Her Sadistic Old Man
by Rosa Marshall
(SN-312)


FOREWORD 

Trish could hear her father mumbling something in the living room, and it 
wasn't hard to tell, especially from where she was listening, that the words 
were dragged and slurred as he mumbled. 

It was obvious to her that he was drunk again, and she tried to be as quiet 
as she could in the kitchen, being careful not to make any noise as she 
pulled the pots and pans out from the cabinet to make his supper. 

She hated him, hated the idea of even having to do this for him, but ever 
since her mother had taken that night job to make up for the income lost 
when he had been laid off, she had taken on the official chore of cook and 
house-cleaner. Only she did know that when her father was drunk, he could do 
the most terrible, offensive things. She had heard the way he had been 
beating on her mother the night before, all because of the drunken stupor he 
had been in. 

Suddenly, as she was carrying the frying pan over to the stove, she 
accidentally dropped it and the thing went crashing to the floor, making an 
echoing noise. 

"What the fuck is that?" she heard her father mumble, and she could hear his 
footsteps approaching as he got closer and closer. 

She watched as he flung the door open and then he seemed to be leering at 
her, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth. His eyes were reddened, his 
black hair, tossed in messed curls on his head. And as she looked down, she 
could see that his hand was moving toward his groin, rubbing the stiffening 
cock she knew was underneath. 

She felt him moving closer, and she backed up, until her ass was pressed 
against the warm stove and she had nowhere else to go. By this time, her 
father was right next to her and he was rubbing his groin against her cunt, 
moving his hands to her tits and beginning to massage the nipples into 
hardness through her blouse. 

"Daddy," she said, her voice cracking, "what are you doing?" 

"You bitch. If your mother ain't gonna be here to satisfy my raging cock 
when I want her, then you're just gonna have to take her place in that 
department, too." 

She could feel herself getting nauseous as he moved his lips to hers, 
reeking of scotch, and began to probe his tongue into her mouth ... 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Fifteen-year-old Trish Hawkins hopped down the street, trying to avoid the 
cracks in order to avoid breaking her mother's back. So the game went. She 
couldn't help thinking though, in the back of her mind, somewhere deep and 
hidden, that had the game involved breaking her father's back if she stepped 
on the cracks, a conscious effort would have been made to hit each crack in 
the hopes that she would get home and find her father in the hospital, in 
traction. 

It was all a game, though, all a fancy, but the youngster loved games. She 
had loved them ever since she had been younger and her father. Herb Hawkins, 
had given her horsie rides on his knee. 

That was before she had realized, years later, that the reason her father 
had been willing to do that to her was because he was just drunk off his 
face. That was before she had realized that the reason his eyes were so red 
when he was doing it was because of the liquor, the reason his breath was 
harsh and disgusting, too. 

It had taken her until at least the age of seven to realize that there was 
something most peculiar about the way her father acted. She had always 
thought, until then, that he was a most happy man. After all, Herb Hawkins 
was all smiles when his little girl was around. 

But then, that facade of happiness, being the ideal family, the kind that 
she used to watch on television, always knowing that her family was just as 
happy, that facade finally had to break. 

She remembered a fight that her parents had had when she was seven, the 
fight she remembered as the first ever (there were obviously more, she 
realized that, but this was the one she heard) between her mother and father 
where she was to learn that happiness was all a dream in her family, all a 
put-on. It was then that she had learned that her happy, happy father, was 
not happy at all. 

"Goddamnit," her mother had yelled at him, and little seven-year-old Trish 
had been asleep already, but awakened by the screaming, "you're a fucking 
pig, do you know that? A goddamn, fucking pig." 

She heard the sound of a smash, didn't know what it was. Later though, when 
she was to walk in the halls and see her mother, she would never forget the 
trickle of blood down the side of her mother's face, 

"Then relish in the sty," her father had yelled back. 

"Don't touch me," her mother, a petite woman named Harriet had screamed 
back. 

"What's the matter, you don't like it anymore? Damn it, woman, you used to 
get on your fucking knees and pray to this fucking dick of mine. Now get 
back on your fucking knees and pray to it again." 

"Never." 

There was another smash, and another, and little Trish was trembling under 
the covers, wanting to help her mother, and maybe even her father (she had 
still loved him then, it wasn't until later in the fight when her hatred 
grew), but too scared and trembling to even be able to move. 

"Suck it," her father had screamed, 

"I wanted to once, that's right," her mother had said. "Once was a long time 
ago, however, before you let liquor run your whole life. Now you're nothing 
but a fucking drunk pig, and the thought of touching any part of you just 
makes my stomach so damn queasy and uneasy. I don't even think I can do it 
and ... " 

There was a muffled noise then, and she didn't know what was happening at 
the time. In years to come, she had reasoned, knowing the sexual nature of a 
man and a woman by that time, that her father had just shoved his cock into 
her mother's mouth. And her mother had to be gagging on it because Trish 
could hear the choking sounds that came from her mother's throat. 

Until finally, she heard her father yelling out. 

"You fucking bitch, Jesus Christ, you almost bit the whole fucking thing 
off. You goddamn cunt." 

"Good, if that's the way you feel, then I won't serve you." 

There was a loud crack then, she was sure it was the slap of skin against 
skin, and later, when it had all calmed down and she was sure that her 
mother had left the room, little Trish decided to get herself a glass of 
water. With her long nightgown trailing along the ground, she walked down 
the carpeted hall, past her parent's room where there seemed to be the sound 
of her father's snoring, then to the bathroom. 

She was surprised to see her mother sitting on the toilet, the seat down, 
still in her nightgown, her head in her hands and shoulders heaving up and 
down. She was crying, it was easy for the little girl to see. 

"Mommy," Trish said. 

Her mother had almost jumped through the ceiling then as she heard a voice, 
but then when she saw that it was her little girl and not her husband, she 
reached over and pulled little Trish over, hugging her tightly. 

"Mommy, why did you and Daddy have a fight?" she asked. 

"Sssh," her mother was going, but the little girl was all of seven and 
curiosity was one of her most natural traits. 

"Is that blood there, Mommy? Did he hit you on the cheek?" 

"Ssshh, baby," her mother was saying, and she was squeezing the little girl 
so hard that Trish could hardly breath. But even then she was bright enough 
to sense that her mother needed this kind of support, someone to cling to. 

"Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce? Ginny Rogers parents got a 
divorce about a year ago, and Ginny seems like she's so happy now." 

"Why honey?" her mother asked, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks with 
the back of her hand, "aren't you happy here?" 

"I guess so, but not if you're not going to be happy. Not if Daddy is going 
to hit you again like he did tonight." 

"He didn't hit me," her mother said to the little girl. When Trish first 
heard that, she remembered, she had believed her mother. It wasn't until 
later in life when she had actually witnessed a few fights that she knew her 
father had, in fact, hit her mother that night, hit her hard enough to make 
her bleed. 

A few minutes after she and her mother had been clutching each other there 
was the sound of the bedroom door opening, and heavy footsteps coming down 
the hall. They both looked with wide, frightened eyes, as her father, all 
hairy and naked with a hard cock bobbing up and down between his legs stood 
in front of the doorway. 

"What a tender scene," he said, and Trish was too young then to notice the 
sarcasm behind his words. Her mother, however, was not. 

"Please, Herb, get away from me," she said. "Come on, Harriet, don't be like 
that. Look, I'm sorry for everything that happened and you know that it 
won't happen again." 

"Hah!" 

For a minute, it looked like he was about to pull his hand back to slap her 
across the face, but he realized in time what he was doing and checked 
himself. 

He moved closer into the bathroom, obviously unconcerned with his nakedness 
and the effects that his hardened cock was going to have on his daughter, 
and was soon kneeling beside the two clinging bodies, trying to hug them 
both. 

"Look," he said, more to her mother than to her, "I know that I sometimes go 
a little overboard with the booze, but still ... " 

"What?" her mother had asked, so cold, heartless, something that Trish could 
easily understand now. 

"I love you both, honey, I really do. It's just that I wanted to do so much 
for you, and I just couldn't give you everything that I wanted. It's so 
fucking frustrating and sometimes I just bury myself in booze. But I promise 
that it won't happen." 

He was kissing her mother on the cheeks, and Trish could even see that he 
was rubbing his hardened cock against her mother's leg. She thought, for 
some reason that only a seven-year-old might think of, that her mother was 
going to remain triumphant and not go with him. Not that she had anything 
against him at the time. Not yet. But somehow, there had seemed to be such a 
bond, such a unity between her mother and herself as they sat there clinging 
to each other in the bathroom, and Trish wouldn't have minded if that unity 
had gone on for a few more hours. 

Instead, her mother seemed to be getting herself carried away with the 
caresses of her father, the small kisses on the cheek and neck and ears, the 
heavy breathing that she noticed happening between them. In fact, as she 
skipped home and remembered it, she was actually caught in the middle of it 
all, caught in the middle of what she would learn later in life was called 
'foreplay.' For her mother's hand wandered to her father's cock and she was 
soon rubbing it, and then, with the man's aid the two girls got up, or one 
rather. For as her mother stood, she lifted little Trish into her arms. 

"Come on, honey," she heard her mother say, "we're going to put you back to 
sleep and then Mommy and Daddy have to go to bed." 

She had wanted to beg her mother not to go back into the room with him, she 
didn't know why, but instead, let her parents tuck her in and kiss her. But 
Trish hadn't slept that night. She had been too busy listening to the heavy 
breathing and the squeaking of bed springs that had been going on in the 
room next to hers, the room where only about a half an hour before she had 
heard yelling, screaming, and the sounds of flesh being hit. 

Now there was a little panting, a little moaning, and a lot of squeaking. 

They were fucking, she said to herself as she continued to skip home. They 
were in there fucking, and it was just like her father to think that getting 
his rocks off was going to make things right. She had learned that over the 
years, as she started to understand that the love in her house, at least the 
love of the parents for each other, was being put-on for her sake. They 
acted like they were happy so that their little girl wouldn't be able to see 
anything. 

But Trish, from the moment she had started talking, had always been 
considered a bright girl. Everyone said that about her, and although it was 
usually said in reference to most babies, particularly by their parents, in 
this case, with blonde little Trish, it was most definitely true. 

She learned about sex fast, not actually partaking of the act. But two days 
after the first fight she could remember, she and her mother were talking in 
the kitchen. It was only natural for someone with a seven-year old mind to 
ask what Trish did. 

"Mommy, what was that thing between Daddy's legs? You know? That night when 
he came to the bathroom and you were rubbing it?" 

She could tell that her mother was uncomfortable, and the answer that she 
got even proved it a little. 

"That's just his penis," her mother said, turning back to her cooking. 

"What does he use it for?" she asked. 

"You know that when a girl has to go to the bathroom, she usually just sits 
and goes. Well, a man has a penis for the same reason." 

Even at the age of seven, she thought that there should be more of a reason 
than the one that her mother was giving to her. After all, she had been 
paying so much attention to the cock in the bathroom, and it hadn't been 
hard for the little girl to see the way her father seemed to shiver when her 
mother touched it. 

And one other thing. She remembered that when she was about five and had 
been sitting and soaking in the bath, her father had come into the bathroom 
to urinate. Their family had always been rather open and free about nudity, 
so her father wasn't at all ashamed to pull out his limp cock and begin to 
piss into the toilet. 

She had seen it limp. And she had seen it hard. Trish knew that there was 
quite a difference between the two stages and that's why she had been sure, 
all seven years of her, that her mother was not telling her all the facts. 

"But how come it was so hard?" she asked her mother. 

"What honey?" Harriet Hawkins had asked, trying to keep her mind occupied 
with something else. Trish had even realized that. She knew when her mother 
was trying to look busy to avoid talking about something. 

"It was hard last night, Mommy. Daddy's penis. And how come when he touched 
you and then you touched him there, he started to shiver?" 

She could see that her mother was beginning to sweat, and when she thought 
about it in later years, she could understand why. After all, Trish, even at 
age fifteen, now, thought sometimes about how, when she had children, she 
would tell them about sex. 

You just couldn't come out and tell a little girl that a cock was used to 
fuck, that during the sex act the man inserted his cock into a woman's cunt 
and thrusted in and out. hopeful bringing them both sexual fulfillment. 

And as she thought about it, still skipping home, but trying to take as long 
as possible for her own reasons, she knew that had her mother told her then 
about sex and fucking, she would have been scared of it. For at age seven, 
the slit that she had between her legs was small, her tunnel, when probed 
with her curious fingers was not all that wide or deep either. 

Trish knew that she would have been scared, thinking about her father 
forcing that large thick cock into her cunt, her small seven-year-old cunt. 

"That's something that you'll learn in years to come," was all her mother 
had eventually said to her about cocks. 

But Trish learned fast. 

The fights continued to happen between her mother and father, and the one 
she remembered at age seven was only the first one she remembered, which was 
why it stuck out in her mind. But there had just been so many fights after 
that, so many happening that she was aware of, that Trish just stopped 
thinking about them, stopped letting them worry her. 

Of course, until the age of ten, she still would climb under her covers, but 
as she got older and matured, the fear in her subsided more and more, until 
their fights no longer scared her. 

It was during one of her braver days, sometime when she was about eleven, 
that she actually saw what her father's wrath was like. 

The man had been a blue collar worker, holding down all sorts of janitor and 
factory line jobs. She knew, even at age ten, that this all had a great deal 
to do with his drinking. After all, she had seen a film in one of her 
classes about car factories and the film had documented the actual piecing 
together of the car. As she had sat there watching she had thought that it 
might be so interesting to work there. 

But then her friend Ginny had whispered something to her. 

"God, could you imagine doing something like that all your life? Or even for 
a few months. Every single day placing the same piece on the ear, seven 
hours a day. I don't think that I can imagine anything more boring," 

That had made Trish start thinking in a different way, and this day when she 
was ten and she arrived home to witness the first actual blow by blow fight, 
she had been feeling some pity for her father. 

For the anger behind the fight all had to do with the fact that Herb Hawkins 
had been drunk on the job again, and he had gotten himself laid off. When 
Trish opened the front door that day, she could hear her parents yelling in 
the bedroom again, and she quietly snuck upstairs to listen more, and 
possibly even see. 

"Damn it," her mother was screaming, "can't you hold onto one fucking job 
for more than a goddamn year?" 

"Look, I'm sorry about the job, but it was bullshit and there's others." 

"You say that all the time. Goddamnit, Herb, when the hell are you going to 
stay with something long enough to make something of yourself?" 

Trish was upstairs then, and she was happy to see that her parents hadn't 
closed their door. There had really been no reason, for they were thinking 
they were alone. 

"Look," he said to her, "I just can't stand it anymore. Do you want to know 
what I have to do all day? You see, there's a little fucking screw that 
holds this mirror in place. I have one screwdriver and as the piece comes 
down the belt I turn it, and by the time I'm finished tightening it the 
piece should be on to the next man. You think that's interesting work?" 

"I don't care," her mother had yelled. "You took it." 

"Because I needed the money then." 

"And what the hell are we supposed to do now? We need money still." 

At that time, Trish was torn between both parents. She didn't know who the 
hell to side with because she could understand the point of view coming from 
each side. But it wasn't until she actually saw her father hit her mother 
that she began to, and still, to this day five years later, side with her 
mother. 

"I don't know what we'll do right now," her father had said then, "but 
believe me, we'll manage." 

"I've been believing you for years now," she said, her eyes tearing. "It's 
time that I stopped believing you and saw you for what you really are." 

"Which is?" he asked, moving closer to her mother who was sitting on the 
bed. 

"Nothing! You're nothing and you're never going to be anything." 

Trish had to hold back a scream because she saw him pulling his hand back, 
readying the blow, before her mother ever did. Instead, her mother felt it 
when her father's fist actually smashed her across the face, and the force 
of it knocked her back down on the bed. Herb climbed on top of his wife and 
he started to hit her across the face again and again. Trish had to bite her 
hand to keep from screaming. 

But she would never forget the way her mother's light brown hair was tossed 
back and forth on the bed as her father continued to hit the woman, and 
then, finally, he just seemed to stop. 

Trish would never forget what happened then. Her father covered his eyes 
with his hands and he looked like he was crying, at least from the way his 
shoulders were heaving up and down that was the impression she got. Then, by 
the time he started to talk, she could tell from the choking in his voice 
that he was, in fact, crying. 

"Jesus, Harriet," he was saying, "I can't believe all this. God, honey, I'm 
sorry that I did this to you. I'm sorry for everything that I've done to 
you." 

And her mother lay there, and ever so slowly Trish could see the woman's 
hand beginning to inch up her husband's leg, until there was a distinct 
bulge in his pants and she was rubbing it hard with her hand. 

"I know that it's hard," she said to him, "but still ... " 

"As long as we love each other," he said to her. 

Her mother hadn't said anything about that, but then she started to pull 
down her husband's fly and she was soon taking his hard cock out of his 
pants. She started to rub it with one hand while her other hand was working 
his belt buckle, opening the snap of his pants, and pushing them down so 
that his entire groin area was exposed. 

For the first time, with a real intention, Trish had studied the male cock. 
She could see the way the thick root jutted out from the black triangular 
patch of hair, then the two swinging balls that were hanging below the root 
of his cock, covered too with just a little bit of pubic hair. But there 
seemed to be something dominating about the whole cock, something so 
commanding. 

She watched as her father straddled her mother's chest, and then Harriet 
Hawkins was pulling her head up a little and beginning to lick the shaft. 
Trish couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was like her mother 
worshipped this thing, for she could hear the way her father and mother both 
were moaning. 

She studied the swinging testicles as best she could from the position she 
was in, and she watched the way her mother cupped them in her hand and tried 
to lick them too at the same time that she was working the cock. 

"You see, baby," her father was saying as he started to open her mother's 
dress down the front, "you see. As long as we have each other it's going to 
be okay." 

Her mother seemed to moan and shake her head yes, and at the time, Trish 
thought that her mother believed it. She was to learn better a few years 
later. 

Her father started to move his cock in and out of her mother's mouth then 
and Trish watched, fascinated. Nothing about the actual sex act was scaring 
her then. In fact, she couldn't help thinking, if something so natural and 
free as touching could calm her father down the way it was, then it had to 
be good. 

That was all she could think of. Her father had opened her mother's dress at 
the time, and at the same moment, as she was trying to squeeze her way out 
of it, moving her body under his, she was still licking his cock with a 
satisfying relish. Soon she was completely naked under him, her bra and 
panties having been removed easily, and as he continued slowly and 
passionately, thrusting his hips back and forth, he was beginning to take 
off his shirt. 

Irish remembered the drops of sweat that were running down her father's 
chest and she tried to figure out why. 

Her mother had reached up then and started to stroke his nipples firmly, and 
there was a tremendous change in her father then. He started to moan louder 
and she could see, from the dim light, the way the sweat was glistening all 
over his body. He had his eyes closed, his mouth open, and if Trish could 
ever remember a time when her father had looked so totally at peace and so 
totally satisfied, it was that time when he was sitting on her mother's body 
with his cock in her mouth. 

He seemed to remain calm for a long time after. For Irish had watched 
everything. At one point, he started to grunt louder than ever and she could 
see some kind of spasms occurring in his cock when it was pulled out of her 
mother's mouth. It seemed to be bulging, and then, he was breaking out in 
sweat and pumping harder as her mother sucked harder. After a few powerful 
looking thrusts his cock was pulled out of her mouth and she could see a few 
drops of white cream dripping from the tip. 

Then her father had started to slide down her mother's body, and Trish 
watched as he sank between her legs and buried his head there. He started to 
lick and slurp and although she couldn't actually see what she was doing, 
she would watch her mother thrust her ass off the bed, see her brown bush 
triangle, and she her father's nose buried in it. She could only assume, 
even at age eleven, that he was licking her mother's cunt down there. 

Her mother was pinching her own nipples then and Trish couldn't believe the 
way her mother seemed to be reacting. As if nothing was wrong. As if the 
argument they had just had was all forgotten. The only thing that seemed to 
matter was the pleasure that her mother was deriving from her own cunt, and 
soon she was thrusting her ass up and down off the bed even faster. 

Again, there was something of a frenzy and it was only about a year later 
when she and Ginny were talking that she realized her mother had had an 
orgasm. 

After that, her father climbed up her mother's body and she watched him 
slipping his cock, hard again, into her cunt. The first thrust was followed 
by a long groan and then he was thrusting even faster. 

Trish just watched the look on both their faces, their eyes clenched tightly 
shut, their whole bodies seeming to be joined just because of the way they 
were united at the groin, and after a few minutes and a long groaning 
thrust, her father seemed to collapse right on top of her mother. 

That was when Trish had left, snuck into her room, and she heard her mother 
and father moaning every so often from their room. 

For the next few days, or so it seemed to her, happiness reigned in the 
household again and she thought of her family as the ideal one. 

But then, just like always, another fight broke out. It happened about a 
week later after her father had been out every day looking for jobs. Being a 
child, and being secure in her world of family life and school life, she 
didn't have to worry about money. But that was what the fights always seemed 
to come down to. 

"The telephone bill and electric bill came today," her mother said to her 
father when he had come home from looking for a job that day. 

"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked her. 

"That you got a job," she said. "How are we going to pay the bills? We don't 
have enough money in the bank." 

"We won't pay them until we do." 

Trish sat huddled in the bed, expecting that a fight was going to follow. 
She had heard the way they were usually led up to, and even at her young age 
of eleven, she knew that it was going to happen this time. 

"How can we do that?" her mother asked. 

She heard the familiar sound. It was her father lifting the scotch bottle 
off the bar and opening the rip. He always turned to his liquor when he got 
tense like that, she had been starting to realize. 

She could hear the bottle hitting against the bar and she was sure that he 
had smashed it down hard, not only because of the sound, but because of the 
things that her mother started to yell when it happened. 

"Look at the fucking mess you made," she said to him. "Look, we can't 
continue like this, you're going to have to realize that." 

"What the hell do you want me to do?" 

"Get a job." 

"Jesus Christ," he screamed at her, "it all comes down to that in the end, 
doesn't it? Get a job this and get a job that. Goddamn it, we used to be 
happy." 

"We could be again," her mother said. 

"If I get a fucking job, get a fucking job. Why don't you make a goddamn 
tape recording of it and play it all the time? It would save your breath." 

"You bastard," she screamed. 

Then Trish heard the first slap, and she knew that he was hitting her again. 
She heard her mother crying out and she could hear the sound of her mother's 
body falling heavily on the floor. 

There were more grunts and groans, and this time, young Trish didn't even 
feel the need to hide under the covers. She was just being reminded that 
things were back to the way that they used to be once before. The hitting, 
the fighting, the yelling and the screaming. 

And so it went for the past years, she remembered as she skipped home. Only 
this time, she was more apprehensive than usual. Because, the past few years 
had seen her father hired and laid off a number of times, and she knew that 
it was because of the drinking. At least that's the way her mother always 
used to say it. 

Recently, however, her mother had been the one to go out and get the job. 
She had talked to Trish about it a few days before she actually did it, and 
in some ways, it had scared the fifteen-year old girl. For her mother had 
been asking her all these questions that one would have normally asked an 
adult. The girl had just begun to realize the reason for all the problems. 
There were just so many things that you had to worry about when you were 
grown up. 

"Trish," her mother had said, "I have to talk to you. What would you say if 
I told you that I was looking for a job?" 

"I don't know," the girl had said. "What should I say?" 

"Well, first of all, do you think you'd mind it too much if I was out of the 
house at times during the day?" 

"Why should I mind that, mother? I'm used to taking care of myself." 

"Good then. I can take it I have your approval. Now all I have to do is talk 
to your father about it." 

"Oh God," Trish had said, and she and her mother had both smiled a little. 

She would never forget the fight that they had over the job. She knew what 
they were arguing about because of what her mother had told her. 

"You're not going to do anything like that," he had said. 

"Why the hell not? If you can't keep a job in this family, someone's going 
to have to do it. I want to eat meat." 

"I have some meat you can eat, my sweet," he said, garbling his words 
because he was just too, too drunk. 

"Fuck you," she said to him. "What's it going to do to you if I get myself a 
job? Is it going to be a blow to your precious manhood or something like 
that?" 

"You fucking bitch," he said. 

Then there were the slaps. But this time, she could hear her mother fighting 
back, if not physically, then at least vocally. For most of the times he 
seemed to knock the air right out of her with the first blow and she would 
just take the rest of it. The whole beating, just panting and moaning. 

But this time, she was yelling back. 

"You're not going to change my mind about this," she was yelling at him. 
"You're going to have to kill me first before you do anything to change my 
mind. I've already lined up a job and I'm going to work." 

"What the fuck did you get?" he asked, and there was another punch. 

"I got myself a job as a waitress. It might not be the classiest thing in 
the world but at least there are the tips and that's gonna count for 
something." 

"You'll be scum," he spit out at her. 

"It might be better than this," she said. 

Trish knew that her father was beating hard on her mother that time, and 
then they probably started to fuck because she heard the groans. She was 
sure that her father thought a good fucking would make her forget all about 
her idea for getting a job because of the passions he would bring out in 
her. 

But not that time. After about ten minutes of groaning, all which the little 
girl heard coming up the stairs and into her room, she heard her mother 
yelling. 

"That didn't change my mind," and then the woman seemed to be running up the 
stairs. There was a final crash of the liquor bottle, probably hurled at her 
by him Trish had to think. 

But her mother was already up the stairs by that time and she had locked 
herself in her room. Trish fell asleep before hearing whether or not her 
mother let her father into the room to sleep that night or kept him locked 
out. Years before, she knew, she would have stayed up to hear a thing like 
that, but now it was all old hat and the arguments were the same. 

What was something out of the normal, she once thought, had suddenly become 
part of her daily life so there was no reason to pay it any special 
attention. 

However, the tension over the past few days, she thought now as she neared 
her house, had been unbearable. Her father had stopped looking for a job and 
he was always home when she got back from school. Drunk off his face. 

Her mother didn't get back from work until eight at night, and Trish now had 
the honor of being the one to make her father dinner and being the one to 
serve it to him. She usually had to force herself to eat there because she 
knew he wanted her to. But she hated eating in front of him. 

He disgusted her, she thought. Just his mere physical appearance. 

For he was only a shadow of his former self, she thought. Once, she 
remembered him as being tall and handsome, his curly black hair making him 
look younger than his thirty-seven years. He had been trim and fit. 

And now, although he still had the same fit body, it seemed to be hiding 
under his clothing and nasty appearance. His hair was usually messed, never 
combed, and he always had stubbles on his face. The tall proud figure was no 
longer there either, for he seemed to walk huddled over. He wore loose, 
baggy clothing that hung on him and did nothing for his appearance but make 
him look like a bum. 

A bum, she thought. 

If she hadn't known her father before, she would have thought that he was a 
bum. Just seeing him the way he always looked, sitting on a park bench, she 
would have thought that he was a bum. 

He was always on edge, too, always being terse with her. He hadn't said 
anything nice to her in the longest time, because even when he did say 
something that he was intending as a compliment, there was a harshness in 
his voice that detracted from it completely and totally. 

So it was with a great deal of tension and hesitation that she walked up the 
path of her house. She put the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the 
door slowly so that she wouldn't make any noise. The last few days when she 
had come home he had been sleeping, and she seemed to feel more at ease when 
he was out. 

She closed the door slowly, and suddenly, heard his voice. 

"That you, baby?" he asked her. 

"It's me, Trish, daddy," she said, not knowing if he had been thinking it 
was her in the first place, or her mother. 

"What the fuck time is it?" he asked. 

"Almost five," she said to him. 

"Well where the hell have you been?" he asked her, and she could hear him 
approaching, hear his footsteps as he walked to the living room, drunk. 

"I was out with Ginny for a while, Dad," she said. "Are you hungry? I can 
make you some supper now. It would be ready in a half an hour." 

"Yeah," he said, turning back toward the living room, "make me something 
good. I haven't eaten a thing all day." 

She walked to the kitchen, glad that he was back in the living room. She 
didn't want him coming in there because he always made her feel so 
uncomfortable. She thought about her father for a second. Once, she had had 
a sexual thought about him, when she was about twelve. During one of his 
tender times, she had thought about his making love to her, and she couldn't 
believe she had done that. 

The thought of him now disgusted her. 

She put her books down on the kitchen counter and then opened the 
refrigerator to see what she could find. Her mother usually left something 
out for her to make and she could see that there were some steaks lying on 
the bottom shelf. 

She took out one. It would be a waste to make one for herself, she thought, 
because she just didn't feel like eating when she saw him. She walked over 
and took a frying pan from under the stove. Suddenly, as she was placing it 
on top, the pan seemed to slip from her hand. 

She heard a loud, crashing, echoing sound, and then her father. 

"What the fuck is that?" he asked her, and she could hear that his footsteps 
were getting closer and closer to her. 

She watched as he flung open the door and then he seemed to be leering at 
her, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth. His eyes were reddened, his 
black hair tossed, his messed curls on his head. As she looked down, she 
could see that his hand was moving toward his groin, rubbing the stiffening 
cock she knew was underneath. 

He moved closer to her and she backed up, until her ass was pressed against 
the warm stove and she had nowhere else to go. By this time, her father was 
right next to her and he was rubbing his groin against her cunt, moving his 
hand to her tits and beginning to massage her nipples into hardness through 
her blouse. 

"Daddy," she said, her voice breaking, "what are you doing?" 

"You bitch," he said to her. "If your mother isn't gonna be here to satisfy 
me when I need it, if she's gonna be out working, then you're just gonna 
have to take on some other duties besides the fucking cooking." 

"Daddy, what are you doing? What are you saying? You're drunk." 

He slapped her across the face hard. She heard the echo of flesh hitting 
flesh, ringing through her mind, all the memories of times when she had 
heard it from upstairs, when she knew he was hitting her mother. But this 
time she could feel the stinging on her cheek, and she moved her hand there 
to hold it. Suddenly, all her resistance seemed to fade. She didn't want him 
to hit her again. 

Trish could feel herself getting nauseous as he moved his lips to hers, 
reeking of the scotch, and then he began to probe his tongue into her mouth 
... 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Her father seemed to be pressing all his weight against her, and she could 
feel his hand beginning to unbutton her blouse. Then he was touching her 
stiff naked nipple and he pinched it. 

She could hardly breathe with his mouth pressed against her the way it was, 
and his breath smelling of the scotch. But he was moaning hard, just like 
she had heard hundreds of times. 

Trish knew then that it was inevitable. She had heard them fighting too many 
times to know. If she tried to resist him, he would definitely beat her and 
then take her by force. She had seen it happen to her mother time and time 
again. 

But the way he was moaning now was the way he usually acted at times when he 
was getting aroused. If she could keep him like that, maybe he wouldn't be 
so hard on her, she thought. 

As he moved his hands over her small firm tits, fingering her stiff red 
nipples and plucking them out, she moved her hand to the swollen bulge of 
his pants. She started to massage him gently and she could hear the way he 
was moaning as she did that. 

He pulled his mouth from hers and moved it to her tit, the one he had been 
fingering. She felt him starting to attack her nipple, opening his mouth and 
licking it and biting it at the same time. All she could feel was the 
bristly stubbles on his face scratching her tender flesh, but she tried not 
to think about it. 

If there was any way out, she knew, she would have taken it. 

But he had her in a position where she could do nothing but go along with 
him. As he licked her nipple, paying very little attention to Trish herself 
and making her wonder if he even knew it was her, he moved his hand down to 
her pants and pulled them open. Then he slid it into her panties and started 
to run his fingers through her blonde haired muff. 

She moaned a little, more from fear than from anything else. As he moved his 
hand more, moving his fingers to her cunt lips and beginning to pull on 
them, she could feel the way he was also pushing her pants down at the same 
time. 

Trish continued stroking his cock bulge, not knowing what else to really do 
to him. She didn't want to take his cock out, unless he insisted that she 
did. She was too scared of actually touching it, too scared of him fucking 
her. 

But it's inevitable, she kept telling herself. 

He started to open his fly with his other hand, and when she moved her hand 
away to let him, he slapped her across the face. 

"This is what you're supposed to be doing," he said to her. 

And then he took her hand and started to guide it to his cock. He had her 
pull him out, and she couldn't believe how thick he was. 

She felt the heat from his cock blazing through her hand and she was quite 
surprised by the whole thing. From far back, she would have sworn that he 
looked much smaller, but now that she was actually feeling him, she was well 
aware of his weight. 

He started to push her down, taking his mouth from her nipple. She knew what 
he was going to want her to do, and as she got closer to his cock, she could 
smell the strong musky manly odor. 

He rubbed his cock head all over her face, and she just closed her eyes 
trying to think of anything else that she could. He was moaning louder as he 
did that, and then, she felt him rubbing his cock head against her lips, 
back and forth. She didn't want to open her mouth to take him in, but then 
it was a command. 

"Suck it," he said to her. 

When she heard the anger in his voice, she knew that she had better do as he 
said. She opened her mouth slowly, and once it was open a little he rammed 
himself into her. She could feel her mouth stretched wide to take him in and 
his cock head seemed to have ended up all the way in the back of her throat. 
She was sure that she could feel it hitting her tonsils, and she started to 
gag. 

Herb pulled back just in time, just before she thought that she was going to 
get sick all over the place. 

And then, he held her head and he started to thrust his cock in and out of 
her mouth. She did nothing. She didn't suck, nor did she use her tongue to 
stimulate his shaft. Instead, she just tried to keep her tongue out of the 
way and tried to keep her mouth wet enough so that he was enjoying it. 

Each time he would thrust in all the way, she would find her nose buried in 
his pubic patch, and there were times when the odor was just too strong for 
her to handle. But he would always manage to pull back in time, before she 
gagged too much. 

There was a taste to his cock, she noticed, but it was nothing special. 
Nothing that she would want to suck on for a long time, and all she was 
doing then was hoping that he would start to come in her mouth soon and get 
it over with. 

"My fucking balls," he said to her, the anger rising again. 

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, questioning. She didn't know what 
the hell was going on or what he meant by that, what the hell he wanted her 
to do. 

He glared down at her. 

"Squeeze them you stupid bitch. Hold them. Love them." 

She could see his two large egg shaped nuts right in front of her. He had 
had her pull them out of his pants along with his cock. She could see the 
sack and the fine black hairs that covered it. Trish didn't put too much 
effort into taking them. She just reached for them, felt the way they were 
burning in her hand, and then she started to squeeze them as hard as she 
could. 

He started thrusting again. The harder she squeezed the more he seemed to be 
loving it, and she had to admit to herself that at least his balls weren't 
hitting her in the chin anymore. That was one saving grace. 

She tickled his sack, tickled the area right underneath them, only because 
her finger had landed there and for no other reason. All of a sudden, she 
could feel his cock beginning to pulsate in her mouth and she found that she 
had even more trouble keeping it in, holding her mouth open wide enough. 

After a few more seconds, the spasms getting fiercer, she felt his come 
beginning to ooze out of the tip of his cock. She could taste it on her 
tongue and she hated it, but she started to suck him hard then to pull it 
all out and get it over with. 

He started to go limp in her mouth soon after that and she was glad about 
it. She was sure then that everything was going to be okay, and as he pulled 
out she felt his limp cock hitting her on the cheek. He raised her up and 
then moved his lips to hers again, pressing his tongue back into her mouth. 

But that kiss, thank God, was a short one. Then he moved back to her tits. 
As he did, he started to raise her up on the stove and pull down her pants 
and panties. She felt so naked and vulnerable in front of him and wanted to 
cover herself. But there was nothing she could do. 

He kissed his way down, running his tongue through her blonde muff. She 
could feel herself beginning to get a little excited, but his bristly 
stubbles seemed to be keeping her from getting more involved than she 
thought she should have. For she could even see how much he was scratching 
her skin, see the red marks. 

He started to lick her cunt lips, pressing his tongue deep into her tunnel. 
She could feel it rubbing over her stiffened clit and that made her tingle 
all over. Yet with all the tingling sensations she had, the fear he was 
instilling in her remained. She didn't want anything like that to happen to 
her. 

He moved his hands under her ass, cupping a cheek in each palm and he 
started to knead her flesh between his fingers. She was moaning loud then 
and her cunt was starting to spasm and get wetter as he worked her over. 
That made him even more aggressive and along with his increase in 
aggression, she noted, there was just as much an increase in the pleasure 
she was feeling. 

She started to moan and she closed her eyes, seeing colors flashing before 
her. He started to bite and lick her clit at the same time, and she was in 
the middle of her first orgasm. 

As it started to subside, she suddenly realized what had happened. She 
suddenly realized that this was her father who had done all these things to 
her, and the thought of it disgusted her more and more. 

"Oh, Daddy," she said to him rather disgustedly with everything he had done 
to her, "how could you?" 

He was beginning to stand up and when he looked right at her, she thought 
that he was going to be calm for a second. He had a rather passive look on 
his face at the time, and it wasn't until after he hit her that she realized 
the passive look was only because of the drunken stupor he was in. 

For he did pull back his hand and then slap her across the face. 

"Don't you talk down to me like that, you bitch," he said to her. 

And then, she noted the way he was moving closer to her, moving his hips 
closer between her spread legs. She could see his cock, hard again, and he 
was beginning to press it into her cunt. 

Her pussy lips were spreading to let his cock head in, and she started to 
whimper. She felt him pressing in harder, and then he stopped. He was 
against her virgin hymen and she thought that he was going to kill her. She 
could feel the pain as his cock head pressed against her more and more. 

Then, he pulled back a little and with one swift thrust went plunging into 
her. She could feel her hymen being ripped through and then there was a 
trickle of cold blood in her cunt. He seemed to be paying very little 
attention to it, and as she looked at his face she could see that his eyes 
were closed and clenched. 

He was looking just like he had that one time when he had been fucking her 
mother, the first time that she could ever remember seeing them together. In 
that sense then, there seemed to be a prevailing calmness coming over her 
and she started to relax a little bit into the fuck, realizing that she had 
no choice. 

Any other protesting reaction would have been met with a slap across the 
face again, and that was the last thing in the world that she wanted. So she 
started to move her hips back and forth with him, remembering the way her 
mother had done it. She could feel her nerve endings, all seeming to be open 
to sensation, and she had to admit that there was something nice to this 
feeling of a cock inside of her. Yet it was knowing the man was her father 
that disgusted her. 

Incest. 

How could he do something like that to her, she thought? 

It was just at that time she felt his cock beginning to pulsate in her cunt 
and she knew that he was going to be coming soon. He started to grunt louder 
than ever and all of a sudden, she felt his come beginning to spurt out of 
his cock with each thrusting gesture. She could feel it filling her cunt 
tunnel and mixing with her own vaginal juices, and the only relief in sight 
was the time when his cock would go limp. 

When that happened, he pulled out of her and just flopped down on top of her 
for a second. He had his head on her tits and she could feel his warm body 
protecting her. The stove seat was not comfortable, but she managed to hold 
out there. For some reason though, all she could feel for him was pity as he 
lay on her lap. 

She moved her fingers to his hair and started to pull at the curls, 
untangling them and trying to make them look a little neater. 

"Oh, Daddy," she said to him. "Oh, Daddy." 

She felt like she was the mother and he as her little boy. She pitied him. 
She wanted to hold him tight and reassure him that everything would be okay 
between her mother and himself. That everything would be okay in life. 

But then, just as she was about to tell him all that, he raised his head and 
glared at her. She could see the hostility in his eyes, and suddenly, there 
was no more pity for him. Only the same kind of hatred he had to have in 
order to have done something like that to her, she thought. 

He pulled away from her and she hopped off the stove. 

She didn't even bother to put on her pants or button her blouse. Instead, 
she just started to walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

"Where the hell are you going?" he yelled after her, his voice still 
sounding fuzzy and drunk. 

"To take a bath. To wash all this shit off me," she said, not even turning 
back. 

"What about my dinner?" 

She didn't even answer him. So far as she was concerned, if he was going to 
rape her and then ask her to make him dinner, he could go fuck himself. She 
wanted to tell him that also but she knew that he would start beating on her 
again. She ran up the stairs as fast as she could and then slammed the 
bathroom door closed behind her, making sure to turn the lock so he couldn't 
get in. 

She looked at her reflection in the full length mirror behind the door. She 
started to cry as soon as she saw herself. Her shoulder-length blonde hair 
was just tattered all over her face and shoulders. Her blouse was ripped 
open and her tits looked like they had been mauled. She could see his teeth 
marks on her right breast, all over the fleshy area but mostly on the 
nipple. 

She could see the bruises all over her body. The scratches on her legs from 
the stubbles on his face. 

But worst of all was the blood that she could see dripping from between her 
legs, her cunt still bleeding. She reached for a washcloth and started to 
soak up the blood a little. 

"You bastard," she said under her breath. 

Then she turned to the tub and started the water, pouring in some bubble 
bath. She took off her open blouse and then sunk down into the tub. She 
could feel the way the soothing hot water was relaxing her, but still, 
burning her cuts. 

It took a few seconds for her to get used to it and she eased herself down 
lower so that most of her body was under the water. She closed her eyes and 
started to think. 

What the hell was she going to tell her mother? Or should she tell her 
mother anything? That was the main problem. 

She knew that if she decided to say nothing, her mother might still ask her 
where she got the bruise on her face. So she would have to cover it. And, 
she also reasoned that if she didn't say anything, there was a chance of the 
whole incident happening again because she was going to be home alone with 
her father every afternoon. She couldn't stay oat until nine every day after 
school and wait for her mother to get home. 

But there was another thing that she thought about, a reason not to tell her 
mother. It was true that her parents fought a lot, but she knew that 
somewhere deep down her mother had to still have some love for her father. 
She had to otherwise she would have left him a long time ago. 

Telling her mother that something like this had occurred might be the flame 
to light the fuse, she knew. Her mother could turn on her father immediately 
and try to throw him out of the house. 

Trish wondered what it would be like in the house without her father there. 
She wondered how her mother would be able to manage. Tire more she thought 
about it, the more she started to realize that her mother probably needed 
him for sex. That seemed to be when things went right for them. That seemed 
to be her only source of pleasure. Once he was gone, what would her mother 
do? 

She started thinking in another direction. Not telling her mother again. She 
could always bring a different friend home with her from school every day 
and if her friend was there she was sure her father wouldn't try anything. 

She would be embarrassed that her friends would see her father drunk off his 
face, but still, it was a way of making sure that he didn't attack her 
again. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. 

Suddenly, she heard footsteps and then a pounding on the door. 

"When are you gettin' out of there?" her father yelled to her. 

She didn't answer. She was too scared. She watched the doorknob as he tried 
to turn it and was relieved that the lock was holding. 

"Hey, you, when the fuck are you getting out of there? I have to take a piss 
and I want you to make my dinner." 

Again she didn't answer, and she could tell that he was getting more 
aggressive. She jumped when she heard him kick the door, but then she 
managed to regain her control. She just sat there, trying to forget that he 
existed there outside the door, but soon he was banging on the door harder 
and harder. 

"Trish, if you don't open this door right this very second I'm going to 
knock it down and then you'll have to pay." 

She could feel her whole body shaking in the water, and when she did look at 
the actual level of the water, she could see that there were tiny little 
wave ripples reflecting the trembling fear. 

"Daddy, please. I'm in the bath," she said, feeling the tears beginning to 
well up in her eyes. She looked at the door hinges and they looked loose. He 
couldn't rape her again, twice in one day, he just couldn't. 

"I gotta take a piss," he said to her, and then, she heard another powerful 
kick and along with the sound, watched the door rip off the bottom hinge. It 
was only being held on now by the top hinge and the lock, which looked like 
it would give way to the next kick Trish was sure. 

She noticed that along with the broken bottom hinge were scattered pieces of 
plaster and paint from the wall. 

Trish was too scared to even think of the practical thing to do, getting up 
and going to the door to answer. Instead, she was too afraid that once her 
father came into the bathroom and saw her naked in the tub, he was going to 
try to take her again and would most certainly succeed. 

She looked at the sink, and she could see his razor sitting there, an old 
fashioned barber shop razor blade, long and ominous looking. 

She sat up quickly, reached for it, then pulled it down under the water. 

Just in time, too, for the next kick followed in a matter of seconds, and 
she ducked because she thought that the door was going to come flying at 
her. It didn't make it that far, and did, in fact, still hold on by the 
bottom hinge. But this time, Herb Hawkins had kicked the lock right through. 

The door was now just hanging, and he managed to push it aside and walk into 
the bathroom. 

She slid under the water a little bit more, trying to hide her breasts. Her 
father gave her a snide glance, snickered a little bit, and then stood in 
front of the toilet. He pulled out his limp cock, made sure that he could 
see it, then proudly began to piss into the bowl, a thick yellow stream. 

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You tryin' to hide yourself under that 
water? Like I never seen what you look like? Those tits of yours. Well, 
honey, let me tell you. No matter how hard you try, I can still see those 
red little nipples there." 

His talk was making her sick, not only because of what he was actually 
saying to her, but even more, because of the sound of his piss hitting the 
water. He was purposely doing it right into the water and not on the side of 
the bowl. Trish couldn't help thinking that he was a disgusting gross pig. 

"You like lookin' at my cock as much as I like lookin' at your tits, honey?" 

She didn't say anything. Just stayed there, not even moving, clutching the 
handle of his razor just in case he came near her and tried anything with 
her. She could feel the steel resting on her belly. 

T asked you a question," he said to her. 

"What was that?" she asked, suddenly seeming so cool, suddenly realizing 
that as long as she had the razor she also had the upper hand. 

"Do you like lookin' at my cock?" he asked. 

He was taking the longest piss in the world, she thought, and she didn't 
know when his bladder was going to drain. 

"Your cock?" she asked, looking over at his limp member which he seemed to 
be displaying for her, going so far as to hold it with his left hand so that 
she could see it from the right. As she looked at it, she was trying to 
decide. 

She hated the fact that it was his, number one. Her father's. She hated what 
he had done to her downstairs. But when she thought about how his cock had 
looked downstairs she had to admit that it had been nice. Nice and long and 
thick. 

But now, she thought, it just looked small and ugly, his two balls just 
bobbing up and down there as he shook his cock to get all the piss off the 
tip. She thought that she'd tell him just what was on her mind. 

"Your cock," she said again, this time not a question, "let me tell you 
about your cock. Now it looks hideous. Absolutely hideous, but then, what 
can I expect from a man who looks the same?" 

He was grinning at her, so she knew that he must have slugged a few more 
drinks downstairs before he had even come up to piss. Between her rape and 
now, because he sure looked like he was more drunk than before. His words 
were more slurred, his eyes more red. 

"What did you have to eat today?" she asked him. 

"What does that have to do with anything?" he slurred. 

"Because you look more like a drunken sop than ever," she said to him. 
"Worse than ever, and I was wondering if you even got anything solid into 
your stomach?" 

He was still standing there, facing her, and she noticed that his hand, 
which had been pulling and rubbing his cock all the time he was talking to 
her, was now massaging him well enough to make him start stiffening. 

She knew that he was looking at where her eyes were looking, which was right 
at his cock. The transformation from a limp dick to a nice sized erection 
was a fascinating one for her to see. 

"I didn't eat anything," he said to her. "You're supposed to make it, so 
your mother tells me. While she's out working." 

"What's wrong with that?" Trish asked. "Is she supposed to spend her whole 
life waiting for you to make money?" 

"You stupid cunt," he said, getting angry, but he still hadn't approached 
her. He was still standing in front of the toilet, now facing her, and he 
reached over to finally flush his piss down. 

"Be realistic, Daddy," she said to him, "we have to eat and if you're going 
to continue getting drunk all the time we can't count on you." 

"You can count on me for some things," he said, and his cock was now fully 
hard. He moved his hand from it and just stood there with his hard cock 
bobbing in the air. It was then that he started to move a little closer to 
her. She clutched onto the razor handle tighter. 

"Like what?" she asked him. "I don't think that we can count on you for 
anything." 

"Your mother counts on me for one thing," he said, and she knew that he was 
talking about his cock, his one and only proud possession. "And now it seems 
that you might be able to count on me for that thing, too." 

He walked right up to the tub and she started to tremble. 

"I don't know what you mean," she said to him. 

"Bullshit you don't, you stupid cunt." 

"Daddy, why are you being like this? I don't understand? It used to be so 
good when I was little, at least from the way I remember it. But now, I 
don't know, it's just not the way it was." 

She felt so strange trying to reason with him, but somehow she was thinking 
that he would be in a reasonable mood. 

"I don't wanna hear all that shit," he said to her. 

"Why not? Face up to responsibilities." 

"The only responsibility I have is to me," he said. "And now me wants his 
fucking satisfaction from you. Suck it." 

"What?" she asked. 

"You heard what the fuck I told you to do. Suck it." 

He was just about to reach out and grab her by the hair, pull her over, when 
suddenly she pulled the razor blade out, reached for his bobbing cock with 
her free hand and moved the razor right over, the blade touching his shaft. 

Immediately, she felt the way he was withdrawing her hand, and she even got 
to feel what it was like for a man's erection to suddenly shrink in fear. 
Before she even started talking to him, his cock was limp in her hand but 
the blade was still close to it just in case. 

"You hit me, or even try to touch me again," she said to him, "I swear that 
I'll cut your fucking prized possession right off." 

She was hiding her fear deep inside of her as she spoke, trying to make him 
think that she was stable, calm, and confident. She seemed to sense from his 
apparent withdrawal and the way his cock had shrunk, that her act was 
working right. 

"You wouldn't do that to me, baby, would you?" he asked. 

"Just try me," she said, and just to show him that she meant business, she 
pushed the razor in just a tiny bit so that she cut his cock skin. Only like 
a paper cut. He watched as the blood began to trickle out, only a little, 
and slowly. 

"The next time," Trish said, "I'll slice it right through. Now just get the 
fuck out of here and leave me alone." 

He pulled back from her, pulling his cock from his hand and reaching for the 
toilet paper to start soaking up the blood. But they still continued to 
glare at each other, Trish holding the razor tightly in her hand to let her 
father know that she still meant business, and Herb holding his cock wrapped 
in the paper. 

"All right," he said to her. "But you know you're not going to get away with 
this. You'd better understand that." 

"Just get the fuck out," she said. 

And she held up the blade higher, as if demonstrating that it would be very 
easy for her to lunge right at him and stick it in his gut. 

He turned and left, almost knocking the door off its last hinge. But it 
still managed to hang on. Trish waited until she heard his retreating 
footsteps before she sunk back down in the water to try and relax. 

But she knew that she would never be able to relax in that house again. And 
the inner fear that she had been suppressing started to ease out of her 
body, to the surface, until she was trembling hard. 

For the last thing he had said to her was a threat, and Trish didn't know 
how she was going to live in a house where she would have to keep up her 
guard during all his waking hours. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

"I need another order of fries," Harriet Hawkins said to Al Rabe, the young 
man behind the counter. 

"I thought I gave you one," he said to her. 

"You did," Harriet said, pushing her light brown hair off her face. "Jesus, 
don't you think you can do something about the air conditioning? It's hot in 
the damn place and the customers are complaining too." 

"Don't bring those kind of complaints to me," he said. "That's management. 
Now about them fries, you said you wanted one order and now you say you want 
another." 

"Al," Harriet said, "I know that I specifically told you I wanted two 
orders. I know that for a fact, I think." 

"Aha, you think," he said. 

She had to smile at him when he said that. There was something about his 
blonde boyish looks that she thought made him look more like a fifteen year 
old kid, rather than the twenty-five year old man he was. 

"Al," she said, "I'm sorry. Maybe I'm wrong. Look, you know this is only my 
fourth day here and maybe I didn't tell you two. All I know is that there's 
some fucking broad out there screaming her ass off that I didn't bring her 
french fries and all I know is that if I don't get them fast, I might get 
angry enough at her to just plant them over her head when I do get them." 

Al started to laugh, and she thought that he looked even cuter, more boyish. 

"Hey, cut it out," she said. "It's not funny. That lady's getting mad." 

"But you don't care," Al said to her. 

"So far as getting my tip, I do. But so far as she's concerned, I don't 
think there's any sense in hoping for a big tip anyway now." 

"You know something, Harriet," Al Rabe said to her, "the reason I like you 
so much here, more than all the other waitresses, is because you have a 
great attitude about this place." 

"Shit, Al," she said to him, "it's my fucking work, not my life. I try to do 
it as well as I can, but if there are going to be assholes like that lady, 
what can I do? I can't let it get to me." 

"Here," he said, suddenly putting up an order of fries on the counter, "this 
is the one that Flo ordered, but she's just going to have to wait." 

"Thanks, Al," she said. 

"I expect you to make it up to me," he said to her, and he winked. 

She took the plate of fries, pushed her way through the swinging doors and 
immediately walked over to the table with the demanding french fries woman. 
As she placed the plate down, she started thinking that the bitch didn't 
even need them. She was too goddamn fat anyway and she would be better to go 
without potatoes during this meal. But that wasn't good policy to tell her. 
Especially the way Harriet was thinking of it. 

"Here are your fucking fries, fatso, but you don't need them," was what she 
wanted to say, and because of it, she was smiling as she walked over to 
another table where some more customers had just walked in. 

She knew she was going to get a big tip at this table. 

She knew it from the minute they sat down and she ran over to hand them the 
menus. They seemed to like her. And now, as she went to take their orders 
she was smiling and thinking about the fat lady, very high, and as a result, 
most polite. She wrote down what they wanted, smiled again, then took the 
menus and headed for the kitchen. 

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Al asked her as 
she started to read off the order. 

"Come on," she said, "old line." 

"True," he winked again, "but the answers are always different. Come on, I'm 
really curious about you." 

"Why?" 

"Because you're older than most of the other waitresses here, no offense. 
I'm not saying that you look bad. Old. You look, in fact, like a spring day. 
For thou art more fair than any other maiden I have rested mine eyes on." 

"Shakespeare?" she asked. "I don't know, but it sounds good. Don't you 
think?" 

She started to laugh and she finished reading out her orders. 

"Al, do you joke around with all the other girls like this?" 

"No," he said, "absolutely not. I wouldn't want you to think that I just do 
this to everyone. Only the ones I think are special." 

"Every other one?" she asked, laughing again. She felt so at ease with him. 

"Yes," he said. "But really no. I'm just kidding. No, you interest me a lot, 
that's all, because, as I've said, you're ... " 

"Older than the others?" she asked him. 

"No, more mature," he said to her. "Forget about old. For age is nothing." 

"Except when the years start to catch up with you. Then it's something." 

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question," he said to her. "Whatever made you 
decide to take a job at the famous and tacky Fred's diner?" 

"I needed the money, my husband's out of work." 

"Oh," he said, and she knew that she had suddenly said the wrong thing. She 
could tell from the way he was acting that he hadn't known she was married. 
Usually, the minute a single man found out a girl was married, the pursuit 
was off. But there was something about Al that intrigued her, and she 
decided that she wanted the pursuit to continue. Even if nothing was to 
happen. Just for a game. 

"But we're having problems," she said to him. "That's the reason I'm 
working. He can't hold down a job." 

"Too bad," Al said. 

"I have to get out there and check my tables. Ring me when the order's 
ready." 

"I'd like to talk with you a little bit more," he said to her. 

"Al, I can't right now. I have to get out there." 

"Later then," he said to her, smiling and then taking a dirty hand and 
wiping it across his forehead, wiping off the sweat but rubbing on grease. 
She motioned for him to lean over and then took a napkin and wiped his 
forehead. She couldn't help but smell something sweet in his blond hair. 

"When later?" she asked him. 

"Let's go for a drink after work. We both get off at eight." 

"Okay," she said. "But it'll have to be a short one." 

She thought she heard him say "A quickie" as she turned to walk back out 
into the diner, but she wasn't all that sure. 

In fact, she started thinking more about it. If that was what he meant, so 
far as a quickie fuck went, she was thinking that maybe she would like it. 
She needed something, that was for sure. She wondered if he was it. 

For as she started to serve, Harriet Hawkins started thinking about the way 
things were working out for her at home, and she wasn't happy at all. Things 
were worse than they had ever been between herself and Herb, she knew, the 
last few nights being the most unbearable. 

It was easy to sense that he resented her because she was working and he 
wasn't, but she thought he was stupid for taking that attitude. He had to be 
realistic in the matter. They needed the money and he wasn't doing much to 
secure it. 

Worst of all, she knew, was their sex life. It had always been so good, good 
to the point where he could make her see his way all the time, just by 
fucking her. Even when he would be hard with her, the mere feel of his cock 
inside of her cunt seemed to put her under his complete control. She knew 
that. 

And if it served any purpose at all, she knew, it was for a release of 
tension. There had always been tension between she and Herb. All the years 
of fighting between them. The last few nights however, although they had 
fucked, she hadn't felt any kind of tension release at all. In fact, she 
thought that there was more tension in their bedroom the last few nights 
than there had been ever before. 

He still fucked her, that was true. But it seemed to her like he was only 
doing it because he felt that he was obligated to do it. 

He would just pump it into her really hard until she was coming, then he 
would come very fast, too, and it would all be over. He would roll off her 
and then over on his side, his back to her. She would hear him breathing 
very heavily, but that would be all. He wasn't sleeping, she knew, because 
when he slept he snored. He just seemed to be steaming in his own self-pity, 
she thought. 

The first night after she had worked and it had happened like that, she 
didn't say anything. She hadn't slept much that night, but still didn't find 
the need to say anything to him. 

However, when it had happened again the second night, him fucking her hard 
until they both came and then him rolling over, she had touched his back, 
moving her hand all the way down to his ass and patting his buttocks. 

"Herb," she had said, "we're going to have to talk." 

"What's there to talk about?" he had asked her. 

"Your attitude." 

"I don't have a fucking attitude," he said to her, getting harsh. "So don't 
start with me about it." 

She knew better than to go any further. For the one thing that she didn't 
warn to lead him into was beating on her again. She had once thought about 
going to a meeting for beaten housewives, but never quite convinced herself 
that she fell into that category. He would just get mad at her once in a 
while and hit her once in a while she always told herself. 

But that night, she had the fear that he would start to beat her, she even 
feared the word. It had confirmed the fact in her mind that she was a beaten 
housewife. 

The next night the same thing had happened, but this time she took her 
discussion further, forgetting about his attitude and just coming straight 
out with her questions. 

"You don't like the fact that I'm working, do you?" she asked him. 

"No," he said, "but what's the use of discussing it?" 

"Because I don't like the tension that I'm feeling here, and that's why I 
think we should talk about it." 

"What kind of tension?" he asked her. 

"I don't know," she said. "But when we made love it used to seem to solve 
all our problems, but now all it does is make me more tense." 

"That sounds like something you're going to have to work out by yourself," 
he said to her, and from his tone, she knew it was an end to the 
conversation. 

So this fourth day at work had started out tense because when she had first 
started, all she could think about was what it would be like for them in the 
bedroom that night. That made her tense. 

As she had gotten into her day though, she seemed to forget about her 
problems at home and just concentrate on her customers. 

But Al Rabe, she knew, had been one of the main reasons she had been able to 
bear up during the day. For they both came on at the same time and ever 
since she had started working there, he had been flirting with her. But it 
wasn't until this fourth day that she started playing back with him, and she 
found that to be the most exciting part of the day. 

She wondered what Herb would say when she came home late that night, but she 
didn't seem to care too much. 

She thought about Al just as she was going into the kitchen to pick up her 
next order. This time she smiled at him first. 

"You know," he said, picking up her good vibes, "I only live around the 
corner from here. Why don't we go there for a drink?" 

That caught her off guard, but suddenly, she answered. 

"Okay, that would be nice." 

It was because of the way he had smiled back at her, she knew. There was 
something about his light hair and his dark tan that turned her on. 
Something about his blue eyes. She knew that he must have been from 
California, she just knew it. Probably, he had once been a California beach 
bum. He just had that kind of look. 

But in his dungarees and T-shirt, all covered by a large white apron, he 
looked completely different than a surfer. He still had the body, the fine 
rippling muscles which she could see on his arms, but somehow, the white 
apron gave him the slop cook look. She wanted to laugh as she thought about 
it, but then she realized that her black waitress uniform with the red apron 
was nothing much to think about either. It made her look like a cheap slop 
waitress, and that was all. 

She piled the dishes onto the tray, and as she walked out to serve, she 
glanced up at the clock. It was seven-thirty and that meant she would be 
leaving with him in a half an hour. The idea thrilled her as much as it 
scared her. 

For in her sixteen years of marriage, she had never once thought of being 
unfaithful to her husband, and here she was, speculating on Al's motives, 
thinking that he might want to seduce her without actually knowing for a 
fact but wanting it to happen, too. Actually wanting him to try it and 
knowing that she would go along with it. She served the table fast and 
courteously, making sure to ask if there was anything else that they wanted 
before she walked away. She decided then to stay around until these people 
left because she was sure to get a nice tip from them. She liked them and 
they liked her. 

She just hoped that they would eat fast and be out of there by eight. 

By the time eight did roll around, she had finished serving all her tables, 
had gotten the checks from them all, except for that one. She waited until 
they finished their dessert before walking over with the check. 

Al already had his coat on when she walked into the back of the kitchen. 
"Come on," he said, "let's go." 

"Okay," she told him, "but through the front. I have to pick up my last tip 
and I hope it's a good one." 

She pulled her coat on and the two of them walked back out, this time for 
the last time of the night. It was a reassuring feeling to know that you 
could just continue out the front door and not have to worry about going 
back to the kitchen. The day had ended. She walked past the table and 
scooped up the five dollar tip they had left her, stuffing it into her 
pocket. 

"Very impressive," Al said as they walked out the front door. "A fiver for a 
small bill. What do you do for them?" 

"Serve them," she said, laughing. 

"Let's stop for a bottle of wine," he said to her. 

"I thought you said you have drinks there already," she said. 

"I will. When we bring the bottle of wine in." 

She laughed again. There was just something so impish and exciting about his 
whole nature and attitude. After they got into the liquor store and he asked 
for the wine, he turned to her. 

"Do you think you could lend me five until payday?" he asked. 

"My treat," she said, pulling out the five dollar bill. Harriet knew that 
she couldn't afford it. That the money would have served a better purpose at 
home, but for some reason that was beginning to get clearer and clearer, she 
didn't mind. 

They walked around the block and then down some stairs. He lived in a small 
one room basement apartment, and as soon as they walked in and he flicked on 
the light, she picked up a lot of things about him. 

For instance, it was now apparent to her that he was a writer, his 
typewriter sitting on the desk with crumpled paper beside it and on the 
floor. Then there were shelves and shelves of books. 

"Let me take your coat," he said, and he hung it on a small coat rack. 

He walked over to the couch, pushed some books out of the way and made room 
for her to sit. Then he walked over to the small kitchen area, took out two 
glasses, opened the bottle and poured. 

He walked back near the couch and handed it to her. 

"Here's to us," he said. 

"Us?" 

"Sure. Why not? What else should we drink to?" 

But she didn't even have time to answer because he raised his glass to his 
lips very fast and took a long gulp. 

"You're a writer, so I see," she said to him, wanting to make conversation 
because of the long, uncomfortable pause. 

"Yes," he said to her. 

He sat down beside her on the couch and she noted the way he put his arm 
around her shoulder, the way he was looking right at her. 

"Are you from California?" she asked him, smiling. 

"Yes," he said to her, and she felt him beginning to pull her hair down out 
of the tight bun she usually had to keep it in while she was working. He 
pulled out each clip slowly, and she could feel her hair falling on her 
shoulders. 

"I knew it," she said, suddenly. "I knew it. The minute I first saw you I 
knew that was where you were from." 

"Hey," he said, and he turned her head toward his, "you seem a little edgy. 
Calm down some, okay?" 

And then he moved his lips to hers. It was so unexpected in some ways, 
expected in others. Her overall feeling though was shock. It scared her to 
be doing something like this behind her husband's back, but as his lips 
touched her and she felt the heat of his presence nearing her, she could do 
nothing but go with it. 

Their lips touched and he started to press his tongue into her mouth. She 
started to suck on it as if she was hungry for it. She could hear him 
moaning as their lips continued to touch, and he was soon trying to suck her 
tongue into his mouth, pressing his weight against hers at the same time. 

By the time the kiss had ended, a good few minutes later, she was hornier 
than she could remember being in the longest time. 

"I like you a lot," he said to her, "and we could have some wonderful times 
together if you want it that way." 

He kissed her again slowly, then reached for her hand to take the wine glass 
and put it on the table in front of the couch, next to his. 

"Come on," he said to her, taking her hand. 

"Where are we going?" she asked him. 

"To shower. Look, we're both filthy from the long day's work and we could 
both do each other a lot of good by cleaning each other." 

She smiled. In all her years she had never done anything like that with a 
man. Her sex activities had usually been confined to the bedroom and the 
thought of doing it with him in the shower made her hornier. 

As he flicked on the light in the bathroom, he also started to pull his 
T-shirt over his head. She noticed what a fine trim body he had, light blond 
hair under his arms but absolutely none on his chest. His nipples looked 
like they might have been pink once, but now, along with the tan on his 
chest, they seemed a darker brown. 

She started to undress too, pulling down the zipper in back of her uniform 
and letting it fall. She reached for her bra strap in the back and pulled it 
open. He smiled at he saw her naked tits, with her stiffened brown nipples. 

"You see," he said, reaching out to caress one for a second, "about that 
crack of your being old. You'd never know it from this firm set." 

Then he moved his hand back to his dungarees, and as he kicked off his shoes 
he started to unzip his pants. She expected that he would be wearing shorts 
or something and was a little surprised to see his naked cock underneath. 

He had a nice little patch of blond hair, then a cute cock, not yet hard and 
two round red balls, so it seemed. But the thing that turned her on the most 
was the small white patch of skin against the tanned line where he must have 
worn bathing suits. 

She pulled down her panty hose and panties at the same time, revealing her 
tight ass and her furry brown patch. She smiled at him as he pulled the 
curtain aside and then watched the flex of his buttocks as he stepped into 
the tub. She was fast to follow, her whole body already tingling with 
excitement. 

He pulled the curtain closed, then turned on the water, first so it was 
pouring into the tub and he could check the right temperature, and then 
turning the knob so it was spraying out of the shower. 

She felt it wet her hair immediately, and then he was pulling her closer to 
him and pressing his whole body against hers as he kissed her. She could 
feel his smooth chest pressing in her nipples, but best of all, feel his 
cock pressing against her cunt hairs. She moved her hand between his legs 
and started to stroke him, feeling the stiff strong growth that was 
occurring. 

"I think we should really wash first," he said. "I feel filthy." 

He took the washcloth and a bar of soap, then rubbed some in. He started to 
wash her face, but didn't stay there for too long. When she felt him moving 
the cloth around her tits, she was in heaven. Then he put the cloth down, 
soaped up his hands and started to rub it into her tits. 

His bare hands felt better than any cloth, she knew, but what was best of 
all was the fact that he was moving his hands around and around, never quite 
touching her nipple yet, but making them burst with anticipation. 

When he finally did touch them, she could feel spasms in her cunt. Mild and 
most pleasing spasms. He kept one hand on her tit and started to move the 
other soapy one down between her legs, soaping her pubic patch until it was 
all bubbly, then sliding his fingers into her cunt. 

She closed her eyes and moaned lightly. He only worked on her cunt for a few 
seconds, wiggling her clit, before she felt herself exploding inside, felt 
herself starting to spasm hard and peak in orgasm. When that happened he 
sunk to his knees and started to eat her, pressing his tongue into her cunt 
as he buried his nose in her soap-filled patch. 

She could feel him pressing his tongue deep into her cunt and she leaned 
back against the wall for support, feeling her legs beginning to buckle 
underneath her. He moved his hands to her buttocks then, rubbing some soap 
on. But the water from the shower was enough to make her ass cheeks 
super-sensitive and as he caressed them and ate her, she thought she was in 
heaven. 

He ate her until she came another time, and then he stood, still holding 
onto her tightly because he could tell that he had exhausted her. He moved 
his lips back to hers and as she kissed him she could taste her sweet cunt 
flavor in his mouth. She took the bar of soap from him as she pulled back. 

"Now it's my turn," she said, and she soaped up her hands well. 

She played with his nipples for a long time, noticing that after his cock 
was hard and she pinched his nipples, both at the same time, it seemed to 
pulse with anticipation and excitement. She looked at his cock the whole 
time, impressed with what she could do to it without actually touching it. 

As she moved her soapy hand down to play with his pubic hairs, she decided 
that she just had to touch his cock once. She ran her hand over the length 
of the shaft and he closed his eyes. 

She had to suck him, she knew, had to taste him, so she started to lower 
herself down, turning him a little so that the shower spray would wash the 
soap from his patch right away so she wouldn't have to taste it. 

When she was near his cock, she sucked his two balls into her mouth and 
rubbed his cock shaft over her face. There was something so strong about it, 
she felt, and yet, something so weak. She could control him so well just by 
working him up to the point of orgasm. Have him begin her to bring him off. 

She saw no reason to make him beg though. He was too beautiful. She sucked 
on his balls hard as she started to jerk his cock, but as she saw him begin 
to spasm, saw it all happening so fast, she dropped his balls and then took 
his cock into her mouth. Her tongue expertly played with the cock head, 
pried into the piss slit as much as it could, tasting a little bit of his 
pre emission come and smearing it over the entire cock head. She cupped his 
balls and squeezed them a little bit. 

He started to thrust his hips back and forth and she could feel his cock 
moving all the way in the back of her throat. She knew that he was hot and 
reached for his ass cheeks, stroking them. 

She wanted to explore him more, just the way she usually did with Herb. She 
moved her finger between his ass cheeks and started to stroke the fine line 
of his ass crack. When she massaged his hole enough so that it was loose, 
she started to slide her finger deep inside of him. 

It was only then that his cock started to spasm hard and she could feel him 
emptying his come into her mouth. She tasted the smooth creamy flavor on her 
tongue, swallowing the first large ejaculation fast because she seemed to 
sense that there was going to be a lot more. 

When it did follow then, she wasn't at all surprised. She just pulled her 
head back a little so that she could catch the next few spurts and it 
wouldn't be shooting so far back in her throat. 

She was massaging his asshole the entire time, feeling how much looser he 
seemed to be getting because of it. 

Finally, she had drained him, she could tell, and she sucked the last of his 
come from his cock tube and felt him starting to shrink in her mouth. She 
slowly pulled her finger from his asshole as she stood up, licking her way 
up his chest and licking each nipple before she moved her mouth back to his. 

They both moved under the water and could feel it showering down on them, 
and for the first time in years, Harriet felt so very secure. She felt like 
she owned the world and could do anything, so long as she was with him. 

"You are incredible," he said, moving his mouth to her ear and kissing her 
there. 

"Maybe it's because I'm an older woman and pretty experienced," she said. 

It was something of a lie. For Harriet had been a virgin when she married 
Herb and she didn't want Al to know that he was only the second man she had 
ever been with in all her thirty-five years. 

"Or maybe," he said, moving his hand to her tit and cupping it, then moving 
his tongue down to lick her nipple, "it's because I'm a younger man, and 
pretty experienced in my own way." 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

She walked into the house that night at ten, and heard silence. That scared 
her in some way, although, when she reasoned it out more, it was ridiculous 
to get scared because of silence. 

Still, Herb was usually always waiting for her in the living room. At least 
that had been the way he had done it the first three nights. But this time 
he wasn't there. Of course, she told herself, it is more than an hour and a 
half later than I usually do get home. 

Harriet hoped that he wouldn't ask her where she had been, although she 
already knew what she was going to tell him. Still, she didn't want to even 
have to lie to him because there were times when he could see through her 
lies. 

Harriet sat down on the couch for a second to rest, kicking off her shoes. 
It had all been worth it as far as she was concerned. Everything. The whole 
evening. She started to think back to how it had been after the shower. 

They had both dried each other off, and by that time, Al's cock had been 
nice and hard again. They walked back into the living room, both naked, sat 
there and talked for a while as they drank, but most of all, stroked each 
other tenderly. 

"What did your husband do?" he asked her. 

"He just worked various blue collar jobs, nothing special. But there reached 
a point where he just couldn't stay away from his booze and he would get 
fired from all his jobs after a few months." 

"That's too bad," he had said "Still, you can't blame him at times. I've 
done the blue collar circuit. I've done a lot of things, but only for short 
times. All I know is if I had to work in a factory more than a few months, I 
would go insane." 

Harriet thought about it as she opened her coat. Al had been defending what 
Herb did in some ways. His reasons for not wanting to hold one of those 
jobs. 

"I could imagine." Al had said, "that the whole thing would be very 
frustrating and for that reason, I couldn't blame him for drinking." 

It had only been then that Al had seen the bruise on her breast. The 
lighting had been low most of the night, and it still was. But as he spoke 
to her he moved his head closer to lay it on her breast and that was when he 
had seen the bruise. 

He asked her about it. 

"My husband sometimes beats me," she said, it was the first time she had 
ever said anything like that to someone and she felt good getting it off her 
chest. 

"Why do you take it?" he asked her. 

"I guess because I do love him, still. It's not like it was when we were 
first together. But when we were first together everything had been so 
beautiful. He had been a kind gentle man. It was only when we had the baby 
that ... " 

"You mean you're a mother?" he asked. 

"Yes. I have a fifteen year-old daughter named Trish. Believe it or not. 
Anyway, when it was just the two of us it was nice. We both wanted the baby, 
that was true, but along with the baby came a lot more responsibilities than 
Herb could handle and a lot of bills that had to be paid." 

"Meaning, if he's a blue collar worker, he had to work overtime." 

"Right," Harriet had said. "That's when he started to change." 

"Could you blame him?" Al asked. 

"What?" 

"Look, it's bad enough having to do some of that shit eight hours a day, but 
when you have to work overtime and you're doing the most tedious shit only 
because you need the money, well, that's not such a nice feeling or a good 
position." 

"I never thought about it that way," she said. 

"Maybe you should have. I bet all you did was nag him all the time about you 
needing more money, and then all you were doing was laying a burden on his 
shoulders." 

"Tell me something, Al Rabe," she had said, moving her hand down to his cock 
and starting to stroke it gently, watching the way his whole body seemed to 
shiver under her touch, "how does a man whose only twenty-five know so 
much?" 

"Like I said, I've been around and I've seen a lot of people. That's why I 
want to be a famous writer one day. I've seen a lot of things, now all I 
have to do is write something about them." 

"Interesting," she said, cupping his balls, feeling the light blond fuzz 
that coated his scrotal sack. 

"But, to be more honest, it sounds just like the way it was in my family 
when I was younger and my mother always used to hassle my father." 

"Did it bother you?" she asked, thinking about Trish. She had never really 
talked too much with her daughter about all the fights she must have heard 
going on while she grew up in the house. She wondered just how it was 
affecting her. 

As she sat on the couch, she made a mental note to go up and ask her later. 

"No," he had said. "I think that once a kid gets to be a certain age, maybe 
about eleven, they come to some kind of reality about the situation. I mean 
you have to face the fact eventually that your family is not going to be 
just like the Walton's, and even if there was a family like that, it's rare. 
You have to realize that there are problems that are going to occur." 

"You know," she said to him, "you're so sweet." 

"That's a condescending remark if I ever heard one," he said to her. 

"I didn't mean it that way," she said, and just to prove it to him, she 
moved her mouth down to his nipple and kissed him. 

That seemed to have gotten everything going, because most of the time, while 
they had been talking, she had been stroking his cock. As she kissed his 
nipple that seemed to turn him on more, make him more aggressive, and he 
started to push her back and climb on top of her. 

She spread her legs for him and felt him rubbing his cock head against her 
cunt lips, and then, ever so slowly, he started to guide his way into her. 
She could feel her cunt lips grabbing onto his cock, almost kissing it and 
pulling it into her even more. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks and 
started to rub them as he moved all the way into her. 

Once in, he started to thrust ever so gently. She could feel his cock bone 
working on her excited erect clit, and that was sending sensations through 
her entire body. In many ways, it started to remind her of days when Herb 
had been younger, their free and easy days when love was all they had and 
they would be so tender and gentle with each other. 

His balls were hitting her buttocks with each inward thrust, and she could 
feel her cunt starting to spasm only seconds after he had entered her. There 
was something about the wine and the touching foreplay they had gone through 
that had made her cunt more responsive than ever before. 

As he felt her cunt spasming he started to moan and slowed down probably 
because her cunt spasms were adding more sensations without his even having 
to bother with his thrusting. He lay there and she rubbed his ass cheeks 
even harder. He kissed her passionately on the lips and she felt his weight 
pressing in on her. But she loved it all, loved the comforting feelings she 
was getting from him. 

After her orgasm started to subside he picked up his thrusting, but she had 
known even then that he wouldn't be able to hold out too much longer. He had 
seemed to be near his peak before and there was no way he would be able to 
hold back. 

He had fooled her though. She couldn't even remember how long his cock was 
spasming for before he finally started ejaculating, but it seemed like it 
could have been at least ten minutes or so because the spasming cock was 
giving her clit such a workout that she started to moan as her pleasures 
built up again. 

They came together that time, and when it was over, she walked to the 
bathroom, washed herself so that she wouldn't smell of sex, then went back 
in to dress. He just lay on the couch, a few drops of come dripping from his 
cock. 

"Do you have to leave so soon?" he asked her. 

"Yes," she said. "I'm going to be late as it is and my husband's going to be 
mad at me." 

"I hope he won't beat you because of it." 

She felt uncomfortable when he said that to her, but she knew that he was 
saying it in all earnestness. He really did care about what happened to her 
and she felt good thinking that someone did. 

"I hope we can get together soon," she said as she kissed him then walked to 
the door. 

"I'm sure that we will," she heard him say. 

And now, as she sat downstairs in her own home, she was beginning to feel a 
little bit guilty about what she had done. She wondered what Herb was going 
to say to her when she went upstairs, if he was upstairs at all. 

"Well, Harriet Hawkins," she said to herself, "there's only one way to find 
out and that's for you to go up there." 

She bent down, picked up her shoes, then stood. She started to walk up the 
stairs and she could still hear silence. She walked into her bedroom, seeing 
the door wide open, and he wasn't there. 

In some ways it relieved her. She walked over to Trish's room and saw the 
door closed, then rapped on it lightly. 

"Who is it?" she heard her daughter as, sounding frightened. 

"It's me, Mom. Can I come in?" 

"Sure, Mom," she heard Trish say, and suddenly she seemed less scared. 
Harriet turned around for a second before she opened the door, and that was 
when she noticed the bathroom door, hanging sideways from one hinge. "Hey, 
what happened to the bathroom door?" was the first thing she asked when she 
stepped into the room. 

"It accidentally got locked from the inside and Dad kicked it open." 

She didn't know why but she thought that Trish was lying to her. Still, she 
didn't want to press it. She just walked over to the bed, sat down, and took 
her daughter in her arms to give her a big hug. 

"So how was your day today?" she asked Trish. 

"Fine. Nothing different." 

"Where'd Daddy go?" Harriet asked. "And what time did he leave?" 

"I don't really know where he went, nor do I care. But he left at about 
seven-thirty and he hasn't been back since. Probably at some bar drinking 
some more." 

"Trish, that's a terrible thing to say about your father." 

"Mom, we both know that it's true so there's no sense trying to hide it. He 
was awful today when I came home. Just awful." 

"Why? What did he do?" 

Trish had already decided that for now, she wasn't going to tell her mother 
anything about what her father had done to her. She was going to wait it out 
some time. She had the razor hidden in her night table drawer, had slipped 
it in there when she heard that it was her mother outside of the door 
instead of her father. 

"He was just so drunk and he started yelling. He just made me very tense and 
I didn't particularly like being around him today." 

"I'm sorry, honey," her mother said. "You have to understand though. I have 
to keep this job until Dad gets something else. Hey, I wanted to talk to you 
about something important. This guy who's the cook where I work was talking 
with me tonight and I just happened to tell him a little bit about Dad. He 
told me that he came from a family pretty similar. His parents sounded like 
they acted like Dad and I act now." 

"What of it?" Trish asked her mother. 

"He just said that it didn't affect him too much, but that it can and does 
affect other kids. I just wanted to find out how you feel about it." 

"What, exactly?" she asked. 

"About Dad. The way he's been acting. The things that he does. The drinking. 
The arguments we always have and I know you're either in here or downstairs 
and you hear everything that we say to each other. How does that make you 
feel?" 

Trish wanted to break down and cry in her mother's arms. Wanted to tell her 
mother everything that had happened to her that afternoon. The way her 
father had raped her and then tried to assault her again in the bathroom. 
Tell her the real reason the door was the way it was and not some lie she 
had concocted. 

But she had to ask something first. 

"Do you love him?" she asked. 

"Yes," her mother said. "I think that the only reason I stay with him right 
now is because I do love him. I keep thinking that he needs this help and 
I'm the only one who can give it to him." 

"How much longer will it go on before you might start thinking he's beyond 
help?" 

"What? What makes you ask me something like that?" Harriet Hawkins asked her 
young daughter as she stroked her hair. 

"I don't know. It's just that it seems to be the same ever since I can 
remember. It doesn't get better, ever. Only worse." 

Harriet thought about it for the longest time. Maybe Trish was right. Maybe 
Herb was definitely beyond help and it would be best to leave. 

But then she thought about the things Al had been saying to her that night. 
Things about factory work and the way it affects some men. She knew that the 
answer was for Herb to get some kind of job where he would feel important, 
where he wouldn't just be another cog in the chain that kept the machinery 
running. 

"Maybe it's worse because of times now," Harriet said to her. "I don't know. 
All I know is that there's always been all this responsibility that your 
father never could handle and ... " 

"Today he said to me that the only one he's responsible for is himself." 

That hit Harriet off guard. 

"He couldn't have said anything like that," she told her daughter. "And if 
he did, he probably didn't mean it." 

"He did say it anyway. Whether he meant it or not's another thing." 

"Let's just believe that he didn't. I don't want to think that he did. 
Anyway, I just want you to know that I appreciate all you're doing while I'm 
working. I know that it's hard on you but one day I'll make it up to you." 

Trish hugged her mother tight, this time holding on as if she didn't want to 
let go. Now she knew that she could never tell her mother about the rape. It 
would shatter the woman and cause a tremendous explosion in the house. 
Still, she wanted to be able to tell her mother that she had a tremendous 
fear for her father. 

But she just couldn't. 

"Remind me tomorrow morning to call a repairman to fix the bathroom door," 
her mother said as she stood up. 

"Ask Dad to try. Maybe it'll make him feel like he's worth something." 

"Good idea," her mother said. 

She smiled at her daughter, blew her a kiss goodnight, then closed the door. 
She walked back to her own bedroom and started to undress. She knew that she 
wouldn't go to sleep until Herb came home that night, not only because she 
did want to talk to him, but even more, because her fears that he would be 
out drinking were going to keep her up all night anyway. 

Or keep her up until she heard him coming. 

She flicked on the television set at eleven and watched 'Mary Hartman.' In 
some ways she was glad Herb wasn't there because he always told her what a 
stupid show it was and he wouldn't let her watch it. But the few times she 
had managed to see it she had thought that it was funny and irreverent and 
she was glad to be able to see it again. It was during the second half of 
the show that she heard the front door opening, and she felt her heart 
beating fast. 

She was trying to figure out if it was from fear or anticipation as she 
heard him locking up, then heard him starting to climb up the stairs and 
walk toward their room. She saw the door open and he was standing there. 

He had shaved, she could tell, and in some ways, he looked as handsome as 
she always thought of him as being. It wasn't until he stumbled into the 
room that she knew he was drunk, and could smell the stench of the liquor. 

"You're watching this shit," he said, walking to the television and getting 
ready to click it off. 

"Herb, please, it's almost over." 

She was relieved when she saw him pull away, leaving the set on. 

He walked over to his side of the bed and started to undress, pulling off 
each piece of clothing slowly, fumbling a little bit as he did it because of 
the drunken state that he seemed to be in. He just let his clothes fall on 
the floor, she noted, rather than hanging them up. But that was to be 
expected. He did that all the time when he was drunk. 

"Where were you?" she asked him, very calmly. 

"I don't want you to start right now," he said to her, pulling off his 
T-shirt and dropping it. 

She had to admit that the sight of his hairy chest was still very 
stimulating to her, and she wished that they could just be tender and gentle 
with each other, rather than hard. Tender and gentle the way she and Al had 
been that night, the way she and Herb had been when they first got married. 

"I don't want you to get upset," she said, reaching over and touching his 
back. "Really Herb, don't get upset. Sometimes I think that I'm pressuring 
you too much and I don't want you to think that." 

He turned and smiled at her, and for the first time she got a good look at 
his eyes. Yes. She was certain that he was drunk now, there was no way he 
couldn't be. His words had been slurred, not as bad as usual but still 
pretty bad. 

He pulled down his pants and shorts at the same time, and as he bent over 
she could see his smooth buttocks and his balls hanging low between his 
legs. She wanted to reach out and touch them, but she didn't. 

"I'd like to talk tonight," she said. 

"How can you talk with that damn show on?" he asked her. 

"It'll be over soon. A few more minutes. Please, Herb." She sat there 
watching the show, but when she saw he was getting upset, playing second 
fiddle to a television set, she turned to him. "What happened to the 
bathroom door?" 

"What? Well ... it ... it uh ... " 

"Trish said that the door was locked from the inside and you wanted to get 
in so you had to kick it open." 

"That's right," he said, plopping down on the bed beside her. "That's just 
the way it happened." 

"Well, honey," she said, leaning over and resting her head on his chest, 
moving her long nailed fingers to his nipples and playing with them, "do you 
think that you could try and fix it tomorrow sometime during the day?" 

"I'll try," he said, moving his hand to her breast and caressing it. 

'Mary Hartman' ended and Harriet reached for the remote control switch and 
shut off the set. She turned her head toward her husband and moved up to 
kiss him on the lips. It wasn't until she tasted the liquor on his breath 
that she knew she was going to be putting herself through a test to see if 
she would be able to make love to him like that. It would definitely be an 
effort. 

He moaned a little and she let her hand slide down between his legs, pulling 
at his cock, rubbing it between her hand and his groin where it was pressed. 

"Baby," she said to him, "I don't want you to be mad at me for working." 

"You always know how to break the mood, don't you?" he asked her. 

"What?" 

"Why do you have to bother bringing something like that up now for?" 

"I just want you to understand that I understand the way you feel." 

"Oh?" he asked her. "And how's that?" 

She could tell, just from the feel of his cock, that he was tense. But she 
could feel the vibrations all over the room, emanating from him very 
strongly. For that reason and that reason alone, she became more aggressive 
as she stroked his cock and that seemed to relax him a little bit. 

"That's nice," he said to her. 

"I always want to be nice when I'm with you," she told him. "You should know 
that. You should know that I really love you." 

"I haven't heard you say it in a long time," he said to her. 

"The same for me," she said. 

"I love you too then," he told her, and he kissed her hard on the lips once 
more. A second time, she almost felt herself getting nauseous as he kissed 
her, but she put everything that she had into it. 

When the kiss ended she decided to try once again. For she knew that she 
wasn't going to feel right until she finally got this shit settled about the 
job. 

"I thought about you at work a lot today," she said, still stroking his cock 
and moving her other hand to play with his curly hair. 

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, seemingly happy about it. "What kind of thoughts?" 

"I tried to think of why you don't get a job and ... " 

"Don't start that again, please Harriet. I don't want to hear it." 

"Let me finish. I think I can understand it all now. I know how hard it must 
be for you doing that boring work day in and day out." 

She could feel something of a surge in his cock when she said that and she 
hoped that it reflected something of a surge in the way he was feeling about 
her now. She stroked his cock even harder than before and began to spread 
her legs and climb on top of him, bringing her hot brown haired pussy even 
closer. 

She wanted him to feel the heat that she had for him. 

Or was it for him? Suddenly, she didn't seem to know. It could have either 
been for him or it could have been heat that she was feeling because of the 
scene she had had with Al. She knew that she had been turned on like never 
before with him. Or maybe life before. Maybe like the times she and Herb had 
first been together. And now, she was somehow trying to bring back memories 
of that time. 

"What made you think about it?" he asked her. 

"The cook at work and I were talking about it," she said, and she was happy 
when he started to stroke her cunt with his fingers, begin to tenderly pull 
at her pussy lips, opening them up wide and finding her erect little clit. 

It was just like old times, she thought, where he would search out her love 
bud clit and turn her on like a firecracker. 

"You brought it up?" Herb asked her. 

"No," she said, lying fast because she could tell by the tone of his voice 
it was that kind of question. A positive answer would have gotten her some 
kind of a hostile reaction. He would have been mad at her for discussing 
their private lives, she was sure. So she could forgive herself for the lie. 

'Tell me about it then." 

"We were just talking and he said that he has been around and he's done that 
kind of work." 

"And?" 

"And he told me that if he had to work there more than the time that he did, 
and that my dear was only a few months, that he would have gone crazy." 

"So now you understand?" he asked her. 

"Yes," she said, "and I apologize for all the times that I was pressuring 
you. I didn't realize just what I was putting you through." 

She noticed him smiling and she moved her lips to his and kissed him hard, 
pressing her tongue into his mouth. Then she started to kiss her way down 
his chest until she was taking his cock into her mouth. She started to suck 
him, but only a little. Because she was dying to have him fuck her, dying 
for him to bring her off the way he used to and not leave her feeling tense 
the way she had the past few nights. 

She started to mount him, holding his large cock right up in the air and 
lowering herself right down on him. She could feel her cunt wrapping tightly 
around him and she started to ride him up and down. 

"That's nice, baby," he said to her, "real nice, honey." 

She moved her hands down to his chest and started to massage him all over. 
She felt his stiffened nipples and pushed the hair out of the way. She could 
feel his cock pulsing inside of her as he thrust his ass up off the bed, 
trying to bury himself deeper. Men always loved to bury themselves in a 
woman's cunt she started to think and she liked that idea. 

She started to come way before he did, and it wasn't until a few minutes 
later that she felt his cock beginning to pump out into her. She rolled off 
him. 

"That was nice, Trish," she heard him say, and then he rolled over and fell 
asleep. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Herb realized that he had said the wrong name as soon as he rolled over and 
that was one of the reasons he pretended to be sleeping, even feigning his 
snoring so that she wouldn't even bother to talk to him. 

But he had a lot on his mind that night. He knew that only sleeping pills 
would get him to sleep, and he had been about to get them. He had been 
thinking of getting them after he fucked her. But then he had called her 
Trish and he just didn't want to have a confrontation with her then and 
there. 

He had had too many during the night while he was out. 

Out drowning his sorrows, at first, but then, picking up a girl to take home 
for the night and learning many things from her. Things that were changing 
the way he had been thinking for the longest time. 

His mind started to drift back to his younger years and the way he had been 
brought up. His father had always believed in the American Dream which was 
to work hard in order to strive for your goals. However, his father had 
never gotten what he wanted and as Herb thought about it, he should have 
realized then that if the man never could live up to his philosophy, then it 
was all bullshit. 

You could work and strive all your life and still end up with a pile of shit 
in the end. 

At least that had seemed to be the thing that happened to his father. 
However, there was another part to the American Dream. 

The family. 

Along with the American dream of making money was the idea of having a happy 
and healthy family. The usual thing was two kids, a two car garage and a 
house out in the suburbs. 

His father's family had seemed to make the man happy. He had the two boys, 
Herb and his brother David. But that was another thing bothering Herb. His 
father had died about three years before and he knew that he had never lived 
up to the ideals that his father had set. He had never had the second child, 
never seemed to be happy, and worst of all, so far as his father was 
concerned, had taken to drinking. 

Herb knew he was a drunk and he knew that he could be violent when he was 
drunk. But there were reasons for it, too. He was a man who had grown up 
trying to live his life by certain ideals and he had found out they were all 
bullshit. 

If you didn't get the money, at least the family was supposed to keep you 
happy. But that hadn't worked with Herb because he started to realize that 
the only way you could be happy was if you had money. And he was never going 
to get anywhere working assembly lines. 

It was so frustrating, too, he knew. Or it had been. Until he had picked up 
the hooker this night and spoke with her about her life. 

"Sure," she had said to him, "I make great money. But who the fuck is happy, 
know what I mean? It don't work that way all the time." 

Herb had asked her specifically if she was happy. He was trying to figure 
out if he would have been happy today had he not met Harriet and had he 
continued to do what he was doing before they ever met. 

He thought about it. Studding. 

When he had first decided to leave home and come to New York, he didn't know 
just what he would do. He was going to look for a job, possibly in a firm 
where he would one day be able to work his way to a top position. 

New York had been harder than he ever would have thought, and one night, he 
found himself alone and in a bar, still unemployed and running low on money. 
He was thinking of writing to his folks, but he knew that any money his 
father would send him would have been hard earned and something of a strain 
on the man. 

Suddenly, a beautiful woman walked over to him and started talking to him. 
She asked him if she could buy him a drink, and when she told him she was 
thirty, eighteen year old Herb felt uncomfortable. 

Yet he let himself get talked into going back to her apartment, where she 
laid her cards on the table. She asked him how much he wanted for the night 
and told him that she thought he was so cute she would pay up to a hundred. 

At first he was confused, but then he realized just what she was talking 
about. She wanted him to fuck her. A young john for an older woman. Since he 
had been into sex quite a lot back in high school, he knew that he would be 
able to perform, knew that he would be able to satisfy him. 

She stripped first and when he saw her blonde haired pussy in front of him 
he was ready to dive in. She sat down on her plush black couch and spread 
her legs as he crawled on his hands and knees between them and started to 
eat her out. He was burying his head deep in her cunt and she was squirming 
on the seat, pulling at his hair and beginning to soak between her legs. 

She had her first orgasm fast and she was just about ripping the shirt off 
his back and trying to strip him. When she attacked his cock he was just 
glad that it was up. He had never been with a woman who was so aggressive 
and he had to admit that he was enjoying the whole scene. She almost brought 
him off about ten times and he was thinking of begging her. 

But she was paying him and she could do whatever the hell she wanted, just 
so long as he walked out of the apartment with the hundred she had promised 
him. 

The blonde hadn't brought him off by sucking him. Instead, she wanted him to 
fuck her for hours, and when he came very fast the first time because of all 
the foreplay and the long cocksucking, she seemed upset. But he managed to 
get hard fast and was soon fucking her all over again, having kept her 
worked up with his fingers until he could pull his cock into hardness again. 

When he was getting ready to leave, she handed him one hundred and fifty, 
telling him that he had been the best she had ever had. She also told him 
that anytime he wanted he should call her. 

Stella, as he later learned her name was, became a steady customer of his, 
and she was the one responsible for getting him all the connections with 
other rich and horny lady friends of hers. In fact, it reached a point where 
he decided to do it with Stella for free, only because of everything she had 
done for him. 

He was living his American Dream at the time, so he thought. For Herb had 
always been a sexual person, and the idea of making money off the fucking he 
could do with his cock, off the pleasures he could bring to women and to 
himself, seemed like the most satisfying kind of work a man could do. 

A boy, really, Herb couldn't help but think as he felt his wife shifting in 
the bed next to him. That had been what the whole discussion with Stella had 
concerned after he met Harriet and decided to give up his life of studding 
for a family. 

"I know that it would be hard," he said to her, "but I feel like a boy now. 
A man doesn't go around doing something like this to make a living. I want 
to take on some responsibility. I want to get married, get a job, and have a 
family." 

"It's not all that it's cut out to be," Stella had told him, having been 
married and a mother once, and now a divorcee whose child lived with the 
father. 

But until he made that decision to give it all up, his whole life had 
revolved around fucking rich women and making tons and tons of money. 

The one time that he would never forget was when Stella had told him she was 
going to have a friend over and the three of them were going to get into a 
scene. Herb would never forget what it was like to have two women in bed at 
the same time. 

Lila, Stella's redheaded friend was voluptuous, with large breasts that he 
just sunk his teeth into and started to suck. At the same time Stella was on 
her knees taking his cock into her mouth and sucking him into a nice 
hard-on. When he was hard enough Stella guided him into Lila's spread red 
cunt and he just flopped down on her tits and humped his ass for all he was 
worth. But Lila was like a fucking nymphomaniac, screaming her lungs out 
each time he plunged into her, her cunt muscles in a constant state of spasm 
around his cock. 

When he came, not as fast as usual, but too fast for Lila's horny nature, he 
pulled out of the way and watched as Stella started moving for Lila's cunt. 
Stella spread the lips well and started to work on the clit. 

Herb sat there in the meantime and rubbed his cock a little. He could feel 
it beginning to stiffen fast, mainly because of the hot action that was 
going on in front of him. He knew that the longer he stayed limp the less he 
would be able to enjoy it and the two women were having a great time there. 

When he got hard again he moved behind Stella and seeing her cunt gash and 
her asshole, paused a few seconds to decide which one to enter. The choice, 
after he saw the wet dripping of her cunt, was not a hard one to make, and 
he slid right into her pussy and started to fuck her with all he had, his 
belly slapping against her buttocks hard each time he thrust in. 

Then he pulled out and entered her asshole, once he was lubricated with 
enough of her creamy juices. He thought that he was going to come again, but 
he just started thinking unsexual thoughts and that managed to bring down 
his excitement a little. Still, he remembered it being quite hard, 
particularly when he not only felt her cunt around his cock, but even more, 
when he looked over and saw the way she was working on Lila and the way Lila 
was squirming on the bed. 

The reason the night was so memorable, Herb thought was because he had come 
four more times within the next few hours, and that was the most he had ever 
come in a night. Plus, when he remembered, it had also been the longest time 
he had been able to hold an erection during a session, because the second 
time he had managed to hold off from coming at least two hours, but then, 
while Lila was sucking his cock, Stella decided to attack from behind and 
rim his asshole. 

That had caught him completely off guard and had stimulated him so much that 
his body had started to tremble and he started to shoot off in Lila's mouth. 

One of the reasons his sex life with Harriet had always been so good, he 
knew, was because of all the experience he had had during his few months of 
studding in the city. It took a few months before he started to realize how 
much it was getting to him, how worn he looked and how tired he was. 

Still, there was no better way to make money and he would find himself 
mailing his father checks for a hundred dollars every week, just to show the 
man that he could make it in the American Dream of the business world. 

His father was the one who started to bug him about getting married too, and 
sometimes Herb wondered if he ever would have gotten married had his father 
not instilled that American Dream family number on him. 

For when he thought about it, he had been quite happy servicing Stella and 
her friends, and he was happy for many reasons. First, the money allowed him 
to live lavishly and go out as often as he wanted. Second, since he didn't 
work every night he would have a lot of time to do the things that he 
wanted, go to the bars that he wanted and pick up a girl for a one night 
fuck. 

During his days he would try to catch the sights in New York, making an 
effort to go somewhere different every day until he had seen it all. 

Then, one night in a bar, he met a girl who did something different to him. 
Not only did she seem to satisfy his sexual lust (he had the desire and he 
was to learn that she could satisfy him later on) but she seemed to 
stimulate him intellectually, too. She was the first girl that he had ever 
wanted to talk to since coming to the city. Most of the others just seemed 
too dumb and all he wanted was to get them in bed. But that didn't seem to 
be the case with Harriet Rogers. 

Sometimes, when he was drunk, and very often during the last few days, he 
would tell himself that maybe if they had waited a longer time to marry, it 
wouldn't have even happened. Because he had insisted, after spending a few 
days with her, that marriage was definitely the next step in the right 
direction. 

He was incurably in love. Head over heels in love. He would quote to her 
from Shakespeare and send her flowers and candy. 

But of course, Herb never told her what he was doing to make the money in 
order to afford all this. He just told her that he had a job in an insurance 
firm and he just made sure never to tell her the name in case she wanted to 
call him at work. 

She did wonder where he went some nights when he told her he couldn't see 
her, but he knew that he just couldn't tell her that he was a stud and that 
was the way he made money. 

Big money, too. For the next time Stella decided to invite Lila over, the 
redhead had taken out five hundred dollars and had handed it to him. She 
told him that it was a little present because he was great. 

"You don't know what you're doing," Stella had told him. "Marriage is 
nothing more than a trap, a piece of paper. Look at it, you can't even tell 
her what you've been doing the last few months. That's the way to start a 
marriage?" 

"Look," he would say to her, "she was a virgin when I met her and sex right 
now is something very special to her. And it's special to me when I'm with 
her. But I just couldn't tell her about all the other women I've been with. 
She just wouldn't understand?" 

"What are you going to do for work?" 

"I'll find something," he had said so confidently. "I'll manage." 

She had laughed then. That Stella could be a real card sometimes. Herb 
remembered. 

"Herb, are you kidding? Come on. Don't you know that there's a tough world 
out there. People are gonna kill you, you know that? A small town kid, who's 
basically gotten nothing to offer the world but a cock. You can't put that 
on a resume, kid." 

"I don't want to hear you saying things like that anymore," Herb remembered 
saying, and there was a great deal of hostility in his voice. 

And Stella had shut up. He had scared her into silence. Sometimes he would 
think about that last time with her, their last conversation, and he would 
hate himself for having told her to shut up. Sometimes he would think that 
had she gone on, he might have been talked out of marriage. 

Just a little more prodding. 

But Herb had made his choice, and to this day he didn't regret it. He still 
loved Harriet more than ever. However, Stella had been right with her words 
of warning. It had been a tough world out there. Sure, the first few months 
of marriage when they had lived off his stud money had been wonderful. Herb 
laughed when he thought about that. He had told Harriet that when he was 
seventeen he had been hit by a car and had collected all this money in 
insurance. 

But once that money started to run out, things started to become more real 
to him. On top of that, Harriet got pregnant soon afterwards, a long time 
before Herb thought he was ready to become a father. Still, he didn't want 
her to have to go through an abortion, and he had been the one who told her 
that they didn't need contraceptives. Since he felt responsible for her 
pregnancy, he decided that they would have to keep the child. 

Trish. He had loved his little girl, He remembered when she was five and he 
had taken her on a pony ride. He still had pictures of the blonde little 
girl, giggling as she bounced up and down on the pony's back. Never once did 
she cry, always such a happy little girl. That moment on the pony had 
brought him joy. 

Still, it couldn't compare to all the anguish he was feeling from the fights 
with Harriet. The fights about money. 

He had taken to ordinary blue collar jobs, and even those had been a bitch 
to get. As he worked those assembly lines, placing the same piece in the 
same hole, seven hours a day, one after the other, he would start laughing, 
thinking that this was what he had put on an act for? This fucking stinking 
job? This was what he had dressed up for, gone on an interview for, almost 
begged them for if only because he needed the money to feed his family? 

This fucking shit? 

Drinks could easily drown sorrow, and it took Herb a few days to catch onto 
the fact that the reason most of the other men could tolerate it was because 
they were soused. It didn't take much coordination to do the same maneuver 
every day, so most of the assembly line workers would keep small bottles in 
their overalls. They would sneak drinks, sometimes even just go out and have 
a bottle for lunch. 

Not all of them, Herb thought about. Then there were the other ones. The 
druggies. You could tell that they were on something from the minute they 
stepped onto the line. Their eyes usually looked like they were going to pop 
right out of their heads. Herb thought that it had to be speed. Still, they 
looked undernourished and hardly ever ate anything. The druggies. 

It had all been in order to survive, Herb thought. That was why he had taken 
to the bottle. He had no choice but to take to the bottle. The others did. 
It was their way of getting through the day. 

And the money was all that counted. 

Some fucking American Dream, he thought, and he could sense that Harriet had 
shifted her position in the bed. He wanted her to fall asleep so he could 
get out of there, if not just to get outside for a breath of air, then maybe 
to go downstairs and just have one last drink before the night. 

No, I have to stop thinking like that, he said to himself. Have to stop 
thinking about the booze and think about getting myself together. 

In all those years with Harriet, all those years of fighting and beatings, 
he knew that she could still sense his love. Somehow, it had been nice to 
say it to each other again this night. He wondered if she still meant it 
though. She easily could have just been saying it because she knew he was 
drunk and didn't want him to get angry. No, she wouldn't do something like 
that. She had to mean it. 

He felt guilty. Guilty for what he had done that afternoon to Trish, 
something he had been drinking to forget, and even more guilty after he had 
been with that whore. 

After Trish he had run out of the house and gone to the city, gone to an old 
bar that he used to hang out it, thinking that maybe Stella would be around. 
They hadn't been in touch since the night he had told her to shut up. Mainly 
because he had wanted it that way. 

"Look," he had told her, "I'm going on to a new part of my life and I have 
to leave everything from the old part behind." 

The bar hadn't changed too much, except for one major difference. Now, not 
only were there older ladies and all the young Johns around, waiting to be 
picked up, but there were a few older men, like himself, and a few younger 
girls. 

It was strange, Herb thought. The young boys and the young girls were all 
studs in their ways, studs and hookers. And all the older people were the 
perspective customers. Why, he wondered, didn't the old men and the old 
women get together with each other? Probably because they were old and they 
were looking for their youth in fucking. 

Herb spotted a middle aged woman who seemed to be on the make. She reminded 
him, in some ways, of Stella, although he knew she wasn't. He wished she was 
there, but after about an hour Herb decided to give up waiting. It was all 
so senseless. For all he knew she could have been dead, or married again. 
Although she had once jokingly said that she would kill herself before ever 
marrying again. 

When he left the bar, he noticed that the older woman, the one who looked 
like Stella, whose hair was obviously bleached, walked out after him. That 
was when he knew she was on the make, and soon they were talking and walking 
in the streets and she had slipped her arm through his. 

All for a small price, conveniently discussed as they walked. 

Then to her apartment. 

Herb still didn't know why he had gone. He hadn't been horny until she 
started to get undressed and he just felt like he was cheating on his wife. 
But once the woman had taken off her bra and displayed her luscious twin 
globes with stiff red nipples, then slid off her slip to reveal crotchless 
black panties and a trimmed blonde patch of pussy fur, Herb could feel his 
cock on the rise. 

She walked right in front of him as he was sitting on the chair, starting to 
undress, pressed her cunt right up to his mouth, then started to finish 
undressing him while he ate her. Herb didn't even know how she managed to 
pull off all his clothes, make him shift in position so that he could eat 
and eat, but soon he was naked and while he continued to feast on her 
scrumptious cunt, she began to slowly jerk his cock. 

She had a nice touch, and a wonderful body for a woman her age. Herb had to 
admit. He started to wonder about her as she began to lower herself on his 
lap, holding his cock raised up and sliding right down onto it. He could 
feel her cunt muscles working around his cock, and he started thinking back 
to the old studding days. Somehow, that was all he could think about and 
that seemed to make his control very good. 

He licked her stiff nipples the whole time she was riding him, and he didn't 
know how many times she had come before he finally felt the need to release 
the thick gooey come from his hot balls. 

He couldn't remember when he had had a better orgasm, except maybe for the 
one tonight with Harriet. It had been nice, confirming their love again, 
then fucking. Better than the tension of the last few nights. The tension of 
the last few years, rather. 

While the blonde was cleaning up, he started talking with her. 

"Say, do you happen to know some blonde lady named Stella? She used to go to 
the bar where I met you tonight." 

"Stella, Stella, let me think. She got a redheaded friend named Lila?" 

"Yes, that's the one," Herb said, remembering the two of them. 

"A vicious bull dyke if you ask me, that one is," the blonde had said then. 
"She and that Lila cling to each other and look ready to kill each other if 
anyone else thinks of trying to invade. Oughta stay home if they feel like 
that." 

Herb couldn't believe it. So Lila and Stella were now lovers for good. He 
wondered if he got in touch with them, would they make it together for old 
time's sake? Or was what this blonde saying really true? Two dykes now who 
didn't want anyone to invade in their territory. It made him sad in some 
ways. 

"What about you?" he had asked then. "I used to be in the business myself." 

"I sort of figured that. First of all, I thought that you looked familiar, 
and second, you had great control." 

"Thanks," Herb said. 

"Leave the business?" the blonde had asked, sitting on the bed then with her 
naked legs spread, giving Herb a terrific view of her red lipped cunt. 

"Yeah," he said. "I got married. Let me ask you something. Are you happy?" 

"Eh," she had said to him. 

"But you must make great money here." 

"Money is not happiness. Mister." 

"I was pretty happy when I was studding and making a grand a week, let me 
tell you that. Now I'm unemployed with a family to support." 

"Sure, money could buy happiness," she had said to him then. "But it don't 
always work like that. You see, it's usually that you always want what you 
can't get. Or what the other guy has. Look, I would give my right tit to 
find somebody who would love me for me and not just this cunt of mine. Who 
would want me around all the time, want to marry me. Who the fuck gives a 
shit about money? Damn, that don't make you happy." 

Herb was sorry he had even asked her in the first place because as she was 
talking he could tell that she was beginning to break down a little bit. 

He walked over to her and started to massage her shoulders a little bit, 
even her naked nipples some, but then stopped when she calmed down. 

"Sorry for the breakdown," she said to him. "It's just that you're really a 
nice guy to be concerned about things like that, and, I don't know, I guess 
in answer to your question it's no, I'm not happy." 

That had started Herb thinking. He had always imagined, at least in the 
midst of a drunken stupor, that had he continued his life as a stud, had he 
just not married Harriet and had a family, chances were he would be happy. 
That had been his one self-pitying routine, and suddenly, he couldn't feel 
sorry for himself anymore. 

Because that whore had put him straight. She was worse off than he was, so 
far as he could tell. At least he had a wife who loved him all the time, and 
a daughter who loved him once. 

Trish! God, he wanted to kill himself for what he had done to her. He wanted 
to run to the bathroom, take the razor and kill himself. Ha! She probably 
had the razor in her room, he thought, probably kept it under her pillow 
just in case he decided to go in there. 

He decided then that he was going to take the risk. He didn't care. He just 
would never be able to sleep that night unless he went in and apologized to 
her, told her that he was sorry and would try to make it up to her. 

He could hear Harriet breathing steadily then, which told him that she was 
asleep. He pushed the covers down slowly and decided that it would be 
better, this time, if he put on his bathrobe. Trish would certainly think he 
was going to assault her if he walked into her room naked. 

He pulled his robe closed, then tiptoed out into the hall. When he tried his 
daughter's bedroom door, he found that it was locked. She really was scared 
of him and the thought of it made him feel a little more depressed. 

He hurried downstairs to the kitchen and found a small knife. It was 
becoming more and more of a necessity for him to get into that room and talk 
with her. He knew that he would never be able to fall asleep unless he did 
something like that. Had to tell her this night. Now. 

Herb ran back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was in front of 
her door in a matter of seconds and stared to jimmy it with the knife. He 
knew that it wouldn't be hard to break a lock like the one on her door. Like 
the ones on any of the doors in the house. 

They were all so old-fashioned, all pretty loose and only a little bit of 
prying would get it open fast. 

When he was in the room he tiptoed over to her bed. She was sleeping, her 
hand under her pillow, her mouth open and her face looking so innocent. He 
slowly walked over to the bed and sat. 

She didn't wake then, and he moved his hand, to her face and touched her. 

"Trish," he said to her, gently, softly, "Trish, wake up." 

Suddenly, her eyes opened and she looked terrified. He watched as she pulled 
her hand out from under the pillow. She was holding his razor, threatening 
him. 

She almost cut his hand but he managed to move it away in time. She sat up 
as he moved back a few feet on the bed, still sitting, and she held the 
razor in front of her, ready to slice him to bits if she had to. 

"Trish, wait a second, I ... " 

"What do you want here?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Did you come 
back for what you couldn't get again this afternoon? Get out of here, Daddy! 
Get out of here now or I'm going to kill you." 

"Trish, please," he said, trying not to move closer to her, but not wanting 
to have to move back either. 

"Daddy, please get out of here, please. Please, please." 

All of a sudden, she started to cry, but she tried to remain as steady as 
she could. He didn't know what happened next, but he started to cry also. 
Cry with self-shame. 

"Oh, God, baby, I'm so sorry," he said to her. "I'm so sorry about what I 
did to you today. Jesus, baby, I don't know what happened." 

He could sense that she was moving closer to him, and he was happy for it. 
He felt her putting her arms around his shoulders and pressing her chest 
against his back. She was hugging him tightly, but still holding the razor. 

"Oh, Daddy," she was crying. 

"Trish, baby, you were right about everything you said this afternoon. I 
don't know what happened to me, baby. You were right about me not being able 
to handle any responsibilities. I try, honey, I do." 

He could feel her moving her lips to his ear and kissing him gently. 

"Daddy, I'm sorry about everything, too, you know that." 

He knew that she was when she gently let the razor slip out of her hand and 
fall to the floor, making a small thud sound as it landed on the carpet. 
Trish continued to hug and kiss her father. 

"Even though I hate doing it," Herb Hawkins started to say, "I'm going to go 
out tomorrow and look for another job. See what I can get. Anything in the 
meanwhile that will tide us over." 

"Daddy," she said, still hugging him. 

"And there are going to be no more fights," he said to her. "No more fights 
between me and your mother. You'll see baby. It's gonna be just like when 
you were younger." 

She started to move around on his lap, until she was sitting there, almost 
like she was a young toddler and he was Santa Claus and she wanted to tell 
him just what it was she wanted for Christmas. 

She continued to hug him tightly, but suddenly, he could feel himself 
starting to get aroused again. He tried not to think about it, tried to 
fight it. This was his daughter, he told himself, and he shouldn't be 
thinking anything like that. Still, there was nothing that he could do. 

His cock seemed to remember what she had felt like, and that had been a good 
feeling. It wasn't long, he could sense, before she noticed what was 
happening, and he thought for sure that she was going to take the razor, 
fast from the floor, and hold it to him again. Thinking that her father was 
a lecherous old man who wanted to fuck her all over again. 

But she didn't do anything like that this time. Instead, he could feel her 
moving her hand down between his legs, moving it toward his cock. She was 
into his robe and touching his bare flesh in a matter of seconds, and her 
touch was all that his cock needed to spring into its hardest state. 

"Trish, don't," he said to her, not wanting to spoil anything now. They 
seemed to have a good rapport. 

She slid down onto the floor, between his legs, reached for his robe belt 
and pulled it open. Then her hand started to play with his hard cock, moving 
up and down the shaft and fingering the head. 

"I want you to know, Daddy," she said, while her other hand moved to his 
balls and cupped them gently, "that there was a time once when I fantasized 
about you. I saw you and mother fucking a few times. Times after you had a 
fight with her and a fuck seemed to be the only thing that made it better. 
That was some time ago, before you changed so much. But it's still there. 
The feeling." 

Herb couldn't believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe it when she 
moved her head down to his cock and started to lick it all over. He closed 
his eyes as he felt the sensations building in his body. She licked him all 
the way from the root of his cock to the head, along the underside. She took 
his balls into her mouth and started to suck on them, but only for so long. 

She wanted to taste his cock, now that she would have the chance to get into 
it, now that fear wouldn't be keeping her from getting into the feeling even 
more. So she opened her mouth and took the entire length of his cock into 
it, began to lick the head of his shaft and let her tongue move back to stay 
with it. 

Until her nose was buried in his pubic patch and she was rubbing it there, 
taking in the strong manly odor. She began moving her head up and down the 
length of his cock, working fast and sucking very hard so that the 
sensations built up inside of him strong and very fast. He could feel his 
ass sweating with tension as he tried to hold back by clenching his ass 
muscles. 

She was making a smooth, slow sound, purring almost. 

She started to squeeze his balls hard, moving her finger to his ass cheeks 
and sticking it between them. Herb started to thrust his ass up and down off 
the bed a little, and it was only a matter of seconds before the tension was 
all too much for him and release came in the form of his ejaculation. 

This time, however, Trish was able to think of the taste as she felt it 
shooting into her mouth, and she seemed to like it. She loved the pulsating 
action of the cock in her mouth as it continued to spurt forth its cream. 
This time, there was all a satisfying pleasure on her part. No fear to worry 
about. 

She sucked him until his cock started to shrink in her mouth, and it wasn't 
until he was fully limp that she let him fall, nestling her head against his 
groin and taking in one last strong whiff. 

"Honey, you shouldn't have done that," he said to her. 

"I wanted to," she told him. "Daddy, you can believe that I wouldn't have 
done it if I didn't want to." 

He lifted her up into his arms and hugged her tight. 

"Baby, I want you to understand about this afternoon. I didn't know what I 
was doing. I hope I didn't hurt you too much and ... " 

She put her finger over his lips to stop his talking. 

"You did, for a long time. But you made up for it tonight. Just please try 
and stick to your promise, okay, Daddy? Please. I want us to be happy 
again." 

"I will, baby," he said, stroking her long blonde hair. 

"I'm going back to bed now, and I think you should do the same," she said. 

And so, they did, she in her bed, and he back with his wife in his. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Harriet Hawkins thought that she noticed something strange going on between 
her husband and her daughter the next morning at the breakfast table. There 
seemed to be some kind of sudden rapport between them, something she hadn't 
seen in the longest time. Still, she had to admit that she liked it. 

Herb looked so dashing that morning, she couldn't help but think. She had 
been surprised when the alarm clock had gone off at seven-thirty, mainly 
because for the past few days, there had been no reason for either one of 
them to get up until ten. That was the time she would normally get up to get 
ready for her job. 

She had rolled over and seen him shutting off the alarm. 

"What's doing?" she had asked, still a little tired. 

"I'm going out to look for a job today, honey, but with a different 
attitude." 

She watched as he hopped out of bed, did a few knee bends, then ran to the 
shower. It was this enthusiasm that had started her day, and it wasn't until 
he was singing in the shower, singing, "It's a Brand New Day," that she 
decided to get up and make him a hearty breakfast before he left. Something 
like the old times to bring back memories. 

Trish had been surprised to see her down there, too, she could tell, but, 
for some reason that Harriet couldn't figure out, happier than usual. 

"Hi, Mom, what's the big occasion? You making breakfast." 

"Come on," she said to her daughter, "it hasn't been that long since I've 
done anything like that, has it?" 

"Well ... " 

"Come on and sit down," Harriet had said. 

When Herb had come downstairs, she had the eggs, toast and bacon already 
made and keeping warm on top of the stove. She carried it right over to him 
and sat down, the three of them seeming happier than ever. 

"Are you really going to go out and look for a job today, Dad?" his daughter 
asked him over and over again, and Harriet was sure something was going on 
between them. She didn't know what. 

"I said that I would," Herb told her. "Harriet, baby, I might not be able to 
fix the bathroom door today. Depends on what time you get home." 

"Well," she said, "I hope that you don't have time because that'll mean 
something good. Like you got the job." 

He had reached over and kissed her on the cheek. God, she felt like some 
happy mother on some soap opera. This wasn't real but she was planning to 
enjoy it for as long as she possibly could. 

She thought that after the first day of looking around, after a 
disappointing day because she knew what the job market was like, Herb would 
come home and things would go right back to being the way they were. She 
knew that was pessimistic thinking, but she couldn't help it. It had 
happened like this so many times before. 

That was one reason Harriet was trying to keep this breakfast atmosphere 
cheerier than it had ever been. She wanted Herb to go out with even more 
enthusiasm than ever before, but still, in the end, as she was seeing him to 
the door, she decided that it would be best to be realistic with him. 

She helped him on with his overcoat, and then when he turned to kiss her, 
she laid it on good, pressing her whole body against his. 

"This could be a new start," she said, when the kiss ended. "But Herb, one 
thing I want you to remember. It's hard out there, you know? So if you get 
turned down today there's always tomorrow, right? Herb, just try to hang on 
and ... " 

"There's my little pessimist talking," he said, putting his finger on her 
lips. "Hey, honey, it's not like I was born yesterday. I know that it's a 
shithole out there and that it's going to be tough. But I'm gonna sell 
myself, baby, that's the way to do it. So don't worry." 

He kissed her again, and then Trish walked over to get into the action. 

"Come on," Herb had said, "I'll walk you part way to school." 

And then he and Trish were off. Harriet felt some sense of relief, she 
didn't know what from, once they were out the door. Maybe, she was thinking, 
it was because of the guilt she had felt last night, lying next to Herb in 
the bed. He had fucked her so nicely last night, had been so gentle. 

She had gotten into it more than she had in a long time, and now, along with 
the way he was acting this morning, he seemed to be a changed man. But 
seeming was one thing, she had to keep reminding herself, because she had 
seen this number quite a few times before. It could all be repeating itself. 

Then there was Al. Al had done something to her that no one had ever done 
before. He had awakened new feelings in her. But it was a strange thing the 
way that they worked. The feelings were not for him. They were for Herb. He 
had awakened new feelings that she had for Herb, because of the things he 
had done to her. 

At first she had thought that it was her mind trying to compensate for the 
guilt that she must have been feeling having slept with Al. But she didn't 
feel too guilty about it no matter what, so she didn't care. 

Al. He had been tender with her, had explored every part of her. But most of 
all, she liked him because he had told her many things that had helped her 
understand just where Herb was at. She felt more guilty for the way she had 
been with Herb, the pressing she had given him to get a job, more guilty for 
that than having fucked another man. 

After she washed the dishes, it was only nine. She had another hour before 
she would even have to get to work. Suddenly, she had an idea. 

She ran to the phone, picked it up and dialed. When Al answered, he sounded 
like he was very weary. 

"Hello," she said, "this is Harriet." 

"Jesus, what time is it?" he asked her. 

"Nine in the morning. Look, I was wondering if I could stop by at your place 
before work today. Please, it's important. I have some things I want to talk 
to you about. Please." 

"Can't even wait twenty-four hours, huh Harriet? Hot to trot?" 

He laughed a little, and she knew that he was kidding. 

"Come on," she said to him, "this is important." 

"Sure, if you want to come, come." 

As soon as he hung up, he turned to the redhead in the bed next to him. He 
patted her on the ass, waking her up too. 

"Sylvia, you're going to have to leave now." 

"Come on, Al, what is this?" the eighteen year, old girl asked, moving her 
hand instinctively to his cock and rubbing his morning hard-on. She knew in 
order to keep him pacified that it was the best thing to do. 

He could feel the pleasures of her soft touch instantly, the way she would 
move her fingers through his blond pubic patch, then cup his balls and the 
soft fur that coated them. 

He moved his hand to her red haired cunt and she spread her legs instantly 
for him. As he moved his lips to bite hers, she talked slowly. 

"I said that you're going to have to leave her. You have to be out of here 
within the next twenty minutes." 

"You're a bastard," she said, and her cock strokes became harder, and with 
that hardness, even more intensely pleasurable. 

"I expect someone over soon." He said this as he moved his mouth to her 
nipples and kissed each one hard. 

"And that's the way it always is," she said to him. "You just throw one out 
to take on another one." 

"Look, you know that's the way it is." He could feel her tingling little 
clit now and he started to wiggle it back and forth. Because of it, she 
started to breathe heavier and heavier, and he marveled at the sight of her 
rapidly rising and falling tits. 

"You're still a prick," she said to him. 

"Look, chickie, I never made you any promises so there's nothing that you 
can hold me to, got that straight?" 

"Don't remind me," she said, and he could already feel his first cock 
pulsations. 

She started to laugh softly when that happened, but he noticed that at the 
same time, her cunt was beginning to spasm around Iris probing fingers. It 
only seemed right then that his spasming cock should meet her contracting 
pussy, and she seemed to have the same inclinations. He felt himself being 
led as much as moving on his own. 

Her cunt seemed to be sucking his cock right in, he could feel, and he 
pushed slowly, trying to fight the sucking walls just a little. Her cunt 
lips kissed the length of his pole as he moved deeper into her, and then 
their bellies slapped. 

"Come on," she said, as he rested in her for a second, "you really don't 
mean to throw me out of here, do you?" 

"Honey, how long does a fuck take?" 

He started to thrust, slowly at first. 

"Al, baby, I don't know how you could think of doing a thing like this to me 
right after we finish fucking? Really, where's your heart?" 

He started to fuck her harder, the intensity of each thrust seeming to 
increase in relation to his rising anger. She was not going to lay one of 
those fucking trips on him. No, not by a long shot. 

"Baby, you know the rules," he said, moving his hand to her nipple and 
beginning to twist it gently. She had him forgetting all about her nipples, 
trying to fight what he had already said. "You were the one who started it. 
I told you to go then." 

"Come on, you were the one who got hard so fast." 

He could feel her cunt in a constant state of spasm around his cock, and 
besides the things on his mind, which were definitely detracting from the 
feeling, his body was sure loving it a hell of a lot. 

"You're going to have to leave," he said to her. "That's the way it is." 

She hardly even seemed to hear him and was clutching onto his back, wrapping 
her legs around his ass and massaging his buttocks. It all added to the 
feeling, but his mind was made up. He didn't even try to hold back from 
coming, and the minute he felt himself on the verge, he even started 
thinking of girls sexier than Sylvia, just to rush it a little bit and get 
it over with. 

He emptied inside of her and when he rolled off he didn't just fall out like 
he would usually do with her. Instead, he got up and walked to the bathroom, 
then stepped into a nice hot shower. 

He didn't make it long. Just washed his groin, ran the bar of soap over the 
rest of his body and did his hair. All fast. Not to enjoy the shower but 
just to make it function as a cleaning device, the way a shower should. 

Besides, he knew that Sylvia was going to hassle him. He was right. For when 
he put on his robe and started to dry his hair as he walked into the living 
room, he could see that she was still lying there, possibly asleep again. 

He kicked her with his foot, hard, not only to wake her up but even more, to 
push her out of the bed. She landed on the floor, but it wasn't a long fall. 

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked. 

"I told you that you were going to have to get out. Now do it." 

"I thought that you were only kidding, Al. Look, how was I to know that you 
were serious?" He knew she was playing a game with him. Did it all the time. 

"Look, if you can't tell when I'm serious or not, then maybe we'd just 
better call it off all together, okay? Forget about the one night a week." 

She got up, pulling the blanket around her to hide her nakedness. He thought 
it was ridiculous. He knew every inch of that body. Maybe, he thought, she 
was just under the impression that she would be less vulnerable if she was 
covered. 

"You mean you wanna end it all right now?" she asked. 

"Yes." 

"Al, how can you do that to me? After all we've been through." 

"All we've been through. Sylvia, I met you at a bar a year ago and we've 
been fucking each other steady, every Thursday night, for the past year. You 
call that a goddamn relationship? Look, it's over. Now just shower and get 
out." 

"You're serious now, aren't you?" 

"Yes, fuck it. I am serious. Now get the fuck out." 

He could see that she was starting to cry, and it was for that reason he 
took her by the shoulders, led her to the bathroom, told her to shower and 
dress, then closed the door leaving her inside. He didn't want to start 
falling for her crying routine. 

Instead, he started to make himself breakfast, something that he rarely did 
since he ate at Fred's diner most of the time. But he wanted to keep busy. 
He could hear the shower running and then the sound of her stepping in. 
Making breakfast kept his mind busy, and it was about ten minutes later that 
he heard her come out. She walked over to the couch-bed, bent down to get 
her clothes, then walked back to the bathroom. He was already eating an 
English Muffin by the time she came out. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He knew it was Harriet, and didn't 
feel at all embarrassed as he walked to the door and let her in. He could 
see though that both Harriet and Sylvia seemed uncomfortable. 

Sylvia pulled on her coat, then the hood because her hair was still wet. 

"Should I call you tomorrow?" she asked him. 

"I thought we already settled that," he said, and he looked at Harriet, 
nodding for her to go and sit on the couch-bed. 

"But, Al, I ... " 

"Look, I don't want to say another word about it. I made myself clear." 

She looked at him, then at Harriet, then turned to walk to the door. She 
slammed it hard behind her. As soon as she was gone, Al turned to Harriet. 

"Could I get you some coffee?" he asked her. 

"I thought that you don't do much cooking here," she said. "I thought that 
you got all the food that you wanted free at the diner." 

"Oh, I do. Where do you think the coffee came from? The fresh coffee that 
they make there. I take a pack a month and it holds me over." 

"What a thief," she said, jokingly. "But no thanks, I'm not in the mood 
right now. I already had breakfast." 

She couldn't help but notice that he was only wearing a robe, and from where 
it was tied across him, she couldn't help but see that he most likely had 
nothing on underneath it. She could envision his hard cock and those smooth 
balls. 

Still, she had come there for something more than a fuck, if it even led to 
a fuck at all. She did want to talk first, and that's why Harriet felt a 
little bit uncomfortable when Al sat down right next to her and put his arm 
around her shoulder. 

He moved his lips to her ear and kissed her lightly, pushing his tongue out 
of his mouth and licking her gently. 

"Al, come on," she said to him. "I told you that I wanted to talk." 

"Speak, bright angel, and I'll listen." 

"I was thinking of asking you over for dinner on Saturday night." 

He pulled back from her and looked at her, puzzled. 

"Now why the hell would you want to do a crazy thing like that for? You want 
me, your lover, of sorts, to meet the husband and kid?" 

"It's only because you seemed to help me understand Herb so much better. You 
helped me understand how he was feeling and what was going on through his 
mind. I have to tell you that last night when we were fucking, it was nicer 
than it had been in a long time. Not as great as always, as our peak moments 
together, but I could sense that it's going to build its way back up there 
soon." 

That seemed to relax him in some ways, and he moved back close, putting his 
arm back around her shoulder and moving his lips back to her ear. 

"I'm glad that I was able to help you see all that." 

"Who was that girl?" she suddenly asked him. 

"Which girl?" 

"The one with the wet red hair. The one who just walked out of here. How 
many girls do you string on at a time?" 

"Hey," he said, "I don't string anyone on right now. When I find the right 
girl who's gonna do it all for me, I'll know. Right now, all the others, 
they all understand where I'm at and how I feel. That one, Sylvia, the 
reason I had to drop her off is because she was starting to ask me for 
things that I already told her I wouldn't give her. She didn't even seem to 
know me, so I had to say goodbye." 

"Oh." she said, and he was sure that it was an uncomfortable thing to say. 

"Why? Are you jealous of her? I think that's the vibe I'm getting." 

"No," she said, turning to him and patting his leg. She moved her hand under 
his robe and could feel his cock hardening under her touch. "It's just that 
I've never met anyone like you before and it's just all so strange to me. I 
can't explain it." 

"Maybe it's that part that's re-awakened whatever you saw in your husband. 
That's just me, the way I am." 

"That's why I want to invite you over for dinner on Saturday. I thought that 
if Herb grew to like you, the way I did, maybe he would have a good friend 
to talk to. I mean, you made me see so much, maybe you could do the same for 
him." 

He didn't really know what she expected from him, but he had to admit that 
he could definitely sense the need in her. He also loved the way she was 
stroking his cock so hard. All in all, he thought, he loved her because she 
was a beautiful woman and she was really trying to make her marriage work. 

He admired her for it. 

"All right," he said to her. "I don't know how I'm going to feel or what, 
maybe a little bit uncomfortable, but if you want me to come, I'll come." 

There was a double entendre in that, and he knew that she had caught it 
also. For while she knew he was meaning he'd come to the dinner, she also 
knew that he wanted her to make him come. 

She started to open her coat slow, pulling her dress up a little bit. His 
robe seemed to fall open gracefully, and it was only a matter of seconds 
before her panties were slid down her legs and his hard cock was sliding 
right between them. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Harriet was very relieved that she had invited Al over for dinner on 
Saturday night because, as the day progressed, she watched Herb sitting 
there, thinking all the time and seeming to get more depressed. 

She couldn't blame him really. Friday had been a bad day for him, going from 
agency to agency, being turned down by one right, after the other. 

"Then," he told her, "the one job they did send me to happened to be on a 
factory line, and although I told myself I could handle it and I knew I 
couldn't, the job was gone by the time I got there anyway." 

"What about David?" she said to him. 

"What about him?" 

"You know that he always told you he could get you a job. You know that the 
offer was always open. Why don't you let him see what he could do?" 

"Nepotism. That's something I've always hated." 

She hadn't argued with him. But his brother David, who worked in an 
accounting firm had always told Herb that there would be something there for 
a man with his talents. She didn't know exactly what he had meant by it. 

Herb did, however. The accounting firm, although a large one, still had to 
go after certain accounts. David told Herb that he would be terrific on 
public relations. Herb, not knowing exactly what a position like that would 
entail had once asked his brother for a few more details. 

"Remember what it was like when you first came to the city?" David had asked 
him. 

How could Herb forget. David, being the only one close enough at the time, 
was also one of the only people Herb had told. Besides the ones who were his 
customers, and all of them had been left behind when he had gotten married. 

"Do you mean studding?" he had asked, point blank. 

"Herb, in the executive line they don't use as crude a word. It's more or 
less called public relations, and what they expect is for you to go after 
certain customers. Look, brother, sex, no matter what anyone says, has 
always and will always dominate the world and man's pleasures. Woman's, 
too." 

So, what David was basically asking Herb to do was go back to a life of 
studding. Of course, it would be under a different title, but that was 
basically what it came down to. Herb hated even thinking about it. 

Harriet still couldn't understand why he wouldn't talk with David about a 
job. At least, she thought, as she started supper, Herb wasn't drinking. He 
was watching a ball game on television, and she had been surprised when he 
walked into the kitchen and poured himself a Pepsi. She had thought, for a 
second, that when he got back to the living room he would pour some rum in 
it, so she had made some excuse to walk back out there and follow him. 

"Herb, just wait until you meet Al tonight. He's such a wonderful guy, 
really. I think that you're both going to get along fine." 

But somehow, even as she spoke to him, she was sure that he knew what she 
was doing there. Spying on him to make sure that he didn't drink. She felt 
so guilty about doing it, but she had seen it all happen before. Seen him 
regress back to drink. 

When she felt satisfied and reassured enough that he wouldn't take a drink, 
she walked back into the kitchen. 

"Hello," Trish said. She was sitting at the table peeling some oranges. 
Harriet had taken them out to make oranges and bananas for dessert and she 
was glad that her daughter had decided to help. "Now who's this guy you've 
invited for dinner?" 

"Al. He's from California and he's the cook at the diner where I work. He 
lives a pretty lonely life, and he just helped me understand things that I 
didn't understand before about your father." 

"What do you mean?" 

"About the factory jobs and all. Al took jobs like that a long time ago and 
he convinced me that they were unbearable. I just think that your father and 
he must have a lot of things in common, even though Al is young. He's been 
around." 

"Daddy's been around, too," Trish said, smiling. 

"When has he ever told you that?" Harriet asked. 

"I just know," she said. "I can sense it. Anyway, I'm glad that he's not 
drinking anything today. So glad. It makes me feel better. Did you notice 
that there's a lot less tension in the house because of it?" 

"Yes," Harriet said. When she noticed that Trish was finished peeling the 
oranges, she suddenly had an idea. "Trish, you and your father seem very 
close these past few days. Why don't you go in and talk to him?" 

"About anything in particular, Mother?" 

"Why, Trish, what makes you ask me something like that? Huh?" 

"Because I know you well. I love you and I know you well. What exactly do 
you want me to lay on him now?" 

"Just talk to him about Uncle David. Just bring it up a few times and see if 
you can talk him into giving him a call." 

"About a job?" 

"Sure, why not?" Harriet asked her girl. "I can't seem to convince him and I 
don't want to sound like a nag. Just bring it up." 

"Got it," she said, standing up and saluting. Then she started to laugh. She 
knew that her mother was only trying to do it all for her father's sake, and 
Trish started to think that this was the reality of love. 

Not some shit that you see on television where they keep saying it, but 
rather, trying to help each other, working with each other. 

She skipped over to the living room and plopped herself down on her father's 
lap. 

"I can't wait for company to come tonight," she said to her father. "Mother 
says he's a smashing looking man. I can't wait to meet him." 

He started to laugh, and he tickled her. 

"You're looking for a relationship with an older man?" he asked her. 

"Well, I've already had my one," she said to him. "Maybe another." 

They both started to laugh, and she was glad that her father was so happy. 
It made her feel quite good about everything. 

"Daddy," she said to him, "if you don't see anything in the papers that you 
like in tomorrow's Classified, why don't you give Uncle David a call?" 

Suddenly, the laughter seemed to disappear and he looked very serious. 

"What makes you ask a thing like that?" he said to her. 

"It's only this. I'm so happy now and I know that it would continue if you 
had a job. It's just a suggestion." 

"I don't think that I would want to do the kind of work your Uncle's told me 
he could get me." 

"Would it be worse than an assembly line?" she asked him. 

And she could tell that started him thinking, so she casually excused 
herself and walked back to the kitchen to continue helping her mother. 

"I know that he's thinking about it now," she said to her mother. "Now tell 
me something. Mom, what should I wear that would entice someone like Al?" 

"What?" Harriet had asked. 

"Take it easy, Mom," she said, "I'm only kidding." 

But Trish was a very smart girl and that started her thinking. Her mother 
had acted so overcautious when she had said that. She started thinking about 
the movie where a guy had been having an affair with this woman, then found 
out he was serious about her daughter. The mother almost freaked out. 

It was all so ridiculous, Trish thought. Her mother and this guy Al. She 
couldn't be thinking that way about her mother. Another woman, truly, but 
not her mother. 

"I think I'll just wear a pair of jeans." 

"Nice ones though," Harriet had to say to her daughter, and Trish smiled. 

The dinner was ready on time, and Harriet was surprised when Al hadn't come 
at the scheduled time. Instead, he was a half an hour late, but still there, 
holding a cake box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

"Good evening, Harriet," he said to her. "So nice to have someone else doing 
the cooking for a change. Now I'll be able to criticize your cooking and see 
just how well, or badly, you can do it." 

She started to laugh as she took his coat, then ushered him into the living 
room and introduced him to Herb. She could tell that Herb was taken back a 
little bit by Al's good looks and put-on charm, because she did have to 
admit that he was putting it on just a little strongly this day. 

Still, it was good to see them together. 

"I'm going to get the dinner on the table," she said. "Why don't you two 
talk for a while? Trish, come on." 

When Herb and Al were left alone, there seemed to be a kind of tension in 
the room. Herb could sense it, as well as Al, but still, they were both 
trying to act as courteous as they could. Herb couldn't help but think that 
this guy was only a kid, ten years his junior. 

"Could I make you a drink?" Herb asked. 

"Just so long as you don't have one," Al said, and when he noticed that Herb 
got tense, he quickly added, "look, I work with the woman and we talk a lot, 
so she did happen to mention your problem. Nothing to get uptight about." 

"You're right," Herb said, suddenly relaxing. "It was ridiculous of me. Can 
I get you a scotch?" 

"Sure," he said, making himself more comfortable. 

"You know," Herb said, "I really should be grateful to you because you seem 
to have made my wife come to some kind of understanding about me. Now I 
don't know what you said to her, but whatever, I appreciate it." 

"Look," Al said, "I've done the factory thing myself and I don't know how 
anyone could possibly want to do it for a life." 

"When you have a family, all kinds or responsibilities," Herb said, handing 
Al the drink and pouring himself another Pepsi, "you don't have much of a 
choice, now, do you?" 

"I guess not," Al said. "God, I could understand all the alcoholics in the 
world when you think about it. Life is not the greatest thing. But Herb, and 
I hope you don't mind me calling you that, you have a great wife." 

"I know. And I should be happy about it, right?" 

"Yes. I understand that's not all it takes to be happy. Look, I have a 
steady entourage of girls whom I fuck at least once a week each." 

Herb suddenly perked up. It reminded him of the old days. 

"But," Al went on, "that's all they're good for. A fuck. But it's not 
something like you and Harriet seem to have." 

Herb somehow felt a lot better. He didn't know what it was about this guy Al 
but he did have a very outgoing personality and Herb was enjoying talking to 
him. 

"Let me ask you something?" Herb said. "Do you just make it with these women 
for fun, or for money, too?" 

"Fun," Al said, taking a long sip of his drink. "Look, sex is great for sex 
too, don't get me wrong. Why? Did you think I was a stud?" 

Herb smiled slyly. He had to nod his head because he was too stunned to 
talk. 

Finally, when he could, he knew he was going to surprise Al by what he said. 
But he was saying it because he was impressed by Al and he wanted Al to be 
impressed by him. 

"The reason I said that," Herb told him, "is because you somehow remind me 
of me when I first came to work in the city." 

Al almost started to laugh, but he managed to hold back. 

"You mean that you were a stud when you first came to the city?" 

"Not so loud. That's something I never told anyone, including Harriet. But 
that's the way I lived my first few months in the city. Fucking all these 
women and getting paid for it. Then I met Harriet." 

Al held up his hand to stop Herb's talking. 

"I can see it all now," the young blond man said. "You got married and tried 
the job scene to make money to live. Then you couldn't do it." 

"Right," Herb said. 

"You see," Al said to him, "when you have more pieces, the puzzle begins to 
fit together even better. God, I could easily understand how you'd feel even 
more. But tell me something. Your wife says your brother David can get you a 
job." 

"Yeah, you know what it is?" 

"No." 

"It's studding on the corporate level. He works for an accounting firm and 
their public relations person is really just a stud." 

Herb was totally surprised by what Al said to him next. 

"Well, let me tell you something, Herb. If you decide not to take the job 
then I'd appreciate it if you'd introduce me to your brother. It sounds like 
the most ideal job in the world if you ask me." 

"I wouldn't be faithful to my wife." 

"Big fucking deal," Al said. "You'd be making money and keeping your family 
together. She doesn't have to know what you're doing." 

Herb didn't have time to say anything else because Trish suddenly walked 
into the living room and announced that dinner was on the table. Al got up, 
walked over and took her arm, then signaled for Herb. 

"So tell me beautiful," he said to Trish as they walked to the dining room, 
"what's a nice girl like you doing, coming from a family like this?" 

"Enjoying myself," she said to him. 

He was glad that Harriet had sit him on the same side of the table with 
Trish because there was something about her that he found most fascinating. 
He wondered if Harriet would get into a Mrs. Robinson trip if he were to ask 
Trish out. Just for a date. A good time. 

"So," Harriet said, trying to be the gracious hostess, "did you two have a 
nice talk in there?" 

"Yes," Herb said. "You were right. I like this guy Al a lot." 

Al smiled. He was glad he was getting into the father's grace, and he was 
hoping at the same time that he was getting into the daughter's. Still, he 
couldn't figure out what kind of vibes were coming from Trish, and that left 
him confused. 

He would look over at her every once in a while, and sometimes, when she 
would see him, she would smile at him. But most of the time, he couldn't 
even get her attention because she was always busy looking over at her 
father. 

Something was going on between them, he could tell. Harriet seemed to sense 
it also, and that intrigued him. He wanted to know even more about it. He 
wondered if Herb had ever done anything with Trish. He wouldn't have been at 
all surprised. It would fit into his character, his drunken self-pitying 
nature. 

"You know," Herb said, in the middle of the meal, "Al and I were talking in 
there and I was thinking a little bit more about David's offer." He smiled 
at Al. "Maybe I might take him up on it, give him a call tomorrow." 

"That would be wonderful," Harriet said, and she looked over at Al. She 
didn't know what he had said to Herb to make him change his mind, but 
whatever it was, she wanted to kiss him for it. 

"My Mother tells me that you're from California," Trish said to Al then. 

"Yes. A California bum who bummed my way across country when I thought that 
the time was right for it. From California, to the New York Island." 

"This land was made for you and me," Trish said, and she started to laugh. 

"You got a wise kid there," Al said to Harriet. 

"I am not a kid," Trish told him. "I'm a young lady." 

"I'm sorry. I have to tell you that I noticed right off, but I just didn't 
think that it was my place to say anything. I humbly beg your forgiveness." 

"And so you have it," Trish said to him. "But only on one condition." 

"Trish," Harriet said, "stop being like that." 

"No, no, let the girl speak her piece of mind," Al said, quieting the 
mother. "Let me hear what she wants." 

"Nothing more than a chocolate ice cream soda. Later on tonight." 

He looked over at Harriet and he could tell that she was surprised by her 
daughter's sudden forwardness. He shrugged his shoulder a little bit. 

"Well, it's okay with me, if your folks don't mind." 

"What's there to mind?" Herb said, but he could still see that Harriet was 
upset. 

He decided that he would talk to her later and straighten things out. After 
all, maybe he hadn't established that their relationship was going to only 
go so far. Maybe he hadn't come right out and told her in just those words, 
but he was sure that was the attitude they both had. 

Besides, she was married and Trish wasn't. He looked at both mother and 
daughter and the only similarity he could see was in their high cheek bones 
and lips. Besides that, they were completely different. Trish had much 
larger breasts then her mother, Al was very happy to see. 

But whereas Harriet's hair was brown, Trish's was the nicest shade of 
blonde, something that he wanted to run his fingers right through. 

He loved the tye-died T-shirt that she was wearing, and he couldn't help but 
think that he would probably have a lot more in common with her than he 
would with Harriet. For instance, he was sure that Trish would be into 
getting high, whereas he had just never assumed that Harriet was. An expert 
judgment on his part. 

When the dinner was over and Harriet and Trish got up to clear, Al offered 
his assistance At first he was turned down, but then Harriet seemed to sense 
that he wanted to talk to her. So she told Trish to stay with her father in 
the living room and she and Al went to the kitchen to talk. 

"I can see that you don't want me taking out your daughter," he said to her, 
"The thing is, I just can't seem to understand why." 

"You can't? Al, I love you in many ways, you have to understand that. But 
you and I both know the only reason you would take Trish out is because you 
want to go to bed with her. We both know that it's true." 

"First of all we don't," he said to her, "and second, would that be 
something so bad? The girl is grown up now, and now you're talking about sex 
with a prudish outlook." 

"I can't help it. She's my daughter." 

"I'm sorry about that. Look, your daughter interests me, that's all. And 
because of my relationship with you, I wouldn't think of leading her on in 
case that interest is lost tonight. But that's another story. I just don't 
think it's fair of you to get jealous like this. After all, I helped you 
straighten out your life. Give me this chance to see if Trish is the one to 
help me with mine." 

Harriet knew that she was being ridiculous then, and she walked over to him 
and kissed him on the lips, slowly. 

"You're right," she said when it was over. "I don't know why I was trying to 
tie you down like that, but you're right. I'm wrong." 

"Thanks," he said. 

"Now tell me something, Al. Was it you whose almost talked Herb into going 
back to work for David? I've been trying to talk him into it for years." 

"Yes, it's me," he said. "Herb just said that he wouldn't feel right working 
there, but I kind of talked him into it. Told him that he might even like it 
a little bit, and that so long as he was making money, you'd be happier." 

"Well, I want to thank you for that, too," she said. 

"No need to thank me," Al said when she tried to kiss him. 

And he knew that there wasn't, because if Harriet were to ever find out just 
what Herb would actually be doing, he was sure that she would kill him. 
Still, there was that old saying which went, what she didn't know wouldn't 
hurt her ... 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

It was Sunday night and Trish was bubbling with excitement. Everything 
seemed to be going in the right direction. 

First of all, she thought she had fallen in love. For although she and Al 
hadn't done anything more than smoke a joint, go to a diner, and have the 
chocolate ice cream soda she had told him she wanted. 

When he had kissed her goodnight, he had pressed his tongue into her mouth 
and she had felt something. But he didn't try to go any further, and in some 
ways, she was glad about it. Even more glad when he asked her if he could 
take her to a movie the next night. Of course, she told him that she would 
have to check with her parents because it was a Sunday night and the next 
day was school. 

Her mother had been a little upset, which started Trish thinking even more. 
Her father had been all for it, saying that he wanted to talk to Al again 
when he came to pick her up that night. 

During the day, Trish had gone into the kitchen to talk to her mother. She 
laid her cards out right on the table. 

"Let me ask you something, Mother," she had said, "and don't take offense. 
Did you and Al ever have a thing? Now I know that's the kind of thing a 
mother is not supposed to hear from her daughter, but I can sense 
something." 

Her mother had looked at her, and for a second Trish was sure that her 
mother was going to lie to her. 

But then, Harriet Hawkins came out and told her daughter the truth. 

"Yes. It happened twice so far, and probably not anymore. Now that you're 
going out with him. Trish, I just want you to watch yourself, okay?" 

"What?" 

"He helped me a lot, too, but I know that although he's searching for one 
woman, since he hasn't found her yet he has a lot. I just don't want you to 
get hurt." 

"Oh, mother, don't be absurd. I know how to take care of myself." 

And that was all they really had to say to each other about it. Still, Trish 
did feel a little uncomfortable and she knew that it was something she and 
Al were going to have to talk about that night. 

When he came to pick her up he was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and 
he certainly looked the part of the beach bum. He walked into the living 
room where Herb was sitting, after kissing Harriet hello. 

"I hear you want to speak to me," he said. 

"Yes," Herb said to him. "About two things. First of all, about the job. I 
wanted you to know that I spoke with my brother today and he's going to try 
and do everything in his power to get me the job. Tell me I did the right 
thing." 

"Herbert Hawkins," Al Rabe said, commandingly, "you have done the right 
fucking thing and if you ever think different, I'll beat the shit out of 
you." 

"Well, thanks," Herb said. "And now, the second thing that I want to talk to 
you about is my daughter Trish. Now I love her very much and ... " 

"But one day, she came home, you were drunk, and now she's no longer a 
virgin. Is that what you're trying to tell me, Herb?" 

"I wouldn't tell you that," he said, "but how did you know?" 

"Call it a sixth sense. I could feel it here last night, at the supper 
table. I know that your wife doesn't know, too, but she won't find out from 
me." 

"Thanks," Herb said, really beginning to like Al even more. "Now there is 
another thing. She's still my daughter, and please, be nice with her, okay? 
You're much older than her, I understand that, and because of it you've 
obviously been around more. But she's young and innocent, and she can be 
hurt easily." 

"Herb, I don't think you know your daughter as well as you think you do. Why 
she happens to be one of the strongest girls I've ever seen. Look, if she 
could live through this scene here, she can live through me." 

Herb smiled at him. He knew that Al was not saying it to insult him, but 
still, he thought that it was insulting. 

Trish made her appearance then, dressed in a manner similar to Al. 

"Well," she said to him, "I'm ready." 

"Good," he said, and he noticed Harriet standing behind Trish. He could tell 
from the look she was giving him that she still hadn't come to grips with 
the idea of his taking Trish out. But she was going to have to get used to 
it. 

He liked her. Had like her since meeting her, and after talking with her 
last night had learned many things about her. Now, he thought that he knew 
even more about her since talking with her father. 

He was beginning to learn more and more about this family each day, and he 
knew that had a lot to do with the fascination that he had for the young 
girl. Still, she made him feel so fucking good when he spoke to her. 

"Don't worry," he said to them both as he took her arm and started to lead 
her to the rear door. "I promise you both that I won't keep her out too 
long." 

He could still sense some mistrust in Harriet's face but he really didn't 
care to think about it. If that was the way she was going to be, it was 
something he couldn't bother to worry about for now. 

They ran to his car, both laughing because they somehow felt more at ease 
now that they were out of the house. He opened his car door for her and then 
ran around to the driver's side and slid in beside her. 

"Where to?" she asked him. 

"I was thinking of one of two places. We could go to a drive-in where we'd 
be uncomfortable in the car, or, we can go back to my place where we will 
definitely feel a lot more comfortable." 

"I thought you told me that we were going to go to the movies." 

"I have Home Box Office and there are movies on the tube. Besides, I have a 
bottle of wine and I also have some smoke." 

"Speak no further," Trish said to him. 

She moved closer to him, and as he started the car and put his arm around 
her, she began to tremble. She didn't know why. Only she knew that the two 
of them were going to be fucking and she was scared about it all. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, feeling her shaking. 

"Nothing," she said to him. "I don't know. I don't know." 

But Al seemed to know what was wrong with her, but he didn't want to talk 
about it right now. It was something that he had been anticipating though. 

When they got back to his apartment, he kicked off his shoes, told her to 
make herself comfortable, then walked to the refrigerator to get some wine. 

He came back with a joint, too, and soon they were lighting it and smoking 
it. He held his arm tightly around her. 

"I know about you and my mother," she suddenly said, and he wondered why. 
Did she think that she was going to shock him or something? He didn't react, 
so she said it once again. "I know about you and my mother." 

"So?" he asked, taking the joint from her. "I know about you and your 
father." 

She froze. He could tell. He knew as soon as he said it that it hadn't been 
the right way of approaching it, but she had been making it seem like such a 
game and all he really thought he was doing was playing along with her. 

"Hey, it's nothing to get nervous about," he said to her. 

"I can't help it. We talked it out, me and my Dad, but I don't know. It was 
the first time when I was with him and ... " 

He moved his hand to her tit and started to massage it through her T-shirt. 
He could feel her nipple getting stiff instantly, and he started to pull on 
it, still through the shirt. She was still trembling. 

"Hey," he said to her, "I don't know how it was the first time, but you 
don't have to worry about me hurting you. I can be nice." 

And just to prove what he said, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips, 
taking her by surprise and almost making her drop the joint from her 
fingers. She managed to catch it just in time and lay it on the table, just 
as he was pressing himself on her and beginning to slide his hand under her 
shirt. 

She moaned a little when he touched her naked nipple, and all he could think 
about doing was stripping her naked and then fucking her. 

But there was something different about her, he thought. Maybe it was the 
fear. It seemed to make him more aggressive, and it seemed to make him even 
more aware of just how sensitive she was. 

"Let's undress," he said to her, and he stood up. 

He started to strip before she even had a chance to protest, and was soon 
sliding his pants down. He wore no underwear, as usual, and Trish was a 
little shocked to see his naked cock staring her in the face. 

"Come on," he said to her, "I can't do it alone." 

"Al," she said, taking a toke from the joint, then letting the smoke out and 
taking a very deep breath, "I have to tell you something. I'm very scared 
about this happening, just because of the way it happened with my father." 

"I could understand it honey," he said, "but you can be sure I'll be nice." 

She was feeling very relaxed from the pot, she had to admit, and so, when he 
started to undress her, she let him. He pulled her shirt up over her head. 
She had to raise her arms to let him, but that was easy enough. 

In some ways she was embarrassed that he could see her naked tits now, her 
red nipples being so full and stiff, popping out. Yet she didn't mind it too 
much because he was more naked than she was. 

He got down on his knees and moved his mouth to her breasts. She could feel 
him pressing her tits together and then burying his mouth between them, 
starting to stick his tongue out and lick like a madman. 

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the fabulous sensations running 
through her body. At the same time, she hardly even noticed that he was 
moving his hand down to her dungarees unsnapping them, and trying to inch 
them down little by little. When her cunt was exposed she felt him beginning 
to stroke her cunt lips with his fingers, pull on them gently. 

Then he slid his fingers into her and started to massage her clitoris. He 
continued to lick her breasts and she had to move her hand to his hair and 
stroke his soft blond Socks. Then she moved her hand down his back, all the 
way to his ass, and started to massage his buttocks. 

He moaned when she did that, and that made her feel good. 

As he started to kiss his way down to her cunt, licking her blonde pubic 
patch and then licking her cunt by sticking his tongue between her lips, she 
started to reach for his golden cock. 

"Let me suck it," she told him, remembering that she had liked sucking her 
father's cock the second time when he had come to her room that night. 

He lay down on the carpet and she climbed over him, positioning herself so 
that her legs were spread over his face. He raised his head up just a little 
bit and began to lick her cunt again while he felt her moving her fingers up 
and down his shaft and then moving her lips there, too. 

She squeezed his balls as she started to suck his cock, and that made him 
even more aggressive as he licked her blonde haired snatch. He could feel 
her cunt walls spasming, feel her beginning to get wet already, and then he 
was tasting the creamy smooth flavor of her juices. 

She started to suck harder on his cock and he moved his hands under to catch 
her swinging tits. He could feel the nipples pressing into his palm as he 
held them and then he started to squeeze them. 

He could see the passion sweat on her buttocks; right in front of him, and 
it made him happy to know that he could turn her on in such a manner. Still, 
she was doing some nice things to him, licking his whole groin area where 
the skin was the most sensitive, licking the hairs of the pubic patch and 
his balls, too. 

He started to move his ass up and down off the floor, thrusting his cock a 
little to show her how much he wanted her. 

"Let's fuck," he whispered. 

"Al, I don't know if I can," she said to him. 

"Of course you can. You have what it takes and you're all wet right now. 
Come on. Just because it might have been bad once, it doesn't mean that it's 
going to be bad again. Besides, you can do it." 

She pulled her mouth from his cock and turned to look at him, but still kept 
a nice tight grip on his shaft and kept up her massaging. 

"What do you mean?" she asked him, calmly. 

"Just lower yourself onto me as slow or as fast as you want. Come on, Trish, 
baby, you're just too fucking fabulous. Don't let one bad sex experience 
fuck it up for the rest of your life. You can't. Not when sex is so great." 

She had already turned her body around completely and was sitting on his 
belly. He could see her snatch as her legs were spread, and his cock started 
to pulsate in the anticipation of entering her. 

"Come on, Trish, you can do it," he said, as she lifted herself off his body 
and started to back her way down, holding his cock still. She positioned 
herself over him and started to rub his cock head against her cunt. 

"That feels nice for me, Trish, honey," he said. "If it feels as nice for 
you as it does for me, then keep it up." 

She had to admit that it was feeling good, not only because of the heat from 
his cock which seemed to be penetrating her cunt already, but even more, 
from the fact that he had already brought her to one climax and she was 
still wet. She was using his cock head to stimulate her erect clit, and 
could feel herself getting hotter and hornier by the second. Her cunt lips 
seemed to be kissing his cock. 

She thought about her father and how he had forced himself on her for one 
brief moment, and she got scared. 

But then, she looked at Al, lying there, so beautiful, his eyes closed, just 
enjoying the pleasures she was bringing to his cock. That did something to 
her. That made her want to please him even more. 

She started to move down slowly, feeling the way her cunt was spasming 
around his cock even as he entered her for the first time. She moved all the 
way down his rod until she was sitting on his lap. 

"Ah," Al said, and he reached up and began to massage her tits. "Just take 
it the way that you want it. Go as slow or as fast as you want to go, so 
long as it makes you happy." 

She started to move up and down his cock slowly, amazed at the sensations 
that the cock was sending all through her body, not only in her cunt. 

She reached behind and grabbed his balls, squeezed them, then started to 
move up and down on his cock even faster. She could feel him moving his ass 
just a little bit to add something to the thrusting, and then she bent down 
so that her tits were brushing against his chest. 

She moved her mouth to his and kissed him hard. 

"Roll over and fuck me good," she said to him then. 

Al loved the invitation, and he took it upon himself to answer her right 
away. He rolled right over, holding onto her body, until she was under him. 
Then he started to pump his ass up and down as she lifted her legs up. He 
could feel her cunt going through a series of mild spasms around his cock, 
and that assured him that she was enjoying the fuck. 

He started to wrap her legs around his ass the harder he pounded into her, 
and he liked her for that. She clung tightly to him, and it was just the way 
he wanted it. In a sense, he was still thinking of her as a virgin, since he 
was sure that the first time when she had been with her father must have 
been very unpleasant. 

In a sense then this was her first pleasant fuck, so he was taking her 
virginity. 

She started to moan, he noticed, just the way her mother did, soft and 
catlike. Purring sounds of pussy pleasure, he thought, and that made his 
cock start to tingle inside of her. 

He clenched his ass muscles and tried to hold back from coming, slowing down 
a little bit at the same time in order to make the sensations subside and 
prolong the actual time of the fuck, and the pleasures in the long run. 

Once he was sure he could go ahead without worry, he did. 

But the second time it happened, and he tried to hold back, it was just no 
use. He could feel the come seeping its way toward the head of his cock, and 
so, he just went with the seep and felt it shooting out deep into her. That 
started her coming all over again and she was moaning with passion as he 
continued to erupt his juices into her cunt He didn't pull out of her until 
he had gone limp. 

But even then, she rolled over on top of him, covering his naked body with 
hers and moving her lips to his. 

"That," she said to him, "was marvelous. Can we do it again?" 

"You certainly can, but you're going to have to give me a little more time. 
Tell me though, was I better than your father?" 

"Much," she said to him. "Was I better than my mother?" 

"It sounds like a family affair," he said with her. "The next thing you know 
you'll be sleeping with your mother and me with your father. Only I doubt 
that something like that would ever happen." 

"So do I," she said to him. "Al, you really are a wonderful person and ... " 

He was, in some way, insulted by her saying that. 

"Look," he said to her, "I happen to think that I might be in love with you 
and all you can say to me is that I'm a wonderful person?" 

She was rubbing her cunt over his cock, feeling the way he was beginning to 
harden all over again. She moved her fingers to his nipples and played with 
them. 

"Look," she said to him, "you can't expect me to fall in love with the first 
real person I've been with. I mean, besides my dad. You just can't. It only 
happens like that in the movies." 

"Aha," he said to her, "but you have to remember that the movies usually try 
to mirror real life. That's what makes a good film so exciting." 

"I know that," she said to him, and she was moving her hand down between his 
legs and stroking his balls, "but you have to remember anyway. You have to 
give me some time Al, this is all happening so fast." 

"How much time should I give you?" he asked. 

She reached over and took the joint from the ashtray where she had put it 
before. It had gone out, but it wasn't hard for her to light a match and 
relight the joint, then take a long toke from it. 

"How much time should you give me?" she asked him, letting out the smoke on 
his face. "Now, Al Rabe, that's a very interesting question. You want to 
know how much time I should give you before I tell you whether I dig you or 
not?" 

He slapped her ass with his hand, playfully, holding his palm on her buttock 
and squeezing hard after the initial slap. 

"You know that you're stalling," he said to her, "and I don't like it." 

"I am stalling because this is the time," she said to him. "I think that I 
should know after another hefty fuck, maybe." 

When she said that he could feel the life coming back into his cock almost 
immediately, feel her rubbing her cunt harder so that her blonde pubic hairs 
and her soft smooth belly were massaging him even more. 

As if to tell her that he was going to make sure she loved him. That he was 
going to fuck her so hard that she wouldn't be able to do anything but love 
him. She seemed to be getting that from him. 

When she got him hard enough, she started to lower herself down on his cock. 
He just closed his eyes and felt the way his cock was beginning to spasm 
inside of her cunt already. 

Yes, he knew that this was love he was feeling, and he only hoped that she 
was feeling the same way about him. He knew it for a fact when she leaned 
over, kissed him hard on the lips, then whispered it in his ear. 

"I do love you, I only wanted to fool around," she said. 

That seemed to make him want to fuck her even harder, and he was soon 
pumping his cock in and out of her cunt as fast as he could, as hard as he 
could, until they both had orgasms at the same time. 

Later, when they were watching the movie on Home Box Office, looking at the 
television set that was broadcasting it but paying very little attention to 
what was actually on, they started to talk again. 

"Do you think that my mother's going to understand all this?" she asked. "I 
mean, seeing as how you were with her first and all." 

"I can tell that she's going to have some hard time coming to grips with it, 
but all I can tell you is that we'll play it by ear. I'm still going to have 
to work with her so I'm sure I'll be able to get it straight." 

"I'm glad," she said. "I think that my father will understand, too." 

Then Al started thinking about Herb and about the job that he was going to 
be doing. A professional stud for a company that was a large accounting 
firm. He had to smile when he thought about it. 

"Oh," he said, "I'm sure that he's going to understand. I'm sure of it." 

Al started thinking about it a little more. Right now, things were looking 
up for him, so far as his relationship with Trish was going. She was a great 
fuck and one of the hottest chicks he had seen around in a long time. 
Harriet was going to have some trouble understanding, but he would just 
explain it to her. 

He would tell her that he was always looking for one girl and that the 
others were all just fucks. He wouldn't be able to include her however and 
he didn't even want to. For Harriet had been more than just a fuck. She had 
been a wonderful older woman who had entered his life, and the moments that 
they had shared together had been memorable. But he had always told her he 
was looking for that one girl. 

"Trish," he would tell her, "seems to fit that category for now." 

Then he thought of Herb. He didn't want to really plan ahead, that was one 
thing he hated. But he couldn't help but see himself one day as Herb's 
son-in-law, and maybe, he was even thinking, the man might be able to get 
him into the same business. 

"What are you laughing at?" Trish asked when he did. 

"Nothing," he had to tell her, "nothing, just thinking." 

"I hope about me." 

"Yeah." 

He couldn't tell her the truth. He was thinking of all those women Herb was 
soon going to be fucking. All those horny broads who he would entice into 
his brother's accounting firm for business. His cock was getting hard just 
thinking about it. He was going to have to tell Herb that if he needed help, 
he would be more than glad to get involved in the business, but right now, 
Trish was looking at his hard cock with a smile, and he was ready. 


The End
