Her Mother's Brutal Lover
by John Marks


FOREWORD 

Wendy's mother felt a hot burst of desire for her daughter. The teen's 
breasts seemed very large in the propping, black corset. Her cleavage was 
huge. Her torso tapered to an almost microscopic waist. Her hips swelled out 
in full, sweeping beauty. The fish-net stockings stretched tightly across 
her young legs. 

The fourteen-year old girl looked like a high-priced call girl. Her mother 
had prepared the virgin girl for her brutal lover. He had wanted the teen 
ever since he had fucked her mother raw and bloody. 

Stan grabbed her and in three, short minutes had the sweet tiring bound, and 
gagged in the motel room's large double bed. 

He ripped the teen's red panties away from her quivering thighs. He began to 
fondle the soft folds of skin behind her sweet, golden bush. 

He opened the tight, folds of skin and with his thumb and index finger, he 
opened her virgin pussy and exposed her young vagina. He looked on the 
beautiful twat and his mouth watered. He stooped down and gave her little 
bush a long, wet kiss. 

He held two, long black, rubber things in his hands. With the largest one in 
one hand, he smiled at the terrified teen. 

"I have a present for you, now! Are you ready?" 

He laughed wildly and nestled the inhuman thing in the soft entrance folds 
of the sweet pussy. He prepared to ram her hard when her wretched mother 
rose from the floor. 

"Get away from my daughter!" she screamed. 

Stan dispatched her with a swift slap. He returned to his work. 

Wendy writhed in agony. Her mother had betrayed her for the cruel man who 
laughed wildly above her. 

 CHAPTER ONE 

"Will that be all, Mrs. Withers?" asked the man on the other side of the 
counter. 

The woman continued to stare off into space. The man was patient with most 
of his customers. He figured that was the key to success in his business. 

His name was Stan Scott. He ran one of the only small grocery stores in the 
small town. He had a lot of competition with the big supermarket in the mall 
outside of town. That's where most of the townspeople did their shopping. 

The only time they usually came to 'Scotty's' was when they needed something 
in a hurry. A fast quart of milk or loaf of bread. Maybe some ice cream for 
the kids or just a six pack of beer for dear old Dad. 

Whatever the reason, Stan didn't mind, his small store a short order place. 
He provided his customers quality merchandise. Of course, they had to pay 
premium prices. There was no way out of that. 

Stan figured that anyone who was a regular customer deserved consideration. 

He gave it too! 

Mrs., Withers was a good customer. She only had one child. It was a 
daughter. Her name was Wendy. She was a beautiful, young woman. At the 
tender age of fourteen her body was almost fully developed. 

Stan would never admit it to anyone but he always fell himself get hard when 
that sweet, little girl came into the store. Wendy was a younger version of 
her mother. 

"Will that be all?" he repeated to the absent-minded woman on the other side 
of the counter. 

She finally returned to the here and now. "Oh, yes! That's all! Thank you, 
Stan. How much will that be, please?" 

Stan already had it all figured up. He was good at figures. 

"Sixteen dollars and thirty-four cents," he replied. "I think I have the 
exact change, Stan. Hold it a minute." 

The attractive woman probed the interior of the small, change purse she held 
in her hand. Stan admired the woman from the other side of the counter. 

Joan Withers was a very attractive woman. She was very slender and had the 
figure of a nineteen-year old girl. It was natural to her. She never dieted 
or worried about what she ate. She had good eating habits anyway. Everything 
about the woman was very neat. She spent a lot of time on her appearance. It 
wasn't that she was vain. She was just very feminine. 

Stan looked the woman over. She always looked so clean to him. That's what 
turned him on about her. He would never admit it to anyone, especially his 
wife, but he would love to eat out Mrs. Withers. He was sure her bush was 
clean and sweet. It was only logical. 

How would it be possible for such a well kept woman to have a stinking 
pussy? 'Highly un-likely,' he said to himself. 

Joan stood about five feet three inches in height. Stan estimated her weight 
to be around one hundred pounds. 

She always dressed very plain. But the simplicity of her appearance only 
added to her elegance. On that particular afternoon, she wore tight-fitting 
jeans that were neatly pressed, a trim, black, cotton, turtle neck top, and 
a waist length suede jacket. She also wore neatly polished, brown boots. 

None of the clothes she wore were expensive. She just knew how to dress. She 
also was quite good with a needle and thread. In fact, she did a lot of 
sewing. It wasn't that she needed the money so bad. Her husband, Bill, made 
a modest yet comfortable living. He owned his own auto repairs shop. It 
seemed that all he did was work. He never went anywhere. He never did 
anything, except work. 

He would always promise Joan and Wendy that he would take them to different 
places, but he never did. It was quite easy for him to understand. The work 
had to be done. He was the only one who could do it properly. 

His job was his whole life. Even on weekends, he'd be at the shop. It was a 
constant thing. Joan and her daughter had gotten used to it. It was a way of 
life. 

But the fact that he was never around made Joan increasingly restless. She 
was a good wife but she needed companionship. She longed to have a man take 
her places, treat her nice and tend to her female needs. Bill was a good 
husband. He would give most of his money to his wife. She'd pay the bills 
and decide what money went where. Bill was the classic "good provider." But 
when it came to anything else, he couldn't be bothered. It was quite a job 
to get him to go to Wendy's graduation from junior high school. Work was his 
obsession. That was all he thought about. 

But it wasn't all Mrs. Withers thought about. Lately, she had been thinking 
about other men. She had a "healthy sex life" with her husband. That 
couldn't be denied. 

But it had been becoming intensely boring. When he wanted to screw, it was 
just a quick couple of humps, a groan, and a silent glob of come shot from 
his prick. The couple had come to view sex as not the exciting thing they 
had once known it to be. It had been reduced to a mere "bodily act." For 
Bill Withers, it wasn't far from burping. 

It honestly was a waste. Joan's breasts were not huge, but they were big 
enough to straddle a large sized penis. Her waistline rivaled the hot, 
little teens of the town and her hips, legs and ass were trim and firm. She 
had a figure that could be described as "imperially thin." 

Her hair was brown and almost straight. It had a lot of natural body to it 
though. It stood fully on her head. Her brown eyes flashed up towards Stan 
Scott when she finally counted out the exact change of her bill. 

"Here you go, Stan. Sixteen dollars and thirty four cents." 

She handed the money to him and smiled. Stan was quite handsome. 

Although he was married to an old hag, had four boys and his own grocery 
store, he still looked unruffled and calm. Joan always liked that about 
Stan. Maybe that was the reason she was such a good customer. Stan kind of 
reassured her that everything was, right with the world. 

Stan took the exact amount from the woman and gave her a polite "Thank You." 
He looked at her fine body. He surely wanted her alright. 

Stan seldom fooled around. It was uncommon for him to make a play for a 
local woman. Especially, if she was a customer. 

But there was something about Mrs. Withers that really turned him on. She 
seemed to be fair game. He wondered if he was just imagining it. She seemed 
to give off a sensual kind of vibration. He felt strongly attracted to her. 
The way she smiled and lowered her head when he made a joke made his prick 
wiggle beneath his white pants and apron. Stan always thought about balling 
Mrs. Withers. In fact, there would be times when he was giving it to his 
wife, and he'd be thinking it was Mrs. Withers. 

The woman lifted the two large bags of groceries from the counter. They were 
quite heavy. She struggled with them silently. 

Stan usually had a boy working at his store. The youngster would help carry 
packages. That day the boy didn't come. Stan was "making due." 

He quickly moved around to the front of the counter. 

"Here! Let me help you with these!" 

He was so noble! "Oh, thank you, Stan," replied Mrs. Withers. 

Stan carried the packages to the door. He really couldn't go any further. Or 
could he? 

"These are quite heavy, Mrs. Withers! Let me carry them home for you!" 

Stan was being "nice." In reality, he was acting out his horniness. 

"But what about the store?" Joan queried. 

"Don't worry about that. I'll just lock up for a couple of minutes. How many 
customers could I lose anyway? I'll only be gone a few minutes." 

The decision had been made. Stan Scott was going to carry Mrs. Withers' 
groceries to her home. 

He laid down the two, large, brown bags by the front door of the store. From 
his belt, he located a large, dark silver key. He pressed it into the lock 
on the door and turned the tumbler. When he had completed his small task, he 
turned to Mrs. Withers. "Okay. We are off!" 

The two adults walked down the street. Stan had left his apron back on the 
counter of the locked store. He heartily carried the large, brown bags. They 
only had a short walk. The Withers' lived only a few blocks from "Scotty's." 

The houses they passed were old, wooden and sat neatly on small plots of 
land. 

Winstone, Maine was a typical small, New England town. 

The population of Winstone was around fifty-thousand. Most of the people 
living there worked at low paying, blue-collar, type jobs. There was a 
factory that made shoes, a small cluster of office buildings and three or 
four shopping centers. It was true "Americana." 

Mrs. Withers and her grocer, turned the corner and began to walk down a 
quiet, tree-lined street. 

"Well, Stan," Mrs. Withers said, Here's my block. I'll take over from here." 

She reached for the bags. 

Stan didn't want to go back to his store. 

"Oh, no. I'll carry them all the way home for you." 

Joan accepted his words. They walked on silently. Stan broke the silence. 

"I didn't know you lived on Chestnut Street. This is a nice little block!" 

Joan began to sense Stan coming on to her. She didn't resist him. She felt 
flattered. They stopped in front of the woman's home. 

Joan looked at him and smiled. He stood there with the packages in his hand. 
She sensed that the next move was hers. She looked up and down the block. It 
was a very respectable scene, indeed. But she suddenly began to feel like 
she was beginning to do something wrong. She seldom felt that way. Once in a 
great while when a guy gave her the eye and she gave it back, the feeling 
would come. She had never fooled around. But she had flirted from time to 
time. To her, that was dangerous. She was a conservative woman. 

She spoke. "Well, you insisted on carrying my packages all the way home for 
me. You might as well bring them into the house." 

She began to feel a warm glow in her crotch. She knew that her husband would 
not be home until late that night. She also knew that her daughter had a "4H 
Club" meeting that afternoon. She would not be home until dinner time. The 
next three hours were hers to do with what she pleased! The thought 
frightened her. She could do anything she wanted. Stan carried the packages 
up to the large, wooden porch. Joan walked ahead of him. He watched her 
sweet ass move gracefully as she bounded up the stairs to hold the screen 
door open for her noble guest. He entered the house directly. 

Joan directed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the red-checkered 
tablecloth that was draped over the circular, wooden table that stood in the 
middle of the room. 

He backed away from his handiwork, out his hands on his waist and smiled. He 
felt his joint hardening. He hoped that she didn't see it. 

Joan looked at him, and then at the two packages sitting mutely on the 
table. "Well, you might as well help me put the stuff away!" 

She didn't want him to go. The calm, secure feeling he gave her began to 
make the glow in her crotch even warmer. 

Neither of them spoke as they worked. He would hand her items that he knew 
belonged in the refrigerator, and stack the rest in a neat pile on the 
table. Each of them wondered what was to happen next. They were both 
nervous. 

Absent-mindedly, Stan handed a small jar of mustard to Joan. She was 
stooping over on the other side of the refrigerator door. 

He heard her laugh. "Stan! I'm surprised at you! Here you are! The owner of 
a grocery store, and you hand me a jar of mustard for the refrigerator! Tsk, 
tsk. You should be ashamed of yourself!" 

She walked around the open door and accidentally brushed against Stan's 
body. His prick was getting really hard. 

The sensuality of the environment seemed in control now. Stan put his hand 
on Joan's tiny waist and pulled her body close to his. 

"I'm sorry about the mustard. It's just that when I'm with you it isn't 
important." 

She looked him squarely in the eye. They both knew what was about to happen. 
They had covered a lot of ground before they had reached that moment. Years 
of remarks, glances, smiles and sexual innuendos had led them to where they 
presently. It was the moment of truth. 

She rested her hands on his. With a flick of the wrist, she would reject 
him, he would be gone and both of them would never mention it to a living 
soul. The incident would be nothing more than a random pass made by a man to 
a woman. She made her decision. This was going to be the real thing. 

She waited for him to kiss her. For a long moment, they just stood there in 
that small kitchen. The refrigerator was still open and the empty, large, 
brown bags rested temporarily on the floor of-the room. 

Tenderly, their lips met. The kiss was long, soft and sensuous. 

Joan exhaled deeply. She stood on her tip-toes. Her arms closed around 
Stan's neck. It was a passionate moment. He began to squeeze her tighter and 
tighter. The warm passion that flowed between them was beginning to turn to 
hot lust. 

Abruptly, she pulled her lips and body from his. She closed the refrigerator 
door and leaned against it. The heat from her glowing bush was rising fast. 
She was very serious. She wanted to make love to this handsome man standing 
before her. She rubbed her knee against her flushed thigh. 

Her course became clear to her. 

In a long stride, she reached the back door. She locked it. She turned back 
to Stan. He stood there with his prick bursting through his pants. Joan was 
looking better and better to him with each passing second. 

She walked up to him. She grasped each of his hands and stared intensely 
into his eyes. She moved away from him again, but this time in the direction 
of the wall staircase in the house's center hallway. Her clasping hands 
pulled Stan along with her. She moved backwards. When they got to the 
staircase, she paused. After another long glance, she pulled him close to 
her. 

He broke free from her gentle grip, closed his right arm around her shoulder 
and began to ascend the stairs, with the curvaceous woman at his side. 

When they got to the top, he hesitated. She would decide what bedroom would 
be the locale for their lustings. 

She pulled him into the master bedroom. On the dresser on the room stood her 
wedding picture. They saw it together. She went to it and slowly laid it on 
its face. She strode to the curtained window and pulled down the yellow 
shade. The sun still shone through, but the room was partially dark. She 
stood by the window. She looked outside. 

"Is this safe?" Stan asked anxiously. "I mean can you husband come home 
early or anything?" 

Joan looked at him and gasped. She knew his feelings. She was having the 
exact same ones at that moment. She was very sure that her husband would not 
be home until late. He'd been living this schedule for years. But a double 
check wouldn't hurt. Especially, for what was about to happen in her 
marriage bed. 

She lifted the black telephone that rested on the small table at the side of 
the bed. Slowly, she dialed. After a pause, she began to speak into the 
receiver. 

"Yes! This is Mrs. Withers. Could I speak to my husband?" 

She paused again and looked directly at Stan. They wanted each other's body 
with a driving hunger now. 

"Hi Bill! How's it going?" Stan heard the faint sounds of a man's voice. It 
scared him. He had never met Bill Withers but he figured that he must be 
pretty strong to own his own auto repairs shop. 

"You'll be home late tonight?" Joan continued. "Okay. I'll see you then. 
Right. I'll have dinner ready. Okay. See you then. I love you too. Bye" 

Joan lowered the receiver from her ear and gently placed it back on the 
resting phone. "It's okay." 

She just stood there. It was his move now. He was nervous. But he figured he 
would blow the whole scene if he showed it. He had to act confident. He 
managed to still the doubts in his mind and concentrate on the foxy lady in 
front of him. He went to her. 

They kissed again. He lowered her to the bed. Suddenly, a thought occurred 
to him. He pulled away from her. 

"What about your daughter? Shouldn't she be home from school soon?" 

Joan quietly assured him that she would not. "She's got a 4-H Club meeting 
this afternoon. She never misses those. She won't be home until suppertime." 

Stan glanced at the radio-alarm on the other side of the bed. It was 
two-thirty. His store was closed. He would probably lose a few sales, but 
that was okay. His wife would never know where he was. He was safe. 

They began to relax with their infidelities. He kissed her softly and 
stroked her gently, brown hair. He looked into her eyes. There was no need 
to speak. He ran his long arm down the full length of her torso. He rested 
it on her quivering thigh. 

She began to breath deeper as they kissed. Her passions were beginning to 
make her pussy squirm. 

She felt his rock hard prick. It was pressed firmly against his 
loose-fitting white, work pants. The joint within began to rub at her thigh. 
He lifted his body from her side, and then lowered it right on top of her. 
Her legs and arms opened in welcome. 

There were to be no tricks here. 

Their bodies began to move rhythmically on the bed. They combined weight 
created a hot valley in the center of the straining mattress. 

Joan began to run her fingers through his full-bodied blonde hair. His 
six-four, thin frame began to pump above her. He began to drill his thing 
into her humid crotch. But they were still dressed. 

Joan pulled away from him. She stood up erect at the side of the bed. He 
slowly lunged for her. She back away and began to speak in hot, 
business-like terms. 

"Let's do this right, if we are going to do it at all!" 

She began to undress. 

She stooped down and unzipped her brown boots. She slipped them off over her 
small, trim feet. Next came her jeans. She opened the snap clasp at the top 
and opened the zipper. Her thin fingers grasped the top of them and she 
began to shimmy them over her round, soft, swelling hips. She wore tight 
black bikini underpants. She turned a bit as she stepped out of her jeans. 
Stan's mouth dropped open when he saw her round, delicious ass. It was firm, 
young and erect. 

Next came her turtle neck top. She lifted it up to show the soft, supple 
skin of her stomach and lower abdomen. Her stomach rested in the center of 
it. It was round and small. It curved down into the mysteries that hid 
behind her tight, bikini panties. 

When she had gotten that off, she stood there in her bra and panties. Her 
slenderness was a joy to behold. Stan's old lady was fat and haggard. But 
Joan was perfect. For a women with a fourteen-year-old-daughter, Joan was 
phenomenal, in fact. 

Her thin waist held the soft buns of her soft, yet full breasts to her 
curvaceous hips with the ease of an hour-glass. Her brown hair rested gently 
on her soft, shoulders. 

She looked down at him on the bed. He had been watching her take her clothes 
off with sexual fascination. In front of him stood one of his customers! She 
had undergone quite a transformation. 

From the reserved, elegant mother, she had changed into a passionate, 
sensual woman. She was being completely honest with her own desires. 

"Well?" she asked. "What are you waiting for?" 

Stan rose from the bed and had his clothes off in less than a minute. He was 
clad only in white, briefs when he went to her. 

They kissed. Stan lowered her to the bed again. They would not rise from it 
for some time. 

He rolled onto her. She could feel his bulging prick pressing against her 
sheer panties. She closed her arms around his back. Her nervous, exploring 
fingers slipped beneath the elastic band on his briefs. She exhaled deeply, 
when she felt his muscular, hairy buttocks. 

He began to feel himself overwhelmed by his passion. He moved his arm around 
the back of her bra and opened the clip. He lifted it away from her and let 
it drop to the floor. He caressed each of her breasts. His face lowered from 
her face and began to kiss her neck. He lifted his whole body from her and 
rested his head right on her breasts. He began to suck and tongue them. They 
responded warmly to the gentle, licking tongue. He felt her nipples harden 
and stick out straight. He sucked at them with an increasing passion. Her 
body began to grind beneath him. 

His left hand ran down her bare, supple stomach and disappeared beneath her 
tight panties. He felt a sharp clot of scum shoot from his joint as he 
closed his open hand on the woman's gaping cunt bone. 

With a tremendous effort, he managed to control his coming orgasm. His two 
large hands closed on the top of her panties. In sweeping, grand motion he 
pulled them from her body and dropped them to the floor. His hand returned 
to the wet warmth of her furry twat. It was grinding right into his hand 
now. She was ready for a stiff prick! 

He felt his hand getting wetter and wetter as her lubricating pussy juice 
began to flow. Her legs opened completely and began to kick feverishly at 
thin air. She was a sexual animal now. She knew what she was doing. Her 
growing frenzy was pure joy. 

She reached down for his cock. It was hot, and jagged. She clutched at it. 
She was unable to close her whole fist around it. Its size thrilled her. She 
felt the blood rushing in it and knew it was loaded with hot, shooting scum. 

Her moving fingers ran to the base of his fearsome prick. She caressed his 
swollen balls with a feminine warmth. She knew that his sack was the 
supplier of all the hot, white scum that boiled in her twat. She felt a 
sudden urge to suck them in her adoring mouth. 

Stan rose from her and rested on his knees. He quickly took his brief from 
his hairy, muscular body. He returned to her completely naked. The couple 
were ready to explore each other's body without the encumbrance of clothing. 

His masculine passion rose to the fore. He had to have that woman 
immediately. He felt suddenly strong and virile. He felt a tremendous 
violence welling up inside of him. He would release it into the soft, loving 
female below him. 

He would give it to her in sharp, concentrated jolts. He would render her 
helpless. She would be overwhelmed by the power of his shooting rod. It 
would send shivers through her body. She would know that she had been fucked 
by a man. 

He rammed his fingers into her foaming cunt. She was lifting it up to his 
loving, masterful hands. He buried his hand into her black, hot hole. All 
that was visible were his knuckles. 

Her body seemed to be totally in his control. His probing fingers, had 
rendered her a victim of her own ecstasy. 

She clutched at the pleasure giving hand within her. Her face tensed. The 
skin of her forehead wrinkled with the tension of her growing pleasure. She 
felt her heart beating wildly. Her own orgasm was on the way. It would be 
unlike any she had ever had. Her mate's joint never could satisfy her the 
way Stan's hands were. She found it hard to imagine just how incredible his 
prick would feel. 

Her legs were bent at the knee. Her whole body seethed with waves of hot 
pleasure. She was feverish and ready to be fucked. 

Stan's hand was covered with the lubricating juice her twat gave off as a 
smooth welcome for its most welcome visitor. 

He would ram her righteously! 

"Give me your prick!" she whispered desperately. "Stick that hot thing right 
up my cunt!" 

Her body twisted on his cunt-grabbing fist. She felt the strong muscles of 
his arm and chest. His chest was hairy. She tried to grab at his erect 
dangling cock, but it was too far from her. It turned her growing 
frustration into a crazed frenzy. 

She demanded his prick. "Give it to me! Stick it in!" 

He knew she was ready. He pulled away from her. Their bodies no longer 
touched at all. She sensed that his thing would be sliding into her pussy. 
She craved it. It would sooth her hungry snatch. Her orgasm was almost on 
her. She needed a prick within her to make it explode! 

Her teeth were gritted. Her hair was all over her face. The supple muscles 
of her arms were tense and flexed. Her legs were open. Her grasping fingers 
pulled the red folds of her cunt apart. He could see the opening of her 
hole. It looked like it breathed heavy breathes. It opened and closed like 
an exposed organ. It was not complete. It had to be filled. The frenzied 
female was open to his shaft. He would give it to her! 

He rested his left hand on the front of her cunt bone. 

His open palm rested in a bed of hot, curling pubic hairs. His right hand 
closed on the base of his ten inch, throbbing staff. He positioned it 
directly above the gaping hole of her red cunt skin. 

He lowered the thing to the opening. She felt it about to enter her. Her 
hands reached out behind her. She closed them around the brass bars of her 
headboard. She hoped for the best. She was going to get it! 

He began to nuzzle the cap of his fierce, throbbing thing into the outer 
skin folds of her breathing cunt. She froze. She knew it was about to enter 
her. She knew it was very big. She hoped she could handle that thing! 

Stan waited until his nuzzling prick had secured itself at the entrance to 
her hole. His body tensed and he gritted his teeth. His flesh bone was at 
the foot of her pussy door. 

He slammed it open! 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned as the hot thing slid up her cunt cavity. It 
moved with silent fury. She clutched at the bars behind her. The size of his 
thing overwhelmed her whole body. 

"I can't take much more," she screamed. "How much do you got?" 

The disbelief in her voice was equalled to the pain. 

His weapon of fuckery was merciless. On and on it moved. She felt it engulf 
every part of her inner body. 

When he had given her its full length, he began to grind it even further. 
She felt herself swoon at the size, thickness, and power of the charging 
rod. 

His hands suddenly clasped on her quivering buttocks. He began to grind his 
cock into her. His face contorted as he continued his sound fucking. 

He began to lift up from her and ram her with his prick.. At first he did 
this very slowly. But in seconds, he was pumping at her twat with that heavy 
bone of his with a rising fury. 

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" she screamed. Her sexual sounds were in perfect rhythm. 
They fucked with a harmonious syncopation! 

Her arms fell from the headboard behind her. She clawed at the back of the 
humping hulk above her. She opened her drooling mouth and closed it on the 
base of his neck. She sucked his skin with the fury of the way he humped her 
cunt. 

Long thin droplets of saliva oozed from her open mouth. Soon the hair on his 
chest was sticky with it. Her whole body was soaked in cunt juice, sweat and 
her own saliva. She began to hump him back for the first time. 

His prick had overwhelmed hear at first but not the tightly stretched walls 
of her inner canal had adjusted to the gigantic, gorging cock moving in its 
darkness with increasing speed. 

Her own orgasm was close at hand. She began to groan like an animal. She 
felt like a woman being taken by a man's conquering cock. She hadn't felt 
like that way in years. 

She loved the thing within her. 

Stan lifted her legs higher on the rocking bed. He whacked that thing of his 
into her open twat. She gurgled in weakness. 

He felt the juices within his pumping rod ready to shoot. He knew she was 
about to come. Could it happen to both of them at the same moment! 

His hot come roared to the head of his driving prick. His tiny slit opened 
to release the shooting juice. It would begin to flow at the very next 
instant. 

He moved his joint almost completely out of her. She lunged at him. He gave 
her a slamming hump sending his driving rod a full quarter inch further into 
her gaping hole. His cock and her twat exploded in a perfectly timed orgasm. 
They came together joyously! 

Their bodies locked in a fuck hold. His cock shot his hot, scum deeply into 
her hole. Her cunt showered the shooting prick in warm bursts of loving 
gratitude. His come and her formed a perfect union in the darkness of her 
stretched pussy. 

They sweated and groaned in harmony. 

Waves of pleasure shook her body from her own orgasm. His shooting prick 
gave these waves added height. Bolts of joy shuddered through his body as he 
came. Her soft, coming cunt made them smoother and more full. 

After their separate organs had spent their hot juices they rested. 

Joan's first act of infidelity was so much more than she had ever hoped for. 
There would be many more. Many more. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

After they dozed for fifteen minutes, Joan rose with a start. She had fucked 
another man in her marriage bed. She had to get him out of there. 

"Come on, Stan! You have to go! It's getting late! My daughter will be home 
soon!" 

She shoved him. "Get up!" 

He stirred. "You know, Joan. Your daughter is beautiful. Is she still a 
virgin?" 

The question shocked Joan. She became very angry. "Of course, 'She's still a 
virgin!'" 

Stan began to laugh. Joan had never heard that laugh from him before. It 
possessed a sinister ring. It sounded like it came from a mean person. She 
was sure Stan wasn't a "mean person." 

Stan rose from the bed and began to dress. He spoke to her in very lustful, 
not loving, tones. Joan was confused. 

"Joan, honey. Let's do this together again real soon! You can really hump 
that sweet, little pussy of yours!" 

Stan reached down on the bed and grabbed at her crotch abusively. 

She recoiled from his clutching fingers. "Get out of her, you animal!" 

Stan laughed heartily. "'Animal,' you call me! 'Animal?'" 

He moved very close to her. His hand clasped around the back of her neck. 
"If either of us is an 'animal' honey, it's you! You were groaning like a 
bitch a couple of minutes ago! Or don't you remember? 'Animal!'" 

He rose from the bed and completed dressing. He swaggered to the door. "I 
know my way out! I also know my way back in!" He slammed the door behind 
him. She heard him going down the stairs towards the door. "'Animal?' she 
calls me. "I'm an 'animal?' " 

Something about his tone of voice and attitude frightened her. She had 
chosen to cheat on her husband with a man who had left her with scorning 
words and dark insinuations about the future. 

She began to regret the act immediately. She wanted to forget it and act 
like it never happened. She made the ruffled bed and went into the bathroom 
for a long cleansing shower. She tried to wash away the memory of her act 
from her mind. She knew it was impossible but she tried anyway. Something 
about the way he had said "Animal," as he left frightened her. She began to 
wonder what he meant when he said that he knew the way "back into her 
house." 

After she dried herself, she dressed. As she looked at the clock in the 
bedroom, she thought of what she was going to prepare for dinner. 

Usually by that time of the day, she had dinner all planned out in her head. 
All she would have to do would be to prepare it. That was the easy part. 

Thoughts of Stan's driving dick thrilled her while thoughts of his dark 
words filled her with a strange dread. Her imagination began to work on her 
concerns. Did he mean that he intended to come back to her whenever he 
wanted? Did he mean that he would take her only when he wanted to? Did she 
really sound "like a bitch" when he was making love to her? 

Her mind was filled with thoughts that confused and perplexed her. She 
wondered one minute why she had ever let Stan take her to bed. Then she 
would realize that it was her who engineered the whole love feast. 

Did he want Wendy to join them in a sexual triad? It sounded to Joan like 
that's what he wanted. The thought of it almost made her sick. 

Joan Withers loved her daughter. Wendy was such a nice kid. She only hoped 
that when she grew up, she would meet a nice guy, get married and have a 
happy life. Joan figured that that was not too much to ask for her daughter. 

It was getting close to six o'clock. Wendy would be home soon from her 4-H 
Club meeting. Joan rushed as she prepared dinner. The "bill of fare" for the 
evening was, meatloaf. Wendy and Bill liked the way she made it. It was nice 
to know that the two most important people in the world to her, enjoyed the 
way she cooked. 

Suddenly though, Joan reconsidered her thought. Was Bill the most important 
person in the world to her? She had just cheated on him, and in the bed she 
slept with him too! Joan Withers was rapidly becoming a very confused woman. 

At six o'clock young Wendy Withers bounded into the house. She was her usual 
self, very happy and gay. Aside from the deep love only a mother could have 
for a child, Joan truly enjoyed Wendy's company. 

The healthy young teen always had something to say. It was usual about 
school or her friends. Joan would really get a kick out of the way Wendy 
would call this one a "creep" or that one a 'hunk." The two females would 
talk a lot. 

"Hi, Mother!," Wendy said as she walked towards the refrigerator. 

"Hi, yourself, Wendy," Joan said to her daughter. Her tone of voice was a 
little righteous and condescending, but it was all put on. They both knew 
it. 

The main problem that Joan had with Wendy was the way they young girl would 
bring her down to the level of a teen. It was hard for dear old Mom to 
continually play that role. It even bored Joan. Being a mother and housewife 
could very stifling. That was the last thing Joan wanted to happen to her. 
She always wanted to be "with it." 

Wendy was "with it." She knew all the youngsters in her entire school. She 
would phone calls constantly from her friends. Joan would literally have to 
pull the phone from the teen's hand. 

That was alright though. Joan really didn't mind. She knew just how much 
young Wendy was enjoying life. Secretly, she envied her daughter. 

The "Age of Discovery" was upon the young girl. Wendy had lost a touch of 
the wonderment of childhood, but at the same time, she had received the 
sensual awareness of a woman. The combination was hard to beat. On one hand 
Wendy felt the rushes of blissful childhood, and on the other, she felt the 
joys of young womanhood. 

Wendy stooped over as she looked into the refrigerator. She was always 
looking in the refrigerator. It was like there was a secret treasure in 
there somewhere. It had to show up someday! 

"What's for dinner, Mother?" Wendy asked. 

Joan turned from the sink to look at her daughter. "Meatloaf! Your favorite! 
Your father likes it to." 

Joan admired her daughter's round, young buttocks. As the young girl stooped 
over to search through the contents of the refrigerator, Her small waist and 
swelling hips were very clearly defined in the tight jeans she wore. Wendy 
had more than a "cute, little body." 

Hers was exceptional. It reeked of youth. It had blossomed much earlier than 
her friends' bodies. She found herself being eyed by men in their twenties 
and thirties. They made her feel desirable. At the same time, they made her 
feel dirty. She didn't like they way they leered at her. The young teen felt 
as if they were undressing her with their eyes. It made her very uneasy. She 
would always walk past men on the street with her head held straight. She 
knew that she looked much older that her fourteen years. But at heart, Wendy 
Withers was still a baby. She was also a virgin. 

She had heard about sex. She even used the word "Fuck," when she was with 
her friends. She had had her first period when she was thirteen. She knew 
about ovaries, and eggs and sperm. But the act itself was a mystery to her. 
When she wasn't feeing too good about herself or her blooming femininity, 
she would languish in the way she used to think babies were born. She knew 
that really wasn't the way after all. 

A man would stick his penis inside a woman's vagina. A special, white liquid 
would come out of the man, and go up into the woman. Then, she would become 
pregnant. The pleasure attached to it was unknown to the young girl. 

"Meatloaf?" she replied to her mother. "I hate meatloaf!" 

Joan was confused. It seemed like only the other day, Wendy had complimented 
her on the tastiness of her meatloaf. Now she was claiming an aversion to 
it. Joan was confused. 

It didn't last long though. An hour later, young Wendy, confirmed hater of 
meatloaf, was gorging herself with huge pieces of it. 

"Hey!" her mother interrupted. "Your going to choke yourself, the way you 
eat that stuff. Eat slowly, and chew your food. I mean, it's not very 
lady-like the way you shove it down your throat." 

Wendy tried to cool herself. She put her fork down and smiled at her mother. 
A funny look came over her face. She seemed to be bursting with inquiries 
about countless things. 

"Mother, tell me about sex. Does a man really stick his penis into a 
woman's, well, you know, a woman's...." 

The young girl. needed ' help. Mother came through. "Well, that's quite a 
question to be asking over a fine dinner. I'm just glad your father isn't 
home." 

After Joan had finished her obligatory scolding, she tried to address 
herself to her daughter's question. "Well, a man does place his penis into a 
woman's, vagina. He deposits sperm there and it travels up to the woman's 
ovaries." 

Joan sensed her daughter impatience. Wendy had had enough clinical 
definitions of sex. She wanted her mother to get down to the real "nitty 
gritty" with her. 

"What's the matter, dear? Isn't this what you want to know?" 

Mrs. Withers was confused again. Young Wendy fidgeted at her seat. She 
wasn't getting what she wanted from her mother. 

"Ma! Ma! I know all about this stuff! Tell me the real stuff! Does it feel 
good? Do you want to do it all the time, or just once in a while?" 

Young Wendy's unabashed curiosity made Mrs. Withers very nervous. The woman 
seldom spoke of sex to anyone. She believed that it wasn't proper to speak 
of it. She would rather just do it. 

Bill Withers didn't know how lucky he was in this regard. Never would his 
wife, Joan, put him a long series of questions about the sex act. He never 
had to scratch his head and search for answers to questions like, "Did you 
like that?" 

"Did I satisfy you?" 

"Did the earth move?" 

Joan just never asked those questions. She thought that they only took the 
spontaneity out of the sex act. To talk about it would be to ruin it. It was 
better that way. At least, for her it was better. That would change soon. 

But here was her daughter asking all the questions she never asked. Aside 
from making Joan nervous, it kind of angered her. These things were better 
left unsaid. So why, was her daughter asking them? 

She took a firm grip on herself. She wanted to help her daughter. 

"Yes, Wendy, it feels very good. I don't think I can answer the second part 
of your question. That depends on the person." 

Wendy wasn't satisfied. "Well, right about with you and Dad? You can tell me 
about that, can't you?" 

Joan Withers was shocked. What Wendy was asking was impertinent and bold. 
She was hitting too close to home. 

"What you're asking is a private matter between a wife and her husband. You 
will find out the answers for all of your questions soon enough! For the 
time being, eat your supper! And eat slowly!" 

The case was closed. 

They continued their dinner and spoke of safer things. How was school? How 
was she getting along with her teachers? and finally, "How was her school 
work?" 

Joan knew that her daughter was a pretty good student in school. The girl 
was weak in science and Math class but that was understandable. Girls 
usually were weak in those subjects.. 

Wendy was well--liked by all of her teachers. 

The one who paid the most attention to young Wendy was Mr. Abrams. He had 
told Joan that young Wendy had real literary talent. The girl had already 
written several poems for the Winstone High Yearbook. 

Mr. Abrams spent a lot of time with Wendy. Joan never once suspected that 
Mr. Abrams' interest in her daughter went beyond academic pursuits. Mr. 
Abrams was as horny as hell and coveted Wendy's young body. The man never 
took his jacket off when she was with him after school. A stiff boner would 
throb under his pants, and he didn't want young Wendy to see it. He really 
had the "hots" for the young girl. 

He was not alone. Many of the men of the small town would have loved to ram 
their things into the lovely openings of the young girl. 

Many times, Wendy would have to repeat questions when she was with Mr. 
Abrams. He seemed incapable of concentrating on his work. 

He made the same mistake over and over again. He would always say that, 
"Beauty was beauty and truth was truth." Wendy would say that he was mixing 
it up and Mr. Abrams would seem off somewhere else. She couldn't understand 
it. In class, Mr. Abrams was terrific. His lectures were full of life. He 
would make different references to different works all the time. Wendy 
always took notes. Even when she didn't have to. She'd copy down the names 
of books and try to read them all. But it was so hard. The books Mr. Abrams 
spoke of were often very difficult to understand. She'd try anyway. As long 
as he encouraged her, she'd try. 

But he still would make that same mistake over and over again. Wendy would 
correct him on that. She didn't like to correct him, though. It kind of made 
her feel bad. How could she correct the man who was teaching her so much. 
She had the utmost respect for him. Little did she know of the evil designs 
he had for her sweet, round body. He would have loved to ram her. 

Secretly, Mr. Abrams was a lech. He'd masturbate to the cheap pornographic 
magazines he'd buy. Never would he make his dubious purchases in Winstone, 
however. It would be highly embarrassing and might even put his teaching 
position in danger. If some horny Freshman saw a teacher buying dirty books, 
it would be all over town in a few days. Mr. Abrams was aware of his 
constitutional rights but he also knew what was good for him. 

After dinner that evening, Joan and her daughter did the dishes. Joan would 
wash and Wendy would dry. It didn't take too long. Only two had eaten. 
That's the way it usually was. 

Joan would keep the oven lit. Her husband would be home around nine o'clock. 
He would expect his dinner to be ready right after he washed up. 

Bill Withers could never get his hands completely clean. He used this very 
strong cleansing agent before he left the shop. It took off most of the 
day's oil stains and dirt. But his hands never were completely cleansed. 
Then he'd come home and wash up again. That didn't work either. He had 
created his own standards for cleanliness. 

He knew when he was clean and when he was not. To most everyone he looked 
dirty all the time. But that was "an occupational hazard." He could not 
avoid it. 

He was a real "working class hero." He was almost proud of the ground-in 
dirt that covered his hands. It attested to his worth as a citizen and a 
man. He was a productive member of society, who was independent. He was "his 
own man." He wasn't a heavy drinker, smoker or woman-chaser. Work was his 
thing. It would be the thing that would get him into heaven and purge him of 
all inadequacies. Quite simply, Bill Withers hid behind his occupation. Work 
was all. 

He arrived home around nine-thirty that night. Joan saw the lights from the 
car move slowly down the driveway. She placed her sewing on the hassock next 
to her and walked to the back door to greet her man. 

He walked in and exhaled heavily. "Sorry, I'm late honey. I got held up a 
bit. I'll tell you, the work never stops down there. What the hell. Maybe 
some day we will be rich. But wow, the work never stops!" 

Joan remarked with a slight tinge of arrogance, "I know, dear. It's a hard 
life. How do we ever get by." 

Bill Withers didn't like that. Immediately, his boss-man indignation well up 
within him. "What do you mean by that remark! I work fifteen hours everyday 
and you have the nerve to give me that kind of grief!" 

Joan knew she was wrong. Her adulterous act of the afternoon left her a bit 
nasty. "I'm sorry, honey. It's just that you are away so much. I never get a 
chance to see you. We never spend any time together. How I wish we could 
take a vacation. Let's go somewhere, soon! Really, wouldn't it by nice if we 
could go to Canada for a week. We'd take Wendy. It would be nice!" 

Bill looked at her. "Can I have my supper please? I'm hungry! Is there 
anything on television, tonight? Any movies?" 

He'd always ask his wife these kinds of questions. Sometimes all they had in 
common was the shared experience of watching television together. Theirs was 
a typical, American marriage. 

She placed his dinner before him. "Alright, meatloaf! Got any bread?" He 
started to get very playful. "I want bread. I want bread!" 

He banged the base of his knife and fork on the table. He got a kick out of 
that and laughed heartily. So did Joan. She liked her husband, but he was 
becoming a smaller figure in her life. He had cancelled himself out of her 
daily existence. He was never around. 

She always knew where he was. But he was never around. "So go ahead and eat 
it, you animal!" 

As she said the words jokingly to her husband, she thought of what Stan had 
said to her earlier that day. Was she really the animal after all? Was she 
really the hot, fucky bitch he had implied she was. Only time would tell her 
that. 

He rose from the table after he had eaten. Into the living room he lumbered. 
He was a strongly built man. His body was thick and hard. The only part of 
his body that was soft was his stomach. It was also getting bigger with each 
passing day. He drank too much beer. It didn't matter to him though. He 
liked it. That was all that was important. 

He also viewed dieting as something less than manly. It showed vanity and 
vanity was for women, not men. 

"Get me a cold beer. I'm thirsty." 

She knew that he would want one and had already poured it for him. As he 
spoke the words, she walked through the kitchen's doorway and handed it to 
him. 

"Now, that's service! Huh!" 

Bill pulled his wife onto his lap. Wendy sat close by and smiled. "What are 
you doing to my mother, you big bully?" 

The three of them laughed and shared their warm feelings for one another. It 
was a rare event in that home. Most of the time, Bill Withers would carry on 
his harried work attitude. He would made Wendy and her mother feel like he'd 
been working in some Siberian salt mine. It was usually very depressing. 

But that night was different. It didn't last long however. Bill soon fell 
off to sleep. The couch was usually the place. The man would make it the 
ending of the News on television. Right after that he began to fight 
onrushing sleep. He never won. 

Soon, he'd be snoring away. Joan would wake him about twelve and the two of 
them would walk up the stairs and into their bedroom. They would be asleep 
for the night in a matter of minutes. 

The next morning was routine. Bill would be up and gone by seven o'clock. 
Joan would be up by then. Bill would get his own breakfast at the diner near 
his shop. After Wendy had dressed for school, she would bound down the 
stairs and head for the kitchen. She'd always find there a bowl of cereal, a 
glass of orange juice and toast. The school bus always seemed to arrive to 
the Withers' home just as Wendy would be finishing her breakfast. The young 
girl would jump from her seat when she heard the horn from the bus. She'd 
give her mother a kiss and speed out the door. This morning was like any 
morning. With one exception. 

Right after breakfast, she got a phone call. It was Stan Scott. 

"Hello, Joan. How are you?" 

His voice sounded calm and friendly. That was the way Joan always 
interpreted his voice. "Oh, hello Stan! I'm fine! How are you?" 

They both knew why he was calling. A long pause followed their forced 
amenities. Stan finally spoke. 

"I really enjoyed yesterday. Hey, I'm-sorry for the way I acted after we 
were, finished. I'm sorry." 

He honestly sounded remorseful. Joan was easily duped. "Oh, that's okay. 
Don't worry about it!" 

The funny thing here was the fact that he wasn't worrying about what he had 
said. She was! 

Stan made his play. "I'd like to come over this afternoon for awhile. That 
is, if you don't mind. I wouldn't want to disturb your day or anything." 

He was being cloyingly kind. It was a poor performance but strong enough to 
convince Joan. 

"I don't know. I mean, I didn't think this would happen in the first place. 
Now that it has I don't know what to do." 

Stan became even more reassuring. "I come over around two-thirty, just to 
talk. Don't worry. Everything's fine!" 

Joan felt that glow begin to grow in her crotch again. She remembered the 
size of his joint. She wanted it again. She wanted it that day. It would 
somehow relieve the growing tensions within her. She hesitated. 

Stan sensed it immediately. "Hey! Don't worry! Everything's fine!" Yes. 
Everything was fine alright! But with Stan only. 

He pushed her into making a decision. "Okay. I'll see you at two-thirty, 
sharp. Come around to the back door. Bring some groceries too. Like you are 
delivering something. You know, just for appearance sake." 

"Okay. I'll be there at exactly two-thirty. Goodbye!" 

Joan put the receiver down. He had not given her enough time to say no to 
his proposal. She sat at the kitchen table for an hour. She just stared at 
her empty, coffee cup. She saw the tiny grounds down at the bottom. There 
must have been thousands of them. She considered pouring the small, wet 
grounds on the table and counting them one by one. Finally, she just rose 
from the table and went into the bedroom. She was alone. No one would see or 
speak to her until Stan showed up that afternoon. She fell on the bed and 
rested. She considered meeting Stan at the door and acting like what had 
happened between them didn't happen at all. She reviewed her life up to and 
including that very moment. It had been quite boring. She was sure of that 
much. 

Married at eighteen, a mother less that a year later, and a husband in the 
auto repair business. It was certainly far from the cosmopolitan life. There 
was a time that she craved for everything she had at that moment. Yet, it 
all seemed very boring to her now that she had it. She thought on and on and 
decided that she really wanted Stan's cock. It would give her life a bit of 
mystery and adventure. It surely lacked that. She'd make that day with Stan 
one filled with pleasure. She would make love to him with a lustful 
abandonment. It was terrific. 

She decided to dress as alluringly as possible. Her natural taste for 
fashion lent itself to the occasion. She chose a tight, black tee shirt, a 
different pair of jeans, that were tighter than the previous days, and a 
pair of stacked shoes. She'd leave her hair the way it was. She didn't want 
to give the impression that she'd gone to any great lengths to look foxy. 
She wanted to appear casual. 

She took a long, hot cleansing bath. A quick shower washed any clinging dirt 
away. She made sure her body was very clean. She gave her fingernails a 
quick touch-up. Her make-up came next. She usually wore a lot of it. Her 
husband liked it. But Stan's tastes were a little more refined. The only 
part of her face that she gave a large amount of make-up to, was her 
eyelids. She applied a green tint there to contrast the softness of her 
hazel eyes. 

Before she began to dress, she looked into the mirror. She was pleased with 
her body. The man who was coming to her house in one hour, would be too. She 
was sure of that. 

For a woman of thirty-two, she looked beautiful. In fact, her long, curving, 
sensual body rivaled the best of the entire town. And that included the 
hundreds of hot, young teens that populated the town. 

Her shoulders were soft and supple. They stood directly above two, firm, 
erect breasts. The skin that covered her rib cage added to the dozens of 
curves within her female form. Her stomach formed a tiny shadow over the 
triangle of her lovely bush. Beneath the black layer of pubic hair, rested a 
sweet pussy with red, warm skin. Her hips were rounded and full. They curved 
out nicely from her waist. 

Beneath her tasteful, yet casual outfit, she chose to wear a matching set of 
panties and bra. They were of a rich, solid, green and matched ever so 
subtlety with the green hue emanating from her eyes. As she lifted the 
panties up over the folds of skin of her sweet pussy, she rubbed it gently. 
Her whole body shook. It was preparing itself for sweet, hot pleasure. She 
was completely dressed at two-fifteen. She sat down in the living room and 
waited. She tried to sew, but that was impossible. All she could do was 
wait. 

She rubbed her hands together and abruptly stood up. She looked at her fine 
frame in the large mirror that stood by the front door. She wanted to see 
what she looked like from behind. There was a small hand mirror sitting on 
the old hutch in the living room. She went to it and took it back to the 
mirror. She held it up and observed its reflection. 

She was happy with what she saw. The jeans covered her buttocks perfectly. 
The fabric stretched her soft flesh and made it tighter than it was already. 
She was a foxy mamma! She began to feel herself getting hot, just looking at 
her own reflection. She knew she really could turn men on when she wanted. 
She had never tried as intensely as this in all the years of her marriage. 
She was ready to enjoy the pleasures her body could give. 

She heard a faint knocking at the back door. She looked at the clock in the 
living room. It was two-thirty. She had to control herself from running into 
the kitchen to let her secret lover in. She felt like an exciting person. 
She was a libertine, a sensualist, a very feminine woman! 

She opened the door. Peeking at her through two large bundles of packed 
food, stood Stan Scott. He smiled sweetly. 

"Well, don't just stand there! Come in, come in!" Before Joan closed and 
locked the door after him, she looked outside. Mr. Scott's arrival at her 
house could be explained very easily. He had come to deliver her groceries. 
Joan was one of his customers, and had been one for years. 

Stan placed the two bags on the table. "I figured you might be able to use 
some things," he said. 

He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a six pack of beer. He popped 
the top of it and began to drink its contents. 

Joan observed his manner. He seemed much more confident that he was the day 
before. He moved with an ease and sureness that was very attractive. He 
seemed much more masculine to Joan then he had the previous day. She was 
beginning to feel the tight, green panties clinging to her sweet bush, begin 
to moisten. She wanted that man! "You really make yourself right at home, 
don't you!" remarked Joan. She laughed nervously. There was something about 
Stan that made her skin tingle. In his store, he was all sweetness and 
light, but standing in the kitchen he looked a trifle dangerous. It wasn't 
anything in his physical posture. She sensed it in his attitude. He spoke in 
authoritative tones. He seemed sure of what he wanted. He had a kind of 
acute self-possession that thrilled her. He looked her right in the eye when 
he spoke. 

"Joan, you look beautiful!" 

She felt a rush flow her body. It took her breath away. She had dressed to 
turn this man on. She had succeeded. She glanced at his white, working 
pants. There was a huge bulge in their crotch. It was his cock! It was hard! 
It was ready for her. She felt her mouth water. That day she would really 
explore his body. She wanted to lick his balls and suck that thing in his 
pants. Her legs began to open. Nature was beginning to take over! 

"Why, thank you Mr. Scott," she replied coyly. 

She felt incredibly feminine. Every cell in her body was alive. Her mouth 
opened as she smiled. He would have her soon. She would give herself to him. 
He would be well pleased! He moved closer to her and fondled her long hair. 
She craved affection. Her hands rose from her sides and closed around his 
hairy, muscular arms. She kissed his forearm gently. It was hard and true. 
It would close around her soft flesh soon. He would cradle her in his arms. 

She smiled at him. Her hand closed around the can of beer in his hand. She 
took it from him. She was thirsty, too! Up to her lips she held it. She took 
a full gulp. Her bare, creamy neck filled Stan's hungry eyes. He took the 
can from her. A small droplet of the liquid dropped from her lips. Her 
tongue tried to rescue it. It fell to the floor. Neither of them noticed. He 
brought her to him. They kissed. She felt the burning flames raging within 
him kindle her own desires. 

They would burn out their shared sexuality together! 

"Let's go upstairs," Stan whispered. 

They moved towards the stairway together. Up the steps they walked. Into the 
big bedroom they stepped. Their dance to desire had begun! 

"Take your clothes off!" Stan said hastily. He wanted to get off. 

"Easy does it boy," Joan replied. "Let's get to know one another a little 
better first!" She played the sweet seductress role to the hilt. 

Stan was beginning to grow impatient. "Come on, honey. Take your clothes 
off!" 

She giggled and broke away from him. She walked over to the window. She had 
drawn the shade herself before Stan had arrived that day. 

Stan's impatience was beginning to turn to anger. He took his own clothes 
off. He stood there in front of Joan clad only in tight, white briefs. His 
hard thing was stuffed within it. It was all bent up and pressing against 
his legs. He spoke to her. 

"Joan. Let's get one thing straight up front! I don't like to be teased by 
anyone! Especially, women!" 

She stood there and smiled like a hot harlot. She felt like she controlled 
the scene. She was in for a surprise. She continued her taunting giggle. 
"Ah, Stan! Does that thing in your pants want something? Look at it there. 
It's trapped. Tsk, tsk! Isn't it sad! Why don't you let it out for some 
air." 

That did it! Stan had been mocked enough. He began to smile at the teasing 
woman leaning on the window sill. "Okay. I'll let it out for some air." 

He pulled the huge thing from his briefs. The brown, hairy prick rose out of 
his briefs. It thrilled Joan. The fact that that gigantic thing was 
completely inside her the day before thrilled her. Her mind was agog. She 
knew it was big, but not that big! She estimated its length to be about 
twelve inches. It was now standing straight away from Stan's body. Her twat 
wet and her mouth watered. That thing would put her on a hot, sex trip real 
soon. Sooner than even she expected! 

Stan stepped out of his briefs and stood there completely naked. His body 
was thickly muscled but rested on a medium sized frame. It gave his body a 
handsome, classic beauty. Her desire had slowly turned to a craving. Now she 
needed that huge pole that stood out from his handsome body. 

"So, you wanna play, eh Joan? You wanna play your little game? Alright, 
we'll play. But you are going to lose!" 

She looked at him in puzzlement. He moved to her. She smiled up at him 
weakly. She was ready now for tender love-making. But he wasn't anymore. 

He grabbed her by the nape of her thin, elegant neck and threw her to the 
floor. "You lose baby!" 

"What are you doing! Stan? Are you crazy?" She was beginning to feel 
frightened. 

What was he going to do to her? She had no idea. She was a slight woman. She 
couldn't resist him if she tried! 

He grabbed a huge clot of her beautiful hair. He pulled her neck back. Her 
mouth opened as she gasped for air. He rammed his prick right down her 
throat! 

She coughed. Her eyes bulged and her cheeks swelled out. He forced her face 
right down to the root of his thing. Her lips were buried in the pubic hair 
at the root of his stem. She couldn't breathe! He pulled her away from his 
ramming thing. Up to his fierce, angry face she moved. He looked her in the 
face. They were eyeball to eyeball! 

"I got games in store for you bitch that you might not want to play! But you 
will! And you know what? You know what? You are going to lose every one of 
them. You're a born loser and I'm going to prove it to you!" 

He held the bottom of her struggling jaw open. Down her head was lowered. He 
stopped its plunge when it was directly parallel with his steaming stake. 
She saw it. It was bigger up close than it was at a distance. 

What was he going to do with that thing? Her mind raced. If he rammed it 
into her mouth again, she was sure she would suffocate. It was just too big! 
She heard his voice above him. It sounded positively satanic! 

"You have to play if you want to win! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Too bad for you 
though, you will never win. In fact, you are going to lose much more than 
your own dignity, self respect and virtue. You, lady, sweet bitch, are not 
only going to lose those things! That sweet pussy daughter of yours? Well, 
she going to be sucking me off just like you are! She's going to lap my hot 
scum and spread the cheeks of her sweet, round ass in hungry need for my 
cock! You just wait, bitch! She's as big of a scum-sucking slut as you are! 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" 

 CHAPTER THREE 

He rammed his hot boner deeply into her mouth. Down it traveled. She coughed 
and twisted. The thing was just too big! The skin of her thick lips 
stretched to the breaking point. Her mouth bulged as the fearsome thing 
moved further and further into her oral cavity. A small trickle of blood 
formed in the corners of her lips. The thickness of the thing was beyond the 
consumptive capacity of her gaping mouth. Her forehead showed the wrinkles 
of her agony. Terror filled her tear-soaked eyes. Although she was full 
clothed he was raping her of her very self-respect. 

"You don't have all of it yet, bitch!" He slammed his strong pelvis right 
against her nose. The gigantic thing stretching the walls of her gullet to 
new widths, moved even further down. 

Deep, painful groans rose from deep in her throat. She was incapable of 
speaking. The ramming rod had robbed her of her ability to speak. Her arms 
flailed the empty air around her. She suffered as she was forced to suck 
that merciless thing lodged deep in her throat. 

Stan began to hump the miserable woman's face. Her nostrils opened in a 
desperate attempt to get the air her pained body needed. Stan was giving her 
what she really wanted, what she needed, what she deserved! 

"You want to play games? Eh, bitch? Well, here's a new one! It's called 
'Sucking Cock!'" He gave her tormented face a slugging hump. 

Her struggling body wilted to the floor. She was his. The thing within her 
moved up and down. She felt the thick, blood gorged, veins at its sides. The 
base of the thing was thickest at her lips. Its sharpest point was at its 
piercing tip. She honestly believed that it was getting close to her very 
stomach! It moved with a conquering ferocity! 

Her limp body lay beaten. It hung from his steaming rod. He wanted her to 
suck him off. She was practically unconscious. He lifted her from the floor 
and placed her limp, lean body in the bed. He straddled her head and began 
to move it up and down on his prick. 

"Get into it bitch! Get into it! You better suck me off good or I might have 
to beat your sweet, little ass black and blue! Suck! Suck!" 

Out of a mixture of fear, and shame she responded. Her lips began to move 
and her tongue began to lap at the huge thing penetrating her mouth. 

"That's good! You got it! Your friend Stan will be shooting off in your 
mouth soon!" 

He moved his body back from her choking throat. He felt his come about to 
shoot off into her mouth. He lifted her head up and her relaxed face looked 
strange with the big cock hanging out of her mouth. Her eyes opened and 
looked up at Stan. They pleaded for mercy. He saw them and read their 
message clearly. 

"Is this too much for you? I don't want to hurt you now!" He laughed and 
filled her mouth socket anew with the full force of his pumping prick. He 
felt very close to orgasm now. He held her servile face in a new position. 

He clasped her fevered head by its sides and began to move it on his rock, 
hard thing in a blur of fast humps. She was serving as a human whack off 
tool. She couldn't even suck. She was powerless. The juices in his joint 
began to flow. He moved her head faster and faster on the exploding prick. 

His first blast of scum blasted straight to her stomach. She felt it run 
down the portion of her throat that was not filled with his seething flesh. 

"I'm giving you all I got now, bitch! Here it comes!" 

The first blast was minor to the second and the third and the fourth! The 
hot, scum filled her gaping mouth faster than she could swallow it. It 
dribbled over the edges of her taunt lips. The sticky substance began to 
roll lazily down her chin and neck. The tears in her eyes joined the sliding 
droplets of hot scum. Both were salty. Both were hot. Both were in the form 
of a liquid. The difference between the tears and the scum was distinctive 
despite all their similarities. 

The tears of mouth-fucked Joan came from the agony and shame of her 
position. The hot semen coming from Stan came from pleasure and ecstasy. 

When he finished his mouth fuck he tossed the shamed woman flat out on the 
bed. He walked to the window and looked down to the street. It was a 
beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the 
sky. His mind returned to the sex scenario in the bedroom. 

He sat down in the room's only chair. He looked at the fully clothed woman 
on the bed. She was just starting to collect herself. 

Scum dripped from her mouth. She was wasted and spent. She began to lift 
herself up on her elbows. She looked at the naked man who had just taught 
her a sound lesson. She wiped the cooling liquid from her lips. She looked 
like a kid who had just greedily eaten an ice cream cone. 

"Take your clothes off, Joan dear." He looked at her with contempt. Both of 
them were cheating on their spouses, but the woman in front of him was doing 
it in her own bedroom. She was doing it in the room she made love to her 
husband in. She was doing it in the room where she told him that she loved 
him. 

She just lay there and looked at him in disbelief. 

She spoke to him. "Why did you do that to me?" 

He replied in anger. "I told you to take your clothes off!" 

She just lay there staring at him. Suddenly, she found an untapped well of 
self-respect inside of her. "Get out of my house! Get out now you animal!" 

He laughed as he spoke. "That's not going to work, today or any other day. 
We will be doing things my way!" 

She continued her pathetic, but noble effort to rid herself of this wolf in 
sheep's clothing. "Get out of my house right now, you animal! Get out now, 
or I'm going to call the cops!" 

He laughed at her. Swiftly, he moved to her. Despite her heroic attempt to 
show confidence in the face of this fearsome man, she cringed in terror. He 
wasn't going to beat her. Not yet! He simply picked up the telephone and 
handed it to her. 

"Here. Call them. Call the fucking cops! And while you're at it tell them 
that the cruel man in your bedroom is not your husband and further that he's 
been fucking you raw!" 

She could not meet his challenge. She began to cry and plead for mercy. 
"Please leave! Leave me alone! I don't want to see you anymore! Go away!" 

He laughed a wicked laugh. "Ha, ha, ha. You don't want me to leave. We 
really haven't gotten to know one another yet! Ha, ha." 

He stood away from her. "Now honey. I told you to do something! Now do it or 
I'm going to have to punish you, right here in your own bedroom!" 

Reluctantly, she got up. Clots of scum still hung around her lips. 

She began to undress. She kicked off her stacked heels first. Next, she 
lifted the come stained tee-shirt over her supple flesh. She threw it on the 
floor. It didn't seem to matter where she put it. She opened the snap-clasp 
at the top of her jeans. She noticed how Stan's joint began to rise as she 
shimmied out of her tight jeans. When all she had on her body were her bra 
and panties, he told her to stop. 

"Just stand there for a minute, honey! Don't move." He was admiring her 
gorgeous body. Although it shook from her miserable sobs, it still retained 
its striking beauty. Her chest heaved. He looked upon her small cleavage and 
considered sticking his prick in there. It coveted her quivering cunt, 
hiding behind the sheer fabric of her green panties. 

"Turn around, Mrs. Withers," he ordered mockingly. 

She looked at him with eyes full of hate. But she obeyed. 

His mouth watered as he admired her beautifully erect buttocks. They shook 
beneath her hot panties. He noticed a small stain right at the opening of 
her twat. His suspicions were confirmed. She was getting off on it all, 
after all! 

"So your hot, little box leaked a little on you, eh? I knew you were digging 
it all the time!" 

Joan looked down at her panties. Stan was right. She had come a tiny amount. 
Maybe she did like it the way he said she did. If that was true, then she 
wouldn't ever be able to forgive herself! 

"I hate you," she said to him bitterly. She felt it deeply. 

"You hate me because I have shown you the truth. And you know the old 
saying, 'The truth hurts.'" 

He laughed as he walked up to her. She had her back to him. He rubbed his 
hand down the curving slope of her back. It was smooth. It also cringed to 
his touch. He knew that she hated him. But he also knew that she couldn't 
resist him. 

He slipped his large, hairy hand down the back of her tight panties. He felt 
at the crack in her slender ass. His index finger ran the whole length of it 
until it found the tiny opening of her asshole. 

She lowered her head. "What are you going to do to me now?" 

He grabbed her around the throat with his forearm and rammed his finger into 
her asshole. It penetrated right up to his knuckle. 

Pain seared through the woman. She had never had this done to her. Sodomy 
was forbidden! "No, no! Not that!" 

His merciless finger continued its anal probe. She literally hopped off the 
floor as the bony thing ripped at her rectum. Tears of anguish and helpless 
rage streamed from her twisted face. 

"Now don't scream out or I'll call the cops," he said to her mockingly. 

She was trapped. She couldn't call for help. She couldn't call any attention 
upon herself. She had fucked this man voluntarily only the day before. If 
she did call the cops there would have to be some heavy explaining to do. 
She knew her answers to questions like "How did this man get into your 
bedroom?" 

"There is no evidence of a struggle, Ma'am? "Why didn't you resist this 
man?" 

"You didn't have sex with him voluntarily, did you?" 

He bent her over and managed to get two fingers into the tiny asshole. The 
pain made her winch. She was his victim. She could not fight. 

He ripped her bra open. He tore her panties from her. She cringed! He threw 
her onto the bed. With a few, well placed kicks to her knees, her ass stood 
erect. She was afraid of what was about to happen to her. He couldn't do 
that to her! The size of his thing would kill her! 

Stan spit on her ass. Huge clots of saliva dripped onto her marriage bed. He 
lifted it from her quivering cheeks and moistened her asshole. It needed to 
be lubricated before he did it to her. 

"Stan? What are you going to do to me? Stan? Are you going to...." 

Her voice broke off into muffled, agonized screams. 

He had rammed the full length of his huge rod into her rectum. 

"How does it feel to be ass fucked? Eh, bitch?" 

She couldn't answer. Her face muscles pinched against one another. Her whole 
body was rapidly turning flush red. She bit her lip bloody and tore at her 
hair. She dared not scream out. That might bring somebody. That could mean 
her exposure. She suffered the most horrible pains of her life in silent, 
mute agony! 

The pain roared through her body. The huge, hot boner was utterly 
devastating! She felt like she was going to die. She was drenched in 
gut-clutching pain. It tore into her brain and made every cell of her body 
wither in hellish misery. She passed out. 

Stan gritted his teeth as he continued his merciless rape. The poor, 
sniveling bitch acted as a anguished, dazed piece of flesh for his 
pleasure-filled, scum-bursting prick. He knelt over the unconscious wasted 
woman and continued his cruel plungings. On and on he humped his 
blood-gorged rod in her bleeding, swelling asshole. He felt it cut further 
and further as her unconscious state relaxed every tensed quivering muscle 
in her shocked body. 

His body tensed and his face contorted when he felt his hot come approach 
the opening slit at the fiery tip of his blazing boner. 

"Now bitch! Here it is! Here's the stuff that will bring you down under my 
heel! Here it is!" 

He gave his prick a few heavy whacks with his hand, grabbed her quivering 
buttocks with a lock-like grip and thrust his exploding stake into the heart 
of her anus. 

The incredible pain of the shooting scum roused the unconscious bitch. She 
screamed in her dazed, pain-gorged misery. 

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" 

He smacked the top of her head. "Shut up bitch! Just keep your open asshole 
high and take my hot scum!" 

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Saliva oozed from her flaring 
nostrils and dribbling mouth. His cock worked her into a strange state of 
sensual pain! 

On and on he came. The stuff that shot from his cock explored the darkness 
deep in her stretching asshole. It clung to the walls of her rectum and 
entered her large intestines. There it touched the sensitive nerve endings 
that send instant impulses to the brain. She had been vanquished. Her brain 
understood the depth and strength her body was suffering but could do 
nothing about it! 

Her ass moved in defeated rhythm with his slaughtering stake. Her arms were 
cast at the head of the bed and moved mutely to the frenzied plungings of 
her sex-crazed conqueror! 

When he had finished he withdrew his limp prick from her bleeding, gaping, 
red asshole. He wiped his mouth and sat down on the room's only chair. He 
had finished his physical cruelties. For the moment, that is. There was to 
be much, much more but not until later. Now he would begin his vicious 
mental punishment. 

"Your asshole's good and tight, bitch! I love them like that! My wife's used 
to be like that. But no more! I fucked that bitch out years ago. Now she 
just takes care of my kids and gives me blow jobs. I wouldn't give her my 
cock again. I'll tell you, something. I don't fuck around much. I keep 
pretty clean. But when I do, I do it right! You ain't seen nothing yet! I 
got plans for your mouth, cunt and asshole. Also for something else! 

She lay there still dazed and confused. She could make out some of his 
words. His last sentence began to make some sense to her. She thought about 
what Stan had just done to her and thought she had heard him say something 
about "something else." She wondered what he meant by that. What could it 
be? 

He continued his perverse explanation. 

"What time does Wendy get home?" he asked. 

Her tortured mind came to a shocking understanding of what he wanted. What 
did he want with Wendy? 

He walked over to her. He slapped her hurting ass hard. "I asked you a 
question. What time does Wendy get home?" 

"About six o'clock," she answered. "Why do you want to know anyway?" 

Stan Scott laughed his cruel laugh. "Ha, ha. My dear Joan, your daughter is 
going to make us a threesome! Sweet Wendy will be getting to know me much 
better soon. That nice man, Mr. Scott, will be sticking it to her soon! 
She'll get to know, not only me but this too! Ha, ha, ha!" He pointed to his 
limp prick. 

Joan couldn't believe what she'd heard. "If you ever lay a hand on her, I'll 
kill you! I swear it! You miserable bastard! I'll kill you!" 

"There's going to be no killing done around here, honey. Your husband Bill 
will never know what's going on, and I think he's the only one involved in 
this affair capable of real violence. I mean, like with fists and tire 
irons. That kind of thing don't go too well with me though. My weapon is my 
prick. It gets the job done, don't it?" 

Stan's words seemed sure and true. The security of his attitude frightened 
her. Could he possibly get Wendy involved in this perverted sex scene? 
Never! her heart screamed. But a doubt hung from her mind. Could he get 
Wendy to suck and fuck the way dear old Ma was doing? She prayed he 
couldn't. She feared he would. 

Stan continued. "I'll tell you one thing. That daughter of yours is a hot, 
little number. I've watched her over the years. She's really growing up! 
Joan? Are you sure she hasn't been fucked yet? I mean, if I was fifteen I 
wouldn't leave her alone until I had rammed my hot, young, crazy cock into 
her sweet little snatch!" 

The licentious arrogance of his words enraged the spent woman on the bed. 
She felt incapable of any kind of resistance, however. Stan had done a real 
number on her head. She felt immobile and frozen. She had become his victim 
very easily. Yet, she still tried to fight him. Her only weapon was words. 

"I swear I'll kill you, you evil bastard!" she screamed. 

Stan had thought her words of resistance were amusing at first. But now they 
were beginning to anger him. He lunged at the raped bitch on the bed. "I 
don't like to be spoken to like that, by you or anyone!" 

He turned the squirming woman onto her stomach. He pressed his knee into the 
small of her back. She struggled briefly. A quick slap to the back of her 
head stopped her however. 

"Now relax, bitch! This is going to hurt me more than it will you!" 

A resounding smack filled the room. He was spanking her sadistically! 

"Ahhhhhhh!" she screamed as his hand did its nasty deed. The sharp sounds 
continued. "Whack, whack, whack!" 

The message of his open palm was very clear. She was to be obedient. She was 
to cooperate. She was to be a servile bitch! 

"Now, bitch, how does this feel? I can see the flesh on your ass cheeks 
quivering. Do you like it?" 

As his hand continued its relentless punishment, her body went limp again. 
Her hair dangled to the floor. Her arms hung loosely and bent up at the 
wrists where they touched the floor. A small pool of saliva formed on the 
floor directly beneath her open, quivering mouth. She dribbled like a child. 
She was getting the spanking of her life. Her body would tense up with each 
smack, but it would go limp again during the split second between each 
strike of the blurred palm. 

"Whack, whack, whack!" 

It seemed to go on and on. "Now, bitch! You will do what Daddy says or you 
will have to be punished again. I don't want to hurt you too badly! I mean, 
your ass is too round and your twat is too soft for me to just cast you 
aside like a wet towel!" 

He pushed her away from her suddenly. He continued his wild laughing. He 
went into the bathroom. The water began to run. She heard him laughing. She 
rubbed her swollen ass. It sure hurt! 

Stan returned from the bathroom. In his hand was a wet towel. He had twisted 
it all up. He began to snap it at her naked ass. When it connected, it made 
a crackling sound. The pain that rushed through Joan's body now was 
incredible. He kept snapping that soaked towel and snapping it on her ass. 
Every time it made contact Joan would cringe anew. She squirmed on the bed. 
She bit into the pillow there as her exposed flesh suffered the slashing, 
snapping pain of Stan's cloth weapon. Finally, she retreated under the 
covers of the ruffled bed. Her head was spinning and her ass was bleeding. 
She couldn't see the welts that he had inflicted upon her ass cheeks. But 
she could certainly feel them. The pains were short and sharp compared to 
the huge ones his huge prick inflicted upon her as he ass fucked her. 

She held the covers of the bed up to her chin. She cringed under the sheets. 
"No more punishment, please!" she begged. 

Stan began to dress. "So, Wendy gets home at around six o'clock, eh?" he 
snickered. "That should be just fine!" 

He stood at the door before he left. "Remember, I know my way back in!" The 
door slammed behind him. 

She lay there in the bed. Tears streamed from her face. She couldn't believe 
what Stan Scott had put her through. He had seemed so nice. He seemed to be 
the right man to cheat on her husband with. But she had been so very wrong. 
Stan was a cruel, evil bastard, after all! She was right when she told him 
that that's what he was. 

It was impossible to detect. On the surface, he seemed so nice. But that was 
just the tip of the iceberg. Lurking behind his smiling face was a sadistic, 
selfish pervert. He even wanted to fuck Joan's fourteen year-old daughter! 
Joan found that almost impossible to believe. Stan Scott served dozens of 
the town's young females. Did he covet them the way he did her daughter? 

All she knew was that she had to protect Wendy from the evil designs of Stan 
Scott. She would have to figure out a way, somehow. 

She rested in the bed for an hour. At five o'clock she got up. Wendy would 
be home soon. She had to have the growing, young girl's dinner ready. 

She jumped out of the bed. It was made in a moment. She gave it a quick 
double check and discovered the bloodstains from the abuse she suffered at 
the cruel hands of Stan. She stripped the bed and changed the sheets. The 
evidence of her sexual abuse was washed away in the appliances she kept in 
the basement and they chatted the way they usually did. It was a routine 
evening except for the constant pain Joan suffered in her hind quarters. Her 
asshole had been plundered and her asscheeks had been whipped with a wet 
towel. She hid her private pains quite well from her daughter. 

Wendy went on and on about school and her 4H Club meetings. She was an 
active kid and quite glib. Joan only hoped that the young girl was as 
outspoken and ambitious with her peers as she was with her. 

But Wendy wasn't. She was a "good kid." She had only recently discovered her 
own femininity. It proved awkward to her. She tried to handle it as well as 
she could. But leering men always made her jealous. She couldn't believe 
that men as old as her father looked at her hungrily. It made her feel 
dirty. Her blossoming body got many men and boys hard alright! Wendy was the 
subject of more than a few masturbatory fantasies. Much semen had been 
wasted because of the girl's swaying walk and curvaceous body. 

Joan knew how men looked upon young Wendy. She wanted to protect her for as 
long, and as well as she could. She always looked directly into the eyes of 
the men who leered at young Wendy whenever the two woman walked down the 
street together. Most of the men who lusted for Wendy looked weak and 
impotent to Joan. She viewed them all as leches. She was right. Most of them 
were! 

"I'll tell you, Ma. That Mr. Abrams. He's such a good teacher! Sometimes, he 
just hypnotized me. He's so smart! He's read a million books, I bet! He 
knows all about everything! But when we're alone, and he's helping me with 
my writing, he acts so dumb sometimes! I mean, I don't think he's there. He 
seems to be off somewhere else. But he's always looking at me. I don't 
understand him at all! But, most of the other teachers are all creepy, 
boring or mean. All they want to do in work. Work, work, work! That's all 
they ever want to do. I swear, it drives me crazy sometimes." 

Joan was fascinated. She always listened to Wendy talk. She saw so much of 
herself in the beautiful, young teen. It was not only her physical looks 
that did it. Joan saw so many of her own mannerisms in the girl. It was 
scary sometimes. It was like the teen's mother was looking into a mirror 
when she looked at her daughter. 

Whenever Wendy really got carried away with something she was talking about, 
she would wave and thrash her arms about her head. Joan remembered how she 
used to do that herself. But that was so many years before! Still, it would 
never fail to "take her back." 

They two woman, one aged thirty-two and the other aged fourteen had much 
more than a mother-daughter relationship. They were friends of the first 
order. Joan knew that Wendy would begin to move away from her very soon. 
Just as soon as she got a little more comfortable with her growing body and 
mind. Wendy was at the stage in her development where everything seemed to 
be happening faster and faster. She hoped to keep up with things. 

About ten o'clock, Joan's husband Bill got home. He apologized to his wife 
for his lateness, and kissed his daughter. It was a small family, but to 
many an observer, a good one. They all had good images. Wendy was the sweet, 
young teen, Joan was the concerned and attentive housewife and Bill was the 
hard-working father. It all looked very good. But some strange things had 
been happening to all of them. Joan had been reduced to a suffering wretch 
by the cruel sex she was made to suffer at the hands of her grocer. Wendy 
had her ass squeezed by Mr. Abrams earlier that day. She was getting some 
special tutoring at his apartment, and it happened on her way out. It was 
going to be her secret. She wouldn't tell anyone about it. Mr. Abrams would 
only deny it anyway. Finally, dear old Dad had had an experience he wouldn't 
tell anyone about either. 

At around the time Stan left the room where he had abused Mrs. Withers, Mr. 
Withers had a very unusual person enter his shop. He had said "Goodnight," 
to the three men who worked for him, about fifteen minutes earlier. He was 
busily at work on the company books in the small windowed office of his 
shop. Owning your own business has its hidden costs! 

He heard the small door that was cut into his shop's main garage entrance, 
swing open. The shop had closed at five but the last of his workmen had 
failed to lock the small door as he left. He usually did, so Bill Withers 
didn't check it. He didn't worry anyway. He didn't have much to steal. Maybe 
some good tools, but that was it. 

He didn't even look up from his work. He was growing impatient with it and 
wanted to get home. "We're closed! Come back tomorrow!" 

He heard a voice call out to him. It was feminine. "Hello! I need some help! 
My car stalled out on me about a mile from here! This is the first open gas 
station I've seen! What time does this town close up at anyway?" 

He tossed his pen down and got up. "This isn't a gas station! This is a Auto 
Repair Shop! My Auto Repair Shop!" 

He stepped out of his small office and glanced at the figure standing at the 
door. His eyes lit up. 

She was all woman and reeked of sexuality. She stood about five feet three 
inches high in high heels, so she was probably much shorter. She wore a 
cheap, slutty looking black dress that was sashed with a metallic silver 
belt. She carried a small pocketbook under her arm. Her hair was black, hung 
around her shoulders, and styled nicely. It had a straight, full-bodied 
look. She was about twenty years old and obviously of Spanish extraction. 
Her lips were thick and red. Her eyes flashed. Her body was lean but curved 
nicely. She was definitely not in her element in the small town of Winstone, 
Maine. 

She looked like a prostitute. She swayed and almost fell to the floor as she 
accidentally tipped on a old tire. 

"Heavens!" she said. After she had recovered her balance she looked up at 
Bill Withers. "My goodness! How do you not break around here!" 

She was hot, alright. Bill Withers' prick came to life in his pants. He 
cupped his hands in front of his erect boner and tried to hide it. He 
usually was pretty gruff with woman customers. He had learned that they 
didn't ask too many questions if he was. 

"Oh, my! My car broke down and I have to be in Boston tonight! It's 
extremely important to me! Could you help me. I'll pay you well! Please!" 

Bill was a man. She played the helpless female role to the hilt. It made him 
feel like even more of a man. His wife Joan was very feminine, but she 
hadn't instilled that feeling in him in years. He liked it. 

"Look lady, the shop is closed. I'm the only one here!" 

He began to act very annoyed. "Tsk. Alright, where is your car? You say, a 
mile from here! Then you must be out on Route 1. What's the matter? Did it 
just die on you or what?" 

She began to get flustered and upset. "I don't know anything about cars. My 
car doesn't work and I have to get to Boston tonight! Please help me!" 

Bill looked around him, down at his watch and into the office. He looked at 
the young woman standing in front of him. He paused. Starting for the office 
to pick up his large, key chain he said to her, "Okay, miss. Get into that 
red truck over there. I'll be right with you. 

In minutes they were rumbling down Route 1 in his tow truck. 

"You aren't from Winstone. I can see that plain as day! Where you from? New 
York? 

She smiled at him coyly. He was her hero. "Why yes! How'd you guess?" 

He felt flattered. "I can tell. I can tell." 

When they finally reached the car, Bill slowed his truck to a halt. They 
both got out. She stood off to the side. He opened the hood and played 
around in there for about three minutes. 

He spoke out to her like a doctor giving a diagnosis. "You threw a belt, 
miss. You'll have to come back to the shop to get one." 

She was well pleased. "You mean, I will be able to be on my way soon?" 

"Yes," Bill replied. "You sure will." 

He got back into his truck and pulled it in front of the stalled automobile. 
It was a 1976 Buick. It was also quite expensive. He secured its front 
bumper to his truck and they slowly turned on the highway and started back 
to Winstone. After they got back to his shop, he replaced the lost belt and 
started up the car. He looked at her and smiled. 

"That's it honey! You can be on your way, now!" He would have loved to ball 
her but he didn't even make a play. She wasn't so modest! 

"How much do I owe you?" she asked. He promptly responded that the whole 
thing would cost twenty dollars. 

It seemed that all she had were traveler's checks and was without a pen to 
sign one. It was very convenient. He said for her to come into the office 
with him. He had one there. 

She walked ahead of him. He was really digging her wiggling ass. But he was 
cool. Always cool. 

When they got into the office, she closed the door behind and sat down. She 
took the pen and began to write. She seemed to get mildly upset about 
something. She looked up from the small booklet of checks straight into the 
eyes of Bill Withers. 

"Look! What do you think I do for a living?" 

Bill was horny alright. But he always remained cool. "Huh?" he responded. 

"I could pay you another way, if you like." She stepped over to him and 
boldly put her hands onto his thick waist. He knew what was happening but he 
remained cool. The prick in his pants wanted the hot little bitch. His 
large, dirty hands rose and rested on hers. 

She looked .at him and smiled. A light hung from the center of the small 
office's ceiling. She looked at it, then back at him. 

"How about it?" she asked, as she pulled the light out. 

His heavy arms closed around her and pressed her young, hot body against the 
strong, wooden wall of wood that lined the small office. 

She pulled at his pants and opened them. He slid her dress up to her young, 
creamy-skinned waist. His large hand closed on her hot grinding pussy. He 
rammed two fingers into the wet, foaming twat. At that moment, she whipped 
his large wang from his pants. It swung out like a big sausage. She 
immediately steered it for the opening of her cunt. She stuffed it in and 
opened her legs. He rammed her off the floor. Her legs closed around his 
humping bulk. He breathed hard and pumped the young whore's body. She banged 
against the wall with his every thrust. She could handle him alright. Folds 
of her dress fell about his dirty work clothes. He could smell her cheap 
perfume. She wore a thin chain around her neck. A portion of it was in his 
mouth as he sucked on the young harlot's skin. He pumped her like a working 
man! He began to breathe heavy. She threw herself at him. 

She felt his body shudder. She held him tight. She knew he was about to 
come. He exhaled deeply and sighed. 

He came. 

His juice shot into the open twat of the young whore. It was business to her 
but from time to time she got off on it. This was one of those times. The 
whole thing was so spontaneous. That's what she liked best. 

When he had finished he pulled away from her. Quickly, she pulled up her 
panties and pulled down her dress. She shimmied her body in the darkness and 
patted her hair. She tried to get herself back together in a hurry. He too 
wanted to resume his cool, distant pose. 

After he had returned his limp prick to his pants and zipped up he pulled on 
the light cord above him. The light went on and they looked at each other. 
He wanted to say something. He wasn't sure what. 

She broke their silent eye contact. "Well! I do have to be going! I have an 
important appointment in New York. It's with a man!" 

She giggled and started for the door. He held it open and walked with her to 
her car. 

When they both reached the shiny, brown Buick she turned to him. 

"Thanks a lot! You really helped me out!" 

She got in the car and started the powerful engine. The car seemed huge as 
her delicate frame sat inside. She looked out the open window. 

"See you around!" She put her car into gear and was off. 

He stood there and watched her car fade in the distance. It was getting 
dark. He put his hands on his hips and began to shake his head. 

"See you around," he said to himself. 

"What did you say, dear?" his wife asked, as she laid his dinner out before 
him. 

He looked up at her blankly. He picked up his fork and began to eat. After 
his first bite he said quietly, "Nothing. Really nothing. I was just 
thinking about something." 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

The evening passed in the usual fashion. About twelve o'clock Joan roused 
her sleeping husband. The television was on but the volume was turned down. 
Joan knew that Bill would fall asleep around eleven-thirty. She used to try 
to turn the thing off but that woke her husband up. So she settled to just 
turn the volume and continue on with her sewing. Wendy had long been in bed. 

"Come on, Bill! Let's go to bed! It's late. Come on. The morning rolls 
around very early. Let's go." 

She poked, pulled and patted him. It was standard procedure. 

"Okay, okay. I'm up! I'm up!" Bill sat up on the couch. 

He rubbed his eyes. He rose up and lumbered towards the bedroom. Tomorrow 
would be another routine in a routine life. He thought that if he could only 
get ahead of his work, he'd be able to enjoy his wife and his daughter. But 
he never would. He probably wanted it that way. Life was easy that way. All 
he had to do was work. Nothing else. Not too many decisions had to be made 
this way. His life style was set. He was set. He could deal with the men who 
worked for him, very easily. There were no problems. He'd listen to what 
they had to say. He'd even consider it sometimes. But the bottom line of his 
operation was always handled by him. He was the boss. If his help didn't 
like it they could look for a job elsewhere. He held a mild contempt for 
wage earners, anyway. Owning your own business was the thing. That was a 
man's way of doing things. He'd run the show. 

But at home it was different. He had to be democratic. His wife was too 
spirited to permit him to lay down the law to her. She was a person. She was 
also the one who made most of the major decisions in the household. That 
made him feel uneasy and impotent. 

The way out of his quandary was simple. All he had to do was stay away from 
the house as much as possible. He'd keep his little domain at the shop 
running smoothly. What went on at home he couldn't deal with. So, he simply 
stayed away. It was for a lack of love, respect and the rest of those lofty 
virtues. He just couldn't be bothered. 

He wasn't very good at words. They confused him. Especially when he spoke to 
his wife. He said the wrong thing a lot. He said what he didn't really mean. 
She would not understand what he was talking about. He would not understand 
what she was talking about. They knew each other very well. 

Bill Withers lumbered to his bed. After he had performed his nightly ritual 
in the bathroom he joined his wife. She was already in bed. She was a light 
sleeper and could not fade out until he was in bed too. 

They'd been thinking of getting separate beds. The idea seemed somehow 
impersonal. They liked the idea of sleeping in the same bed. The reality was 
something else. 

"Come on, Bill. You took all the covers from me, when you got into bed. You 
hog! You big ogre!" 

He rolled over on top of her and began to growl. He felt strangely playful. 
He wanted to get some sex from his "old lady." 

"Come on, Bill! It's late! Let's go to sleep!" Joan sensed his heating 
desire. "Oh, no! It's too late! Closed for business!" 

He grappled with her in the bed. They laughed and thrashed about for a 
minute. Then they settled into it. He didn't fuck her very often. She would 
try to get the most out of it when he did, though. 

In a minute he was in her. Her pussy was easy to enter. She was still a 
young woman, but not that young. 

He gave a few quick humps of his quasi-hard joint and shot off a regular 
load of come. She always enjoyed the way it felt inside of her. It made her 
whole body warm. It wasn't hot, torrid sex, but it wasn't bad. 

As he came he thought of the hot, fucky prostitute who had paid him earlier 
in the evening with a fast hump, instead of a fast twenty. He really got off 
with that little bitch. It was pure lust. There was something starkly honest 
about the act. He made love to his wife. He fucked that little broad. 

He rolled off of her. He had gotten off. She didn't. She thought of Stan 
Scott. She thought of how he had described his own marriage. He had said 
that his wife merely took care of his kids and gave him blow jobs. She had 
no feelings about it. It was a reality she didn't need and didn't want to 
cope with. 

She thought of the way he had made her suck him off though. His joint was 
huge. Much larger that her husband's. She remembered how she had tried to 
suck the thing when he threatened to beat her up. But it was much too big. 
She felt the small cracks in the corners of her lips. He had almost chocked 
her to death with the thing. 

Her hand moved from her lips down past her elegant, waist and came to rest 
on the crack in her ass. Gingerly, she touched the tiny asshole that had 
reluctantly consumed the huge pumping rod owned by "Scotty." She exhaled 
deeply when she imagined how he managed to get that huge thing into her tiny 
crack. It hurt to the touch. She would have trouble sitting down for a few 
days, at least. 

In the quiet, darkened bedroom, Joan felt herself getting hot. It happened 
despite herself. Only hours before, she had been brutally ass fucked in the 
very bed she now slept in. She began to tickle the skin folds of her pussy. 
She thought of how Stan had promised her "much more." and got hotter. Her 
fingers entered the open, gaping hole of her cunt. 

In minutes, her body was tensed and hot. She was masturbating to thoughts of 
another man, as her husband slept besides her. Her body writhed despite her 
best efforts to still it. Her twat was on fire. Her frustrated body found 
fulfillment at her own hands. She came,-, . 

Her hand was soaked with the warm juices of her pussy. It was buried beneath 
her black pubic hairs. All that was exposed was her knuckles. The rest of 
her hand fondled the frenzied, coming organ. 

She sighed softly. Her body relaxed. She drifted off to sleep. 

Her dreams were filled of images of Stan. His huge prick filled her every 
sleeping thought. She slept poorly that night, however. He had better not 
try anything with her daughter. He would kill him if he did! 

She woke early the next morning. Her husband hadn't left yet. She heard him 
moving around in the house. He was still downstairs. She lay there until she 
heard him leave. Then she got up. 

She slipped on her terry-cloth robe and slipped out of the bedroom. As 
silently as she could, she opened Wendy's bedroom door. 

The young teen slept soundly. Her thoughts were not filled with sexual 
images. She was young and pure. She hadn't tasted her first prick yet. Human 
sexuality was still a distant thing to her. 

Joan went to her side. She stroked the hair of her daughter. The girl slept 
soundly. Her face was round, and relaxed. 

Wendy was a younger version of Joan. For a second she was proud that Stan 
wanted her daughter. Then the revulsion set in. She suddenly began to feel 
herself getting very angry. 

"That bastard!" she whispered softly, as she continued to stroke her 
daughter's hair. "That dirty bastard!" 

Her sleeping daughter rolled over onto her back. She sighed softly and 
opened her eyes. "Mother," she said. "What are you doing up? What time is 
it?" 

Her mother spoke to her in reassuring tones. "It's time to get up dear! 
School today! Come on." 

Joan rubbed her daughter's soft, creamy exposed arm. Wendy lifted it from 
the bed. Their fingers clasped. "Everything, okay, Mother? You seem a little 
upset this morning." 

Joan snapped back softly, "I'm fine! But how are you?" 

Wendy rolled over on her side. "Let me sleep for ten more minutes, Mother? 
Please?" 

Joan Withers would not usually honor such a request. But that day she didn't 
say anything. 

Instead of scolding her daughter, she just ran her hand up the dozing teen's 
back. She scratched her back affectionately. For the next ten minutes she 
wondered about the future. Whatever happened she was sure her husband would 
never find out. Bill just couldn't be bothered. Stan had plans for both her 
and her daughter. She knew that much. She figured that she might be able to 
foil his sadistic schemes if she could unite against him with her daughter. 
But Wendy didn't know anything about sex. How could she get Stan out of her 
life without somebody finding out about it. He just wanted too much. A 
three-way thing with Wendy was too much for her to even imagine. She began 
to feel sick. 

"Okay, Mother. I'm ready to get up now." 

Joan took her hand out from under the covers. She clasped her hands together 
in her lap. Her thoughts were troubled and confused. 

Through it all she somehow enjoyed the abuse Stan had given her. Her mouth 
still bore the cuts from his jamming boner. Her asshole ached, and her 
buttocks swelled. But through it all she somehow, enjoyed it. She couldn't 
understand it all! 

She rose from the bed and walked towards the staircase. "I'll have your 
breakfast ready when you get downstairs, honey. You better hurry up though. 
That extra ten minutes you got, is gonna cost you. I don't want you missing 
your bus and I want you to eat something before you leave for school! Hurry 
up!" 

A half-hour later, Joan kissed her beautiful daughter goodbye. She was off 
to school. She watched her bus drive off. She was alone again. It seemed 
that she spent tremendous amounts of time alone. She was a quiet woman who 
generally kept to herself. But on this particular day, she felt like she 
would enjoy a little companionship. She walked to the front of her house. 
Immediately, she saw her neighbors. They seemed to be gardening, sweeping or 
generally tidying up the front of their property. All the husbands were long 
gone by that time of the day. It was a typical day in Winstone. 

"Hey Joan! Come on over and look at my roses! They are really coming up. 
It's only the middle of June, and they are coming up already. Come on over." 

The voice belonged to Mrs. Sommers. She was a pleasant lady who lived next 
door. Joan would talk to her from time to time but she made sure that she 
kept it light. Joan was a reticent person, especially when it came down to 
personal matters. But Stan was troubling her. She didn't know what she could 
do about it. She wanted out of her involvement with him and at the same time 
she was beginning to feel as horny as hell for him and she felt her 
asscheeks as she walked. They still hurt from the sharp smacks Stan had 
given them the previous day. She wondered if he would call her again. She 
also thought about how she would act in his store. Would it be possible for 
her to go there as a regular customer anymore. After all that had ensued 
between them? She wasn't a good actress. 

"Hey, Mrs. Sommers! You've got a regular 'green thumb!'" 

Joan touched the budding flowers gently. She loved flowers. Especially, 
roses. 

"I told you to call me 'Francine' not 'Mrs. Sommers!' Come on Joan! I've 
known you for ten years and you still call me 'Mrs. Sommers?' You know 
something? You are weird!" 

Both women laughed. Besides her distancing reticence, Joan was also shy. She 
had moved into the clapboard house a full ten years ago. She' was only 
twenty-two years old at the time and looked upon her neighbor as an older 
person. Joan still felt like a kid at the time. She didn't any longer, but 
she still retained many habits from her youth. One of then was referring to 
her elders as "Mr." or "Mrs." 

Francine Sommers was a full ten years older than Joan and already had 
grandchildren. Joan would probably be one herself in ten years. Wendy was 
fourteen already! 

"Joan? I saw Wendy leaving this morning. She is a beautiful kid. Your better 
watch her close, or someone might take her right out from under your nose!" 

Just then, Joan thought that Mrs. Sommers was reading her mind. Stan 
certainly wanted to "take her." She knew that alright! 

"Thanks, Francine. But I don't think that I have worry about that for awhile 
yet. She's only fourteen!" 

Mrs. Sommers was a contentious woman. "Fourteen or not, she has got a body 
of a full grown woman!" She was also quite observant. 

"Come in for a cup of coffee," said Mrs. Sommers. 

Joan accepted the invitation and the two women entered the house. It was 
exactly like Joan's on the outside, but quite different on the inside. Mrs. 
Sommers had lousy taste. It was so tacky. 

For a small town in Maine, Mrs. Sommers' home was positively garish. A 
chandelier hanging from the center of the living room reeked of cheap 
crystal while the rest of the furniture was covered with plastic coverings. 
Mrs. Sommers had no children. She prided herself on her gardening and her 
decorating. In gardening she was Fine. But decorating was a different story 
and Joan didn't like it at all. "I see you are quite a decorator too, 
Francine!" 

That was the only compliment she could muster up within her. The two women 
passed through the room into the kitchen. Right as Joan sat down, she could 
see that she had made a mistake. Wow! Could that woman talk. She ran on at 
the mouth for at least two hours. 

Her conversational topics usually concentrated on her family. In no time at 
all Joan knew her neighbor's family tree, branches and leaves! 

She managed to escape after saying goodbye for about half an hour. After a 
rapid retreat to her house, she went to work. The beds were made and the 
wash was done in a few hours. She did some dusting, but put off vacuuming. 

She looked up at the clock. It was two-fifteen. At that point of the day, 
she would go shopping. A quick trip to "Scotty's" would usually do it. But 
could she face him after what had gone on between them? She had to find out. 

She dressed casually. While she did so, she thought of how he had abused 
her. It got her hot. She hated herself for it, but she felt the warm glow in 
her crotch, nevertheless. She chose from her limited, but select wardrobe, 
the tightest pair of jeans she had. It was difficult getting them on, but 
she managed. She pulled them over her round, firm ass. The strong fabric 
stretched across her squeezed flesh. She was trying to look as alluring as 
she possibly could. She was like a moth at a flame. 

She ignored all the craning necks and catcalls as she walked the few blocks 
to the small grocery store. That day she radiated a very accessible 
sexuality. She was hot for a prick despite herself. 

When she got to Stan's store she felt a sharp rush throughout her body. She 
hoped that she would be his only customer. She was. 

He looked up from his work. There she stood ready for anything. She felt 
like she was going to be sacrificed. He would be the evil priest. Her pussy 
began to purr silently in the darkness of her tight jeans. 

"Hi!" she said anxiously. Her weak compliant smile faded as he returned to 
his work. A minute later her looked up at her. 

"Yes, Mrs. Withers. What can I do for you today?" 

He was playing with her mind. She didn't want to be there. It was like she 
was drawn there by a force she couldn't understand. 

"I came to tell you that I never want to see you again! I came to tell you 
that you are an evil bastard and if you lay a hand on my daughter ever, I'll 
kill you!" 

Stan put his knife down. He wiped his greasy, meat-filled hands on his 
apron. He smiled at her. "Please, dear! Don't give me the freedom of speech 
jive! You'll do whatever I tell you!" 

She stood there and started to shake. She felt like she was going crazy. Why 
had she come? Did she want more abuse? That would be insane? 

Stan walked out from behind the counter. He walked to the door of his small 
shop, locked the front door, drew the shade and turned off the lights. He 
turned to Joan. 

"I'll tell you one thing! I'm losing a lot of business because of you, you 
horny bitch! Follow me. please!" 

She stamped her shaking leg on the wooden floor. She yelled in desperation. 
It seemed that she was trying to convince herself that what she was saying 
was what she really believed. 

"I told you that I didn't want to see you anymore! Do you understand me?" 

"Sure honey. Anything you say! Now come along with me. We are wasting time." 

She began to balk again. She was pathetic. He grabbed her by the back of the 
neck and threw her shaking body through the doorway that led to the back of 
the store. 

"Get the fuck back there, you horny slut! You filthy whore!" 

She fell on the strawed floor and began to sob. She spit out a piece of 
straw that had lodged in her mouth. She wanted to be there and hated herself 
for it! 

"Stand up and take your pants off." He began to issue orders like a 
competent, but bored school teacher. She was a dizzy student that needed a 
bit of straightening out. That's all. 

She stood there with her head lowered. Her bottom lip protruded out. She 
rubbed a sniffle from her nose. Her hands began to open her pants. She 
pulled them over her beautiful ass. She stood there disgraced. Her pants 
laid around her ankles. 

"Step out of your jeans and spread your legs." She did so. 

"Now stand over that butcher block, lean over it and hold that ass high!" He 
felt his prick begin to grow. He would give her another lesson. Very soon. 

He picked up a large, wooden, yard stick that was leaning against the wall. 
He held it high above his head. He saw the welts on her ass. She had come to 
Daddy for a good spanking! 

Her ass quivered and shook. Down came the stick. "Whack!" 

The pain shot through her body. Her fingers clutched the butcher block. She 
was being punished. She deserved it. She had no idea why she felt a need to 
be punished. Somehow though it seemed like it would be the only thing that 
would satisfy her strange, new craving. 

Stan began to speak to her as he spanked her ass. "Now, bitch! Tell me what 
a bad girl you are. Tell me how you really feel about yourself" 

She just couldn't believe what she heard herself saying. But the words 
seemed to come natural to her. Through brief pauses between the shooting 
stabs of pain Stan's stick gave her, she spat out the words. "I'm a filthy 
whore! I'm a horny slut! I need punishment! I'm not worthy for your prick! 
But please give it to me! Give it to me again! Like yesterday!" She pleaded 
for more abuse. She loved it! 

Stan knew. He sensed it that first day he fucked her. He knew that when he 
really plowed her hard, a touch of pleasure would fill her face as the pain 
from his ramming joint made her wince. He knew! 

Joan felt strangely relieved. She was being purged of her own hateful 
passions. He whacked on with the stick. At the same time, he pulled his 
steaming rod out of his pants. It was bigger and more fierce than it had 
been at any other time! 

On a counter right behind was a jar of cooking oil. He spied it with his 
sharp eyes. "Alright, bitch! Get up! I'll be done with you in a minute! Now, 
get off that block and take the oil from the shelf." 

She stood up and saw the oil. He didn't have to tell her what to do with it. 
She poured a large glob of the thick, yellow stuff into her hand. Next she 
stooped over the block again and slapped the lubricant in and around her 
quivering asshole. She knew what she wanted. She wanted that hungry monster 
of a cock shoved up her asshole again. She groveled in her disgrace.' Her 
face tensed as she pulled her oil drenched ass cheeks apart. Her buttocks 
shook. They were about to be forced further apart than they had been the 
previous night! 

Stan stood over her with his prick steaming and ready for its perverse 
plunge. Suddenly, he moved around in front of her. Her face was resting in 
preparation on the block. He looked at her surprised face. 

"Are you waiting for something, Joan? What do you want me to do to you? Ha, 
ha, ha! I think I'll leave you like this, stooping over a smooth butcher 
block with your asshole up, open and dripping with vegetable oil." 

She sobbed bitterly. She was disgraced beyond her wildest dream, and she was 
not only being rejected but mocked! "Please give it to me!" she moaned. "I 
need it!" 

He continued taunting her. 'Tell me what you need, honey. I don't know what 
you are talking about? Ha, ha, ha!" 

She looked at him with cringing, tear-filled eyes. "You know what I want you 
to do." She was humiliated and miserable. "Stick it in me! Stick it in me 
hard!" 

"Stan acted as if he finally understood what she was saying. "Oh, that! 
Well, if you insist!" He began. 

He stood up erect and clutched his huge, steaming prick. Joan's eyes closed. 
She was finally get her medicine! It would hurt, but it would be good for 
her! 

Stan had other plans. "Here you go!" He forced his thing into her mouth. 
Huge tears welled up in her eyes. He was torturing her! But the cock in her 
mouth felt good. She began to suck it hard. She still held her asshole open 
anyway, though. Perhaps, she was still hopeful. 

Stan pulled his joint from her sucking mouth as fast as he had put it in. 
Swiftly, he moved to her back. With one quick plunge he gave the miserable 
bitch what she had come for, a hot, throbbing boner digging out her bleeding 
asshole. 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned. It hurt beyond belief but it sure got her 
off. She felt an orgasm rising in her foaming, humid twat. 

Stan leaned into it. His face grimaced. He plowed her ass with that thing of 
his like a determined lumberjack! Up and down his pole moved in her 
steaming, quivering asshole. She was getting ripped off soundly. She needed 
the abuse. It was darkly pleasurable. 

Her lips were puckered. Her face was tensed. His joint moved further and 
further up her asshole. She let go of her ass cheeks. It wasn't necessary to 
hold them open anymore. The thing that she wanted, she now had. Her cheeks 
were being forced apart more now than when she was doing it herself. 

Stan rested his hands on the small of the woman's back. He really let her 
have it. Her fingers clutched the corners of the block. She was a piece of 
hot meat to his ramming joint. It cut through her open flesh. It stripped 
her of her dignity. It slashed on and on. He exhaled deeply. He felt his hot 
thing coming close to its explosion. He would shoot off in her. 

A menacing scowl seized his face. He fucked her with a cruel vengeance. Her 
body fit into the grooves of the butcher block quite well. She was a hot 
humping piece of meat for his hungry stake! 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned. "It hurts so much! No! Not that hard! I can't 
take it! It's too big! Ahhhhhhhhh" 

"Shut up, bitch! It's not big enough for your hot, humping hole and you know 
it. You'd want it harder and bigger if you could get it! You're just a fucky 
whore, and you know it!" 

Joan cried bitter tears. He was right. She knew that. It was hard for her to 
admit it to herself. Here she was. A thirty-two year old, married, straight 
woman, cringing in pleasure spiked pain to the mighty ass fuckings of her 
grocer! It was hard to believe. But the reality of her present condition was 
hard to deny. She leaned over more on the block. That thing inside of her 
was huge. It was literally tearing her apart. She couldn't deny that! 

"Okay, Mrs. Withers!" Stan said mockingly. "Here's the fresh cream you 
wanted!" 

He shook and shuddered over the pathetic woman serving his steaming stake. 
His eyes bulged and his tense face relaxed. His work was finished. He came. 

His shooting scum moved in silent, swift blasts. She felt it exploring 
hidden and mysterious parts of her inner being. She felt a wave of pleasure 
dash through her. His hot scum thrilled her. 

Her ass quivered as it obediently took every . drop of his shooting flesh 
stick. She thought of the fierce whackings he had given her ass cheeks only 
minutes before. The pain from that was very small from the pain caused by 
his gorging thing. It was absolutely shattering. But it was necessary. 

She had never gotten the kind of sexual satisfaction he was giving her. 
She'd been fucking for fourteen years, but she had never been taken so 
brutally. Stan wanted her alright. He took her! 

Her husband used to make heavy, passionate love to her when they were first 
married. But that was years ago. Now the act of sex was merely a means to an 
end. It would get him off. He would shoot off his load and roll off of her. 
They were both bored by it. It was okay, she figured. His cock was still 
pretty hard, when he wanted it to be. But the urgency of it all was no 
longer. The whole thing seemed besides the point now. 

But with Stan it was a different story. He was ramming her asshole with a 
fury she had never experienced before. She bit her lip hard as he stuck his 
thing further into her. It seemed that it could no further but then all of a 
sudden it would. She couldn't take that thing. It was so fucking big! The 
shooting scum from it made her dizzy, as the final spurts of come shot from 
his prick. He was rapidly becoming spent from the humpings and pumpings he 
was giving her ass. He began to swoon and almost fell backwards. His orgasm 
was strong and hard. For a man of twenty-nine, he shot his scum with the 
ferocity of a hot teen! 

Maybe that was the reason he wanted Wendy so bad. He thought of the young, 
virgin teen as he finished ass fucking her mother. He considered the size of 
her asshole. Her pussy would be sweet and clean. It would be brushed and 
rest behind the soft, black pubic hairs that formed a perfect triangle in 
her young crotch. 

He began to speak. "Joan? When is Wendy going to join us for a three way 
party? I'm really looking forward to that! It better be soon. Somebody's 
going to break her sweet little cherry soon, if I don't." 

The words tore into prostrate Joan almost as cruelly as Stan's joint had. 
She had told him in no uncertain terms that she would not stand for him 
trying to get to her daughter. Yet, he had just asked her when it would 
happen. His words seemed to spring from a forgone conclusion that she would 
do a three way thing. The only issue was when it would happen. He was sure 
it would. He wasn't sure when though. 

She tried to speak but the fucking she had just received left her 
speechless. She uttered a few sounds that sounded vaguely negative. 

But she could not resist him. He was too strong for her. She wanted him more 
than ever. It had to continue. She never had known pleasure could have such 
dizzying heights. 

He pulled his thing out of her. It was limp and dribbled a few globs of scum 
juice. He wiped them off his joint and smeared the creamy stuff onto Joan's 
cooling ass. Her asshole was really big now. It gaped open. She even began 
to feel like she walked differently. It had opened her up to new widths. 

She summoned up as much strength as she could and began to speak. 

"I told you, that I didn't want you to go near my daughter, ever! I still 
mean it!" He laughed at her. It was impossible to take her seriously. She 
had disgraced herself so willingly for him. How could she even consider him 
taking her seriously. It was ridiculous. 

"When is she going to join us?" he demanded. He ignored her stupid protests. 

Her head dangled over the block. "Never!" 

Stan could ignore her foolish posturing no longer. "Never he? Okay. Well, 
never again come around here looking for my stiff prick to sooth you. 
Because, until you set something up that includes that sweet, fucky daughter 
of yours, we are through! Do you understand that? Through!" 

Stan slapped her ass hard. "Get up, get dressed and get out!" He walked to 
the front of the store. His huge weapon of a prick was neatly tucked into 
his briefs. He prepared to reopen the store. 

Joan sniffled, rubbed at her wounds and dressed. She knew that he wouldn't 
say goodbye to her, so she just walked past him with her head lowered. She 
walked out to the street. 

"Scotty's" reopened. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Joan Withers thought about what Stan Scott had said to her. He was serious. 
He wanted to have a sex scene with both her and her daughter, Wendy! It 
seemed unbelievable. Her daughter was still a virgin! And this bastard 
wanted to get her involved in a three way thing that included her mother. 
Incredible! 

She would not permit this to happen, under any circumstances. It was too 
much. She wanted Stan again. In fact, she felt a craving for his special 
kind of abuse already. She had just left him and she wanted to back for 
more! But she knew that she had had more than enough for the time being. She 
would get in touch with him somehow in the very near future. Probably, the 
next day. 

But he had said that he didn't want anymore to do with her until she had 
arranged their triad love thing. He didn't mean that! She would be able to 
still carry on with him. He would turn her off because she would not permit 
her daughter to involve herself in their perverse relationship. 

But Joan was in for a surprise. For the next two weeks, Stan would ignore 
her and treat her just as if nothing had happened between them. Joan thought 
she was going crazy. She'd go into the store knowing that she would be the 
only customer. Stan would be polite and speak to her as Mrs. Withers. He 
never came out from behind the counter again. It was all business. He was 
twisting her all up. He knew what he was doing. She had to set up something 
with her daughter and him, if he was to speak to pick his sadistic affair 
with her. 

Bill was spending more and more time at the shop. Wendy's involvements with 
after-school activities seemed to take up more of her time. 

Joan finished her housework early. She'd go to different shops and take care 
of various sundry chores. Every day, about two-thirty she'd consider going 
to a grocer other than "Scotty's." 

But after a few minutes, she'd find herself on her way to his small store. 
It all looked very harmless. But beneath the surface of this innocent scene 
were the dark demands of Stan Scott. He would not compromise. Joan was to 
make the next move. She was the one who wanted to continue her perverted 
affair with Stan. He could live without her. But she felt a strong need for 
his monstrous, punishing prick. She'd spend inordinate amounts of time 
thinking about it. She wanted it badly. But not badly enough to arrange for 
the scene Stan wanted. 

After awhile though, she felt like crawling the walls. She'd pace the floors 
of her house. She had to get to Stan. One day she left a note on the 
windshield of his car. It just had her name on it with a telephone number. 
He didn't call. She made an order over the telephone, in the hope that he'd 
deliver it. He didn't. 

He was keeping the pressure on. He figured that it was just a matter of 
time. He was right. 

He had lit a fire within Joan. She had come to a new awareness about 
herself. All of the sexuality that she had suppressed over the years had now 
risen to the surface. But she had no place to release it. It was more than 
frustrating. She needed a release. And soon! 

She found herself flirting more and more when she was shopping in the 
downtown section of Winstone. There were always new faces in the town. 
People were always passing through on their way up to Bar Harbor. She 
chatted with more than a few horny looking businessmen but nothing ever came 
of it. Her affair with Stan Scott was the first extramarital one of her 
life. Sometimes, she didn't even consider that an affair at all. It was more 
of a "thing." It left a bad taste in her mouth, but certainly heated up her 
crotch! 

She had to get off! Her husband couldn't do it. Stan wouldn't do it, unless 
Joan met his conditions. What could she do? 

She began to find herself in bed alone during the day. She started to 
masturbate at least once a day. But that only made her cravings worse. She 
had to have a strong, hard prick soon. She felt like pulling her hair out. 
Something had to be done about her situation. 

She found a temporary release on one particularly boring Monday. It was 
around noon. She was lying in her bed. She had just finished masturbating. 
The doorbell rang. She quickly put on an old, blue terry-cloth robe. 

She called out to the unknown person ringing it, that she would be down in a 
minute. She slipped into her shower thongs and walked down the stairs. She 
puffed up her hair and looked in the small mirror she kept by the door. She 
opened the door. 

Standing there was a nervous looking young man of about twenty. She knew 
right away that he was a salesman. She had seen him around the neighborhood 
before. He had never come to her house as far as she knew. 

She usually had a very strict policy towards salesman. No matter what it was 
they sold, she was not interested. How did she know if the salesman was 
legitimate? For all she knew, he could have been a mad rapist. Her husband 
had left strict orders with her about salesman. She was not to let anyone 
in. It was an intelligent attitude. 

But the young man standing in front of her was so harmless looking. He had 
that classic "working my way through college look" to him. He stood about 
five feet eleven and weighed around one hundred and fifty pounds. His hair 
was blond and curly. His eyes were blue. His features were soft and full. He 
looked like a nice kid. 

Joan looked at him maternally. He was very handsome but very nervous. 

"Yes?" she said softly. 

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. My name is David Anderson. I represent The Arco 
Publishing Corporation. We have been doing a survey of the neighborhood. 
I've spoken to many of your neighbors already. We would, I mean, my company 
would like to know the names of the publications you and your family read." 

Joan looked at him up and down. He really turned the horny woman on. She 
knew that he was nervous and anxious to make a sale. She thought about her 
situation, her life and her largely unsatisfied needs. 

"Well, Mr. Anderson, I'm not exactly sure what my family reads. We certainly 
get enough magazines already. If you could come if for a minute I could tell 
you exactly what we have in the house. 

The young man entered the house meekly. He held onto his large satchel. It 
contained the magazines that he wanted to sell to the woman. She felt her 
legs begin to open with desire as she looked at him. 

"Come into the living room please. We can go through what I have together." 

Joan led the way. The young man followed behind. They sat in the living 
room. She lifted all the magazines from the large coffee table in front of 
the couch and laid them on her lap. She went through each one of them. After 
she read the name out of a particular publication, she would place it on the 
lap of the nervous salesman. 

He began to sense Joan's boredom and loneliness. It made him feel more at 
ease and confident. She had time to spend with him. It was a hell of a lot 
better than getting doors slammed in your face. 

Joan's robe was partially open. The salesman saw the top of her black bra. 
Her thin, elegant legs were exposed up and above her knees. He began to feel 
his penis getting hard. He had heard all about the horny housewives some of 
the older salesmen had encountered over the years, but this was the first 
one he had ever met. 

She looked at him and smiled. "Well, I guess that's all the publications 
that my little family reads!" 

She seemed to be anxious to please the young man. Her smile grew. The 
salesman went into his pitch. 

For the next twenty minutes, he told her about how her life would be 
radically changed if she read the magazines he was selling. 

There would no subject of human interest that she would now know about. She 
would become so well versed in so many areas, that she would become an 
intellectual overnight and dazzle all of her friends. She'd be invited to 
different parties and be described later as clever, witty and incisive. It 
would all be so grand. 

Joan heard nothing he said. She was thinking about his prick. She considered 
its size. A man's hands were usually a good indication of how large the 
man's penis was. David's hands were quite large. 

She wanted this young man and she was going to get him. One way or another. 
Suddenly, she stood up. "Gee, Mr. Anderson. Your offer sounds very exciting. 
I'd have to think about this a little bit. But right now, I'm a bit thirsty. 
I'm going to get myself a cold drink. Can I offer you anything?" 

"Do you have any soda?" I think that would be nice." David was beginning to 
relax with the situation. 

Joan could sense it too. She smiled and stopped at the kitchen door. "I was 
thinking of something stronger than soda, Mr. Anderson!" 

She was becoming more coy with every word and step. 

David didn't want to seem impolite. "Oh, okay! Whatever you have will be 
fine! Thank you!" 

When she disappeared behind the kitchen's swinging door, David appraised the 
situation. If he played his cards right, he might get fucked that afternoon. 
He couldn't argue with that. 

He wasn't married so he didn't have to answer to anyone. He knew that she 
was though. That scared him a little bit, but he figured that if she was up 
for some quick sex, she must be sure that he would not be home for some 
time. She returned to the living room at that second. 

"Well now! Here we are!" In her hand she carried two, large drinks. Ice 
cubes clinked against the sides of the glasses. 

She handed one of them to her guest and sat down right next to him. She 
began to relax. She leaned back on the couch. She looked into her glass. 
Suddenly, she looked up straight into his young eyes. She was itchy for some 
hot sex. 

"How old are you, Mr. Anderson?" 

"Call me David," he replied with false affection. His prick saw only a body, 
not a lonely person. "Twenty-two." 

For a second he considered asking her how old she was but decided it 
wouldn't be too smart. The broad was probably brought down about so many 
things. Her age was undoubtedly one of them. 

They talked for about half an hour. David sensed her need for some sex. As 
the alcohol from his drink took some of the starch out of his manner, he 
noticed the soft, firm flesh of her stomach. She had opened her robe! 

Joan was quite aware of what she did! She was growing impatient. She'd given 
the boy so many openings. He hadn't really picked up on one of them. She 
looked at the clock. It was a few minutes after one o'clock. Time was 
important here. 

David moved closer to her on the couch. He placed his arm around her. She 
breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally beginning to respond to her. 

"Your first name is Joan, isn't it?" David said. 

"How did you know?" she responded. 

He looked at her very seriously. His cock was really throbbing in his pants. 
He was only twenty-two, but he was cool. It was difficult controlling 
oneself in such a situation. They kissed. 

Joan's robe fell open. David moved his arm around her twisting waist. He 
felt incredible heat rising from her body. She twisted her body onto his and 
in seconds, he had her lying flat out on the couch. He dry humped her open, 
willing pussy. 

He couldn't believe this was happening. He felt like a real stud. He felt 
like he had seduced the woman, not the other way around. 

She pushed him off of her. "Let's do this right! Follow me!" She then led 
him up the stairs into her own bedroom. She placed her wedding picture face 
down on the dresser the way she had on that first day with Stan three weeks 
before that very moment. She walked to the window and pulled down the yellow 
shade. She looked at David. Her mouth watered when she saw a huge bulge in 
his pants. She wanted that thing in them alright! 

She took off her open robe. Her panties and bra were both white. They were 
very tight and small. They clung to her elegant, lean body with a taut 
firmness. David's huge boner shot off a small wad of scum in his pants. 

She knew that she was turning him on very heavily. She also knew that she 
was in control. She moved to him and began to pull his suit jacket off. He 
got the hint and began to undress. 

She backed away from him as he undressed. Her fingers slid under the tight 
fabric of her panties. They began to play with the soft folds of her pussy. 
She was really hot for a dick. The one she would be getting in just a few 
minutes would be young and she hoped bigger than Stan's. Seeing that all 
David wore were his tight, white briefs, she buried three of her fingers 
into her hot box. Her legs were open and so was her mouth. She began to 
grind her cunt in the direction of David's crotch. 

As she looked at him squarely in the eyes, she slipped the panties down over 
her soft and swelling thighs. She turned around as she did this David shot 
off another small wad of come in his pants. His mouth watered as he saw that 
ass of hers. She began to stoop over. She opened the cheeks of her ass and 
showed him her large asshole. It seemed to talk to his prick in a secret 
language. 

She turned her head towards him as she ground her buttocks in teasing 
rhythms. At that instant he lifted his hot bobber from his straining briefs. 
The prick that came out was huge. She was happy. She hadn't had a prick in 
so long, she had forgotten what it felt like. 

David moved towards to her. He straddled her rump and put his hot boner 
between her legs. The prick wanted her pussy first. 

Joan moved to her dresser and spread her legs out as far as she could. "Come 
on, David! Take care of me! Give it to me!" She ground her ass right up to 
his bobbing joint. 

Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror that ran along the length of 
the dresser. David saw a pleading in her eyes. She wanted that prick of his 
so bad. He stood right behind her and placed right into the soft folds of 
her twat. It nestled its way into her twat. He saw her face tense. She began 
to bite her lower lip. She saw his face grow mean. She knew what it 
signaled. She closed her eyes and threw back her head. He. slid it to her. 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned. "It's been so long!" 

She stood on her tip-toes as he drilled her with the whole length of his 
rod. Its slide seemed to go on and on. Joan twisted and swayed on the stem. 
Her ass cheeks flushed as his balls dangled between her thighs. She reached 
down and fondled them. David felt her hand on his balls and moaned. She was 
gentle. She had experience. 

Her lips puckered as he explored her quivering cunt with his young, hard 
prick. She began to grind her foaming cunt onto his pumping cock. She was 
getting relief. The strained wrinkles in her forehead began to fade. His 
joint rolled around her and gave her whole body a warm glow. It rose from 
her cunt and spread through her whole body. 

He felt his boner about to shoot off in her cunt. She could sense it too. 
The veins at its sides swelled as blood rushed through them. His balls grew 
as they prepared to shoot the young man's semen up through the throbbing 
length of his prick. Her soft, hairless skin moved smoothly around and 
around. Her body was moving like a woman. She felt like one too. The thing 
inside of her was a magic wand to the horny woman. She was transformed from 
a sex-hungry woman to a sweet purring pussy. She swooned as she savored the 
meaty, thick thing within her. She tried to sit on it. It moved further up 
her willing pussy. It began to move faster and faster. Its plungings seemed 
to be deeper and deeper. She started losing control of it as it moved within 
her. It was growing meaner and stronger with every hump. She felt herself 
begin to wilt. Her eyes closed. 

The thing had her pussy in control. She didn't fight it though. She 
remembered how well Stan could do it to her. Her memories faded as David's 
prick shot off. 

Her eyes opened and bulged. She was lifted right off the floor as his cock 
shot hot ripples of pleasures through her body. She saw David's face in the 
mirror. It was tensed and contorted. His eyes were closed. He was hard at 
work behind her. He cock was bursting off within. He was giving it to her, 
righteously! 

Her body collapsed on the dresser and moved only with the push of the flesh 
fucker deep within her. She knocked bottles of perfume brushes, combs and 
various other feminine things from the dresser. She was getting plowed and 
was out of her mind with pleasure. 

"Ahhhhhhhhh! Ram it up my cunt hole!" she moaned. She wanted it all. 
Droplets of come dripped onto the expensive rug right below her cunt. She 
regretted not being able to consume every drop of his hot juice. The young 
stud sure had a lot to give! She never had such a large load of the hot 
stuff. The pleasure was overwhelming. 

When he had finished, he pulled his thing from her. She held onto the 
dresser top. Slowly, she slipped from it. David caught her wasted body just 
as it was about to hit the floor. He picked her up and lay her onto the bed. 
She looked up at him gratefully. He had fucked her very well! 

But she still wanted more. David's prick was quite large. She wanted it up 
her ass. She wanted it immediately. 

"David?" she asked sensuously. She genuinely liked this boy. "Your thing is 
beautiful! Please. Please, give it to me again." 

It really wasn't such a heavy request on the young stud. He had much more 
strength in his young boner. In fact, he hadn't even lost it. Sure, it had 
gone limp when he pulled it from her twat, but by the time he lay her on the 
bed it was rip-roaring hot once more. He moved towards her again. She sensed 
that he was ready for another sound fuck job. But she had not explained what 
she really wanted. 

Instead of words, she chose to explain herself with actions. Before he 
reached for her, she managed to turn over on her stomach. She lifted her ass 
up and held her cheeks apart. She wanted it where Stan gave it to her for 
the first time. 

She held her ass cheeks wide open. Her asshole was open, dark and ready. It 
craved to be plugged with the boy's hot prick. . He recoiled from the act. 
"You want me to stick it up your ass? I thought that you liked to fuck 
dog-style. I never did that to anyone!" 

"Well, I'll be the first one. Now come on! Ram that thing into me!" 

Gee, I don't know?" he replied with childish naivete. 

Joan was getting angry. "Look you little fucker! Ram it up my ass! Ram it as 
far as it will go! It's open! Shove that fucking thing as far up my ass as 
you can! Sodomize me, you hard Cocked mother-fucker." 

Sweet Joan had become a hot, little mamma. She could thank Stan for that. 

Joan's hot, quivering ass was held high on the bed. She shook and carried 
on. Stan had really gotten to her. Sex was becoming her obsession. She spat 
demanding, pleading, twisted words from her foaming mouth. Her teeth were 
exposed like a bitch in heat. 

"Plow my asshole! Make it disappear into my hole! I'll take it all!" 

She then began to make some muffled, incoherent sounds as she buried her 
frenzied face on the ruffled sheets of the bed. 

David's hot boner was bursting! Could he fit his thing into her! He suddenly 
saw her hand dart up to her hole and wet it from her own saliva. She was 
ready. 

He decided that he'd do it. He rested the tip of his red love muscle at the 
edge of her crack. Hungry hands darted at it and began to shove it into her 
opening. He stood there,-aghast. The twisting hands managed to get the hot 
tip of Iris joint into her opening. She began to pull it into her. He just 
stood there. He didn't know what to do. 

She screamed. "Ram me you stupid kid! Just slam your pelvis!" David leaned 
into her. His thing struggled at the walls of her ass hole. It was rough 
going! 

"Your hurting me so much! Give it to me right! Just ram it up my hole you 
idiot! You hard-dicked, soft headed idiot! Just ram me!" 

-She provoked him enough. He grew angry. "You horny bitch! Here you go! Here 
it is for your asshole, you disgusting slut!" 

He slammed his prick into her. He grunted as it fought its way through the 
constricting walls of her anus. The utter perversity of the act got the 
fair-haired boy sick. His cock felt good though. He knew he'd be coming 
soon. The fact that he'd enjoy that couldn't be denied. But she herself got 
him sick. She was so amoral about the act. It was too much for his frail 
sensibilities. His disgust turned to contempt and scorn. Little did her knew 
that's what Joan really got off on! He shouted at her. 

"You do this with the mailman, the milkman, the garbage man, the guy who 
delivers your groceries! I bet they all ass fuck you raw, you filthy whore!" 

"That's right, you little fucker! But right now, I'm just fucking the 
grocer! And I'll tell you something else! His prick is a lot bigger than 
your little worm!" 

She was really manipulating him. '"Little worm' he? This little worm is a 
night crawler!" 

He plowed her ass again and again. It even managed to go further into her 
than it was already. David was putty in her perverted hands. She challenged 
him. "That fucking worm can't go any further into me!" 

David was tricked again. "Oh yeah, cunt! Here's my worm again! Now it's a 
crawling king snake!" He slammed into her again. His prick moved even 
further into her asshole. 

She curled her body into a ball on the bed. Her ass was held as high as she 
could. David shook over her. He came. He lost his balance and fell right on 
top of her. His hot, young semen shot far and wide into her. It probed at 
the base of her tingling spine. It made her tits stand erect. It forced her 
come to bubble and burst, spraying the bed's sheets with the hot juices from 
her own pussy. His ramming pricking made her grab at her cunt bone for 
leverage. Her hands were immediately soaked with her come goo, as the 
swelling pleasures of her own orgasm covered her whole body. 

David felt like a conqueror at last. He lifted his heaving, young body off 
the cringing, coming woman. She didn't care anymore. Her own body was 
experiencing the very private joys of climax. Her body seethed with ecstatic 
delights. She swooned and rolled around the bed. She'd been fucked straight, 
and up the ass. She was temporarily released from her cravings. She felt a 
rush. Her sex habit had been "fixed" for the moment, at least. 

David looked at her. She got him sick to his stomach. He looked at his 
prick. Joan was a very clean woman but her rectum had left a ring around 
David's rod. He went to the dazed, hot, bitch on the bed and wiped his prick 
off on the soft flesh of her right buttock. He dressed, left the room and 
the house. 

She lay there for half an hour after she heard the front door slam. David's 
prick fucked her cunt nicely. But he ass fucked her like a boy scout. She 
needed a man's prick in her ass. It would have to be a prick that would not 
take no for an answer. She would suffer at its brutal strength, but thrill 
at its cruel ramming and tremendous size. 

"Stan," she said out loud. 

He was the only one who could do her right He was the only one who could 
make her feel truly vanquished. She believed that by being made absolutely 
subject to his monstrous manhood she would feel the ultimate pleasures 
nature afforded to the female of the species. 

"David," she said out loud. 

She felt a building scorn for the young man. He was gone and good riddance! 
His prick was much too small and timid for her. She had to have the 
ultimate! 

"Stan," she said out a second time. 

She wanted his prick. Her twat and asshole would not be complete before it 
had his hot thing again. It was necessary for her psyche that she be whipped 
by his merciless prick again. 

But his conditions! Wendy! She couldn't involve her own daughter in a scene 
like the one Stan proposed. She couldn't! She wouldn't! It was beyond her 
imagination to see young, sweet, virginal Wendy sucking on Stan's huge 
boner. If she ever saw that evil bastard stick his pumping, wasting stake 
into the tender, soft flesh of Wendy, she'd just die! 

But she wanted Stan more that anything before in her small-town existence. 
He instilled her body with a new zest for living. She saw things in a 
different light after he worked her over with that thing of his. She had to 
have it! 

"Wendy," she said aloud. 

Would she dance with the devil to get a second chance with Stan's dick? Her 
mind raced and filled with twisted images. She felt like a truly evil 
person. The loneliness of that state of mind was overwhelming. But somehow, 
she managed to hustle her own mind. She rationalized her deepest thoughts 
powerless. She had permitted herself to be abused and humiliated by this 
man. Now, she would commit an even more sinister act. She would give up her 
daughter to the evil Stan for a second chance at that dick of his. 

If she only delivered Wendy to him, he would fuck her ass raw. He would 
leave her bleeding and strangely satisfied. She knew what she had to do. 

"Wendy," she said aloud for the last time. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Joan knew what she had to do. It would take some planning but she could do 
it. Wendy trusted her completely. Her husband, Bill, was out of the picture. 
He had reduced himself to a minor force in the household. He supplied money 
and the requirements of life, but Joan had been leading a separate life for 
quite awhile, already. She knew that now. Stan had shown her that. He was of 
little significance. The following morning she woke up just as her husband 
was leaving for the shop. He'd be gone for the whole day and most of the 
night. 

She had slept on her decision. It still seemed like the only way. She 
swallowed hard and began to cry. She was a wretched person. She knew that 
much about herself. But she had to have Stan's prick within her asshole 
again. There was only one way. She was terrified at what she must do. She 
decided that the longer it took for her to muster the intestinal fortitude 
required for a successful outcome to the evil deed, the harder it would be 
to do. 

She got up from the bed. She walked slowly into her daughter's bedroom. The 
morning light splashed into the room from the window on the far left side of 
the room. Of to the right, Wendy slept safely in the darkness. Joan didn't 
want to wake her on this particular morning. 

She crept up to her bedside. Slowly, she brought her elegant body to rest on 
the edge of her daughter's bed. 

Wendy's arm was exposed. It was thin, and creamy white. It had a certain 
delicate beauty. The hand that attached to it was relaxed but partially 
closed. She was very still. Joan heard her breathing very faintly. 

Joan touched the soft folds of hair that partially covered her daughter's 
beautiful face. The girl was imperially vulnerable as she slept. Joan lifted 
the hair away from her relaxed face. 

The girl's lips were closed. They quivered ever so slightly as her nostrils 
inhaled a small but steady flow of air. 

The young woman never looked so lovely to Joan. 

Joan turned her face away from her daughter. She could not even gaze at her 
beautiful countenance honestly anymore. She had decided to perform one of 
the most hateful acts one woman could do to another. 

"Mother? You scared me!" Wendy touched her mother's shoulder. 

"You're crying! Why? Why are you crying, Mother?" 

Joan couldn't face her daughter. Wendy would not be denied. 

"Mother?" she continued. "What's the matter?" 

Wendy's voice contained more than sincere love. Within its timbre were 
touches of mild anger and impatience. She deserved to know what was going on 
in her mother's head. It was her birthright! 

Joan turned back to her daughter. Her head was lowered. 

"Never forget that I love you even more than I love myself. Never forget 
that. No matter what happens!" 

Wendy became frightened. "Is everything okay between you and Dad? 

Joan composed herself. She blew her nose into the wet tissue she held in her 
shaking hand. The woman refused to address herself to her daughter's 
inquiry. 

"It's around the time to get up, dear. Start getting yourself ready for 
school. I'll have breakfast ready for you when you get downstairs." 

Joan got up and left the room. Wendy watched her mother as she left. It was 
unlike her to act that way. Wendy suddenly felt a chill run through her 
entire body. She looked towards the window. It was open. Erroneously, that's 
where she cast the blame. The morning was without a breeze. 

Half an hour later, Wendy bounded down the stairs. She had the same eye for 
fashion her mother had. Maybe that's why so many people made note of the 
striking similarities between the two women. Perhaps it could explain why so 
many men of all ages yearned for the lovely young woman's body. Maybe that 
was the reason why Stan wanted to fuck her so furiously. "Mother! What have 
you done? You didn't have to. What's today, my birthday or something? Today 
isn't my birthday!" 

Before her stood quite a breakfast. Joan had hurried downstairs, taken out 
the good china, set the table and prepared Wendy her favorite breakfast. 

"French Toast, bacon, sausages, orange juice and milk! My favorite! How come 
Mother? Is this my last meal or something?" 

Wendy laughed heartily. She was a little disappointed when her Mother 
didn't. 

Joan stood over the table and arranged and rearranged the various cups, 
saucers and plates resting there. Steam heat rose from the French Toast. The 
table was filled with food. 

"Sit, Wendy. Your food is getting cold!" Joan still sounded nervous and 
anxious. Wendy shrugged her shoulders and sat down to a terrific breakfast. 

She was a well-mannered child. Joan had made sure of that. But sometimes 
within the privacy of her own home, she could be very sloppy. 

"Will you please finish what's in your mouth, before you shove in another 
forkful! You will suffocate yourself!" 

Joan's voice was full of concern and maternal affection. She had been a good 
mother to her only child, up until the previous night. It was then that she 
had made her decision. Stan would get the sweet, young virgin. It would be 
an atrocity to motherhood. But Joan's horny state was in anarchy! She had to 
have that incredibly, large, penetrating, punishing prick again. At all 
costs! 

Joan began to try to be as objective as possible. Before her sat a beautiful 
fourteen-year-old girl. She knew very little about sex. She was going to 
find out quite a lot, very soon. The issue at hand though, was how? She just 
couldn't tell her daughter that she was going to sexually abused by her 
grocer! 

The whole thing began to seem more outrageous every moment. 

Wendy flipped a large, cluster of shiny, clean hair from her young breasts, 
over her shoulder. 

"This is the best you ever made, Mother! Hey! You're not eating yourself! 
C'mon have some!" Wendy wanted to share the fine food with her mother. 
Somehow, Joan could not bring herself to do it. 

"I'm really not very hungry, dear. You eat." Joan raised her hand in mild 
encouragement to her happy, eating daughter. 

Wendy looked so hopeful,-optimistic and full of life. Joan remembered how 
she heard some politician once say that the youth of America was the hope of 
the world. Joan could always see the reality of the idea whenever she looked 
at her daughter. The girl just bubbled with life. She was always moving. But 
not in an offensive, tiresome way. She was true to her adolescence yet she 
possessed the charm of a woman. She was a charming, jubilant girl and was 
destined to be very beautiful. No "femme fatale," mind you, but a beautiful 
woman, indeed! 

"Mother! This is a super breakfast!" Wendy was really brought up by the 
whole thing, and looked like she could handle anything the world had to 
offer, that day. The meal seemed to give her strength. Joan saw it grow in 
the girl's eyes, as she ate. 

"Come on! Here's your bus!" Joan rose from the table as she saw the big, 
yellow vehicle pull up in back of the house. The sound of the bus's horn was 
so very annoying, Joan would try to get her daughter out of the house before 
the driver started pushing on the thing. 

Wendy put one more fork-full of the dripping toast into her mouth, gulped 
her milk and rose from the table. She went to her mother and kissed her 
tenderly. "Thanks, Mother. Have a good day. I'll see you after school." 

The girl picked her books off the counter by the sink and bounded through 
the door. She was on the bus in seconds. Then she was gone. 

Joan went back to the table. She looked at the remaining bits of toast on 
her daughter's plate. The syrup that had soaked it formed a thick pool in 
the white dish. Joan picked up the sticky fork resting in it. She stood it 
erect. There it stood. She took her hand away and let the fork fall into the 
thick, light pool. It settled immediately there. 

She ran her fingers through her hair. Finally, she rose from the table and 
went into the hallway that ran next to the stairs leading upstairs. She 
picked up the black telephone receiver and began to dial. 

"Good morning, Stan. How are you?" She tried to sound casual and 
unconcerned. "I think that we can arrange something concerning that special 
order we spoke about. I'd like you to bring over a few things this morning, 
and we can talk about it. Okay?" 

Stan knew what she was talking about. His joint lodged within his pants 
became rock hard almost immediately. 

"Good, Mrs. Withers. I'll see you in about an hour!" He was eager for that 
"special order!" 

For the next sixty minutes, dear Joan straightened up the house and prepared 
herself for her grocer's visit. They had some heavy business to take care 
of. 

She dressed rapidly and managed to look like the attractive, young 
housewife. It was a role she could play very well. She'd been doing it for 
the past fourteen years. Sometimes she'd think that she'd been doing it all 
of her life. 

At exactly nine thirty, the doorbell rang. "Stan!" she said out loud. 

She raced down the stairs and stopped short by the front door. She saw his 
figure outside. He moved from side to side impatiently. He held a large, 
cardboard box full of groceries. She thought of making believe she was not 
at home. He would go away in a few minutes if she did. She could just resume 
her regular life style and try her best to forget her recent descent into 
sexual decadence. It would not be easy but it would not be impossible, 
either. 

She opened the door. "Well! I see you are right on time. Come on in!" 

Stan walked right past her and into the kitchen. He put the food on the 
table and stood erect. "That will be twelve dollars and forty-five cents." 
His manner was so business like. It disturbed Joan. That was exactly what 
Stan wanted it to do. He'd been twisting her head into some strange 
contortions for the past few weeks. 

She stood for a minute and then she collapsed into the sturdy kitchen chair 
that she had pulled away from the round, oak table. 

"Stan, you and I both know why you are here! Why must we continue to play 
this game? Isn't it about time, we just stopped this?" 

"Why, Mrs. Withers! I don't know what you are talking about! Your bill is 
twelve-dollars and forty-five cents. If you would like me to go over the 
items you bought, I'd be glad to." 

Joan was starting to go crazy. She couldn't stand this little game any 
longer. She had to have his cock! She was willing to give the cruel bastard 
her only daughter, in order to get it! She began to wonder in the whole 
thing was just a figment of her imagination. She looked around her and tried 
to hold onto herself. It was not easy. She rose to her feet and went to her. 
She stood in front of her cruel lover and put her hands on her hips. It 
proved to be a vain act of defiance. 

"You and I both know why you are here! We have to discuss Wendy! You want 
her so bad? Eh? Your perverted...." 

Her voice broke off as "Scotty" slapped her right across the face. She fell 
to the floor like a sniveling pup. She lay there looking up at her grocer. 
He look very mean. He also looked totally unconcerned about Joan. 

"Mrs. Withers. I'm sorry, I had to do that, but you seemed a little 
hysterical. I thought it might cool you off a bit." He continued to play his 
game with her. He just loved to do this to women. Especially, if he had 
fucked them already, and they wanted more. They usually did. He specialized 
in bored wives. They seemed to be the ones who could be the most freaky. He 
had to be very cool all the time. His business was important to him. He did 
have four boys to support. And a wife he happened to loathe. He believed 
that some women craved punishment. He usually could pick them out. 

Joan Withers, despite her calm and refined demeanor, was such a woman. He 
had known it for years. But her waited for the right time to make his play 
with. He had handled his whole sordid affair with her very well. 

He started for the door. "I'll just put the cost of these items on your 
bill, Mrs. Withers. You don't seem to be feeling very good today, anyway. 
So, if there is nothing else, I'll be on my way." 

Joan got up from the floor and raced to the door. She managed to dash in 
front of him. She put her back to the door and spread out her hands. Tears 
were in her eyes.. All her doubts were gone. She was completely committed to 
her evil deed, now. 

"Wendy! You want her! I'm going to give her to you! Isn't that what you 
wanted? She's yours! But please! Don't do what you are doing to me anymore! 
I can't take it! I think I'm going crazy!" 

Stan took her in his arms and rocked her gently. She closed her arms around 
him in perverse gratitude. She surrendered to him. 

He eased her over to the couch in the middle of the room. He sat her down 
and stroked her face gently. He began to speak to her very softly. 

"So? You have decided to do it? You have made the right choice. You will be 
happy when I give you what you need and want. But you must tell me exactly 
what will happen between the three of us." 

Joan didn't understand. It was understood, as far as she knew, that Stan 
would be the center of a three way sex scene. Why talk about it? That would 
make it even harder to handle. 

"Come on now, Joan. Tell me what is going to happen between us." 

Joan understood now. Stan wanted her to suffer even more than she was 
already. She began to sob. Through the sobs, however she spoke. 

"Wendy will fuck for you. She will spread her legs for you. She will wrap 
them around your waist and hump your thing until it shoots off in her young, 
virginal pussy. You will break her hymen and she will scream in ecstatic 
pain. I can't say anymore!" 

She broke off and began to sob. Stan was far from satisfied. The hot, huge 
prick steaming in her pants wanted to hear more from the pathetic wretch 
sitting beside him. He would not be denied. 

"Tell me more, Mrs. Withers. I'd like to be sure that we both understand 
each other." 

She looked at his uncompromising eyes. She resumed her sinful monologue. 
"She will suck you off! She will take your prick and chew on it! She will 
fondle you swollen balls and drop them into her mouth. Then she will stick 
her tongue right up your asshole. She will ream you out like you have never 
been reamed out before. She will open her young, erect thighs and steer your 
monstrous prick right up her asshole. You will come all over her and she 
will shake and shudder in the masculine joy you will give her!" 

As she continued her words she looked up and gasped. Stan was resting back 
in the couch and was whacking off his exposed prick. Joan's words had fired 
his imagination so much, that he was whacking off! She couldn't believe it. 
At the same time she felt a warm rush in her pussy. The thing that she 
craved was inches away from her. She was overwhelmed with desire. 

She fell to her knees and lowered her head on his throbbing prick. She 
caught the rhythm of his squeezing hand immediately. Up and down her head 
began to bob. The thing felt bigger than ever. She jammed her hand down the 
front of her jeans and began to finger herself. The thing in her mouth would 
shoot off its hot juice any minute and she would find the relief she had 
craved for. 

She was really getting off. The thing in her mouth went far into her throat. 
She tried to consume it all even though she felt herself gag of it. She 
wanted it all. Deep into her throat the thing roamed. It was caressed by the 
elastic walls of her throat. 

Her legs were open and she rammed her fingers deeper and deeper into her 
throat. She was in ecstasy. The hot cock she had so longed for, was hers! 
She lusted for his hot scum. Her body began to squirm. It needed his hot, 
white, sticky fluid. 

She cupped his balls in one hand and held onto his thing with the other. She 
only wished she had three hands so she could finger herself at the same 
time. Then she could time her own orgasm with his. Her tongue wrapped around 
the fiery tip of his pumping thing. She tried to ram her tongue down the 
tiny slit of his thing. It was beginning to open. She knew what that 
signaled. His hot stuff would be flowing soon. Her eyes were squeezed shut. 
Her mouth gaped open to consume the entire length of his thing. 

Her throat swallowed hard fixating on imaginary globs of hot shooting come. 
She wanted him to come in her mouth for hours. She loved the force and speed 
of the shooting droplets. The salty taste thrilled her. She savored the 
taste and only regretted when she felt a drop of the stuff escape her 
sucking, swallowing mouth. 

Suddenly, though, she felt his strong leg rise above her. His booted foot 
rested on her shoulder. He kicked at her hard and she felt her body tumble 
and roll over on its side. She could understand what was happening. Wasn't 
she giving her master lover pleasure? Was he unpleased? She was confused and 
disappointed. She wanted that cock alright! 

Stan began to speak. "Oh, no you don't! No more, horny bitch! You are not 
getting anymore until you make a date for the three of us to get together!" 

But the cruel, discipline-minded Stan couldn't stop the flow of his own 
sexuality when it had started. His strong, large, hairy hand returned to his 
steaming thing. He continued to whack off. 

Joan wanted to close her mouth around his cock again. But she knew that he 
didn't want her to. So, she just lay there on the floor fingering herself, 
as Stan continued to whack himself off. She was in agony when she saw him 
groan and begin shooting off his hot come. She saw it all go to waste. Onto 
the floor and couch it flew. She wanted it. His eyes were still closed. She 
couldn't resist. 

On her hands and knees she crawled to the feet of her cruel lover. She spied 
the hot droplets of come on the floor. She knelt over them and lowered her 
face right up to them. Then her lapping tongue would dart out from her face 
and begin to lick up the hot goblets. Into her mouth she would lift them. 
Her lips would smack with delight as she swallowed the scum juice. She loved 
it now. 

Stan just kept shooting off his hot scum. His face was beginning relax. He 
was nearing the end of his orgasm. She wanted to get at the freshest, 
hottest droplets of come as they flew out of his prick. One or two landed in 
her hair. She couldn't get at them but that was alright. She had enough to 
keep her busy on the floor. 

When her had finished, he looked down at the scum sucking woman at his feet. 
He hated her. When she was a distant customer who would rarely even give a 
sincere smile, he loved her. She seemed so perfect. 

She seemed highly desirable then. But now, as she knelt at his feet sucking 
his scum right off the floor, she was a contemptible slut. He wanted to piss 
on her. She would have accepted it too. So much of her self-respect and 
dignity had left her in the previous weeks, it didn't matter, anyway. 

He stood up abruptly, and resumed his walk to the door. She just lay there 
on her knees. He turned as he reached the door. 

"Today is Tuesday. This Friday night, meet me in the Triad Motel on Route 
Nine. You check with the desk clerk for my room number. I'll give you my 
prick alright. But you better have Wendy with you and she better be ready 
for a fucking, sucking time, or else! You understand, I'm sure, Mrs. 
Withers." 

He closed the door behind him and was gone. She wiped a hot droplet of scum 
from her lips and lay down on the couch. In three days Wendy must be ready. 

Joan swallowed again. Stan's hot come filled her stomach with a satisfied 
warmth. She wanted that thing of his right up her gaping ass hole again. She 
decided that she would talk to her daughter that afternoon. 

Wendy got home that night around six o'clock. Joan had her daughter's dinner 
all ready for her. She ate heartily and talked to her mother about her day's 
activities. She was typically full of life. Joan loved to see her daughter 
this way. 

After dinner, Joan asked her daughter to come into the living room with her. 
Joan said she had something important to discuss with her virginal daughter. 
Her evil plan began to unfold. She began to speak. 

"Wendy, dear. Do you remember a couple of weeks ago, you were asking about 
how babies are born?" Wendy nodded affirmatively. How reluctant I was to 
discuss the matter with you then. But now, things have changed. I still find 
it difficult to talk about sex, but I want you to learn about it. There's 
this friend of your mother's who is going to help. This Friday night, you 
and I are going to meet him and we will have our first lesson. It will be 
enjoyable and educational. Okay?" 

Wendy was very excited. She'd been hearing all kinds of strange things about 
sex in school lately, and found much of it to be very interesting. She would 
learn about it first-hand with her mother teaching her. She liked the idea 
very much. It made her feel strangely grown up. While her friends were 
learning about sex in the gutter, she would learn about it with her mother's 
help. She would have to fight her growing embarrassment, every time she 
wished to talk about sex. She looked forward to the upcoming educational 
evening. It would be very exciting, she was sure. 

The following two days passed without incident. Joan and Wendy both knew 
what was upcoming, but they tried not to talk about it. 

Friday afternoon however, was another story. As soon as Wendy got home, Joan 
began to prepare the girl for the evening's activities. It would be an 
exciting evening for all three of them. 

First, she had sweet Wendy take a steaming hot bath. She insisted that her 
daughter wash her hair, too. Joan was in the bathroom the whole time. She 
scrubbed the teen's back and neck and helped her rinse out her hair. Joan 
made sure that the girl was cleaner than she ever been in her young, 
fourteen year old life. 

Dear old Mom dried and styled Wendy's shiny, wavy hair. It looked beautiful. 
Next came the young girl's clothing. Joan had prepared specially for this. 
She made sure that her daughter looked alluring in a real fucky way. 

First she had the young girl put on a new set of underwear. Wendy wondered 
why they were so small. The bra was two full sizes small for Wendy's 
budding, young breasts. The matching panties stretched nearly to the 
breaking point across Wendy's tight, erect ass and sweet, young pussy. They 
almost hurt, they were so tight. Their color was bright red. Joan had chosen 
these colors to match Wendy's fingernail polish. Wendy was very compliant to 
her mother's wishes. The young teen was excited. Tonight would be very 
special. She was going to learn about sex from adults who knew it well and 
true. No more crazy rumors would assault her young mind. She would know for 
sure. She wasn't sure what she was getting dressed for, but her mother was 
always kind and probably had her own best wishes at heart. 

"Now honey, I'm going to put something on you that you may never have seen 
before. It is going to be very tight but I know you won't mind. It might 
even hurt a little bit, but you'll suffer for my sake won't you?" 

Wendy looked at her mother with complete trust. "Yes, Mother. Anything!" 

From a new cardboard box, that Joan drew out from under the bed, came 
something Wendy had never seen before. Joan held it up high. The thin, white 
paper flew away from it in a muffled flurry of sound. Joan looked at the 
thing very seriously. Then she looked at her daughter's body. 

"Okay, honey. Let's put it on." 

"How? What is it?" Wendy replied. 

"It's a corset, dear!" Joan responded. "It will make you look very 
attractive, and very much like a woman." 

The stiff black laced garment was quite small. The waist was cinched tight 
and the 'part that supported its wearer's torso was lined with thick strands 
of a heavy, bone-like substance. 

It would taper Wendy's perfect torso and lift her young, firm breasts to 
even greater, more sensual heights. Joan slipped it around her daughter's 
body. Wendy stood up and held her hair over her head. She was staring in the 
mirror at her fantastic body. It was beginning to look more sensual and 
alluring with every snap of the binding garment. 

Joan stood behind her daughter and worked very hard. The corset was even 
tighter than she had imagined. Her face tensed and her lips tightened. Wendy 
was beginning to look like a high-priced call girl, not a fourteen-year old 
high school student. 

Surprisingly enough, Wendy was enjoying it. She knew she had a fantastic 
figure for fourteen. It was only now, with her loving mother's aid, that she 
was beginning to enjoy it. She felt wonderful. 

"Ohhhhh," Wendy moaned as her mother pulled and tugged at her body. The 
torso pulled her lean, perfect figure into new and exciting curves. Wendy 
was surely a beauty, to see and feast upon! 

When the thing was finally secured to her young body, Wendy noticed the thin 
strips of material that dangled from the bottom of the thing. 

"What are these for, Mother? They look odd!" 

Joan was staring at her daughter in the mirror. The youngster looked about 
nineteen-years old. "I'll show you, right now!" 

From the bottom of the box that contained the corset, Joan lifted two, long, 
fish net stockings. They too looked much too small for the teen's long, 
lean, elegant legs. "Here, I'll help you get these on," said Joan. 

"I've never seen stockings like these before, Mother! I mean only in the 
movies. All the bar-room girls in old Westerns wear them. They sure are 
pretty!" 

Joan helped young Wendy step into the highly sexual stockings. It was 
extremely difficult to pull them up to the swell of her upper thighs. The 
things were at least two sizes too small, too! 

"Why did you get this stuff so small?" queried Wendy. 

Joan knew that the tighter this garb was the hotter Stan would get. She 
couldn't tell her daughter that though. "It was the only size they had in 
the store." 

Joan then went into the closet and pulled out an old pair of very 
high-heeled shoes. They were shiny black and had extremely high heels. The 
front of them were very sharp. Joan placed them right next to her daughter's 
small stocking-clad feet. 

"Here honey. Step into these." 

Obediently, Wendy did so. When she finally stood up on them, Joan's mouth 
dropped open. The woman had seen pornographic pictures of women dressed in 
similar things, but none of them had ever looked like her daughter. She was 
incredible. Joan made the luscious girl walk around the room. Wendy moved 
with the grace of a young mare. Her buttocks were high and clothed in the 
tight, red panties. They swayed gracefully with the long, elegant strides of 
her long, long legs. The fish net stockings tightened and firmed the legs to 
muscled beauty. Yet, they retained their soft, feminine look. Her ankles 
were very trim and stood at the bottom of her tapered legs. 

Joan felt a small trace of desire for her daughter herself! The teens 
breasts seemed very large in the propping corset. Her cleavage was twice as 
big as it had normally been. The corset worked small miracles with the 
girl's already miraculous body. Her torso tapered to an almost microscopic 
waist. It was so small and so clearly defined, Joan's mouth watered. 

Wendy's hips stood nearly a full eight inches higher than they normally did. 
The binding corset and the high heels were responsible for that. Her hips 
swelled out in full, sweeping beauty. The contrast offered by the tiny waist 
was startling. The waist was so sharp and eye piercing compared to the soft, 
full, swells of the hips below it that it was a joy to behold. 

The garter belt, straps were pulled very tight against the girl's bulging, 
creamy flesh. They were so taunt, Joan feared that they would snap. She 
could already see how the stockings were beginning to burst in soft spots. 

What was needed now was a make-up job. It would have to match the girl's 
highly erotic garb. Joan sat the hot teen at her one make-up table. Wendy 
seemed excited about it. 

Joan applied long, thick amounts of eye liner to the girl. Her eyelashes 
were to be very long and thick. Joan worked feverishly on the young girl's 
face. It was real work. 

When she had finally finished forty-five minutes later, Wendy's face was so 
seductive looking Joan seriously considered forgetting about Stan 
altogether. 

The thought frightened and disgusted her. But since her decision to give 
Wendy to Stan, no thought seemed barred from her fevered mind. She felt that 
she would be consumed by her own sexuality. She also felt that it would be 
incredibly pleasurable. 

Joan had her daughter stand one more time. The young girl looked like she 
belonged in the stable of New York's most successful pimp. She looked so 
classy yet slutty. It was a difficult look to capture, but Joan's flair for 
style had come through again. 

Wendy thrilled at her appearance. She had never looked so grown up before. 
She felt like a woman. The girl had not had her first taste of a man's meat 
yet, but she was ready and she didn't even know it. She couldn't get her 
eyes off herself. This young teenaged girl, who still played ball with the 
boys once in awhile stood in front of the mirror and gazed at her own body 
in fascinated wonderment. She thrilled to her own appearance. She felt a 
sharp twinge of pleasure slice through her virginal slit. She didn't 
understand it, but it certainly felt good. 

'Well, as soon as I get dressed we can leave! It won't be long now!" Joan 
hurried into her own large closet and withdrew a tight pair of velvet slacks 
that she had reserved for very special occasions. This she put on over a 
tight set of black, laced bra and panties. She too look quite sensuous. But 
there was something quite harried and nervous about her appearance. 

"Stay here, honey. I'll get out coats." Joan rushed out of the bedroom. 
Wendy didn't mind at all. In fact, she didn't even hear her mother! She was 
too busy admiring her own cutting form in the mirror. When Joan returned 
less than minute later, she handed Wendy a knee-length raincoat. Joan 
herself wore her waist-length, suede coat. 

Wendy was confused. "You mean that's all you want me to wear? I'm not going 
to wear a dress or anything? I don't understand? Wait a minute!" 

Joan was not going to wait a second. She was growing anxious. They would be 
late if they didn't leave soon. Stan might leave. That would leave Joan 
disappointed and horny beyond all imagination. 

"They will be no waiting! We must go now!" 

Joan clutched her daughter by the arm and began to pull the girl towards the 
door. Wendy accepted her situation but pulled away from her mother anyway. 
"Let me get this raincoat on anyway, will you?" 

In seconds, two women were on their way to the Triad Motel. Wendy was 
honestly excited about her lesson and Joan was excited about the fact that 
she would have Stan's huge prick shoved into every opening on her sweating, 
twinging body. 

Neither women would be let down. 

Joan swung the car onto Route Nine. Through the darkness and oncoming 
headlights, they traveled. After about twenty of hurried driving, they saw 
the large yellow and blue neon lights of the Triad Motel. Joan turned the 
car into its parking lot and left it running near its office. She tried to 
look as composed as possible as she walked up to the old desk clerk. 

"Good evening! Please tell me what room a Mr. Stan Scott is in?" 

As the old man paged through the register, countless thoughts ran through 
her mind. Would anyone in the place recognize her? Would the man turn on her 
and demand to know why she was going to see this "Mr. Stan Scott?" Would a 
cop come bursting through the door and arrest her for corrupting the morals 
of a minor? The time the old man took seemed like hours. All the while 
however, she smiled and looked at him. The only thing that may have given 
her away, was the nervous way she tapped on the man's worn countertop. 

Little did-the guilt-ridden woman know what was going on in the old man's 
mind. He was thinking about the baseball game this woman had taken him from. 
He couldn't care less was going to on in the privacy of Mr. Stan Scott's 
room. It wasn't his business. 

As long as his guests paid as they registered, left at check out time and 
didn't cause any disturbances he was happy. He ran a legitimate 
establishment. What went on behind closed doors was none of his concern. 

"Room Twenty-one," he said casually. 

She stood there and looked at him. She seemed like she was waiting for some 
rules to follow or final instructions before she left. He looked very 
skeptical. The old man met people going through heavy sexual scenes in their 
lives all the time. He had come to believe that most people were quite 
crazy. 

"I said, 'twenty-one!' " 

Joan responded nervously. "Oh, thank you!" 

She rushed out of the place and returned to her standing car. Wendy sat 
quietly in the front seat. The old man shrugged his shoulders and returned 
to his ballgame. 

Joan drove her car slowly down the long row of parked cars. The place was 
packed! She heard laughter and activity all around the place. She felt as if 
she were going to a large party where she didn't know anyone except the 
host. It was quite frightening. 

She stopped the car right in front of Room Twenty-one. 

"Okay, honey. This is it! Are you sure you are ready?" 

Joan looked at her daughter with regret, pain and desire. 

The two women slid out of the car and walked towards the large white door 
with the big number "Twenty-one" on it. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Joan knocked on the door. She heard a masculine voice from within. It called 
out for her to come in. 

Wendy stood next to her at the room's entrance. The knee-length raincoat 
veiled her sensual garb. Joan knew she would please Stan. That was what she 
wanted after all. She had prepared her daughter for the "animal" within. All 
that mattered to Joan were her own sexual needs. Her very presence in the 
scene evidenced this. 

She gave her daughter a weak, humble smile, swallowed deeply, and swung open 
the unlocked door. 

In the far left corner of the small room sat Stan. He held a full glass of 
liquor in his right hand, and a lit cigarette in his left. He looked 
demonic. He was sure of what he wanted. He was going to get it, at last. 

Joan nudged Wendy into the room. She looked at her mother nervously. Wendy 
sensed that something was very strange about the scene. She sensed her 
mother's nervousness, Stan's sexual thirst, and her own sense of confusion. 
She felt like a prize or a showpiece. 

"Mother? Are you sure this is going to be okay?" Wendy felt frightened. 

Joan was looking directly at Stan. He would be the one who decided whether 
or not everything would be "okay." 

Stan did not expect any resistance from Wendy. He stood up and walked to the 
beautiful teen. She saw his sexual craving and cringed at her mother's side. 
Wendy expected her mother's arm to fold around her protectively. Instead, 
Joan gently pushed Wendy towards Stan. 

Stan's large, hairy hand came down upon Wendy's soft shoulder. He looked 
directly into the teen's eyes. 

"Take off your coat, and let's see what you got!" 

Wendy was shaking with fright. She looked towards her mother. She noticed 
that she already had her coat off and was beginning to unbuckle the top of 
her tight jeans. 

Joan spoke to her daughter. "Don't worry, honey. He's not going to hurt you. 
He's just going to teach some of the things you want to learn about so 
badly. He's a very good teacher. I know that. You just do what he says. You 
may not understand it all, but do it anyway. For my sake." 

Wendy replied earnestly, "Yes, Mother. But are you sure that he won't hurt 
me?" 

Joan looked at Stan and said coldly. "He won't hurt you." 

Little did sweet Wendy realize what was about to happen to her. 

The beautiful teen took off her raincoat. She stood there looking like an 
expensive French prostitute. She saw a huge bulge in Stan's pants. She 
wasn't sure what it came from, but she had heard that a man's thing gets 
very hard and big when he wants to go to bed with his wife. All of Wendy's 
illusions would be shattered quite soon! 

"Walk around the room for Stan, Wendy. He will like that." 

Joan couldn't have been more correct. Sweet Wendy looked absolutely eatable. 
Her ass was tight and erect and swayed teasingly beneath the bursting red 
panties. Her legs possessed an incredible length. They were so lean, firm 
and tight. Stan wanted to bury his horny head right into her twat. Her waist 
was painfully small and her hips rosy and full. Her breasts were proud and 
erect. The corset fulfilled its purpose perfectly. Stan's prick was 
bursting. 

Wendy's make-up gave an air of seductive mystery to her whole appearance. 
Stan had plans to solve that mystery immediately. 

He undressed. When all he had on was his tight briefs, Wendy rushed to her 
mother's side. All that Joan wore however were a small, snugly fitting 
matching set of bra and panties, herself. Wendy wondered what she had gotten 
herself into. 

Stan grabbed she Wendy by her tiny waist. He took his free hand and clutched 
at her virgin pussy. She pushed his hand away and began to cry. "I don't 
understand any of this! I want to go home. Mother, let's leave this place!" 

But Joan was no longer functioning like a loving mother. She had seen that 
huge bulge in Stan's pants too. She wanted his hot flesh searing her asshole 
as soon as possible. She walked over to her daughter and said firmly, "Now, 
Wendy! I want you to cooperate with Stan! He is not going to hurt you!" 

Wendy was not as cooperative as she had been at first. She balked at her 
mother's firm words. But as she began to speak, Joan's open palm caught her 
right across her made-up cheek. The teen feel to the bed. 

She looked up and saw her mother and Stan standing over her. Stan held a 
long length of cord in one hand, and a red scarf in the other. 

"Tie her up. She's not going to cooperate, like you said! You were lying to 
me, bitch! I'll have to punish you for that!" 

Wendy was going terrified. What was going to happen to her? Her mother 
seemed to be working with this man. She knew him as "Scotty," from the 
grocery store, but he seemed like a different person entirely, that night. 
He was acting very angry and vengeful. She didn't understand. She hadn't 
done anything to hurt anyone. Why was she being so poorly treated? 

Stan took a long knife out of one of the cheap dresser's drawers. He cut the 
strong cord into four, short strands. He tied two of them to the headboard 
of the large, double bed, and two more to the short board that rose from the 
bed's opposite side. 

Wendy lay on the bed in utter confusion. She looked so absolutely fucky. Her 
corset pulled tightly at her shaking body. Her high-heeled shoes fit her 
fish-net stockinged feet that they seemed to be a part of her very body. 
Stan wanted her body more and more. He was going to have to take it though. 
The girl was going to have her learn her lesson through her own experiences! 

Joan began to behave like a person Joan didn't even know. Dear old Mom 
jumped onto the bed and straddled Wendy's bursting chest. Joan rested her 
knees on the upper portion of her daughter's arms. Her love for her daughter 
had been consumed by her torrid, relentless lust for Stan's hot, huge boner. 

"What are you doing to me, Mother? What is going on here?" 

Wendy's voice was full of panic. Her lesson was becoming torture. 

Stan bound the young girl's wrists to the headboard. Wendy began to holler. 
Joan quickly stuffed tissue paper into her daughter's mouth and gagged her 
with a bright, red scarf she pulled from her tight panties. 

Wendy began to kick with her legs. She wanted out of that scene! It really 
didn't help at all. In less than two minutes, the hot, little teen lay on 
the bed bound and gagged. She was helpless. Her eyes were full of terror. 
They bulged out from her head. The young virgin was to receive the 
experience of her life that day. 

Stan looked at the virgin, and smiled menacingly. He had plans for her. From 
the same dresser drawer he had pulled the knife from, he lifted three thick, 
black pieces of rubber. Each of them had a different length. The first one 
was about three inches long, the second about six inches long and the third 
about nine inches long. Wendy didn't know what they were. But Joan sure did. 

"What are they?" she asked. She answered her own question about twenty 
seconds later. "They're dildos! You aren't going to use them on my 
daughter!" Joan rushed towards Stan. He stopped her cold in her tracks with 
a sharp slap to the jaw. Joan fell directly to the floor. Wendy couldn't see 
her at all, but she heard her sobs. 

Stan began to speak. "Stay on the floor, bitch! That's where you belong 
anyway! I have to take care of your daughter first." 

Stan lifted a small, green jar of Vaseline from the same drawer, and began 
to work the smallest dildo into it. When it was good and full of the 
lubricating substance, he put the jar down next to the two larger dildos and 
approached Wendy. 

Without hesitation he ripped the teen's red panties away from her quivering 
thighs. He began to fondle the soft folds of skin that comprised the teen's 
young, hairy bush. 

"You have a nice, furry little bush, Wendy! I have something for it!" 

He opened the tight, little folds of skin that lay beneath her little bush. 
With his thumb and index finger, he opened her virgin pussy and exposed her 
young vagina. It looked so delicious that he stooped down and gave her 
little bush a long, wet kiss. 

Then in a smooth motion, he inserted the thing into the teen's tight, little 
twat. She writhed in silent, groaning agony as she lay tied to the bed. The 
strange, foreign object jammed into her young, ignorant cunt, filled her 
with pain and horror. The black, rubber thing was evil and painful. Her eyes 
bulged far from her straining flushed cheeks. The three-inch dildo was much 
too big for her young twat. The thing rested snugly up against the wall of 
her tiny hymen. 

It hadn't burst through yet, but it put enough pressure upon it to make 
sweet, fucky Wendy suffer sharp piercing pains. 

Stan stood away from the teen and suddenly pulled his huge joint from his 
briefs. Wendy had never seen one before and she thought it was the ugliest 
thing she had ever seen in her entire life. 

Stan wagged the hot, throbbing prick in Wendy's beautiful face. "You see 
this, honey; 

It's going to be in both your little cunt and your asshole before this night 
is done. It's really big, so I'm preparing your little hole. I'll be putting 
in a bigger dildo, as soon as your virgin pussy starts to loosen up a bit!" 

And loosen it did. Stan made sure of it. He used Joan to do it. First he 
looked at the cringing bitch that was the mother of the young, beautiful 
girl tied to the bed. Joan tried to read his expression. It was impossible. 

"Take your underwear off, bitch!" Stan screamed at dear old Mom. Joan did 
so, immediately. She wanted Stan badly. 

"We have to have your sweet daughter see this, don't we?" 

Stan looked at Wendy tied to the bed and had a sudden urge to jump on the 
bed and just ram the virgin bitch. But that would go against his plan. 

"Get on your knees, spread out your legs, and hold that asshole, high and 
open!" 

Joan did so. She rested her face on the floor. Wendy could not believe what 
she was seeing. She was also beginning to feel a strange sensation in her 
young pussy. The dildo was beginning to take its magical effect. 

Joan began to weep on the floor. She needed to be rammed good and hard." 

Stan looked down at her. "You disgusting bitch! You should see yourself! 
With your only daughter tied up waiting for my prick. And you! Sweet 
protective Momma. With your ass held high. Waiting for my prick! Your slutty 
whore!" 

Stan kicked Joan over with a swift shove to her quivering ass. Joan rolled 
over onto her side. She continued to weep. Her eyes meet Wendy's. Wendy 
could not believe what she was seeing. She had large, salty tears streaking 
her thick eye-liner. 

Joan dismissed her daughter and resumed her position. She held her ass high 
again. She was on the floor at Stan's prick. She needed a genuine fuck job! 

"Okay, you disgusting scum-sucking whore! I'll give you what you need so 
bad. But first stand up and lean over the edge of the bed. I want your 
daughter to see your cringing face when I ram my thing right up your 
asshole!" 

Joan obeyed immediately. Her hands were spread out on the bed, quite close 
to Wendy's bound, outstretched legs. Stan approached Joan's spread, 
quivering ass cheeks. "Now, watch your mother's face as I shove my prick up 
her ass." 

Wendy's eyes were glued to her mother's face. She didn't see Stan grit his 
teeth as he started his boner into Joan's open shit hole. 

Joan's lips puckered when she felt the monstrous thing close to her ass. She 
would have her relief soon! Stan gave a fierce thrust of his pelvis and his 
cock began to move into Joan's asshole. 

"Please, Stan give me all of it now!" Joan began to gurgle and foam at the 
mouth. Her face was twisted in a frenzy. Wendy cried as she witnessed the 
sordid spectacular. 

"Stan give it to me hard!" Joan's body shuddered and shook. She began to 
grind her ass onto her man's stiff ramming rod. 

Stan grit his teeth and clutched at Joan's quivering ass. 

"Here I come, bitch! You can't take all of me but I'm giving it to you 
anyway. Be grateful!" 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Joan screamed as Stan smacked against her open asshole 
with the force of a Mack truck. Joan's body crumbled onto the bed at her 
daughter's feet. 

Joan seemed possessed by the huge thing inside her. She writhed on the bed 
like a pierce of meat cooking on a hot poker. She made strange moaning 
sounds and pulled at her hair. Her mouth opened and she drooled all over her 
daughter's leg. She was in tremendous pain but loved it. 

"You can't take it, eh slut! Well, here's some more!" 

Stan gave another fierce thrust of his lower torso and his prick moved into 
her rectum another full quarter of an inch. 

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! It's too fucking big! You're ripping up my insides! 
Please stop! Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" 

Stan spoke cruelly. "Oh, you want me to stop, eh? Is that it? Well, if 
that's how you feel, I guess I'll stop!" 

Stan started to withdraw his steaming, blood gorged joint from the ass 
opening if his suffering woman. 

"No, please Stan! Don't leave my asshole! It hurts so much! But, please 
don't leave!" 

The pathetic, wasted bitch clutched at the covers on the bed. She bit into 
them and tore at them like a crazed dog. She was possessed by a worshipping 
love of Stan's cock. She had to have it, yet at the same time it hurt her 
beyond belief. The lack of real logic within the whole scene made her misery 
worse. And the fact that her daughter watched threw her into deep despair. 
"Now, do you see how your slut Momma loves my prick! Let's give her a test 
anyway!" 

Stan suddenly pulled his prick out of Joan's asshole. Joan turned around on 
the bed and grabbed for the thing like a hungry bitch. 

"Stan pulled it away from her. "Now, if you want it back, bitch, take the 
next sized dildo and stick it in your daughter's twat!" Joan did not 
hesitate. She rose from the bed, grabbed the larger dildo (it was six inches 
long) and prepared to shove it into her daughter's twat. 

Through the tears in her eyes, she rammed the thing into her daughter's 
young twat. 

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" Wendy screamed. The sound was hushed by the gag she 
wore around her neck but the pain was incredible just the same. Wendy felt 
as if she just had a burning stake shoved clear through her. She tore at her 
bindings and twisted in the misery of lost innocence. A small clot of blood 
began to drip from her broken bush. She was now a sexual being! Let her 
mother be held responsible! 

"Very good, bitch!" Stan was well pleased. "Come back for my prick now, 
bitch!" 

Joan returned to her open-ass position, and Stan rammed her again. 

This time he wanted to come. He was getting impatient for the young bitch 
writhing on the bed. He wanted her broken twat now! 

A very angry look came over his face. He pumped at Joan lying in front of 
him with a merciless fury. He felt his come juice swelling up his balls. He 
was about to shoot off. The thought of the fourteen-year old slut cunt 
before him really got him off. 

"Ugh, ugh!" her screamed. He lifted Joan right off the bed and shoot off his 
hot scum. 

It rammed and tore through her entire sweat soaked body. Her pussy was 
soaked from her own manual masturbation. The hot scum was too much for her. 
She fainted. 

Stan finished his come shot and tossed the wasted, old bitch from his 
victorious rod. She crumbled on the floor like an old rag. 

Now for sweet Wendy! First, he turned to suffering, little broad onto her 
stomach. Her bindings were twisted all around her now and she was 
practically paralyzed. He took the third, nine inch dildo and held it in 
front of her terrified face. 

"Do you think your little cunt hole is big enough for this? How about your 
tiny asshole? Ha, ha, ha, ha!" 

She shook in terror and pain. He pulled the six incher from her bleeding 
twat and started the full nine inches into her. It was too much for her. She 
tried to shake it free from her. When she saw that that would impossible, 
she tried open her legs to take the whole thing. 

She knelt up on her knees as the ugly, brutal, black thing moved further and 
further into her. 

Stan was really getting off on the whole thing. 

"Okay bitch. You have a good four inches of the thing! Here comes the rest!" 

With an inhuman shove of her powerful arm he shoved the whole nine inch 
length of the thing into her young pussy. The tears raced down her face and 
she was frozen in pain. She tensed her body completely and she shook as if 
possessed by a satanic spirit! 

Her young ass quivered bound in the cinching corset. 

Stan laughed furiously as he as the huge thing sticking out of her young, 
virgin twat. 

"Ah! I can see that you are a little cramped in that get-up aren't you?" 

With cruel fury, he pulled the corset from her abused body. Snaps flew and 
her young flesh was cut with the ferocity of his attack. He tore her fucky, 
slutty underwear from her body with the fury of a mad dog. When she was 
quite naked he began to squeeze her ass. He bit it and she jumped on the 
bed. The young buttocks quivered in pain. She was still bound and gagged so 
her struggling was in vain. He chewed on her young ass. 

Suddenly with her long index finger, he began a vicious anal probe. His 
finger went in up to the knuckle. She couldn't believe the pain. It was 
incredible. Yet, she did not pass like dear old Mom. 

Stan then straddled the naked teen and placed his erect, throbbing prick at 
the entrance of her rectum. 

"Now honey for the real thing! He pulled her young ass cheeks apart and 
rammed her moistened ass with the fury of a torpedo striking a battle ship. 

He felt his thing tear through layers and layers of flesh deep into the 
young girl's anus. He didn't care. He just ass fucked the helpless girl 
until his cock throbbed in preparation for its creamings. 

Joan had just revived herself on the floor. She rose up. Stan saw her out of 
the corner of his eye. 

"Join the party, bitch!" Stan grabbed the dazed women by the neck and thrust 
her under his shaking, dangling balls. She was dazed but certainly grateful. 
Stan ground his asshole right into her panting face. Her tongue darted into 
his asshole. She reamed him out as he rammed his crushing prick into the 
asshole of her bound daughter. It was the three way sex scene he had dreamed 
of at last! 

When he had come Wendy was unconscious. She had no idea of what had been 
done to her. Sex was introduced to her in the most perverse way. She was 
bleeding and tortured. She dribbled hot saliva and lay in the bed in a 
clotting pool of her own virgin blood. 

Stan rose from his brutal conquests and dressed. Neither of them interested 
him anymore. He had fucked them both out. They lay there. Joan was crying 
and fucked into a semi-delirium, and Wendy was unconscious. It was a 
pathetic scene. 

Neither of them heard his mocking cruel laughter as he left. 

The next day however, Stan Scott was surprised to see Joan and Wendy arrive 
at his little grocery store. It was about ten o'clock. Stan had just 
finished with the breakfast crowd. The store was very quiet. 

He decided to play it cool. "Good morning, Mrs. Withers! How are you today? 
I see you have your daughter with you today! She is a lovely child! She a 
little too old though for me to give her a free slice of bologna though!" 

Stan gasped and jumped back when the two strange sneering women moved closer 
to him armed with large, very sharp kitchen knives. They had hate and 
vengeance in their eyes. 

Joan issued orders. "Wendy! Lock the front door! Pull down the curtain and 
turn off the lights. We will make it look like old "Scotty" closed up for a 
minute!" 

She brandished the fierce looking blade right in terrified Stan's face. 
"Okay, you miserable, ass-fucking bastard! Now, do you remember what I said 
I'd do to you if you fucked around with my daughter! I don't care that I was 
the one who delivered the girl to you! You ass fucked her and had me break 
her cherry, so now, you must pay! 

Stan copped a heavy plea! "What are you talking about? Mrs. Withers! I don't 
know what you are talking about!" 

Joan was committed towards revenge. "Get in the back, bastard! Get in the 
back and stoop over that butcher block that you had me stoop over when you 
humiliated me!" 

Stan cowered like a little boy in front of a angry, stern father. 

"Okay, okay!" 

He held his hands at his chest and sweat heavily. He thought that these 
crazed women were going to castrate him. His thoughts were not off the mark! 

He moved to the back of the store. The place was locked now and the lights 
were out. Wendy joined her mother in the back of the store. Both women 
looked fierce and frenzied. Stan was terrified! 

"Stoop over the butcher block! Spread your legs!" 

Stan did so. He saw Wendy come around the front of him with four short 
lengths of cord. 

She tied one to each wrist and each ankle of the hapless Stan. 

She then bound the man to the legs of the large butcher block. 

He was tied over the thing. He was helpless. Each of his legs were bound. 
His arms stretched nearly to the floor as his wrists bled from the tightness 
of his bounds. 

He felt the knife near his waist. He figured that he would be very dead, 
very soon. 

"Please, don't! Don't kill me! I'm sorry for what I did! Please!" 

Both of the women laughed wickedly. 

Joan cut the man's leather belt with a flick of the razor sharp knife. Stan 
cried out bitterly for his life. He was a miserable wretch! 

Suddenly, Joan called out to Wendy. "Did you get it?" He listened carefully 
for a reply. When one did not come he grew even more frightened. But her 
heard something behind him. In his agony he wondered what it was. 

Joan suddenly pulled down the man's pants and began to smack his naked 
buttocks. 

"Okay, Stan! We are going to punish you!" 

"Oh, please! Please spare my life!" Stan was pathetic. 

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his ass. It was sharp and piercing. It 
tore right into him. He felt that he was being split apart. It was the most 
agonizing thing he had ever felt! The pain seemed to fry his brain. He 
screamed in agony. 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Then he passed out. 

Wendy and Joan laughed wickedly. They looked into each other's eyes. They 
had had their revenge. They kissed passionately. On the previous night, 
after Stan left they discovered the joys of incestuous love. They had their 
own family affair now! 

They walked to the front door. They laughed and held hands. They were happy. 
They had everything together, now. They could suck and fuck each other in 
the privacy of their own home! 

Joan whispered to Wendy as they opened the door of the small grocery store, 
"Hey! Our friend forgot to give you that slice of bologna!" They both 
laughed hysterically. 

In the back room, slumped over a butcher block, the bound unconscious Stan 
lay in his wretchedness. A ten pound loaf of bologna protruded from his ass. 

That's the way they found him too. Joan and Wendy had worked hard to get the 
thing into his ass. The seemingly harmless, vegetable oil that Stan had used 
to lubricate sweet Joan's pussy again found alternate use. 

As one of the loving pair bound Stan to the large, wooden block, the other 
one slapped the yellow, thick stuff all over his hindquarters. It alone 
enabled the girls to get the huge bologna into the man's reluctant rectum. 

The police who found Stan couldn't believe their eyes. The store had not 
opened for two full days. Stan's ugly wife had made a call to the police on 
the second morning. It wasn't unusual for him to stay away from his family 
overnight. Especially when he had a hot little number lined up. 

You see, Stan's sordid scenario with Joan and Wendy was not the first time 
he had pulled off an incestuous, love triangle in the little town. Of course 
no one knew, but, several of the "Mother-Daughter" homes in the small town 
were populated by hot, loving mother-daughter love teams. 

Stan had done some select fucking in the town. Ironically enough, he never 
lost a customer who had found herself sucking off her own daughter! Young 
pussy could do strange things to anyone. 

The two police officers who broke the lock on Stan's front door to get into 
the store, gasped when they saw Stan straddling the wooden torture block. In 
fact, they had a small argument between themselves as to who was going to 
pull the monstrous thing from the man's torn, bleeding asshole. 

Stan was conscious during their whole debate. He didn't care who pulled the 
thing from his rectum. He just wanted it out. 

When the thing was finally removed, Stan passed out. He spent several days 
in the hospital recuperating, and paid a tremendous bill. 

He also paid quite a bill to the two cops. They promised to keep their 
mouths shut about the whole thing, for a nominal fee. 

Just to spite the humbled grocer, they always had him make them bologna 
sandwiches when they came in for their weekly money. 

Stan Scott got it in the end, in all ways! 


THE END
