ground would open up and 
swallow them all. 

"Suck me, lady!" she heard the young man shout. "Suck me! Suck me!" He lay 
down so that he could slide his cock to her better. 

"Nooo!" she wailed to unhearing, uncaring ears, and she tried to turn away 
as the hardened penis was pressed forward, the slick, rubbery head pressing 
against her chin, being moved insinuatingly across the pumping crevice of 
her daughter's buttocks and directly toward her tormented mouth. She wanted 
to gag, but the rest of her body was still wildly heaving from the prurience 
of her daughter's still churning lips and tongue, down between her thighs, 
and she could only lie there, feel the sticky seminal fluid against the 
softness of her lips, and feel the hard, unyielding surface of the cockhead 
rub still closer. 

And then she heard the familiar, hateful voice. "Haaa! Don't act so 
Goddamned goody-goody, Mrs. Terrence. Suck his cock!" 

She turned a little more, and saw Hanley beside the other boy now, and the 
leering grin on his open, bubbling mouth and demoniacal contortion of his 
features, and she quaked with terror and humiliation. 

"Bill Hanley!" 

"Yaaaa, it's me, Mrs. Terrence. I returned with some friends, Gary and 
Laura. We've come to join in, and I see the party's already under way! Haaa! 
How do you like the idea of sucking Gary's cock while I fuck your sweet 
daughter in the ass! Haaa! I like the idea just fine!" 

"Dear God! No! No!" 

From the other end came the groveling, pleading cry of the helplessly 
drugged Vicky. "Somebody do something to me! I'm ... I'm going out of my 
mind! Mother! Suck me! Mother, who's there?" 

"It's Bill, baby. I want to fuck your ass!" the boy said. 

"Ohhhh, yes, yes! Fuck my ass!" 

"Please, no!" Anne protested. "Leave us alone, all of you!" 

"Fat chance of that, lady. Your daughter-likes cock-seems to like 
everything, by the looks of things here," Simmons cackled lewdly. 

"And so do you, Mrs. Terrence," Bill Hanley said snidely. "You liked me 
sucking your cunt and fucking you today, well-this is just a little more of 
the same. Relax and suck his cock. What the hell, you might even get to 
enjoy it like Vicky here. Right, Vicky?" 

"Oh, God, shut up and fuck me!" the crazed teenage girl screamed. "I tell 
you, my insides are ready to explode. Mother...!" 

"Oooohhhh!" Anne cried out as rough hands turned her around so that Vicky 
could be carefully rolled onto her all-fours. Oh God, why did her punishment 
have to include all of this? Wasn't her commitment to the lustings of the 
flesh by her enjoyment of her own daughter's body and the involvement of 
mutual lesbianism enough punishment for her sins? Even though her passions 
had been unnaturally aroused and were surging through her blood, the mother 
was shocked by the impact of Bill Hanley's threats. God! He was going to 
sodomize her daughter right in front of her ... her own mother! The obscene 
thought of the ravishment she could not begin to stop caused her to weep and 
grind her own heated buttocks, and one look at Vicky's passion-fevered face 
told her the girl was too far gone to resist. 

Then Vicky Terrence felt an alien finger probing the puckered inlet which 
her mother had so beautifully kissed a moment ago. Her ex-boyfriend's finger 
prodded, making her wince and jerk forward a bit as he burrowed into her 
anus, then suddenly his finger entered and it didn't hurt her the way she'd 
anticipated it would, but instead sent new, surprising pleasure expelling 
through her loins. Bill moved his finger around in the tight but expanding 
hole, worming it lewdly in and out, ever widening her tiny rectum. Vicky 
found herself wiggling her hips back against it, her mouth dipping once more 
into her mother's cunt in front of her, responding to this strange new 
subjugation with uncontrolled passion. 

Anne had, when pushed aside, come up to a semi-squatting position, her legs 
wide and her thighs spread so that she was sprawled with her pussy just 
under her daughter's mouth, and she propped herself up on her elbows, her 
head swimming, her loins stretched for all to see and lust after. She was 
too dazed, too horrified, too controlled by the forces of her unspent sex to 
fight off the unfolding events. All she could do was moan involuntarily as 
Hanley parted her daughter's trembling white buttocks and levered his finger 
into her tight virgin ass-hole, and then Vicky was lowering her face to her 
open, wet, palpitating cunt, and her daughter began to tongue the pink, 
moist slit again, sending out acute tinglings shooting through her, and her 
earlier cries were one long, abandoned moan as Vicky lashed with her tongue 
and hotly teased her excitedly jumping clitoris. Anne could only writhe on 
the bed, churning with the delicious and lewd sucking of her vagina, for 
despite the abhorrence her mind and spirit had for this partnership in group 
orgy, she couldn't stop herself from loving the warm kissing of her 
daughter, and she slipped downward slightly to a better position, giving 
Vicky greater access to her open genitals. 

"Mmmmmm!" Vicky moaned, slavering delightedly in the wetly churning cunt of 
her mother. She felt Bill remove his finger, the rubbery skin of her anus 
clinging to it, and then she quivered with anticipation, drawing her knees 
wider apart so that she could present him with the wider stretched orbs of 
her buttocks, and then the girl felt Bill move closer on the bed and blow 
hotly in between her thighs, teasing her with lewd anticipatory nuzzlings 
against her tight, hairless sphincter muscle, driving her wild.... My God, 
she had to be fucked! Why was Bill torturing her this way ? Her cunt was 
aflame, her ass-hole an inferno! 

"You want my cock?" Bill taunted. Say shit and beg for my cock in your ass!" 

"Yes! Yes! Shit! Fuck me in the ass! Ohhhh!" Vicky cried out, burying her 
mouth in her mother's voraciously quivering cunt as she thrust her buttocks 
as high up in the air behind her as she could get them. 

He pressed the smooth, rubbery tip of his cock into the tiny hairless 
channel, doubting that the drugged girl was fully aware that he was 
penetrating her anus at first. And then Vicky felt his foreskin being 
stretched back against his long, thick shaft of flesh as it slowly wormed 
its way into her rectum, past the tiny barrier of tightly clutching muscle. 

"Aggg!" the girl screamed. "It hurts! It's your cock in my ass that hurts! 
You're too big! God Almighty, Bill, you're too big!" 

"Push back and shut up, you little bitch!" the boy commanded harshly. 

God, I'm helpless! I can't move! Vicky could barely think, but she knew that 
every way was pain and more pain, so she pushed back in hopes of alleviating 
some of the bursting pressure in her rectum. It was like accepting a huge 
telephone pole inside her, widening her buttocks until she thought she was 
split down the middle, right down her spinal column! The boy's lust-hardened 
penis surged right up into her warm, rubbery depths, and finally all the way 
until she was sure it was lodged all the way up in her throat. 

"Ohhh, ohhhhh, ohhhh," she gasped. 

Bill Hanley's own masochistic joy was almost unbearable as he watched his 
long, thick cock skewering up between the soft white moons of her buttocks, 
the ragged pink edges wet with its own secretions. The others-Laura and 
Gary-were momentarily entranced by the lascivious sight of Vicky on her 
hands and knees, her small anus wrapped tightly around Bill's cock with 
several inches of it engorged in her rectum, her head and beautiful long, 
blonde hair a mass of wild entanglement as she wildly sucked her own 
mother's cunt spread wide on the bed before her. 

Anne was totally absorbed in fascinated agony by the sight of this boy 
sodomizing her only daughter on and on, and as she stared in subservient 
anguish at the lickings of her defenseless genitals, she was staggered by 
the forbidden pleasures she felt. 

Vicky was moaning her muffled cries of pain in a tone which left little 
doubt that she was beginning to enjoy it! Her hips were moving backwards of 
their own volition, meeting the thrusting penis of Bill Hanley as if she was 
going stark raving mad with response. Anne continued to watch the humiliated 
Vicky undulate her buttocks and it was too much for her not to find horribly 
delightful-and weird thoughts grew in her mind, swamping her flesh and 
driving away the last vestiges of restraint. Fear, self-guilt, hatreds-they 
all were replaced by desire, desire that made her belly churn and 
stimulating waves of excitement pour over her, and her passions overflowed 
all bounds as she twisted in the evil grip of her sexual agony, writhing and 
arching so as to not break with the open mouth glued to her ravaged cunt, 
while Vicky's flicking tongue played light summer lightning over her 
clitoris and vagina. 

"Agggggl" Vicky groaned with each inch that was forced into her hot rubbery 
passage from behind. "Ahhhhh!" she screamed as she thought how beautiful, 
how wonderful the pain was. I'm being punished! Yes! I'm being punished the 
only way I can be! She ground her buttocks back and the huge penis burrowed 
its relentless way right up into her unstretched rectum. There! All the way! 
She could feel Bill's pubic hair against her white, fleshy buttocks, and she 
knew that she'd taken all of his cock in her anus. Oh God! It's so 
wonderfully terrible! The blunt intrusion of his swollen cock vibrated 
through every sinew of her, and the soft spongy flesh of her widely 
stretched anal passage was excruciating in pleasure-pain that filled her 
ceaselessly. She took one hand away from her mother's wide-splayed thighs, 
hungry for more, and dipped them into the throbbing golden mass of her own 
pubic hair and the opened wet slit of her cunt, feeling Bill's sperm-filled 
balls batter the back of her hand; she groaned with her breath caught in her 
throat at the added sensation, feeling his massive cock through the thin 
wall separating her vagina and rectum. She slipped her hand in and out of 
her pussy as she raised and lowered her hips, the fire in her loins 
increasing and her cunt demanding more than just one finger. She inserted 
two, and then three, cramming them in her wet, seething vagina in rhythm 
with the huge prick that was fucking her tortured anus. 

Anne's young teenage daughter was delirious with delight. She was fucking 
herself while his wonderful cock drove like an express train up her ass, and 
she was completely and hopelessly impaled, her tits throbbing like Bill's 
hammering testicles. She moved her head from between her mother's open 
thighs for an instant, looking down between her lewdly bobbing breasts and 
beyond her belly to where her fingers were absorbed deep in her hungrily 
aching cunt, and she could sense Bill's, Gary's, and Laura's eyes on her as 
well, soaking up the lewd excitement of which she felt she was inherently 
responsible for causing-and that in turn only made her wallow more in 
abhorrent delight. 

And then the pretty young girl swept downward again, flicking her tongue 
several times against her mother's clitoris, then downward still more to the 
offered opening of the hair-covered vagina, plunging far enough in to feel 
the rippled walls of hot flesh which had once been stretched with herself 
when she was born, and she taunted the satin-smooth vale between her 
mother's thighs with salacious delight. Oh ... this is wonderful ... the 
taste of my mother's cunt ... I love it! I love her...!" 

Anne chanted with her mind out of control now. "Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" but while her 
sane mind rebelled at being sucked by her daughter while watching Vicky 
being fucked in the ass by Bill Hanley, she couldn't even consider stopping 
the loving caresses and warm kisses. Her cunt flowered open wider and wider 
and her lubrications increased with each further second that her daughter's 
sucking lips moved on her vaginal orifice, and warm trickles of saliva and 
juices ran unhindered down her white, quivering thighs as she ground her 
hips upwards off the coverlet into Vicky's slavering mouth. She had never 
known of anything so soft and wonderful in her life! Her body, lithe and 
firm and warmly pink with blood-pumping desire, shook from the assault on 
her senses and genitals; she had lain dormant too long, and the shock of 
sexual abandonment and the acceptance of her daughter as her lover forever 
ruptured her past. Gone were the frustrated days that now seemed so unreal 
and far away, the reality of the present encompassing her mind and taking 
her to another existence of pure ecstasy, which she wholeheartedly accepted. 

Gary Simmons could no longer take the lust-inciting scene of Vicky sucking 
her mother's cunt while his friend fucked the girl demoniacally in her ass. 
He straddled the mother, making Anne balance herself by placing her hands 
behind her and sitting almost up, her thighs wide and her legs bent for more 
of her daughter's suckings. He placed his hand behind Anne's head and pushed 
her toward his hard penis, rubbing it around her lips, making her mouth wet 
with his excited male emissions. She mumbled in revulsion and tried to shake 
away, but he held her so tightly she couldn't move, and then with his other 
hand he forced open her mouth; she clenched her teeth, but Simmons wasn't to 
be denied, and increasing the pressure and arching his muscled buttocks, he 
crushed his thick cock against the soft, moist lips and into the wet cavern 
of her hollowing cheeks. 

Anne closed her eyes, feeling numb and in a dazed trance, the strange boy's 
hairs at the base of his penis rubbing her chin and lips. His hands held her 
in a vise-like grip, and he started sliding his cock slowly in and out; she 
could feel its rubbery cock-head along the ridges of the roof of her mouth, 
and the long tube running beneath the length of his fleshy shaft slip along 
her tongue. She heard Simmons command harshly for her to suck: 

"Suck, you damned bitch! Suck hard!" 

She did, her lips slowly beginning to nibble at his thrusting penis, and 
though she coughed and sputtered at first, she accustomed herself to his 
perverted invasion, and tried not to think of what she was doing. His 
bloated testicles bounced against her chin, and her nostrils filled with the 
piquancy of his pubic secretions, and sweat and saliva grew in her mouth, 
becoming sticky from his small emissions of seminal fluid. She could tell 
that he was jerking his hips and straining his loins against her mouth, and 
his short, stubby fingers were curled tightly in her hair, forcing her 
bobbing mouth over the full length of his turgid erection. His penis 
stretched and expanded until there wasn't any room left, but instead of 
repulsion and sickness, she was fast learning to love sucking his cock. The 
foaming passions which had been released over the last two days, reawakened 
and expressed in new, wondrous fashions, were now boiling out of control, 
and she allowed her mind to sink still further into the cauldron of her 
lusts. On her own, she raised a hand, her balance kept by Simmons' clutching 
hands on her, and brought it around and up his legs to the soft, resilient 
skin of his scrotum, and she crooned mutely as she sucked, massaging his 
balls tenderly while flicking her tongue across the tiny split of his 
cock-head glans, opening her throat wider to accept still more of his 
pumping wet penis, rolling it around in her butter-soft interior, making 
Simmons cry out with pure delight. She'd never dreamed of what she'd been 
missing all these years! So good! Oh, Christ, she'd been a fool for so long! 

Laura Conklin was on the far side of the bed, naked and sprawled as she 
watched the orgiastic tableaux with lust-bulging eyes. Her own hand was 
between her open legs, fingers buried deep in the hot, soaking passage of 
her cunt as she bucked and jerked, striving for release. Her body was on 
fire with passion, for never could she recall being this excited! She 
watched avidly as Anne's soft, ovaled mouth clasped greedily at her 
boyfriend's growing white penis, her thin, tensile rim of lips clinging to 
it as though held there by some unseen clamp. Gary grinned lewdly and winked 
at Laura as he sawed in the mother's mouth, and then he stared down at 
Anne's lust-contorted face sucking his cock as if it was a piece of candy. 
Laura could see thick, white fluid dripping from the corners of Anne's mouth 
and run in tiny lines down her chin, for the woman was reveling in the cruel 
humiliation that Gary was subjecting her to, a masochistic light shining 
strangely in her glazed eyes. 

And Laura was equally entranced by Vicky. Bill's girl-the little blonde 
heaving herself with increased fury up and down on Hanley's powerful rod, 
her hips undulating madly, her left hand streaking in through the hair-lined 
lips of her young slit, both of her rear orifices flowering to the delicious 
rape of mind and body. She had her face deep in the fleece-covered vagina of 
her mother, sucking and licking frantically on the fleshy protuberances of 
pink cunt there, her thick wet tongue drawing voraciously every drop of her 
mother's joyously secreting juices in lewd delight, her tender but 
voluptuous body matching the rhythms of the foursome. The black-haired girl 
now was unable to stay idly aside for her turn-she had to join in the 
pillaging, had to become one in this mass orgy so that she could cum among 
them. She had to! 

Laura Conklin removed her fingers from her insatiable cunt and crawled 
forward. The girl was petite but magnificently proportioned, her round, 
smooth face framed with short, clipped black curls and provocatively lidded 
brown eyes that were wide and almond-shaped. Her full nude breasts with 
their black nipples and only slightly lighter-colored areolas hung and 
danced beneath her like two lush fruits ripe on the vine, and her finely 
molded bottom was quivering with erotic pleasure, her skin of pale 
iridescence rippling with desire, and her wide, full lips were open, her 
breath fevered with need and sensual throbbing. The girl swung up and placed 
herself astraddle Vicky, her buttocks and inner thighs grazing the 
daughter's blonde, whipping hair, and Laura stood brazenly and pantingly 
with the hot, moist opening of her thin, black-haired cunt, parted 
invitingly by her fingers, directly facing Bill Hanley. Then she eased 
herself closer to him until the palpitating flesh of her swollen pussy was 
resting as close as possible to his mouth above her. Cupping her breasts in 
her hands, she leaned back, letting her boyfriend, Gary, balance her with a 
hand and arm he had removed from the no longer resisting Anne, and Laura 
cried: 

"Eat me, Bill! Hurry, lover-baby, eat my cunt the way I like it and make me 
cum! Make me cum toooo!" 

Obediently, with sensations flooding through him from the ride he was giving 
the pretty teenager's anus, Hanley dipped his face downward and forward 
slightly and began to suckle and lick the black-haired Laura's wet vagina, 
her secretions sweeping out to moisten his cheeks as his long hard cock 
continued to batter in and out of Vicky's clasping rectum. 

For long, frozen moments the five naked lovers remained that way, each 
straining ever fiber and nerve of their beings for their orgasms, their only 
sounds grunts, mewls, and sighs of billowing desire, and the slapping of 
slippery, sweat-and lubrication-slick flesh. It seemed as if they would go 
on forever, striving for but never quite achieving their releases. 
Then-Strangled noises forced their way from Gary Simmons' tortured gullet, 
and he knew that he would be the one to start the chain of orgasms with the 
cum which was rolling upward from his testicles. A moment now ... a 
moment....Now! He writhed his hips furiously and watched the young mother, 
Anne's lovely face work, her lips sucking, his prick soaring, his body 
straining with the needles of his climax. White, hot sperm rushed through 
his penis and squirted in never-ending streams deep up into her hotly 
gulping mouth, and she gulped greedily, swallowing and sucking on furiously 
while he emptied his cum in surge after surge, his cock shoved still harder 
down her throat.... 

Anne thrust her loins up at her daughter's superbly licking mouth which was 
still buffeting her vaginal passage, every muscle in her body contracting 
wildly as she rose up involuntarily and nearly fainted from the epileptic 
attack of her contraction. She gulped and swallowed, savoring the taste of 
the bitter-sweet semen as it wormed its way like an ambrosia brandy down to 
her belly, and her cunt opened and clenched like an angry fist around 
Vicky's tongue, her buttocks flexing to rock-hardness as her orgasm hit. She 
gurgled and wailed an unintelligible scream as the power of her body 
unleashed from deep in her chest at this moment she had been craving for. 
There was no time, no space, no motion-only the unbelievable pleasure of her 
climax, and she was struck again and again by the spasmodic twitchings of 
every muscle in her body.... 

And as she came, so did Laura. Her whole body began to shake as if she was 
afflicted by some form of sexual palsy, and she chanted, "I'm there! I'm 
cumming! I'm cuuummmmiinnnnngggg!" Her feminine juices flowed onto the face 
and poker-like tongue of Bill Hanley, and he could feel her bursting orgasm 
as he sucked deeply of her pungent, delicious secretions.... 

Hanley threw back his head then and groaned as he thrust his cock's full 
expanded length into the teenage daughter's wide-stretched anus, his body 
beginning to jerk convulsively as he clawed at Vicky's waist with harsh, 
clutching fingers, pulling her buttocks even wider apart for his penis to 
skewer yet another fraction of an inch into her. He babbled, "I'm cumming 
too ... I'm cumming too ... " as he felt his boiling semen amassing within 
his throbbing balls as they beat a tattoo against Vicky's beautifully naked 
ass. And the explosion imminent, he slammed his now spewing cock all the way 
to its hilt in her soft, unresisting rectum.... 

To Vicky, this was a heaven-sent miracle, a well . to quell the maddening 
devils rampaging deep within the core of her drugged womanhood. She cared 
not who it was ... only that his cock was finding refuge in her starving 
belly, and she wanted it to crawl in there and stay forever. She licked and 
sucked shamelessly at the delectable cunt before her, and heard her mouth 
cry out and the others groan gutturally and yell mindlessly, but it was all 
in the faint background of her mind; her lover was hammering her with rapid, 
pile-driving thrusts and her fingers were reaching her very womb, and she 
licked and sucked wildly. Oh Christ ... don't stop now....I want to cum so 
badly ... I want to cummmmmmmmm! 

And then she felt Bill Hanley's stream of hot seed spurting into her rectum, 
spurting far up in her belly with violent force, ricocheting against her 
smooth rubbery anal passage, its steaming heat finally setting off her own, 
long-due climax. She was there! At last! 

She screamed, and screamed again and again, her release was that great. She 
heaved her nakedly jerking buttocks back toward the humping boy's penis as 
it continued to empty into her anus with unbelievable force, her thighs 
trembling and her stomach quaking as if someone were pressing against it 
with giant pressures, her brain reeling insanely with the sensual reactions 
traversing along her spine. She fell forward at last, Bill's limp cock 
sliding from her tortured rectum slickly, and she cradled herself with 
sighing satisfaction in her mother's naked arms, and let her lips softly 
close over one of the turgid nipples. She sucked the nipple as grayness 
closed over her, feeling the contentment of a baby after milk.... 

It took some time for the five nude people to stir. They huddled on the bed, 
exhausted and un-moving, resting and re-gathering strength after the wild 
orgiastic fucking they had just participated in. Semen and sweat and 
lubricious juices mingled and glistened on their shining bodies and on the 
dampened coverlet beneath them, the air seeming to crackle with the lewd 
emotions and desires that had been unleashed. 

Laura Conklin was the first to move. She slowly crawled over the flanks and 
bellies and breasts of the others and leaned over the naked loins of her 
boyfriend. She kissed his huge, though deflated, cock tenderly, taking the 
shaft in her mouth and sucking it, kneading his balls at the same time. Gary 
grinned delightedly, ever amazed at the black-haired girl's recuperative 
powers and her insatiable desire to have a limp prick harden in her gullet. 
She began to purr kittenishly and his penis began to swell and fill her 
puckering cheeks. Then she released it, letting it stand straight and stiff 
and shining in the dim light of the bedroom. 

"Fuck the mother," she whispered tantalizingly. "Go and fuck the mother in 
the ass, the way Bill fucked the girl." 

"And you?" Gary asked, his cock jerking with the lewd words and the exciting 
idea she had proposed. 

"Bill can fuck me while I suck the girl. I'll suck her hot little cunt until 
she really cums....I like that, tasting pussy and having it cum...." 

Anne looked wide-eyed at her daughter for a moment, hearing Laura, and held 
Vicky tighter to her bosom. But then she saw the smile of happiness on 
Vicky's young face, a smile intended only for Anne, a smile that said more 
than a thousand words could convey. Then she knew, and she was no longer 
bothered by shame or remorse or guilt. What was the use of self-deception? 
She and her child had reveled in the salacious acts done to each other and 
with the three young additions; vanished were the inhibitions and prudish 
outlooks which had fettered herself and Vicky, and they were now worshippers 
of the flesh. The mother thought fleetingly of her husband, about what he 
would think and do if he ever found out about this, and what was obviously 
bound to continue ... but what had been could no longer be again, she saw 
now, and she didn't want to return to the old, incomplete ways. Jack would 
have to fend for himself as best he could. From now on she was going to live 
for and with her daughter. 

It was only a matter of moments before the five arranged themselves in the 
positions so salaciously suggested by Laura. And through the night the games 
went on, the lovely mother and daughter indulging in every depraved 
perversion imaginable. Anne and Vicky both knew that it was all right now, 
that whatever they were doing or had done or would do in the future was all 
right by the other.... 

 CHAPTER 9 

Anne Terrence was soaking in a tub of hot, soapy water, drowsily letting the 
morning pass in blissful uncaring....She slid languorously under the water, 
stretching her long, naked limbs and recollecting hazily of semi-wakefulness 
of the passing of the month since the evening of the orgiastic party. Bill 
Hanley and his friends, Simmons and Laura Conklin, were gone from her 
life-not without some pangs of sadness, for they had brought her much 
enjoyment-but as the love Vicky had had for Bill was over and finished, 
there wasn't really enough in their purely physical attachment to make them 
more than temporary acquaintances, and they had gone their own way after a 
bit. Vicky was planning on transferring to another college come fall, a 
closer one so that she could live at home. Jack ... well, her husband was 
still the same inattentive man as ever, about the only thing which hadn't 
changed since her daughter had arrived.... 

Her reverie was interrupted by a playful knock on the bathroom door, and 
then it opened and Vicky came in. She was smiling mischievously, her 
honey-blonde hair uncombed and her face flushed slightly from sleep, and she 
was dressed in a chenille robe. Anne smiled lovingly at her daughter as the 
girl crossed on bare feet and sat on the edge of the tub. 

"Good morning, darling," the mother said. "Did you sleep well?" 

"Uh-huh. Daddy left already?" 

"Yes," Anne replied. "He's gone to Chicago for a week this time and had to 
catch the 8:30 flight." 

"How's your bath?" Vicky asked, dipping her hand in the water and swirling 
the warm, murky liquid. 

"Nice," Anne answered dreamily. "Very nice." 

"Move over," Vicky said, standing casually and unbuttoning her robe. "I'll 
get in and scrub your back...." 

Anne looked at her teenaged daughter, at the girl's young, taut breasts with 
their hard, distended nipples quivering as she stood unabashedly naked, the 
chenille robe a pool around her ankles. A fever overtook the lovely woman as 
she gazed up from the bath, and she had to admit she loved having Vicky like 
this, her white thighs and trembling vagina bursting with sensuality; since 
that fateful afternoon when she and Vicky had had to be totally honest, and 
the night which had followed which had proved their love for each other, 
neither had been saddled with false guilts or hatreds resultant from social 
conformity. There was no more need to pretend, to be chained under the guise 
of righteous morality, and their love for one another was in the open now. 
Naked, both she and her daughter were-soul-naked to each other as they were 
physically naked, and they knew what they were, what they had always been, 
and would continue to be with a little prudent care to avoid discovery. 

The lovely girl climbed into the tub as Anne moved her legs, and as Vicky 
began to slowly, tantalizingly soap her mother's hardening breasts, Anne 
found her belly churning with desire and a tremendous spasm of love and 
devotion sweep over her flesh. Strange ... now she looked forward to Jack's 
trips, when he was gone from the house, rather than the frustrating way it 
had been before. 

"And later," Vicky promised in hushed, excited breaths, "we'll go into my 
room for a change. I bought another electric vibrator yesterday when I was 
downtown. I can't wait to see what it does to you ... Mother!" 


THE END
