XXE-294  Guilt Comes Later
by Charles Wykes


Chapter 1

I'm sorry.

That's what he had said. Those were his last words, at least as far as
Melissa Mason was concerned. If her father had said anything else to
anyone else, like to one of the doctors or nurses, Melissa didn't know
about it.

I'm sorry.

He had then slipped off into a coma; and, less than three hours later,
William James Davenport, pillar of his community, president of Davenport
Electronic International, was dead at sixty-nine, his soul shoveling
coal in the furnaces of hell.

Now, why did Melissa have to think that? It wasn't like her to think
such vindictive things, was it? Her father probably was in heaven right
that minute. If there was a heaven.

And, of course, there was a heaven. Melissa didn't like the way her mind
was working. No, she didn't like it one damn bit. Of course her father's
soul was now off somewhere in paradise playing a harp! Because if
William Davenport had told his daughter he was sorry, there was little
doubt but that he had told the church the same thing, given a couple
hundred thousand dollars to the papal coffers, and been given
forgiveness.

Well, Melissa wasn't all that sure she forgave her father as easily as
God might have done. After all, a few mumbled words on his deathbed,
when he knew he was shortly going off to meet his maker, certainly
didn't make up for fifteen years of being an absolute bastard, did it?

Bastard? Was that how she had visualized her father? What's more, was
that how she STILL visualized him, even though he was dead and buried?

Nonsense! She had to get hold of herself. She was simply in an emotional
state, what with the death, and the funeral, and the people, and the
countless amenities--and with seeing Creagon again.

Creagon Davenport, Melissa's brother, older by three years; tall, blond,
blue-eyed, exceptionally handsome. Every time Melissa saw Creagon, she
marveled at how he never seemed to change, never seemed to grow older.
And, considering Melissa had only seen Creagon twice in the last fifteen
years (twice since that one long-ago night William Davenport had
eventually come to mutter "I'm sorry" for), she was surprised at how
Creagon could manage to appear so ageless. Especially since it had
obviously been no lark making it on his own out in the big wide world
with neither his father's money nor name to back him.

The last time Melissa had seen Creagon was at her brother's wedding to
Marne.

Marne Davenport nee Marne Mason: the wife of Melissa's brother; the
sister of Melissa's husband.

And before Creagon and Marne's wedding, the only other time had been
when her brother had attended Melissa's wedding to John. And, some time
during those festivities, Creagon Davenport had met Marne Mason; and,
love had blossomed.

At Melissa and John's wedding there had also been a fight between
Creagon and his father. The first time those men had seen each other in
ten years, and they'd been at each other's throat. Thank God William
hadn't been invited to Creagon's marriage. Melissa had sneaked away to
attend it--one of the few things she had ever done in her life to flaunt
her father. And, William Davenport had been furious. He had raved on for
days, dredging up old, best-forgotten skeletons and rattling them in
front of Melissa's eyes until Melissa had collapsed and been under a
doctor's care for four whole weeks.

And, so her father had died sorry. But, sorry for what? Maybe that was
what was bothering Melissa. Because William Davenport had been so
seemingly firm in his righteous indignation that he had, for the most
part finally convinced Melissa that she wag the one who should have been
sorry.

So, why hadn't Melissa been able to tell the dying man that she was
sorry?

It had been Melissa's fault, hadn't it? What Melissa had done was wicked
... wicked ... wicked. If she could accept that now, then why hadn't she
been able to tell her father she was sorry?

Yes, by God, she had been sinful ... depraved ... degenerate. She had
done a forbidden thing; and, her father had had every reason to be angry
because of it. He'd had every reason to send her away to those church
schools where she could repent at leisure, contemplate her sins, promise
herself she would never sin again.

Creagon now, he had been the lucky one! He had simply run away, not
turning up again until he was past twenty-one and could thumb his nose
in the old bastard's face.

Lucky? Melissa realized that was hardly the right adjective to use. She
was obviously in such an emotional state that she was constantly putting
wrong words in the wrong places. Because, how could Creagon be lucky?
He'd had no good holy sisters, dressed in their starched black and white
uniforms like penguins, telling him what was right and what was wrong,
thereby insinuating that what Melissa and Creagon had done was certainly
an abomination in the eyes of man and God.

And, had William Davenport told his son he was sorry; or, had he assumed
he'd done enough in leaving his wayward son half of the estate?

"Melissa?"

It was her husband, calling from the bedroom. Melissa had hoped he was
asleep. Why in the hell wasn't he?

"What is it, John?"

"What's taking you so fucking long?"

Melissa shuddered at her husband's vulgarity. God, but he had changed
since he'd gotten back from the war--or, was Vietnam called a conflict?
Whatever, John Mason had changed. Oh, God, had he changed!

"I'm brushing my hair, John," Melissa said, reaching for the brush on
the dresser so as to make her statement only half a lie. "Why don't you
just try and get some sleep while you're waiting?"

"Try hurrying, will you?" John said in reply.

And, what exactly did that imply? Melissa suspected she knew; and, that
knowledge did nothing more than send goose bumps up and down her spine.

Just where had her husband disappeared to? Just what kind of black magic
had sent a docile, mild, well-mannered college graduate off to some
distant pest hole to be metamorphosed into a rutting animal?

Or, had Vietnam had anything at all to do with it? Had the beast always
been there, beneath the surface, waiting to jump out at the first
opportunity? That was certainly possible when considering how that
"other" John Mason had been so opposite his sister Marne. How could any
one as meek and mild as John had seemed at the time of his marriage have
popped from the same womb as Marne?

Not that Melissa didn't like Marne. Because she did. Actually, when
Melissa was up to admitting it to herself, she even envied Marne, to a
certain extent. On the other hand, there was too much of everything
about Marne which made Melissa a little uneasy.

Marne was simply too beautiful. Her breasts were a trifle too large. Her
figure was a bit too sensuous. Her walk was a mite too sexy. Her voice
was too sultry. Her eyes were too seductive. Her lips were too inviting.

Marne, in short, reeked a kind of sexuality that Melissa found
disturbing. Why she found it disturbing, she couldn't quite say.

"Melissa!" John called again, bringing his wife back once again to the
reality.

Surely, surely, John wasn't thinking of doing any of his disgusting
sexual gymnastics tonight! Sweet Jesus, but they hadn't gotten back from
the graveyard but a few short hours before. But, then, that would hardly
matter to John, would it? He had lived with death in Nam, hadn't he? He
had seen death all around him every day of the week. So, what did it
matter to John Mason that William Davenport was dead?

"Melissa, for Christ's sake, you brush your hair so much, it's a fucking
wonder it doesn't all fall out by its roots!" John yelled loudly from
the bedroom where he would be naked and probably lying on top of the
bed, his huge penis hard and laid out along his belly like some Army
missile ready for launching.

Disgusting! Her husband was disgusting! Far too disgusting to be
endured. Did John know that as soon as the estate was settled, Melissa
was planning on divorcing him?

Yes, she would divorce him. He wasn't, after all, the man she had
originally married, was he? He had gone off to war (to conflict? to
whatever?), to fight for his country like his daddy, and granddaddy, and
great-granddaddy, ad infinitum, had done. He had gone off and changed
from a man to an animal.

Well, by God, Melissa was having very little of it! And if John wouldn't
grant her a divorce under some civilized guise like incompatibility or
irreconcilable differences, then Melissa was quite prepared to label
John an adulterer and name the correspondents. Oh, yes, Melissa was
quite aware that her husband had been out fucking on the side. And, she
was glad of it, too. Let someone else go through the horror of John's
pants, and grunts, and groans, and gasps, and ... oh, but it was
disgusting!

Melissa drew the brush through her long mane of tawny blonde hair,
enjoying the pull against her scalp and the resulting tingle.

Reflected back from the vanity table mirror, although Melissa wouldn't
have been likely to admit it, was a very beautiful young woman. Her
hair, of course, was her best feature. It was honey-colored, lush, and
had been cut to give a tousled, fly-away look that was exceptionally
attractive. Her eyes were blue, set a trifle too far apart. Her
eyelashes were long, almost brown now that they'd been cleared of
blackening mascara. Her eyebrows were fine, evenly plucked lines. She
had a good but quite ordinary nose; full, cupid's-bow mouth. She had
high cheekbones.

Her long neck curved downward, opening up into the deep cleavage
displayed by her robe-covered breasts.

Yes, Melissa was quite attractive. However, she had so long been made to
look ugly in stiff unattractive school uniforms, in short-cropped hair,
in ungainly shoes, And in virtually no makeup that she couldn't quite
imagine she had blossomed into quite the woman she had.

As a matter of fact, it was very seldom that Melissa ever consciously
paid attention to what was reflected back to her in any mirror. Mirrors
at the convent school were an anathema--spawners of sinful vanity. And,
old habits were had to die.

Even now, Melissa wasn't much concerned with whether or not she was
pretty, or any had new wrinkles, or was getting bags under her eyes, or
was losing her peaches-and-cream complexion. Her constant stroking of
her hair with the silver-handled pig-bristle bush had become an
unconscious rhythm honed by constant routine.

Melissa's mind had first wandered back to that day in this very house
when she and Creagon had been caught "playing with each other" (actually
having long since progressed beyond that minor stage of the
relationship, not that Melissa blamed Creagon, having long since put all
of the blame on her own shapely shoulders). Then, finding those thoughts
as disturbing as she had always found them (why had that silly bastard
of a father told her he was sorry?), she let her mind drift elsewhere.

Back to John. Back to dear, sweet John, as he had once been. Back to
John, the vulgarity he had become.

Melissa knew what John was doing out there in the bedroom at that
moment. Oh, yes, she knew. He would have his large hand wrapped around
his big, huge cock, and he would be pumping his prick languidly, just
waiting for Melissa to step from the dressing room and see him. John
would want to shock her, as if his own pleasure was somehow fed by his
wife's continual embarrassment at his perverted antics.

To describe Melissa's feelings that first night in bed after John had
returned home from Vietnam would have made a book-size volume of horror
stories. To describe her feelings these years later, when John still
refused to revert to his civilized state, would have been to describe
frustrations, humiliations, and mortifications in the extreme.

John obviously had, somewhere along the line, forgotten the difference
between a civilized woman and one of those primitive gook women he had
balled while in Nam. While some Oriental women, used to nothing better
than rape and ravagement, might eventually find enjoyment in the vile
sexual techniques John had brought back to Melissa's bedroom, Melissa
had been nothing but disgusted to the point of nausea. Thank God, he had
since decided that prostitutes were more accepting of his animalistic
behavior than his wife was. At least, John spent a lot of time with
several call girls. And, he'd fucked several women at the club, some of
whom had actually come back for seconds, which just went to show how
degraded some civilized women were becoming.

"Melissa!"

"In ... a ... minute, John! In ... a ... minute!"

John had been rather on display these last few days, hadn't he? He
hadn't been able to get away for as much on-the-side rutting as he was
used to. He obviously was expecting to try his wife once again. Well, he
would find Melissa no more receptive this time than she had been the
last time. In truth, Melissa even found the idea of a plain,
old-fashion, missionary-style fuck beneath her husband physically
revolting. She wondered if it were too late to dissolve the faade of
happily married couple and get separate rooms. That's what they had at
home, anyway. And, it was far ... far ... far more convenient.

"Melissa!"

Melissa heard her husband's feet hit the floor. She kept on brushing her
hair. She heard her husband stomping in her direction. She kept on
brushing. She saw his revolting naked reflection in the mirror. She kept
on brushing. John stepped up behind her, his grotesquely huge and hard
cock almost touching Melissa's creamy neck.

"If you so much as lay a hand on me, I'll let out a scream that will
bring every servant and relative in this house right down on our
doorstep," Melissa threatened, not missing a brush stroke.

"What in the fuck has gotten into you?" John asked.

Goddamn, she was beautiful! Did she know how fucking hot he was for her
body? She knew! Sure, damn right she did! So, why was she always colder
than an iceberg? She'd been that way ever since he'd been discharged.

"Nothing has gotten into me lately," Melissa said, "And you're not
getting into me tonight. So, I suggest you either beat that thing off,
or go take a cold shower. The choice is yours."

"You are my goddamn wife!" John said angrily, clamping his right hand
into Melissa's right shoulder.

John's claw-like fingers were hurting her, but Melissa refused to make a
grimace. She did not stop brushing her hair, however. She then gave John
a look in the mirror that she hoped displayed just a touch of the utter
revulsion she was feeling as a direct result of his hand on her body.

"You have one second to turn loose before I bring this house down,"
Melissa said. She knew she had the advantage here; and, she refused to
surrender it.

"Goddamn frigid bitch!" John spat. He turned on his heels and went back
to the bedroom. He flopped down on his bed. Twin beds for shit's sake!
How in the hell had she managed that? She had undoubtedly called ahead.
Not separate rooms. Hell, no, since that would have caused talk. But,
twin beds. She could have whispered something to her father's
housekeeper about how "it was her time of the month," and there would
have been no questions asked not that there would have ever been any
overt questions from the servants in any case.

John hesitated in fisting his meat and jerking it off. Why in the hell
should he beat off his own cock? Hell, he was a married man, wasn't he?
He had a wife. A husband was supposed to screw his wife, not his hand.

John was confused as ever by Melissa's coolness. She had changed. Or had
she? Melissa had never been all that excited over sex, had she? John had
thought it was merely his fault, mainly his ineptitude. Now, he wondered
it had been his fault, ever. He'd, after all, learned a lot in Nam,
sexual things not being the least of his acquired knowledge. He had come
back confident that Melissa would be pleased to find her husband
miraculously converted from bumbling kid to experienced lover. He had
thought she'd been hoping he would improve when she had written a reply
to his first guilty confession of infidelity.

"Don't worry about it, John. War makes strange bedfellows, after all;
and, I certainly never expected you to remain celibate during your whole
term of service. You've gone off to battle, not to a monastery. Do
anything you think necessary to relieve the tensions of that mess over
there, knowing that I'm not going to be here, ready to stamp a scarlet
'A' on your chest the minute you step off your plane ..."

But, as time progressed, it became more and more apparent that Melissa
didn't want a competent lover or a humbling one. She obviously didn't
want any lover at all.

John had thought there was someone else. He had laid traps, listened in
on Melissa's phone conversations, interrupted his schedule to drop in
unexpectedly on Melissa's tennis lessons at the club, on her lunches
with Geraldine Pinkton or one of the other girls, on her visits to see
her ailing father. John had never found his wife anywhere but where she
had said she would be. He had found no studs, waiting off in secluded
nooks, waiting to service his wife while he didn't. He had found no
women, with closets full of dildos, waiting to eat his wife's cunt or
bump pussies.

John looked up as Melissa entered the bedroom and switched off the
lights in the dressing room behind her.

Damn it, John wished Melissa didn't affect him the way she did. He would
have done anything to be able to shrug his shoulders and care less that
his wife was more happy with John out of her bed than in it.

So, what happened the minute Melissa made her entrance, gliding by amid
a flutter of gossamer nglige? John's damned cock jerked so heartily
that the slap of John's cock meat striking against John's belly muscles
was readily audible in the room.

And if Melissa heard, she gave no notice. Without even giving John a
glance, she skirted his bed, preparing to enter her own from a spot the
furthest from John as she could possibly get.

As Melissa prepared to enter the sheets, her unbound breasts jiggled
seductively. Could John actually see her dollar-size nipples beneath the
clinging material?

Melissa's tawny mane of hair flowed down and over her shoulders. John
caught a peek of his wife's milky white leg as she crawled in bed and
quickly pulled the blankets over her.

"Do you want me to turn out the light, or will you?" Melissa asked, her
hands crossed over her breasts like some queen laid out on a regal
funeral pyre.

"Leave it on," John said. "I'm going to be using it for awhile."

"Suit yourself," Melissa said. Her eyes were shut, her lashes looked
like brown butterflies against her checks.

Shit, shit, shit! John couldn't believe it. He simply couldn't believe
it. If he had been an ugly sonofabitch, he might have understood. But,
goddamn it, John wasn't ugly He wasn't so stunning that his looks sent
every girl he met into convulsions of faster heartbeats; but, he was no
dog by a long ways. Granted, he'd been a late bloomer, a bit ungainly
through his early adolescence before his torso grew into proportion with
his head, arms, and legs. In fact, his early awkwardness had given him
the shyness which he'd retained up and beyond his marriage with Melissa.

However, by the time John had married Melissa, all outward awkwardness
was long gone. Physically, his body had looked in great shape and, in
fact, was in good shape. His complexion, once plagued by the biggest
zits John had thought imaginable, had cleared with no noticeable
scarring. His brown hair, brown eyes, full lips, dimpled cheeks, and
cleft chin had all come together in a pleasantly attractive combination.

And since then, John's looks had improved, if anything. His military
training had solidified a physique which had never had any excess fat.
His pectorals, covered with a fine matting of brown hair, were
rectangular etchings on his chest. His belly was a washboarding design
of rippled abdominals.

His cock was big without being too big. It certainly could hold its own
in any comparison in any locker room; but, it certainly wasn't one of
those monstrous cocks that had women squealing protest that it was too
big--and really meaning that it was.

In fact, John, who could see his body reflected to him by the mirrored
doors of the clothes closet by the side of his bed, saw nothing
whatsoever about him that should turn off his wife.

So, what did turn Melissa off about him? And, there as little doubt in
John's mind that Melissa was turned off. Melissa wasn't faking her
present disinterest. Any minute, John expected Melissa to start snoring.

Hell, John had tried to do everything he could to please her. He had
even gotten within licking distance of her blonde-haired cunt on
occasion, having learned that no woman could resist getting herself off
on a guy's tongue. But Melissa would have none of that! Christ no! You
would have thought John's tongue was acid the way Melissa had crawled
out from under him. And, she hadn't been putting up any token struggle
just to increase her own enjoyment. She had been dead serious!

"You disgusting pervert!" That was just what she had called him.
Disgusting. Pervert. John had been dumbfounded.

Actually, John had been more than just dumbfounded. He had been made
just a little insecure. His ego had been definitely deflated. For almost
a year he had wondered if maybe he hadn't known as much about fucking as
be had come to think he knew. Melissa had made him so fucking paranoid,
John had resisted all come-ons from the women at the club for fear he'd
get the same negative reaction from them that he had gotten from
Melissa.

Thank God, though, that John had been too attractive for some of those
women to give up without a battle. Finally--albeit reluctantly--he had
succumbed to Margaret Riley, Jim Riley's wife, in a linen closet off the
club dining area. There, amid tablecloths, napkins, dish towels, and
aprons, John had finally discovered that it just wasn't Oriental women
who liked to get their cunts tongued, or their asses fucked. And he'd
since learned, on more than one occasion, that it just wasn't Oriental
women who got a charge out of swinging on John's big cock.

John had plenty of women ready to take him on, anyway he wanted to ride
them. However, his own wife was not one of them. And, for some perverse
reason John couldn't explain, the fact that Melissa so obviously didn't
want him only seemed to make John want her all the more.

She was a bitch! That's what she was: a bitch! And, it wouldn't have
been so fucking bad if John hadn't loved her now even more than he had
ever loved her.

John gathered up his pillows and propped them between his back and the
headboard of the bed. He then bent his legs at his knees, putting the
flats of his feet on the blanket top. He then fanned open his thighs,
butterflying his legs on the bed.

He dropped his left hand down to his crotch, bypassing his cock and
cupping his balls. He rolled the gristled orbs of cum-bulged gonads and
glanced in Melissa's direction. Melissa's eyes were still shut.

"I'm going to beat my cock off, baby," John said, hoping against hope
that some miracle would bring Melissa around. "All you have to do is say
the word, and I'll give all this luscious hardness to you instead of to
my hand."

Melissa kept her eyes shut, willing herself not to shudder in utter
revulsion. The man was an animal.

"Come on, Melissa, let me stick it in," John persisted. His cock was so
goddamned hard, he was going to have to do something with it pretty
damned quickly, or he wouldn't be able to stand it.

What if he raped her? What if he took her against her will, right then
and there? What if he just forced open the bitch's legs and stuck his
blood-hardened cock up her juicy cunt against all of her protests?

Oh, shit, he'd gone that route before, hadn't he? Melissa had just
suddenly stopped all protests, gone all slack as a rag. Then when John
had finished fucking her, Melissa had asked him if he was through, as if
she hadn't even felt the gallons of rich, warm cream he had fed her
pussy.

Besides, fucking his hand gave him about as much pleasure as he got from
fucking Melissa when she was going through one of her
okay-fuck-me-but-get-it-over-with-fast-will-you bits.

"Okay, bitch!" John said, frustrated beyond belief. "Suit yourself. My
goddamn hand is probably a better fuck than you are anyway, if my memory
serves me correctly."

John fisted his cock with his right hand, grabbing down at the base of
his erection. He pulled his fingers upward, dragging loose outer skin
upward along the hard inner cock core. The movement milked an oozing of
pre-seminal juices into the deep penile eye cleaved dead-center of
John's cock head. John, his fingers still holding to his cock belly,
used his thumb to smear his natural lubricant over the pulpy dome-like
mass of his cock glans. His drooling juices were warm and slippery.

"You don't know what your frigid cunt is missing, baby," John told
Melissa, wondering if the bitch were really asleep or if she were
hearing every word he said.

Melissa heard all right. Oh, yes, she heard. But, she couldn't believe
it. If John wanted to masturbate, why didn't he go into the bathroom and
do it behind closed doors like any normal man would have done? Why make
a big production number out of it, performing like some horny monkey in
the zoo?

John continued to work his balls with his left hand while his right hand
took up a rhythmic cadence, up and down, along the length of his cock.

"You know how many women out there would be crying their eyes out if
they knew I was going to be wasting my cum in my hand?" John asked.

Melissa almost--ALMOST--responded to that. She almost told him to go get
one of those degenerate whores and quit bothering her. But she didn't,
knowing that any comment from her would more than likely only encourage
John's disgustingly lewd display.

John fucked his hand, his fingers gliding from his knotted cock roots to
his bulky cock crown. John's hips began responding on their own, giving
instinctive fucking bounces. Simultaneously, John's left hand was
continuing to massage his balls, squeezing his tender gonads until the
dull aching fanned through his lower belly.

"A Miss Chi in Nam used to love this cock of mine," John said,
continuing to beat, continuing to fondle his cum-ripened testicles.
"She'd take this cock each and every way I wanted to give it to her. She
didn't care, just as long as she got it."

Melissa decided it would be a hot day in hell before she allowed herself
to endure another night of such wretched obscenity. Did the shit-head
actually think he was giving her some kind of charge by letting her hear
about him and some poor gook whore who would have probably stood on her
head and fucked an elephant for a few Yankee dollars?

"She used to fill her mouth with warm noodles and then gobble up my cock
to its balls," John said, enjoying the telling of the tale, even if
Melissa wasn't enjoying the hearing. "Miss Chi would suck and suck and
suck, until all of the noodles were in her belly. Then she would suck
some more for a gallon of my cum to go down to salt them."

Melissa thought she might actually be sick. She could feel the bile
rising in her throat. What's more, she could just picture how that
wretched Nam whore had looked with her face buried in John's hairy
groin.

John pumped. His hand moved up toward his cock head, dragging along the
folds of loose flesh that still draped his circumcised cock. The loose
skin almost but not quite--formed a pseudo foreskin to snout John's
pulpy corona. More liquid beaded in John's cock eye and was stolen by
the man's fingers to be smeared over his total cock bulk.

"Miss Chi used to shove a string of beads up my ass while she sucked on
my cock," John continued, running his left hand down beneath his balls
and into the crease of his buttocks. He lifted his ass slightly to give
his middle finger an easier access to his pucker. His fingertip nudged
his anal eye. "Then when I started to pop my load, Miss Chi would pull
on the string, slowly dragging those beads out one ... at ... a ...
time."

Melissa could well believe it. It sounded like something that would be
just perverted enough to give John a few lurid thrills.

What in the hell had happened to the other John Melissa had married?
That John would have never been naked on that bed, playing with himself,
and giving his wife a running commentary.

"Ohhhhhh, suck my cock, Miss Chi," John moaned gutturally. His swelling
pleasure gave his voice a definitely throaty character. "Ram those pop
beads way ... way ... way ... up my ass hole."

John, not missing a beat of his right hand over his blood-engorged cock,
pulled his left hand out from between his legs, moving his middle finger
to his mouth. John ovaled his lips, sucking in his finger. Getting his
finger soaked with spit, John returned it to his ass pucker.

"Suck it, Miss Chi!" John commanded. He was no longer paying much
attention to Melissa. In fact, he shut his eyes to more clearly recall
Miss Chi's small Oriental face swinging ... swinging ... swinging on his
priming cock. "Push ... in ... those ... aaaaggghhhhhrrrr."

John had pushed his finger up his anus, twisting to give it an even
deeper penetration. He began pumping his cock harder ... faster ...
harder ... faster.

John lifted his ass higher, pushing in more of his finger; and, then he
sat down on his hand. His fingertip struck his walnut-size prostate,
torquing against the sensitive gland. A pleasant dull paining sensation
oozed from his molested prostate and spread into his lower belly.

"Oh ... baby ... oh ... baby," John moaned, his finger twisting, his
hand pumping, his hips bouncing.

Melissa could not believe this was happening. She simply could not ...
believe ... this was happening. The way John was going on about Miss Chi
and that whore's pop beads, anyone within hearing would have thought for
sure the Nam bitch was right there in the room. And what if any of the
servants were walking by outside in the hallway? What if they heard?
What would they make of John's grunts for and about some Oriental woman?
Thank God, the doors were thick. Thank God, the house was built so solid
as to be virtually soundproof.

"Faster ... faster ... faster!" John chanted. His frantic masturbatory
strokes were now causing the bedsprings to squeak in protest.

Melissa decided she had had quite enough. She opened her eyes, turning a
disgusted gaze in John's direction. Her voice caught in her throat. She
felt physically assaulted by the sight that confronted her.

Oh, God, it was lewd ... lewd ... obscenely degenerate! There her
husband sat, his legs pretzeled into some weirdly yoga-like position,
his right hand whipping on his cock which had gone beet red with its
beating. The finger of John's left hand was obviously jabbed all the way
to its knuckle up his rectum. And, John's head was dropped back. on his
neck, his eyes shut, his mouth gaping open like a baby bird waiting for
the delivery of a long overdue worm.

Melissa watched, transfixed by the spectacle. Her mouth went dry. Her
eyes burned as if the picture of her husband's muscled, violated body
was being etched with acid on her eyeballs.

"Oh ... harder ... cunt ... suck ... harder!" John commanded his phantom
lover. He was almost there. He ... was ... almost ... there.

Melissa wanted to scream. She couldn't. Something had frozen her vocal
cords. She wanted to get up and flee. She was paralyzed. She wanted to
turn away. She couldn't.

"Yessssssssss," John hissed. "Ride my cock, baby. Ride it ... hard! Ride
it ... fast!"

Melissa felt a sudden gushing of wet, warm moisture from between the
lips of her vagina. What in the hell did that mean?

"Oh, take it, bitch!" John bellowed with such exuberance that it somehow
snapped Melissa out of her stupor. "TAKE IT ... TAKE IT ... JESUS ...
FUCKING ... CHRIST ... TAKE IT!"

Melissa shuddered uncontrollably as the first giant wad of her husband's
sperm was lobbed from his pulsing cock eye. The comet-like mass arched
upward and outward, eventually landing in a gluey glob on the bed. That
first shot was followed by another ... and another ... and another ...
and another. Thereafter, a thick paste oozed from the mouth of John's
cock but didn't blast free. This latter was caught in the suction of
John's still-beating hand, and was smeared over John's cum-glossed cock
shaft.

Melissa turned her face back toward the ceiling. She shut her eyes. She
swallowed,, finding it hard to get her saliva to move through her
constricted throat.

She told herself to quit breathing so hard. She didn't want John to even
suspect she had seen him. She had to pretend as if she had slept through
it all.

Why were the insides of her thighs wet?

Melissa heard the sounds of her reviving husband on his bed. Shortly,
she heard John leave his bed and go into the bathroom. Melissa waited
for the sound of running water. She then opened her eyes, glancing to
make sure that John was indeed out of the room.

Melissa ran her right hand down over her breasts. Jesus, her nipples
were hard! She glided her fingers further, down over ' her belly. Her
palm cupped over her pussy, her fingers curving downward between her
legs.

"Ugghhhhhh!" Melissa groaned in surprise, her eyes popping wide with the
unexpected shock that shot through her.

Oh, Jesus, she thought, feeling the dampness of her nightie between her
legs, she was cumming. She was cummming. Oh ... Jesus ... Jesus ...
Jesus ... she ... was ... CUMMMMMMMMING!

In the bathroom, John finished wiping off his cock and hung the wet
washrag back on the towel rack. As he did so, he was hoping his wife
would use that particular washrag to clean off her face in the morning.


Chapter 2


Marne Davenport shut the book in her lap and looked up as if she were on
the verge of saying something. Seeing her husband seemingly engrossed in
the paperwork scattered on top of the bed, Marne apparently decided not
to say whatever it was she had been going to. Instead, she laid the book
to the table beside her chair and got up.

She crossed the room to the large window that looked out on the
manicured lawns, geometric gardens, swimming pool and cabana. It was a
beautiful house. It really was. Marne hoped Creagon and his sister would
decide to keep it. There was plenty of room for four people to live
comfortably on the premises without getting in each other's way. There
would have been plenty of room for children, too. AND, Marne did want
children. Now that Creagon was due to get half of the inheritance, money
wouldn't be quite so tight; and, they could start their family without
further waiting.

And, if the two families did decide to move in together, Marne would
have the chance to get reacquainted with her brother ...

Creagon had sensed his wife's movement, but he finished reading the
document in his hand. It was paperwork from the office; although, he
didn't know why he was bothering. He was half owner now of Davenport
Electronic International, wasn't he? He really didn't have to worry too
much about his own struggling little electronics firm, did he? Not any
more. The concern over the finances of the small business operations
which had compelled him to bring his stuffed briefcase along to the
house of his ailing father was no longer present, was it! Creagon
Davenport was now solvent. He now had no money worries. He was now his
own man. He could either fold his own firm or merge it into the bigger
Davenport Electronic company. He was sure Melissa wouldn't object to the
latter. Melissa had already told him she was going to be counting on him
to run the business. It was funny, but Melissa hadn't even mentioned
what part she expected John to play. But, then, there was plenty of time
to get into that, wasn't there? William Davenport, after all, had only
been buried a few hours.

And, wasn't it strange trying to image a world without William Davenport
off somewhere lurking in the wings? Somehow, Creagon had actually
expected the old man to go on forever. Creagon hadn't even thought of
the possibility of his father's death. He had certainly never wished it
on the old man, no matter how much of a bastard his father had been.
Perhaps, though, the only reason Creagon hadn't wished for his father's
death was because he hadn't expected it to do either him or Marne any
damned good. Creagon had believed his father's threats of complete
disinheritance. Creagon had quite accepted the idea that he would have
to struggle his whole life to get the things he wanted; and, then, his
father had said he wanted to see him.

So, what had changed his father's mind? Would anyone ever know? Maybe
the elder Davenport had simply sat down one day and taken account of the
mess he had made out of his family. God only knew; because it was
obvious William Davenport had taken the secret to his grave with him.
While he had asked to talk to both Melissa and Creagon in the end, he
had gone way too fast to get that last final wish. He had only muttered
something about being sorry to Melissa. Had he been delirious or
cognizant of what he had been saying? Was he really sorry?. If so, why
did the bastard have to wait so fucking long to realize it?

Oh, Creagon wasn't so concerned about the way his own life had turned
out. He was a man, after all. He had been able to break away, live
without William Davenport towering over him ever minute of the way. What
pissed Creagon off was what William Davenport had done to screw up
Melissa.

Creagon realized he wasn't paying attention to the paperwork any longer.
He gathered up the sheets, tapping them into a neat pile. He then turned
his attention to Marne, knowing intuitively that something was on her
mind. Creagon and Marne had been able to communicate without words since
their first meeting at Melissa and John's wedding.

"Want to talk about it?" Creagon asked the back of his pretty wife.

Marne turned from the window, flashing her husband a wide smile. She
was, indeed, a beautiful woman, made even more so by the sensuously
clinging folds of the apricot-colored neglige that molded to her
exquisite body. Her rose-tinted nipples were visible beneath the filmy
material that fell over luscious breasts and down to her ankles.

"Is it all that obvious that I'm thinking about anything needing
discussion?" Marne asked.

"Yes," Creagon answered, knowing Marne had known the answer without
hearing it.

Creagon patted the edge of the bed, indicating the spot his wife could
take if she wanted a willing ear.

"It really can wait until you finish your work," Marne said. "It's not
anything so vital that I can't wait another few minutes."

"It's the business that can wait," Creagon said. "Certainly this
business anyway. After all, I'm a millionaire, aren't I? A few thousand
dollars worth of sales no longer seems quite as important as it did only
a week ago."

Marne moved from the window, gliding toward the bed like some fashion
model in one of those TV commercials who miraculously transforms into a
sleek jungle cat right before your eyes.

Creagon watched his wife with the same awe and wonder that had always
accompanied his viewing of her. He felt the familiar responsive jerks of
his cock at his groin. Only one other woman (girl?) had ever affected
him quite that way. And that other woman (girl) had been dead now for
some fifteen years.

Marne's titian hair was thick and luxurious, tumbling down in swirling
waves of brownish-red hues. The red highlights caught in the light from
the chandelier, moving as Marne moved. The hair framed a face that was,
surprisingly enough, completely free of freckles. The skin was clear of
any blemish except for the small dark mole at Marne's upper left
cheekbone. The darkness of that mole made Marne's skin appear almost the
color of fine porcelain in contrast.

Marne sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned toward her husband, giving
him an affectionate kiss on his lips. She then pulled back and gave
Creagon another smile.

Marne was an attractive woman. And, what's more, unlike Melissa who had
been conditioned not to recognize her own beauty, Marne was fully aware
of her own good looks. And, she was proud of the way men looked at her.
She was proud of the way Creagon looked at her now.

It was strange, but of all the men Marne had come in contact with in her
life (and her beauty had drawn men like flies to molasses), Creagon
Davenport had been the only one who had gotten Marne's interest and then
held it. Passions which had usually peaked after bedding with a man one
or two times had shown no signs of being anywhere near peaking after
almost three years of marriage to Creagon Davenport.

Marne's friends had all been frankly surprised when Marne had tied the
knot with Creagon Davenport. Oh, not because Creagon wasn't one of the
best-looking studs around, because he was. And not because Creagon
wasn't able to show a girl a good time in bed; because few, if any,
women had ever complained of Creagon's performance. But Marne had been
proposed to by some very wealthy men and had refused them all. Everyone
had assumed she was just waiting for someone even richer. And, Creagon
Davenport certainly hadn't fit that bill at the time Marne had met him.
William Davenport, Creagon's father, would have been a more likely
choice for Marne; especially since, it had been no secret that William
Davenport had said publicly, on more than one occasion, that he "no
longer had a son."

Well, Marne had never been one of those people who thought money was
everything. Oh, it certainly helped grease the wheels; but, Marne had
never had any intentions of wasting away as some rich old fart's
plaything. She wanted more than an occasional fuck from a husband who
was so far gone that he couldn't get his cock up except on holidays.

So, Creagon hadn't been wealthy when she had married him. So, Creagon
had shown no prospects whatsoever of ever getting his daddy's millions.
At the time, Marne had figured her brother was going to come into a nice
piece of that financial pie by having married Melissa; so, Marne knew
there was little chance of her being left destitute in her old age, even
if she had married some derelict off the streets.

And, Creagon had been anything but a bum, He'd had a drive to succeed
that had probably been spawned by the fact that his old man had thrown
him out on his ear. Creagon had managed to support Marne quite well over
the last three years.

And, Marne had to smile whenever she thought of how all her old friends
would by now have read the papers, seeing that Creagon was now one of
William Davenport's chief heirs. Oh, there would be chatter. More than
one catty tongue would be sure to whisper that Marne had known something
about this all along. Those gossips would be greatly relieved to think
that their original suspicions of Marne had been quite true: that she
was just too attractive not to have married into great wealth. Well,
weren't they all jackasses! The money was a bonus. Money or no money,
Marne had all she wanted in a man--all she had ever hoped for in a
man--right here in this bed.

"Why is it that I still get a hard cock every time I'm in the same room
with you?" Creagon asked.

And, Marne rewarded him with a delighted laugh that brought out the
dimples in both of her cheeks. Marne wondered if Creagon could have
possibly known the tangent Marne's mind had just taken. He did have the
ability to intuitively sense her brain waves. Marne had noticed that
from the beginning of their relationship. At first, it had somehow made
her nervous. It was always a jarring sensation to realize that some of
your thoughts weren't as private as you'd imagined them to be. But,
Marne had since realized that it was a two-way street she and Creagon
were on. If Creagon was able to sometimes read Marne's moods, she could
also, on occasion, read his.

Right now, for instance, Marne knew that Creagon was still vaguely
wondering what to do with his own small company now that he was thrust
into dual-ownership of a bigger one. Creagon was a proud man--proud of
the fact that he had survived on his own two feet, had gotten where he
was in spite of William Davenport instead of because of William
Davenport. Taking what he had long worked for and subjugating it to the
colossal giant that was William Davenport's Davenport Electronic
International was going to take some good deal of thinking.

"You'll make the right decision about the company," Marne told him, as
if Creagon had been aware that she had been reading his thoughts all
along.

"Yea, I guess so," Creagon replied, hardly surprised that his wife had
known where he was at. He had ceased being surprised by Marne's
exceptional insight as far as Creagon was concerned. "But, I called you
over here to discuss your problem not mine."

"When are you going to realize that there is no such thing as a 'your
problem,' or a 'my problem,' but only our problem."

"Okay," Creagon said, giving his wife a smile that made his blue eyes
twinkle, "which of 'our' jointly-owned problems is now giving you
trouble?"

"Oh, it's not really trouble," Marne said with a sigh. She scooted up on
the bed beside her husband, shifting to a sitting position that was more
'against' him than beside him.

Creagon, in turn, leaned over his wife and dropped his business papers
on the bedside stand. Whatever decision he made about his firm, he
wasn't going to make it right now. When Marne was so close, it was hard
to think about much of anything except the swollen cock at his crotch.

"Come on, let's hear it," Creagon encouraged.

"I was just thinking about John."

"Your brother John?"

"He's changed, you know?"

"Changed? How?"

"Don't play like you don't see it," Marne said, turning her face to her
husband, giving him a perturbed little smirk. "I realize you haven't
seen all that much of John between his marriage and now; but, I think
he's changed enough so that even a casual acquaintance could see it, let
alone a member of the family."

"So, he's changed," Creagon said, moving his fingers through his wife's
red-brown hair, secretly marveling at the way the silky strands
sensuously poured through his fingers. "Everybody changes, thank God! It
prevents boredom. And, besides, as far as I'm concerned, your brother's
change has been one hundred percent for the better. He's the proof of
the pudding that the Army can still 'Make a man.' If I remember
correctly--and don't get me wrong for a moment, since I always did like
your brother--he was just a bit of a milksop when my dear sister married
him."

"Yea, he was, wasn't he?" Marne said, certainly ready to agree. Marne
had always been a bit worried about her brother in those early days. She
had been so worried once that she had even tried to seduce him herself.
And, hadn't poor John been horrified by that encounter? Marne smiled,
wondering if John even remembered, or if he had filed that memory away
in some convenient little cubbyhole of his subconscious.

"And, you agree he is certainly more of a man now than he used to be?"
Creagon asked, already suspecting what his wife was getting at.

"I would agree, you would agree," Marne said. "I think even John would
agree. Now if one, or all three of us, could only somehow convince
Melissa, we'll have everything all tied up and secured with a neat
little bow."

"John's said something to you about his marriage?"

"Only that they're having their problems. He hasn't gone into any
specific detail, and I've been a bit loathe to pry. After all, is it
really any of my business?"

"I suspect your brother has simply become a bit too much of a man to
suit my sister," Creagon said, seeing first the look of confusion that
came over Marne's face, second seeing a thin grin of amusement forming
as Marne came to suspect that her husband was trying to pull her leg.

"Come on, Creagon, be serious."

"Oh, I am being serious," Creagon replied.

"Too much of a man?" Marne asked, stopping the playful movements of her
hand around Creagon's hardening left nipple. "How in the hell can any
man be too much of a man for any woman?"

"Your brother hasn't been the only one to change," Creagon said. "My
sister has done her share of changing, too, over the years. And her
change has been anything but for the better, I assure you."

"Changed?" Marne asked curiously. Marne hadn't seen Melissa all that
much over the years; but, Marne could certainly see no change having
occurred.

"Oh, she hasn't changed since you've known her," Creagon said,
automatically sensing the direction Marne's mind had taken. "It happened
a good many years before you or your brother came into the lives of we
Davenports."

Marne waited patiently for her husband to go on. After a good minute,
though, she wasn't sure he was going to. Creagon's eyes had that faraway
look, as if he had left Marne in mind if not in body.

"You'd probably never believe that my sister was once as different from
what she is now as night is from day, would you?" Creagon asked finally,
his voice seeming to come from far, far away.

"How different?" Marne asked during another long pause that seemed to
give indication that there was going to be no further interruptions from
her husband.

"Oh ... just different," Creagon said, noncommittally, seemingly coming
back from wherever it had been that had momentarily claimed him.

But, Marne wasn't willing to leave it at that.

"You'd rather not talk about it, right?" Marne asked, figuring that was
the best way to get things out if Creagon had any inclination whatsoever
to carry the conversation further.

"Yea, maybe I'd better not talk about it," Creagon replied, a little
sadly.

And Marne wasn't going to press the point further. She had learned long
ago that you didn't get anything out of a man--especially out of
Creagon--by prying it out. When Creagon was ready to let it come, it
would flow out easily enough.

"I guess it's a bit painful, because I've always kind of blamed myself
for what happened to my sister. Oh, not what happened," Creagon added
quickly to correct a possibly misplaced emphasis, "but for what happened
afterwards."

Marne waited. She hadn't really made heads or tails out of any of this
yet; and, for one of the few times, she didn't really have any inkling.

There was another lengthy pause.

"When you and John were kids, did you ever ... like ... well ... fool
around with each other?"

Marne remembered that it had only been but a few minutes earlier that
she had been remembering her rather inept attempt to seduce John.

"Funny you should mention that," Marne said with an accompanying laugh,
"because, while at the window awhile ago, I was thinking of the time I
tried to save John from a fate I thought was worse than death. My plan,
of course, was to get him into bed with me."

"Really?" Creagon asked, his attention obviously caught.

Marne could tell that Creagon was anxious for her to go on, and, there
really wasn't all that much more to tell.

"Well, you know how he was when you met him," Marne said. "I thought
maybe he'd turn queer if he didn't get a little pussy. You know, he was
damned good looking even then, in a funny, uncoordinated sort of way.
And, I figured he needed a little taste of cunt before the boys got to
him. And, since I had been told by more than one kid on the block that I
had the best pussy in miles..."

Creagon couldn't help laughing. He'd known Marne was no virgin when he'd
married her. He hadn't cared any more than she had cared that he had
fucked a few hundred women before he had gotten around to plowing his
blood-engorged cock up her hair-fringed pussy.

"And?" Creagon asked, wondering just what the outcome of this amusing
little anecdote was going to be.

"And, my brother was duly horrified, to say the very least," Marne said,
giving an accompanying giggle. It all sounded so ludicrous. "But I was
determined. I mean, in those days, the worst thing that could happen to
a girl was having it get around that her brother was a fairy."

"And John fucked you?"

"Actually he persuaded me he had already started fucking Emily Peterson.
I don't think I would have believed him, even then; but, he seemed to
have a pretty thorough knowledge of just where Emily's birthmark was and
what it looked like."

"And that was as close as the two of you ever came?"

"That's it. We really weren't all that close, you know? I was always out
having one hell of a good time; he was always off somewhere with a
book."

"Melissa and I were very close--once," he said.

And Marne didn't know why she found that revelation so surprising. Most
likely she did because she couldn't imagine anyone being close and not
seeing each other but two or three times during a fifteen-year
span--especially in a modern age of planes. And if they hadn't visited
with each other in person, there had always been the telephone. Marne
couldn't think of a time that she had heard Creagon and Melissa on the
phone, talking together.

"Melissa used to be so gay and full of life," Creagon said, his voice
again holding tinges of sadness. "My father sapped all of that out of
her, leaving her a beautiful faade with nothing much inside."

Little clicks began going off inside of Marne's mind as she felt pieces
of the jigsaw suddenly beginning to fall into place.

"You and Melissa?" Marne asked, wondering if it were possible. Frankly,
Marne sometimes found it impossible to picture Melissa in John's bed.
Now naked and with Creagon?

"Did you never wonder why I left home, why my father disowned me?"
Creagon asked, knowing full well that his wife had indeed wondered but
had kept from asking only out of respect for her husband's personal
privacy. But, had Marne never really suspected the reason--the real
reason for the break? Or, had Creagon gone around with his guilt for so
many years that he thought it stood out on him like a blinking neon
sign?

"I knew you'd probably eventually tell me," Marne said. "But never once
did I even think to guess that it was because of anything you and your
sister might have done."

"We began by playing around harmlessly like kids will," Creagon said,
warming up to the subject now that he'd started. "This house is a mighty
big place, as you can well see. Melissa and I had tutors but few kids
our own age to play with. Mother was dead. Father was always away on
business. We two children had to make up our own ways to amuse
ourselves."

Creagon paused, carefully looking at his wife, trying to read how she
was taking this. He thought he knew her well enough by now to suspect
Marne wasn't about to come on with any ridiculous condemnations of
incest. Marne was very much like Creagon, very easily able to cast aside
any and all taboos that might stand between her and a good time. Wasn't
she? Hell, yes! Hadn't Marne already admitted that the only thing that
had kept her from fucking with her brother had been the fact that he was
too painfully shy, and she was too busy fucking up a storm elsewhere to
really press the matter?

"Do you find any of this particularly shocking?" Creagon asked. In spite
of his thinking he knew the answer, he wanted his wife's verbal
assurance. Because, Creagon had long since convinced himself that what
he and Melissa had done had really not been all that shocking ... sinful
... or degenerate at all.

"The only thing I find shocking is that I somehow never suspected
Melissa of such sexual daring."

"But you did expect it of me?"

"Come now, Creagon," Marne said, tapping her finger playfully against
her husband's chin. "You know what I mean. You remind me of me--and you
always have. Melissa has always reminded me of John--or, rather of how
John used to be. I can see you doing most anything, just as I could see
me doing the same. But Melissa? I've always found her a bit on the
sedate side, for as long as I've known her."

"Father never let her forget what we'd done," Creagon said.

"He found out, then?"

"Oh, yes. Quite an awakening he had, too," Creagon said with a laugh
that held very little humor. "He came back unexpectedly from a business
trip one night, came up to give us a good-night kiss (if you can believe
that), and found me with my cock pinning Melissa's cunt to her bed."

"Jesus, he must have crapped!" Marne said, well imagining how the
super-staid William Davenport must have reacted.

"That, I would say, is the understatement of this year and next."

"So you ran away."

"And Melissa was packed off to a series of convent schools that were
designed to sap the juices right of her and riddle her with guilt."

"No wonder your old man was so busy telling Melissa he was sorry," Marne
said, finding it more than a little ridiculous that William Davenport
had waited until he was on his deathbed to attempt mending the schism.

Granted, any man, especially one brought up within the puritanical
ethics of William Davenport's generation, was apt to look on what had
happened as a little more than harmless child's play; but, still, the
man had obviously stretched his righteous indignation to the limits.

"So, he repents at last, and dies somehow thinking all the harm he's
caused has somehow been miraculously erased," Creagon said, giving
another of his sardonic laughs. "He was a bastard--a stupid bastard at
that--up until the very end of his life."

"And, no wonder Melissa is so upset about John's transformation," Marne
said, suddenly getting the whole point Creagon had been trying to make
by his little confession. "She probably doesn't enjoy sex much at all
after years of doing penance for a couple harmless fucks with you, does
she?"

"And if it weren't so tragic, it would almost be funny, wouldn't it? My
poor sister married to a Dr. Jekyll who turns out to be Mr. Hyde."

"Somehow, I think that simile leaves a lot to be desired," Marne said,
smiling.

"Anyway, enough of my sister and her marital problems with your brother,
huh? It's always a bit depressing to find that there are people out
there in the big wide world who don't manage quite as beautifully as you
and I."

"Is that a roundabout way of telling me you've still got that hard cock
you once mentioned?" Marne asked, batting her thick eyelashes
coquettishly.

"Would this be a little less subtle way of telling you the same thing?"
Creagon asked, taking his wife's hand and moving it down to cover the
bulge Creagon's blood-engorged cock was making in the bedclothes.


Chapter 3


Marne worked the blankets and the cock-gone-stiff beneath them. She
continued to massage, neither she nor Creagon speaking, each knowing
that Marne would soon tire of having even the material separating her
from her husband's naked cock flesh.

It was Creagon who first began to peel back the covers concealing his
lower body. Marne, though, quickly obliged by momentarily freeing her
handhold on her husband's covered cock and scooting off the bed long
enough for Creagon to achieve his unveiling.

Marne hesitated before returning to her position next to her husband,
even though, as always, Creagon's naked physique exerted an almost
physical pull on her--much like a sun must have exerted its pull over
the planets that circled it.

However, Marne got a kind of masochistic pleasure out of delaying. Not
only that, but she always enjoyed just drinking Creagon's exquisite form
up with her eyes.

To Marne, her husband never looked more like a bronze Greek statue than
he did when he was completely without his clothes. Except, of course, no
Greek statue Marne had ever seen had come complete with a cock quite the
size of the one sprouted from Creagon's lower belly. Not that Marne had
married Creagon for his large penis and stallion-like balls. God, no! It
wasn't how big a cock was, after all, was it? Marne was confident
Creagon would have been just as expert in fucking if he'd had half the
cock he did have.

"You trying to give me a good case of blue balls?" Creagon asked,
smiling to show his even white teeth.

"Why, are your balls going blue?" Marne asked and smiled back. "They
look big and they look bulky; but, funny, they don't look blue to me."

"Stand there for a few minutes more, teasing me, and see what happens,"
Creagon told her.

"I just might do that," Marne said, her smile going wider.

"Then," Creagon said, moving quickly off the bed and coming to a
standing position in front of his wife, "if the mountain won't come to
Muhammad, then vice versa."

The two came into each other's arms by mutual consent. Marne's hands
slipped around her husband's waist and down along Creagon's muscled back
to a resting on the man's solid ass buns. Creagon's hands slid down
along the slippery softness offered by the apricot-colored fabric
clinging to his wife's voluptuous figure.

Marne's mouth found Creagon's mouth, her lips coming open with the
pressure. Marne felt the gently exploring probes of Creagon's tongue,
first against the inside of her lips, then on her gums and teeth. Marne
had always liked the way Creagon kissed--one of several things she had
liked about him from the beginning. He didn't come on like the mouth
that swallowed Chicago. There were no sudden yawning lips threatening to
suck up her head to her neck. On the other hand, there wasn't any
timidity to his kissing either. Creagon achieved a nice balance between
aggressiveness and passivity. His mouth remained firm. The exchange of
saliva (Creagon's mouth always managed to taste of the peppermint
lozenges he sucked), was always a subtle thing, never an obvious
flooding that threatened to drown every sinus cavity.

The two bodies merged closer, separated only by the sheerness of Marne's
nglige. But the material didn't hide the fact that Marne's nipples
were rock hard, pressing outward. Creagon's nipples were hard, too:
dime-size brown buttons on the tanned muscled contours of his chest.

Creagon ground his hard belly into his wife's softer one. The upjutting
stomach of Creagon's cock was pressed lengthwise along the concealed
slice of his wife's pussy mouth.

"You know," Creagon said, after the kiss was finally broken and he had
turned his face so that his mouth brushed his wife's right ear, "if we
don't get you out of that sexy thing you're wearing pretty soon, it's
going to end up getting cock tracks all over it."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm," Marne voiced sultrily. Whether it was a sounding of
agreement with Creagon's reasoning, or just a general all-around voicing
of how Marne was feeling at that minute, Marne stepped free. of her
husband's relaxed grasp.

As Creagon watched, his huge cock giving spasmodic little jerks and
oozings of pre-seminal liquid, Marne unfastened the laces that held her
nglige together across its bodice. The loosened strands revealed more
and more of Marne's deep cleavage, more and more of Marne's creamy-white
breasts.

Finally, with an experienced and sexy shrugging, Marne let the nglige
slip off her shoulders, drop down around her body to form an
apricot-colored pool around her ankles.

"Jesus, am I really lucky enough to have married what I'm now seeing?"
Creagon asked, resisting his immediate impulse to feel his naked flesh
against Marne's naked flesh. Creagon momentarily contented himself in
just admiring what had been revealed before him.

Marne's flesh was white, not the pale white of many light-complexioned
people, but rather a pale, creamy whiteness that seemed to glow from the
inside out.

Marne's breasts flowed out from the top of her torso, large melons of
flesh that were solid and heavy but unsagging. Each breast was tipped by
a large, blood-glutted nipple that looked like a rocket ready to be
fired from its circular launch-pad. The breasts cleavage was deep,
opening up on a flat stomach that was smooth and hairless all the way
down to and beyond Marne's indented navel.

Titian curls covered Marne's sex mound, bushing thickly so that Marne's
pussy mouth was almost hidden in the tangled growth.

Long, seemingly never-ending legs dropped away, creamy thighs
parenthesizing the fire-hued pussy triangle.

"You one of those kinky guys who get off just by looking?" Marne asked,
taking a deep indraw of breath that made her breasts balloon even
larger, almost bringing her swollen nipples into contact with Creagon's
muscled chest.

"If anybody can get off just by looking, he'd certainly be able to do it
if he were ever lucky enough to get a good look at you."

"Did anyone ever tell you that compliments like that will get you
anything?" Marne asked, taking a step forward so that her breasts were
suddenly mated with Creagon's pectorals and slightly mushroomed in the
process.

"I'm counting on that," Creagon said, taking his wife in his arms again.
His chest mashed tighter against Marne's breasts, his belly united with
Marne's belly, his cock stomach couched within the crease of Marne's
cunt mouth much like a hotdog in its bun, his blond pubic hair entwining
with Marne's red strands.

They kissed briefly and then seemed to flow onto the bed, somehow
managing not to break contact with each other. The end result of their
maneuvering had Creagon on his back, Marne laid out on top of him in the
dominant position.

Another thing Marne had always liked about Creagon--from that first time
she had gone to bed with him when marriage was the furthest thing from
both of their minds--was the fact that Creagon was so confident of his
masculinity that he had no qualms whatsoever in letting Marne sometimes
do all the work.

How many men had Marne let screw her who would have never thought of
lying back and letting Marne play the dominant role? Too, too many, that
was for sure. Too many men, stuck with some phony misconception that a
man was somehow less a man by playing a more passive role than usual,
wanted to be on top or nowhere at all.

"You going to play it butch this evening?" Creagon asked, giving his
wife's left ear a playful lick. "Or, are you going to scoot on down and
take my hard cock in your lovely mouth?"

"Do you have a preference, sir?" Marne asked, moving herself slightly
back and forth along the length of her husband's body. Her sandwiching
cunt lips slipped along Creagon's cock belly, leaking lubricating
wetness to the large penis.

"I figure I'm feeling horny enough to have it both ways, plus a few
variations thereof, before the night is over. Think you're up to putting
up with a husband gone satyr for an evening?"

"I should be used to it by now, since my husband seems to turn satyr
most every evening," Marne laughed. She gave Creagon a quick kiss, and
then, using her arms to push herself, she came to a sitting position,
her knees placed to either side of her husband's hips. Her pussy stayed
pressed over Creagon's hard cock, her buttocks squatting on Creagon's
upper thighs.

"I see you've decided to play merry-go-round horse on my cock, huh?"
Creagon asked, his voice already gone throaty in anticipation.

"Whinnnnnnnnnnnnnny," Marne neighed like a mare in heat. She shook her
head, letting her fiery mane fly sensuously out around her face.

Marne lifted her ass, her cunt vacating its cupping of Creagon's cock
length. Creagon's cock belly was slick with the moisture which had been
leaked from Marne's juicy pussy fissure.

Creagon stuck out his tongue and wiggled it back and forth, giving an
open invitation for Marne to scuttle on up and get her cunt washed by
Creagon's experienced lickings. But, as tempted as Marne was, she knew
there would be plenty of time to get that tongue later. Right now, Marne
had an urge to get her husband's cock buried deep ... deep ... deep
inside of her.

Marne dropped her right hand down and back behind her. She trailed her
fingers up along Creagon's left leg to his thigh, along his thigh to his
penis. She hooked her fingers down beneath Creagon's cock back, her
thumb curving over his cock belly.

Marne pulled to lift Creagon's cock to a position that was perpendicular
to Creagon's muscled belly. Creagon's blood-engorged cock was so stiff
it didn't seem to want to budge. If Marne hadn't been so familiar by now
with the various stages of stiffness her husband's cock was capable. of
achieving, she might have feared snapping his erection right off at its
roots. But, Marne knew that as big and as stiff as her husband's
meatiness was, there was no way it would break off.

So, Marne held the cock straight up. She slowly dropped her pussy down
toward it. She didn't come down hard and fast like a pile driver. Oh,
no! She did it slowly, like she and Creagon both liked it. She dropped
down until it felt as if it would be forever before her cunt mouth made
contact with his cock head.

However, when contact was almost made, when Creagon's pulpy cock head
first felt the tickling scratch of the fire-hued hair curled in the vee
of Marne's crotch, it was almost as good as if Creagon's cock had just
been socked up Marne's cunt to his cock roots. And, when the rubbery
cock head actually made contact with Marne's juiced cunt lips, the
resulting shock of electricity that darted quickly down into Creagon's
body and up into Marne's squatted form, made them both groan out
simultaneously.

"Like that?" Marne asked as soon as she had sufficiently recovered from
the initial flushing of pleasure. "Like the feel of your fat cock head
being rubbed along the mouth of my hair-fringed cunt?"

"You know I do, baby," Creagon answered, his voice low and breathless,
feeling as wife moved his cock head back and forth ... back and forth
... back and forth along her smoothly damp cunt opening.

"You want me to sit down over this fat cock of yours, horny husband of
mine? You want your pretty wife's cunt to gobble up all of your cock,
right on down to your fat cum-bulged balls, like some toothless whore
giving you head?"

"Oh, Christ, Marne, stick it in! Stick it in! Stick it in!"

Creagon knew, given the chance, Marne would continue to tease him until
Creagon was half crazy. The fact that Creagon was well aware that any
delay would only make the pleasure of insertion all the more intense
when it came, didn't make him any the less anxious to have at Marne's
cunt right then and there. Creagon wanted the feel of his wife's
juice-sopped vagina wrapped snugly around his penis as tightly as any
rubber glove ever wrapped a hand and fingers. The only way to speed
things up was to get his wife as anxious for the plugging as he was.

Creagon reached up, taking hold of Marne's luscious breasts, one hand
clamping to each. Against his palms, Creagon felt the tack-like hardness
of Marne's nipples. He pushed his palms against the swollen erections,
pressing them down until their tips were flush with their surrounding
aureoles. He knew the resulting sensations always drove his wife wild.

"Bastard!" Marne groaned, giving another shake of her head that tousled
her wild red hair even further. Still not succumbing, she continued to
run her husband's prick head along just the mouth of her cunt, Creagon's
pre-seminal leakings adding a sticky addition to the female juices that
were already frosting the rim of the cuntal fissure.

Creagon peaked his hands over his wife's breasts, his pursed fingertips
pinching Marne's nipples which had again popped to their full heights.
He twisted, knowing the pain/pleasure was partly the cause for the flush
that was slowly changing his wife's creamy complexion from white to
delicious pink.

Marne, though, had a little surprise for her husband. On one of the
backward slides of Creagon's cock crown along her cunt mouth, Marne let
the cock head keep right on going, right on into the crease of her ass,
right to a position on Marne's ass pucker.

Marne sat down over the head of Creagon's cock, giving her buttocks a
twisting movement as she did so. Her sphincter ring rolled open around
the juice-slicked penile tip and then dropped further, her rubbery ass
mouth gumming as it went.

"Oh, Jessssssssssssssus!" Creagon grunted in surprise. He momentarily
left off his tweaking of his wife's hard nipples, able to concentrate on
nothing more except the sudden exquisite pleasure that was taking hold
of his lower body.

What had she done to him? What WAS she doing to him? Her ass? ? Had she
stuck his dick to her anus ? Was she now sitting down ... down ... down
over his cock?

"Oh ... baby ... baby ... baby ... oh, baby!"

"Like that, don't you, stud?" Marne asked, not needing an answer, not
even the affirmative groaning Creagon obliged by giving her. Marne
already knew how much Creagon liked his cock up her rectum. Sticking her
ass could really turn her husband on; putting his cock inside there by
surprise, when Creagon hadn't been expecting it, was really doing good
things for him.

Marne torqued her anus further down over the length of Creagon's cock.
Unlubricated segments of Creagon's cock neck were now being forced into
Marne's bowel. But, the entering cock corona had leaked sufficient
juices along the anal walls so that even the dry cock shaft that came
behind could enter without causing Marne any undue pain.

Indeed, at the moment, Marne was feeling anything but pain. Because,
Marne had always been able to enjoy a good screw of her rectum. And,
there was no cock that felt quite as good as Creagon's cock could feel
stuck to its heavy balls up Marne's clutching anus. Marne certainly
wasn't feeding Creagon's cock up her ass hole entirely for Creagon's
pleasure. All right, that was part of it, since Creagon's obvious
pleasure acted as a stimulant to make Marne's own swelling ecstasy
balloon further. But, Marne was having a good time, too.

"Ugggggggghhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" Creagon groaned helplessly, his hands
reflexively kneading his wife's ripe breasts like a baker might knead
fresh dough.

Marne, already two-thirds of the way down the length of her husband's
uplifted prick, knew she was almost home free. Concentrating as much as
possible on the task at hand, she jiggled her ass seductively and sat
harder. Like a girl slipping down the length of a greased pole, Marne's
rectum dropped over the last of Creagon's blood-bloated penis.

Marne's ass came to a nesting atop Creagon's blond pubic hair. The hair
pressed squiggly indents in Marne's creamy ass cheeks.

Marne was so caught up in her satisfaction in having achieved a complete
insertion of Creagon's cock up her ass hole, that the explosion inside
her guts took her quite by surprise.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" Marne sighed loudly, her eyes gone wide, her mouth
dropping open with surprise.

Creagon knew his wife was orgasming, climaxing totally from the feel of
his stiff meatiness rammed inside of her ass hole. And, that knowledge
turned Creagon on--that really turned him on. As if he wasn't turned on
to a fever pitch already

"I'm cummmmmming!" Marne groaned, telling Creagon something the man
already very well knew.

"Tell me about it, honey," Creagon said, gritting his teeth as his
wife's spasming anus wrung his cock neck, gripped his blood-bloated
meatiness in a sensuously vibrating vice. "Fucking ... tell me ... tell
me ... fucking, Christ ... tell me ... about ... oh, shit, oh ... tell
me ... oh, Jesus, I'm going to ... oh, baby, I'm going to ...
AAAAGGGGHHHHRREEEEIIII!"


Chapter 4


"Oh, Creagon, you startled me!" Melissa said, recognizing her brother
standing just to one side of the moss-covered tree trunk.

"Sorry," Creagon said, flashing his sister an attractive and apologetic
smile. "You looked so lost in thought I was just beginning to wonder if
I shouldn't just slip away and not disturb you."

"No, that's all right," Melissa said, wondering if it were really all
right at all. She had somehow successfully managed to keep away from any
one-to-one confrontations with her brother up until now. And, she felt
inexplicably nervous about being here alone with him. Not that she had
anything to fear.

"I was glancing out the window this beautiful morning, and I happened to
see you heading into the edge of the wood. I somehow suspected you'd be
coming to this very spot."

So, he remembered how she used to come here when she wanted to be alone,
did he? How many other things did he remember? Melissa felt herself
helplessly blushing.

"It hasn't really changed all that much here, has it?" Melissa asked,
giving a sweeping motion of one hand to encompass the small area
surrounded by trees on three sides and a dribbling waterfall on the
other. "Oh, the trees have gotten a little bigger, the bushes have
sprouted a little thicker, but nothing is too far removed from how I
remember it."

Melissa sat down on the same dead log she had recently jumped up from
when she had realized there was someone in the shadows. Now that she
realized it was her brother, her original fear hadn't completely
dissipated. And, why exactly was that?

Creagon kept to the tree trunk but walked around it so that he could
capture a bit of the slashing of sunlight that penetrated through the
thick canopy of interlocking tree limbs above them. He leaned back
against the trunk, folding his arms across his chest and eyeing his
sister with a look Melissa wasn't quite able to decipher.

Melissa quit looking at her brother--not sure just why she preferred the
trickling water over the rocks to the superbly handsome form her brother
cut, his blond hair made almost white by the ray of sunlight that struck
it. Creagon's highlighted hair gave his head a kind of nimbus effect
that made Melissa think of those holy pictures that portrayed some angel
or religious personage.

But, wasn't that a deceptive trick of lighting! Because, Creagon was no
more an angel or holy personage than Melissa was the Virgin Mary.

"I thought we might talk," Creagon said finally, deciding his sister had
been made prettier over the years. She had filled out, taking on a
woman's voluptuousness without losing a certain little-girl quality. "It
has been a long time since we both talked alone, hasn't it?"

"Fifteen years," Melissa said, wishing she hadn't said it. She didn't
want Creagon to think she had been counting the days.

Why was she so nervous? Why was she feeling all hot and sticky when the
shading made by the forest trees was actually quite chilly?

"He was a bastard, you know that, don't you?" Creagon said, having no
doubt whatsoever but that Melissa would know just who "he" was. "His
attempt at deathbed repentance didn't make him any less a bastard,
either."

"He was our father!" Melissa said defensively, wondering why she was
defending William Davenport now when Creagon's words only echoed what
Melissa had been thinking all along. "He's dead; and, he's left us
everything."

"Everything isn't enough--at least as far as I'm concerned," Creagon
said. "He waited a little too long to clean up his house as properly as
it should have been cleaned."

"Oh, well, he's dead and gone, now, isn't he?" Melissa sighed, wishing
she weren't here, now, alone, with her brother.

"But will the harm he caused ever be dead and gone?" Creagon asked her.

"Harm?" Melissa asked as if she really didn't comprehend the
insinuation. She still didn't look at her brother; although, she knew he
hadn't taken his eyes off her. Melissa could feel Creagon's blue eyes
driving into her like warm knives into soft butter.

"You know if there had been any way of taking you with me, I would have
done it, don't you?" Creagon asked, moving slowly away from the tree,
approaching Melissa slowly, like someone might approach a frightened
animal.

"Why must we bring this all up now?" Melissa asked, hearing her voice
come out strangely hoarse.

"Because Satan has gone, and it's best to try and exorcise as many of
the demons he's left behind."

"It will do more harm than good to bring out the can of worms," Melissa
said. Why did she want to get up and run ... run ... run until she was
safely locked in her room at the house? "Some things are better left
unsaid. Some things are better left buried."

"You actually believe that?"

"Yes," she said, looking at him only for a split second before turning
away. God, but he was handsome! And, how could anything as attractive
and as angelic be evil personified?

There was a pregnant pause, disturbed only by the creak of rotting wood
as Craig sat down on the dead log beside his sister.

"Marne told me last night that you and John were having marital
problems."

"Yes, problems," Melissa muttered, hardly surprised that the secret
wasn't a secret. Melissa doubted if Creagon had really needed Marne to
tell him anything.

"John loves you, you know that, of course?"

"Yes, I know that," Melissa said. But, did Creagon have any idea just
how disgustingly perverted that love had become? Yes, maybe he did!
Maybe Creagon didn't even consider it perverted love, as Melissa somehow
suspected Creagon had never really come to admit that other abomination
was perverted either.

"But, you no longer love him?" Creagon asked wondering why his sister
wouldn't look at him. Was she afraid?

"I'm going to divorce him," Melissa said, "as soon as the estate goes
through probate. I'll, of course, see that he's given a substantial
monetary settlement. He should have no trouble finding himself someone
more suitable. He, after all, is quite attractive; and, money will make
him totally irresistible."

"There is no hope for a reconciliation, then?"

"He's not the man I married, Creagon," Melissa said breaking a piece of
rotten bark off the log.

"What you mean is, he's more a man than what you married, don't you?"

Melissa looked up quickly, locking her blue eyes momentarily with the
gaze directed at her from Creagon's blue eyes. Did Creagon know, then?
DID HE KNOW? But, then, know what? What could Creagon possibly know?
John and she had simply drifted apart, gone separate ways. It happened
sometimes in the best of marriages.

Melissa broke the eye-to-eye contact first, glancing back toward the
water.

"I shall hate our father until my dying breath for what he's done to
you, Melissa," Creagon said.

"Just what exactly has he done to me?" Melissa asked, not knowing
whether or not she really wanted to hear Creagon's answer.

"He's turned a loving little girl into a frigid woman who prefers
eunuchs to real honest-to-God men."

"That is a spiteful thing for you to say!" Melissa said, her voice
cracking as it issued loudly from her throat. She stood up, facing her
brother, genuine anger darting out of her eyes to pinion him to the log
he'd remained sitting on.

"It's true, though, isn't it?" Creagon asked, not to be deterred by his
sister's theatrics. "John went off to war and came back too much of a
man for you to handle, didn't he?"

"I should have known you'd find a way to defend him," Melissa said,
disappointed that her brother wasn't siding with her like he once most
assuredly would have done.

"There was a time I very well remember when you exulted with a real
man's cock buried to its cum-filled balls up your cunt. So, what
happened, Melissa? What for Christ's sake happened?"

The vulgarity! A real man's cock? And, Melissa very well knew to whose
cock Creagon was referring, didn't she? The perverted, egotistical
sonofabitch! She had been a fool to shoulder the guilt all of these
years when it was obvious Creagon was more to blame than she had been.

"I think this conversation has gone far enough," Melissa said, turning
to head back to the house. She let out a startled scream when she felt
Creagon's restraining hand clamp hard into her right arm and spin her
back to face him.

"Don't be a fool, Melissa," Creagon said.

God, he was handsome. God, he was handsome. God, he was handsome.

"My private life is my own personal affair," Melissa told him, wincing
with the pain where his fingers had squeezed her arm. She wondered
vaguely if she would have a bruise.

"Listen, Melissa, the old man is dead now. He's gone and buried. You've
no longer got him standing over your shoulder, ready to shake his head
in disgust and send you off to convent school because of every little
harmless thing you decide to do."

Ah ha! Harmless? So, he actually did look on what they had done as
harmless! Melissa had known that he would. But, she didn't think of it
as harmless, did she? And if she once had, then that time was long gone
and forgotten. Because, they had both sinned. Oh, yes, they had both
sinned. Against man. Against God. And, here Creagon came again, after
fifteen long years, like the Devil to give temptation, to tell Melissa
it was all right, that it had all been innocent after all. But, it was
too late to fool her now. Because, she knew better. Creagon was wrong;
because, how could Melissa have been punished for so long for having
done something that was innocent and harmless?

"Husbands and wives grow apart; and so, obviously, do brothers and
sister," Melissa said, mustering up all of her effort to retain control
of her mounting fear.

AND, WHAT EXACTLY WAS SHE AFRAID OF?

"Don't let him control your life even from the grave," Creagon pleaded
with her.

Did he really think they had been innocent in that bed, doing what they
had been doing? If he did, Melissa could envy him his ignorance.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Melissa said. "I'm not a child
that I don't control my own life. Nor have I been a child for a good
many years. Actually, father liked John. He didn't even know that I was
planning to ..."

Creagon grabbed her, pulled her surprised body hard against his. His
chest mashed against her breasts, his belly against her stomach, his
crotch in between her legs.

AND HIS COCK WAS HARD! THE PERVERTED BASTARD'S COCK WAS HARD!

"Let me go!" Melissa screamed. Her surprise over, she was now overcome
by the unadulterated horror of what was happening.

"Our father was a bastard!" Creagon said, his face so close to Melissa's
that the young woman could smell the peppermint on his breath. "Even he
saw that in the end, didn't he?"

"Let me go, Creagon!" Melissa said, struggling. "Damn it, let me go!"

But, he didn't let her go. He had somehow managed to bring her arms
around and up into her back in a double hammerlock. His arms held her
body squeezed in an immovable vise. Melissa felt the hard muscle of him
down along the whole length of her body.

Why wasn't she able to break free? Surely, no man could have held her
quite so securely if Melissa HAD WANTED to be free.

And, why was she finding it difficult to breathe? Because he had her
crushed so tightly against him? And, why was her heart beating so fast?
From fear alone? And, why were her legs gone weak, almost like jelly? If
Creagon released her right then and there, could she have even stood on
her own efforts?

"Don't fight the real you, Melissa," Creagon said. "Don't keep her pent
up inside of you, just because she has been forced undercover all of
these years. Let her come out now before it's too late. You can't tell
me that she doesn't want to come out, because I know differently. I can
feel her inside of you as surely as I feel your flesh responding now
against my own."

Sick! Jesus, he was sick! What in the hell was he talking about? What
real self? What responding flesh?

And, he kissed her. He pressed his lips against hers, forcing them open.
He literally sucked her breath away.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Melissa moaned, her senses so confused that she didn't
know what was happening. Or, did she indeed know? Was she only
rationalizing her having let this obscenity happen?

His tongue was on her gums, her teeth, her tongue. His spit was tainting
her saliva with a faintly minty sweetness.

It all conjured memories, sucked them back from the corners of her mind
where they had been conveniently filed away. Hints of how it had once
been--and had never been again--began to play throughout Melissa's body.

Creagon's hands released Melissa's wrists, gliding down to take cupping
holds of Melissa's ass cheeks. Creagon used his holds to nudge Melissa's
pelvis even closer into his lower body. Creagon's hard cock rubbed its
concealed belly against the mound of Melissa's sex.

THAT HARDNESS WAS HIS COCK! THAT HARDNESS WAS HER OWN BROTHER'S COCK!
JESUS ... HOLY ... JESUS ... MARY ... MOTHER ... OF ... GOD HELP ME ...
HELP ME ... HELP ...

"Baaaaaaaaaastard!" Melissa screamed, wrenching her lips away from those
of her brother. She brought her flattened palms to his chest and pushed
with a reserve of strength she couldn't possibly have known she
possessed.

She came free, sprung from the trap like a frightened bird from its
cage.

She turned and ran, into the forest, into the trees, toward the house
and its safety.

Creagon didn't follow. He stood right where he was, watching as his
sister disappeared into the woods.

And, Creagon was smiling. Because, he had felt the response of that
long-ago sister lurking there within Melissa's frigid faade. He had
felt the way that other Melissa had momentarily surrendered to his
embrace, momentarily responded to his kissing.

By God, there was yet hope for his sister!


Chapter 5


John Mason stopped, wiped the sweat caused by the afternoon sunshine
from his forehead, and listened. Yep, he heard it. Unless his ears were
deceiving him, there was a stream just up the path a bit. Last night at
dinner, John had been listening while Creagon's reminiscing had included
a reference to a swimming hole not far into the woods behind the house.

John began walking, anxious to get to the water. It has been a hot day,
having gotten really stuffy about three o'clock.

John was enjoying his little stroll, positive that his constitutional
was going to leave him in a far better mood than Melissa's little walk
had done for her that morning. John was really a little curious as to
what had happened to upset his wife as much as it obviously had that
morning. Whatever, Melissa didn't seem at all inclined to talk it over
with her husband.

Melissa had come into the room, slamming the door behind her. She had
then hurriedly locked it. Yes, damn it, locked it, as if she had been
pursued by all the furies turned loose from hell. She had leaned her
back against the closed door and had looked wide-eyed into the room,
obviously not having realized John had been lying on the bed.

"Run into a bear in the woods?" John had asked, not knowing if he should
really be concerned or not. As of late, his wife had become a bit
erratic in her behavior, to say the least.

Melissa had turned her attention on him, and for a moment hadn't seemed
to recognize him at all. Strange, very strange. Then she had calmed down
faster than John could have ever thought possible.

"Don't be silly," Melissa had said. "There hasn't been a bear around
here in ages."

She had then turned and tried to open the door to leave, actually
surprised to find that the door was locked. She had already forgotten
she had just locked it. John had watched while she had finally managed
to get the door open. She then stepped into the hallway beyond and
pulled the door shut behind her.

John really wished Melissa would go see a doctor. She had actually
looked flushed. However, about an hour ago, Melissa and Creagon entering
the downstairs library for another conference with the family lawyers,
Melissa had looked well enough.

Oh, well, John couldn't be bothered. It was a beautiful day for a
stroll. Melissa and Creagon probably wouldn't be done with all that
legal shit before dinner, Marne was off somewhere (probably taking a
beauty nap--she had to do something to maintain those sizzling good
looks).

The more John saw of the house and its grounds, the more he liked them.
Of course, he had really been a bit awed by them when he'd been courting
Melissa; but, by now, he was convinced he could be quite happy living
here. The place probably was a bit big for just him and Melissa; but,
Marne had been dropping a few hints here and there that she and Creagon
wouldn't be adverse to the idea of moving in with John and Melissa and
sharing the expense: which made the idea of keeping up the place a
little more feasible. John had been going to venture the idea to Melissa
himself, but he hadn't done so yet. Melissa was so funny lately, he
wasn't sure when or how to go about talking to her at all.

Creagon emerged from the trees and stood on the bank of a fairly large
and fast-moving stream. The path he was on turned both to the left and
to the right to parallel the water. He decided to head upstream.

The water was clear, made foaming white where it flowed up and over
rocks to make slideways down the other side. The present spot was just a
little too swift for swimming; nor, for that matter, was it really deep
enough.

John had about decided he had turned in the wrong direction; but then,
the rapids smoothed out, and the stream bed dropped away into several
holes large enough for swimming. John sat down on a flat rock that
extended out over the water. He began taking off his shoes.

There was no shade on the rock or on the water. The rock was warm
beneath John's ass. The water continued to look pleasantly cool, despite
the sunshine.

While still sitting, John removed his shirt. He then stood and
simultaneously dropped his pants and undershorts. He stepped out of the
resulting pile.

John's cock and balls had grown sweaty with his walking. John used his
right hand to jiggle his genitals, getting air in to dissolve the
stickiness.

Bare-ass naked, he walked to the edge of the hole, contemplated a dive,
decided the clear water probably made the depth deceptive. So, he sat
down on the lip of the rock that extended out over the water, and he
eased his body into the pool.

Cool, hell! The water was downright cold! John felt his scrotum
shrinking in the chill, his penis going even more compact than usual.
Still, after the heat of the day, and the sweat conjured from his little
hike, the water felt damn good.

John swam for a few minutes, then floated on his back, then noticed that
he was being watched. He couldn't see the face, it was conveniently
hidden behind a thickly leafed branch on a head-high bush. John could
see the lower hem of a dress, however, as well as the pair of shapely
legs below.

John suspected immediately that he knew who his visitor was. Probably
that dark-haired little maid who was always giving him the eye up at the
house. Had she decided to take a few minutes break and see for herself
whether John was willing to offer her more than just his come-on smile?

Well, normally, John would have had second thoughts about fooling around
with the help. However, he had been a few days without cunt; and, since
Melissa wasn't being accommodating--which was par for the course ...

John swam to the rock and pulled himself up out of the water. He came to
a standing position and shook himself like a wet dog, sending water
splattering in every which direction. His cock flapped against first his
right thigh and then against his left.

John was well aware that the cool water had made his cock and balls a
little less presentable than they might have normally been. However,
even now, what hung suspended between his legs was certainly enough to
keep any woman's interest. And, as the sun warmed the chilled neck of
his penis and penetrated the shriveled skin of his scrotum, things would
even get bigger--if not even before then.

John reached down with his right hand and took hold of his penis. He
pulled to stretch it to almost twice its length. He then rubbed it to
get some hardness into it immediately. It wasn't a very difficult thing
to get his cock started to an erection. Knowing he had an audience
didn't slow things down any, either. His prick came to life without
hesitation. Blood started flushing into the penile tubes and getting
trapped inside them.

John momentarily left his cock to its own jerks toward stiffness. With
the flat of his hand, he wiped his chest and belly free of most of the
water that still clung there. He then turned to give his hidden admirer
a look at his ass buns--women usually had a thing for male ass. By the
time he turned back, his cock was stuck straight out from his body and
was going even harder.

John fisted his cock with his right hand and cupped his balls with his
left. He rolled his hips in a sensuous fucking motion, letting his cock
fuck his hand.

"If you were a husband of mine, I'd want to know why you were out here
playing with yourself instead of back at the house trying to give my
cunt all of that goodness," Marne said, coming out from behind her
inadequate concealment.

"Oh, it's you, sister," John said, easily recognizing Marne in her short
skirt and cashmere sweater. It was obvious Marne wasn't wearing a
brassiere under that sweater, either. John could, he was sure, see the
bumps his sister's nipples were making in the softly clinging wool
material. "I thought you were someone else."

"Obviously," Marne said, flashing her brother a conspiratorial smile. At
the same time, she noticed John hadn't pulled his hand away from his
cock. And, her brother had actually commenced a languid pumping of his
hardness.

"I thought you were back at the house getting some shut-eye," John said,
giving Marne a decidedly boyish grin. "Creagon reminds me of the kind of
guy who would keep a pretty wife like you up most every night."

"My married life is quite all right, thank-you," Marne said. "How, by
the way, is yours?"

It was obvious Marne had struck a tender nerve. John gave her a frown
and turned loose of his cock. He walked to a nearby rock and sat down on
it, looking up at his sister.

"My married life is shitty, thank-you," John said. "But then, we both
knew that already, didn't we? Why else am I here, playing with myself,
et cetera, et cetera, et cetera?"

Marne found a rock close to the one John was seated on. She sat down,
facing her brother. She used her right hand to brush a few strands of
her fiery hair out of her eyes.

"Do you know, John, just how much you've changed since your return from
Nam?"

"You think I've changed, do you?"

"The old John would have grabbed his clothes the minute he saw me, and
he would have been blushing and flustered as all hell by now."

"Yea, maybe I have changed," John admitted.

"Actually, it's quite an improvement," Marne said. "Take the word of
someone who has known you all of your life."

"Or, maybe I should take the word of my wife, huh?" John asked. "I'd
venture a guess that she would beg to differ with you on whether my
change has been for the better."

"Which brings me to one of the reasons I've trekked all of this distance
for this little family chat."

"How's that?"

"Melissa told Creagon this morning that she's going to ask you for a
divorce," Marne said.

"Damn it to hell!" John said loudly. He got to his feet and turned his
back to Marne.

"Does that idea upset you?" Marne asked. "I somehow thought--what with
the way things were going--that a divorce might have fit the bill all
the way around."

"I would have never married her if I hadn't loved her," John said,
turning back to his sister, apparently having gotten his emotions under
control. "Just because I might have changed in some ways in Nam, that
doesn't mean that I still don't love her."

"That's what Creagon said you'd say," Marne said. "I don't know why, but
I had to hear it with my own ears. It would have made things so much
easier if you would have been happy to take the big divorce settlement
Melissa was planning on laying on you and then move on to better times."

"Easier for whom?"

"Well, Creagon has kind of a plan."

"A plan for what?"

"Matrimonial bliss--maybe," Marne ventured.

"Mine?"

"I said maybe."

"Since when did your husband become God's chief miracle worker? Because,
before he could do anything for my and Melissa's declining conjugal
bliss, a miracle worker is just what he would have to be."

"He'd like to talk to you about it anyway. Say tonight after dinner? Do
you think you might get away from Melissa for an hour or so?"

"That shouldn't be at all difficult," John said. "She's already made
arrangements to make the transition at the house from twin beds to
separate rooms."

"I'm sorry for all that's worth."

"And I'm sorry, too, for all that's worth."

"You know, she is planning to make the divorce monetarily worth your
while? I did mention that, didn't I?"

"Which would make me feel like a well-paid whore, except she hasn't even
given me the opportunity to earn my stud fees."

"Still..."

"The money, I suppose, will be some consolation if Creagon's plan
doesn't work?"

"Somewhere out there, there are women just waiting for what you can give
them with that big cock of yours, brother."

"You think so?"

"You fishing for a bit of flattery?"

"As bruised as my masculine ego has gotten as of late, I'll take
anything I can get."

"Okay. If I hadn't been your sister, I would have jumped out of the
bushes and raped you on the spot."

"What's all this 'if you weren't my sister' stuff? You weren't going to
let our blood relation stop you once upon-a-time, if my memory serves me
right, were you?" John asked, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, you remember that, do you?" Marne asked with a laugh, just a little
embarrassed--although she didn't know why she should be. "Well, you see,
it was this way. Then I thought my brother needed a little assist. And
frankly, now, I think, he's quite capable of managing on his own."

"And there's Creagon to think about, now, huh?"

"You mean, would my husband get all hot and bothered by even the tone of
this present conversation?" Marne asked and gave another amused little
laugh. "Do you really see Creagon getting angry about this?"

"We were--if only jokingly--talking about incest, you know?"

"Were we now?" Marne asked. Her eyes ran down her brother's muscled
chest, over his belly, focusing lasciviously on his cock.

John's cock was still hard--even harder than it had been, were that
possible.

"I-N-C-E-S-T," John spelled. "We both know your thoughts on it.
Creagon's might not be quite so liberal."

"Maybe you'd better sit down for a minute," Marne said, smiling. "You
might not be able to take what I'm about to tell you if you're
standing."

"Try me."

"You and I just talk about the possibility. My husband and your wife
have done the real thing."

She had shocked him. And, well she had meant to; although, she thought
maybe she should have let Creagon break that bit of news in his own way.

"Creagon and ..."

"Come on, John, spit it out!"

"... and Melissa?"

"Now, with that under his belt, do you think my husband could care less
if you and I talked, or even indulged in I-N-C-E-S-T?"

Marne laughed as she saw that her brother had decided to sit down, after
all John's expression, when he looked up at Marne, was so dumbfounded
that Marne found it hilarious.

"Jesus, John, if you only knew how funny you look."

"You are kidding, aren't you? I mean, about Creagon and Melissa?"

"Creagon would have told you himself," Marne said. "He still will, for
that matter It's part of the conversation he has planned for this
evening."

"Creagon--that part I don't find quite so shocking, but ..."

"You seem to be getting tongue-tied more and more lately," Marne said
with her shiny smile. "Are you trying to say, 'quite so shocking as
Melissa's involvement'?"

"Let's just say I would have been less shocked if you'd told me Creagon
had plugged the ass of his old man."

"Creagon says the Melissa you and I are seeing isn't the real Melissa at
all. What do you think? After all, you're married to the woman."

"Melissa hasn't changed since I've known her, even if I have."

"For your sake, then, I hope Creagon is right."

"You wouldn't like to go into a bit more detail as to what Creagon has
in mind, would you?"

"Actually, I've probably gone into too much detail the way it is.
Promise to act just a little surprised when my husband tells you about
him and Melissa, won't you?"

"Creagon and Melissa," John said, shaking his head in wonder. "I really
didn't think my wife had it in her. I really find it hard to believe
even now."

"I can't think of any reason why Creagon would bother lying about such a
thing, can you?"

"You're right: why would he lie?"

"Will the real Melissa Mason please stand up."

"Tell your husband I wouldn't miss this evening little chat for the
world."

"I'll tell him," Marne said. She got to her feet. Her brother stood to
join her.

"By the way, did you ever mention why you were hiding in the bushes?"
John asked, his lips pulling back in an attractive grin.

"I was merely enjoying the show. You've filled out good deal, by the
way, since the last time I saw you naked. I was impressed by the view. I
still am, for that matter."

"You'd better leave and let me get back to the masturbation I'd
started," John said. "If nothing else this conversation has made me
considerably horny."

Marne pursed her lips and gave the impression of indulging herself in a
moment of astute thought.

"You know," Marne said finally, "Creagon really wouldn't get upset if
you and I were to decide to ... well, you know ..."

John swallowed. His cock jerked noticeably at his belly. His cock mouth
gushed an oozing of translucent pre-seminal juices.

"I wouldn't want to get on your husband's bad side," John said
evasively.

Was he actually even considering his sister's suggestion?

"Creagon and I sometimes separately try out potential and then bring him
or her home for three. ways," Marne said, smiling as she tore down one
more barrier. "Consider yourself potential."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I will have to make one little stipulation, however. Since
I'm presently off the pill in hopes of getting pregnant, I'll have to
insist you fuck either my mouth or my ass hole--not my cunt."

There was a short pause; and then, Marne laughed in genuine amusement.

"Oh, Johnny, there is still a bit of the shy young boy in you after all,
isn't there?" Marne said, hardly able to contain more chuckles. "I do
actually believe I have made you just a wee-bit embarrassed."

"What a hussy you are," John said, smiling all the while, knowing that
he was somehow ready to do now what he hadn't been ready to do when he
and Marne had been younger. "I think I must have known you always were
one."

"And I wonder: did I always know you were a stud underneath that early
veneering of shy awkwardness?" Marne asked, crossing her arms down over
her stomach, her hands taking hold of her sweater. She pulled the
sweater tail out of her skirt, lifting her arms skyward to peel the
material up and over her naked breasts.

"Oh, I don't suppose that you did," John said, licking his lips to
remove some of the sudden dryness. "But at the time, I doubt whether I
suspected it, either."

At John's belly, his cock gave several quick jerks. More pre-seminal
juices oozed from the lips of his cock mouth and drooled over the pulpy
cock dome. As a sudden, even more intense spasm brought John's cock head
back to a thumping against John's stomach, clear liquid was splattered
into the tangling brown pubic hair around John's navel.

"Tell me, John, has your cock grown, too, since those early days?" Marne
asked. Her sweater was off, her full breasts and taut nipples naked in
the sun. She quickly undid the snaps of her skirt, preparing to drop it.
"Your cock does look bigger."

"Had I measured it then, I might better be able to tell you."

"I thought all young boys measured and compared their cocks. All the
boys I knew always did."

"It's nine inches now. Will that do?"

"Yes, I think it should do quite nicely," Marne said. "And, since I'm
going to all of this bother to take off my clothes, I'm hoping it's my
ass you've decided to fuck instead of my mouth."

"The way I'm feeling now, I'm liable to be creaming before my cock even
gets near your ass hole."

"Then you better be able to come through with more than one orgasm a
session, brother dear," Marne said, her skirt and half-slip dropped. She
stepped out of the pile of clothing and out of her shoes at the same
time. Now, all she had on was her panty hose. Her fiery triangle of
pubic hair was readily visible beneath the stretched nylon covering her
crotch. "But then, I'll bet there's no problem there, is there?"

"Here, let me help you off with those," John said, dropping down before
her, simultaneously reaching for Marne's discarded skirt to use as a
cushion for his knees.

John put a hand to each of Marne's hips, slowly beginning to roll down
the waistband of her panty hose. His face was on level with Marne's
cunt. He bowed his head into Marne's crotch, his mouth sucking on his
sister's pussy through the material that still covered it.

"You sexy bastard," Marne moaned, putting her hands on her brother's
head, combing her fingers through John's damp brown hair. "If Melissa is
ass enough to let you slip through her fingers, you're going to have no
problems coming up with a replacement for her. I guarantee it."

Marne groaned softly as her body was shaken with the definite tinglings
of a minor orgasm.


Chapter 6


Marne was still standing. John, having first removed his sister's panty
hose, and then having eaten her through another clitoral orgasm, had
come to his feet and moved to stand behind her. John's throat went dry
with the sight of Marne's smooth and lusciously rounded ass buns.

"Come on, brother, fuck me," Marne said. The way John had licked her
cunt to climax had let Marne get all nice and hot for the feel of John's
cock up her ass hole.

John was just as anxious--if not more so--to have his cock up Marne's
anus as his sister was to have his cock put there. John didn't know if
the fact that he was planning to fuck his sister's ass had anything to
do with it, or if he was just so turned on because he had been so long
without genuine sex, but he was really hot and excited. His hand was
actually trembling as he took hold of his penis neck and stroked it for
its natural lubricating juices.

John was going to part Marne's ass buns with his left hand; but, his
sister was one step ahead of him. Marne reached her hands back around to
her buttocks and clamped one hand to each of her ass cheeks. She pulled
her buns open along their crease, revealing to John her brown and
wrinkled anus opening.

"Oh, baby ... oh, baby," John mumbled, putting his pulpy cock head to
Marne's pucker and watching as his cock mouth oozed a new mess of clear
juices to make the anal eye even browner.

"Stick me, brother," Marne said, wiggling her ass invitingly. This whole
scene had turned out to be even more exciting than Marne had at first
imagined it would be. She was glad she had talked John into it, "Ram
that blood-engorged meatiness of yours so far up my rectum that I can
taste it."

John stepped in closer to his sister's spread ass, his hips pressing his
pulpy cock crown against the rubbery target area so that the sphincter
ring was forced to slowly roll open beneath the pressure.

"Fuck me!" Marne commanded, giving a backward bucking of her hips which
announced a good half of her brother's stiff meatiness to her bowel.
Marne gave her ass a whipping motion that let some of John's cock work
free just before driving back into Marne's ass hole even deeper.

"Jess-ssssssssus, sister, take it easy," John groaned. His cock was now
sufficiently enlodged so that he no longer needed to hold it positioned
with his right hand.

So, John grabbed hold of his sister's hips with both hands, his fingers
curving around his sister's hipbones.

But Marne had no intentions of going easy. Now that she had a piece of
her brother's cock jabbed up her ass hole, she was anxious for the feel
of the total thing. She gave her buttocks another quick revolution and
then rammed her ass back deeper over John's plugging truncheon.

"Ugghhhhh!" John grunted, feeling more and more of his cock being
hungrily gobbled up by his sister's eager anus. John had to make a
conscious effort to control a surging urge for a premature ejaculation.
Hell, he didn't want his sister to think that he was a novice!

"Oh, Johnny, that ... does ... feel ... good!" Marne moaned, giving a
few final backward jiggles that coasted her ass hole down securely
around the very roots of John's uplifted prick. "That does feel ... so
... so ... good."

Marne wasn't lying either. It did feel good. And the fact that it was
her brother's hard cock at work sodomistically plugging her anus only
made her pleasure somehow even better and all the more intense.

John was in close behind his sister now. His lower belly was in tight
against Marne's cheeky ass. His chest was in tight against Marne's back.
His face was bent slightly over Marne's left shoulder. John could smell
the perfume Marne had dabbed that morning behind her left ear.

Marne's hands left her ass cheeks, letting her buns close in around
John's bulged balls and his brown pubic hair. Marne let her hands glide
back along John's hips to John's ass. Marne clamped her fingers into the
muscles of John's ass cheeks, her fingernails digging into her brother's
buttocks flesh. Marne pulled John's lower body even more snugly against
her ass.

"You're in deep, brother," Marne moaned gutturally, expertly using her
anal muscles to spasm along the entire length of John's submerged penis.
"I can feel you plugged all of the fucking way through my belly and into
my throat."

"Jesus," John mumbled. It was presently about all he could say. His body
was still so infused with swirling pleasure that he wasn't sure yet if
he could contain the impulses inside of him that were demanding he dump
his load of wet, warm sperm right then and there.

"Nice ... nice ... nice," Marne mewled, throwing back her head on her
swan-like neck so that her hair tumbled over John's right shoulder, so
that Marne's left cheek was so close to her brother's right cheek that
they actually touched.

John slid his hands inward and upward from Marne's hipbones. He was
searching for--and soon found--the ballooned creamy orbs of Marne's
full-blown breasts. He opened his palms, spreading one over each of
Marne's nipples. He clamped his fingers down hard over Marne's breasts,
feeling the tack-hard stabs of her erect nipples against his hands.

"Oh ... fuck me, baby ... fuck me ... fuck me," Marne moaned, her lower
body instinctively pulling forward and then shoving back, letting her
brother's hard cock first slide out and then back into her rubbery
rectum.

John's lower body pulled back, bringing his cock slowly out to its head.
John's lower body swung forward, plowing his cock up to its roots inside
of Marne's ass hole.

"Yes ... yes ... brother ... yes," Marne encouraged, moving her ass into
another series of small circular movements, exalting in the way John's
hard prick stirred deep up her anus.

John kneaded Marne's big breasts. He then devoted some time specifically
to his sister's rigid nipples. He played and twisted them. And, all the
while, his hips were beginning to find a smooth, rhythmic fucking
cadence of Marne's tightly gripping ass hole.

John pushed and pulled his blood-engorged prick in and out of Marne's
anus. Marne's anal tubing sensuously masturbated John's cock, her
sphincter ring concaving and then convexing as John's prick first
entered through it and then pulled out toward the anus opening.

"Faster, John, baby, faster," Marne encouraged. Oh, this was good! This
was so ... very ... very ... good! Marne couldn't really say it was any
better than it was when her husband's cock was fucking her rectum. But,
somehow this was a different kind of pleasure: an ecstasy made unique by
the fact that it was her own brother's cock which was causing it.

Marne's anal walls collapsed like sucking cheeks against John's entering
cock tube, molding so tightly against John's prick that Marne was aware
of each and every swollen vein that twisted its length along her
brother's blood-bulged penis.

There was friction up the ass hole, caused by cock flesh gliding against
bowel tubing. The friction was only partially alleviated by the copious
pre-seminal discharges that continued to leak free of John's pumping
cock. The friction warmed Marne's rectum, flushing heat into her cunt
and into her lower belly. John's cock became pink with the rubbing, his
shaft tingling as it was subjected more and more to the fire thriving
inside of Marne's grasping ass hole.

"Give me brother-cock, brother," Marne grunted. "Feed me huge
brother-prick. Ram in deep. Pull out. Shove home. Brother-cock up
sister-ass-hole. Brother-prick screwing ... screwing ... fucking ...
pumping ... plowing sister-asshole."

John's cock was really fucking in earnest. John's bare belly whacked
noisily against Marne's ass cheeks on each forward thrusting. John's
stomach was sweaty. So were Marne's ass buns. Flesh stuck against flesh,
only reluctantly pulling apart as John's hips pulled back for another
withdrawal phase of his total in-and-out fuck stroke.

"Oh, sister-ass ... sweet ... sweet ... sister-ass," John growled, his
voice low and guttural, his breath hot and gasping against Marne's ear.
"Rubbery sister-ass-hole ... chewing on brother-cock ... cumming cumming
... oh ... shit ... beautiful ... beautiful ..."

Marne, in turn, was filled with her brother's cock and the pleasure it
had brought with it. The one thing needed to make her ecstasy spiral
even higher was supplied when John's right hand left off kneading
Marne's breast and dipped down along Marne's stomach to Marne's crotch.

"I want my hand up your cunt, baby," John grunted, his fingertips going
slippery with the juices that were even then bubbling from his sister's
cunt lips like water from an artesian well. "I want to finger-fuck your
pussy while my meaty stiffness cock-fucks your ass hole."

Marne certainly had no objections to that. None whatsoever! There was no
chance of John's finger spurting male cum into her fertile womb, was
there? Yet, finger could sometimes be almost--if not quite as good as
real cock.

"Yea, brother, fuck me. Fuck me from the front. Fuck me from the back.
Screw my ass hole. Screw my cunt."

Not interrupting the easy rhythm of his ass fucking, John let his right
fuck-finger probe for an entrance into Marne's juice-slicked cunt
fissure. His finger slipped in between the puffy pussy lips and then
nudged deeper ... and deeper. As soon as John could, he added yet a
second finger for insertion.

"Ooooooooooo!" Marne moaned as John's playful fingers caused more
pleasurable sensations to take root in her body. "You really know how to
do it ... baby ... brother ... baby. Goddamn it, but you ... do ... know
how to give ... a girl ... pleasure."

Just about every girl, it would seem, except for his frigid goddamn
wife. Fuck, why couldn't Melissa get turned on to riding John's cock
like Marne here did? God, what John would have given to see and hear
Melissa twisting over his pounding cock and hand like Marne was now
doing!

The creamy cheeks of Marne's ass felt hot and wet as they continued to
be banged by John's humping pelvis. Marne's ass hole got hotter and
hotter as John's cock continued to slither and slide ... in and out ...
in and out of Marne's rectum.

Again, John's cock yanked out to its bulbous head Again, John felt the
gumming mouth of his sister's ass hole come to a rubber-band tightness
around his cock roots.

John's hips bucked. His cock came out and jabbed in. His cock mouth
drooled. His balls ballooned with even more cum. His scrotum began
drawing its contained testicles upward toward the base of John's fucking
prick.

"Ohhhhhh ... ohhhhhhhh ... that ... feels ... ohhhh ... ohhhhh," Marne
moaned as her brother's index finger and thumb located Marne's clitoris
and began rolling the stiff nubbin back and forth ... back and forth.

John's cock streamlined up Marne's anus, twisting as it went. John
ground his sweaty belly hard into Marne's resilient ass cheeks. John's
pleasure was becoming excruciating. The fires inside of him were flaring
to holocaust proportions.

"Oh, baby, make sister cream," Marne grunted. As if her brother's cock
up her ass wasn't more than enough to get her off, John's playing with
the swollen clitoris lodged in Marne's cunt was more than enough to do
the job. Each forward thrusting of Marne's hips rubbed her cunt against
John's juice-sopped hand each backward bounce of Marne's hips buried
John's cock up Marne's ass hole to John's sperm-ridden balls "Make ...
your ... sister ... creeeeeeeeam!"

If anybody was going to make anybody cream, John figured it was going to
be Marne's clamping ass hole which was going to send John into sexual
convulsions. Because ... John ... just ... wasn't ... all ... that ...
far ... away.

Marne's ass hole was getting fucked royally Marne's cunt was getting
quite the workout.

John's cock was getting eaten to the point of explosion by Marne's
cumming ass hole. John's balls were ballooned with thick male cum,
swelling to the point of actual bursting.

"Harder!" Marne commanded. "Harder ... baby, brother ... harder!"

Marne's continual urgings, so different from Melissa's constantly
whining protestations, acted like an aphrodisiac for John who obliged
her by moving his fucking into even higher gear. John humped Marne's
tight little ass hole, all the while rolling Marne's budded little
clitoris between his thumb and index finger.

The brother and sister worked well together. It almost seemed as if they
fit together like a hand and a glove. They were good, too. Goddamn ...
but ... they ... were ... good!

John opened his mouth, biting the flesh of Marne's creamy shoulder. John
growled like a wounded animal. He was almost ... almost ... almost
there.

"I'm ... so ... so ... fucking ... close!" John mumbled, wondering if
that breathless hissing was really his own voice.

"Feed my ass hole with your cream ... brother!" Marne commanded,
screwing her anus down one more time around John's uplifted penis.
"Because your sister is letting go right now. Right ... right ... now,
brother ... baby brother ... RIGHT ... RIGHT ... RIGHT NOW! AAAAAAHHHHHH
... AAAAGGGGHHHHHHRRRRRR ... AAAAAAGGGGRREEEEIIIIIIII!"

And, John wasn't too far behind--if behind by any measurable distance at
all. Because, Marne was still mumbling her guttural announcements of her
own cumming when John's body began its own uncontrollable convulsions.

John plugged his cock one final hard-and-fast time up Marne's rectum and
left it enlodged there, grinding his pubic bush against Marne's sweaty
ass cheek, John hooked all four of the fingers of his right hand into
Marne's cunt, clamped his left hand onto Marne's left breast, and held
on for dear life.

John's ropy streamers of hot, wet sperm blasted from his balls, through
his stiff penis, and in Marne's ass hole.

"Sister, take it! Marne, take it! Melissa, take it!" John grunted, his
ending fantasy having something do with his having both his sister and
his wife pinned on his spasming cock.

"FUUUUUUCK MEEEE!" Marne bellowed, feeling yet a second orgasmic shudder
following on the heels of the one which had just begun to pale inside
her. "Screw ... my ... rubbery ... red ... ass hole!"

"Yes, goddamn it, yes!" John muttered, his mouth drooling spit to his
sister's shoulder. "Fuck your ... fuck your ... fuck your ... tight ...
tight ... rosy-red ... ass ... AAAAGH ... AAAGH ...
AAAAGGGGHHHHRRRUUUUUUH ... UH ... UH ... UHUHHHHHHH!"


Chapter 7


Melissa came awake slowly, only reluctantly releasing the luxurious
drowsiness that enfolded her. Her eyes still shut, she stretched,
enjoying the strain that peaked just before she went completely limp.

Oh, God, but she had had a good night! Just knowing she had John tucked
safely down the hall, instead of lurking in the next bed ready to pounce
on her, been such a burden removed from her mind. Melissa had been
stupid not to arrange for separate rooms from the beginning. John could
spend his whole nights beating off his fat cock meat, without forcing
those obscenities on his wife.

Melissa opened her eyes and turned toward the clock on the bedside
stand. My God, it was almost ten! She had really overindulged, hadn't
she? Still, she deserved the rest. She hadn't slept really well since
arrival.

Melissa sat up, wiped some of the remaining sleep out of her eyes. The
room was still dark; but, Melissa could see the outline of another
beautiful day as light seeped in around the heavy drapes which covered
the window.

Melissa reached for the bell cord by the bed and gave it a hearty tug.
She decided she would really indulge herself this morning. She would
have a late breakfast in bed. There was the epitome of luxury!

Melissa fluffed up her pillows behind her back and waited ... and waited
... and waited.

She reached for the bell cord and gave another pull.

Strange. Very strange. Maybe the damn thing wasn't working! Funny,
because it had been working last night.

Oh, well, she really didn't need breakfast in bed anyway, did she? No
sense in getting in the habit now, even if she was an heiress.

Melissa pulled back the covers and climbed out from beneath the sheet
and blanket. She fished for her slippers with the toe of one foot, and
then slipped them on.

Melissa stretched again, hearing a faint popping as pressure was
relieved somewhere along her spine. She then walked to the window and
opened the drapes. Sunshine entered the room: warm and sensuously
delicious. The swimming pool was a large blue rectangle below, bordered
on one side by the cabana and formal gardens, bordered on the other side
by the wide expanse of lawn.

Melissa looked, expecting to see one of the gardeners puttering around
somewhere, but she saw no one.

Which wasn't necessarily strange--so, why did it suddenly seem so?

Melissa walked toward the bedroom door. She figured she would attempt to
attract one of the servant's attention and have her draw the water for a
tub bath. Melissa would then have to find someone to fix the bell cord.
It was a bit inconvenient not having it working.

THE DOOR WAS LOCKED! Not from the inside, either, since Melissa released
the safety chain before even trying to open it. Melissa, after all,
would have never chanced sleeping in the same house with John without
having the safety chain secured. And now, after that disgusting display
initiated by her brother in the forest--well, God only knew what might
have happened if Melissa hadn't left the door secured when she retired.

Melissa tried the door again. Obviously, it wasn't locked. It was simply
jammed.

No, damn it, it was not jammed! It was locked ... and from the outside!
Someone obviously had the key. But who? Melissa didn't even recall ever
having seen the keys to all the doors. Yet, they had to exist somewhere.

More important than who was possibly the why? Why was Melissa locked in?

"Hello?" Melissa called to the door and anybody who might have been
beyond. "Hello?"

She listened. She heard nothing. It was getting stranger and stranger.
And who had once said that--or something similar--in what children's
book Melissa had once read or, more than likely, had read to her?

Melissa pounded gently on the door with the palm of her hand, really
feeling just a little bit ridiculous.

"Hello? My door seems to be stuck. Will somebody please give me a hand?"

Silence! But, damn it, how could there just be silence? There were
always girls up at this level during this time of the morning. One of
them should certainly have heard her and come running.

"I say, this damn door is stuck!" Melissa said loudly, pounding even
harder on it than she had before. "Can someone out there please give me
an assist?"

Nothing! This was getting to be a bit ridiculous!

Melissa, frustrated, stepped back from the door, telling herself there
was no reason whatsoever to get upset. There was undoubtedly a logical
explanation for all of this--even if it did momentarily escape her.

Melissa walked back to the window. She opened the latch, swinging the
window open. It gave access to a small balcony that overlooked the
grounds. Melissa stepped outside, being made even more uncomfortable by
the fact that there was still no one in sight. Surely, there should have
been someone!

Melissa came in from the balcony, having barely controlled an impulse to
scream out at the top of her lungs. She refused, though, to act
hysterical. She simply refused!

"Ah!" she voiced audibly, sighting the telephone next to the bed. Why in
the hell hadn't she thought of the phone to begin with? She would simply
call somebody, maybe one of the lawyers, and have him buzz back the
house and inform someone of Melissa's predicament. All very simple. See,
no need whatsoever to play silly female.

Melissa walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. She went
through a brief minute of mental gymnastics in order to recall the
number of the family law firm. She then reached for the phone. She was
already almost half through the dialing process before she realized the
line was dead.

Dead! Damn it, the phone was dead!

Melissa clicked frantically to get a connection--with no result.

"Hello!" Melissa screamed into the receiver. She immediately felt silly.
She looked around sheepishly, like someone who had just been caught
carrying on lengthy conversation with herself. She then slammed the
receiver back on its cradle--hard.

Melissa continued sitting. Once more, she told herself that she had to
be calm. No need to make a mountain out of a molehill. There was
obviously ... a ... logical ... explanation. For her door being locked?
Yes, by God, locked! For her bell cord being suddenly broken? For the
phone being dead?

Melissa shook her head to clear it. She simply refused to assume the
unwanted role of some simpering heroine in some two-bit gothic novel.

A sound! Yes, a sound! From outside. A splashing of water. Someone had
dived into the pool and was even now swimming around.

"Jesus, you're getting paranoid," Melissa said, giving a small laugh of
relief. She had about let her imagination run away with her, hadn't she?
Well, luckily, she hadn't done so. Because, there was now someone in the
pool. She would merely have to call to get their attention, and then
have them send up help.

Melissa headed back to the window and the small balcony beyond.

So, who was out there swimming? Melissa hoped it wasn't John! Wouldn't
John have found it amusing that Melissa had moved out of their shared
bedroom into one she couldn't now get out of?

Melissa stepped out on the balcony and went to the balustrade. She was
just about to call out when her voice stuck in her throat.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing! She simply couldn't believe
it! There, paddling around in the water, naked as a jay, was her
brother. And, what was he trying to prove? No wonder Melissa couldn't
drum up a maid. They were probably all sequestered behind convenient
peepholes, watching Melissa's brother put on this disgusting display.

As if Creagon sensed his sister's presence--in truth he knew the minute
she had come out on the balcony--he rolled to his back. The sunlight,
like a spotlight, singled out Creagon's hard cock for the whole world to
see.

"Ohhhhh!" Melissa heard herself saying in the process of sucking in a
deep intake of breath. She was caught between an impulse to go back into
the bedroom and an impulse to stay right where she was. It wasn't so
much, she told herself, that the latter was caused by any prurient
interest she might have toward her brother's naked body. It was simply
that Melissa did want out of her room; and, so far, Creagon offered the
only visible hope of succor. Melissa was afraid if she went back inside,
she would soon find that Creagon had somehow disappeared with everyone
else.

It was too late to go back into the bedroom, anyway. It was obvious that
Creagon had seen her. He was even waving! The utter audacity of the
exhibitionist!

"Creagon, I seem to be locked in my room!" Melissa called, as if it were
the most natural thing in the world to see her own brother performing
such a lurid display every morning of her life. No wonder the bastard
had taken John's side. Melissa's brother, as it turned out, was probably
just as bad--if not worse--than John was.

"Come on in; the water is fine," Creagon called back, now treading
water.

Thank God his lewd cock was again out of sight!

"My ... door ... is ... stuck!" Melissa shouted.

"Can't hear you, luv. You'll have to talk a bit louder," Creagon
insisted.

"MY ... DOOR ... SEEMS ... TO ... BE ... STUCK!" Melissa obliged,
screaming loud enough, she was sure, to quite arouse the whole
household.

"Wait a minute, and I'll come closer!" Creagon called, swimming toward
the end of the pool.

What did he mean, he would come closer? Oh, good God, he was actually
getting out of the water!

Melissa thought for sure she was going to faint. She certainly was
blushing. And, there he was, walking across the flagstones, his body
dripping wet, his cock weaving in front of his belly like a grotesquely
lurid phallic metronome.

He was just trying to shock her! It was just the same kind of infantile
trick John was always pulling!

"Now, then," Creagon said, looking up at his sister He was standing
right below the balcony. Melissa had a very good view of everything.

Melissa controlled an impulse to run. She controlled another impulse to
make a scathing comment on Creagon's disgraceful display.

"My door seems to be stuck," Melissa said.

"It's not stuck, sister," Creagon said, and he smiled up at her like
some Raphaelesque angel painted with an erection. "Your door is locked."

Of course, Melissa had known it was locked. But, that didn't keep her
from being somewhat shocked by having the fact verified so calmly by her
brother.

"What do you mean, it's locked?" Melissa asked, trying for composure.

"I don't know how I could make it any plainer," Creagon said, frowning
as if the problem of clarity were actually perplexing him. Melissa knew
better!

"Well, would you please send up one of the servants to UN-lock it?"

"Actually, I gave all the servants the day off," Creagon said. "Telling
them, of course, that they had to leave quietly so as not to disturb my
dear sister who hasn't been sleeping at all well lately--or, so I've
been told. They didn't disturb you as they were leaving, did they?"

"What do you mean, you gave them the day off? All of them?"

"We really do seem to be having a bit of a communication problem here,
don't we?" Creagon said, again looking as if he were at a complete loss
as to just why. "But, don't worry, I'll come on up and try to clarify
things a bit more for you."

"First, explain RIGHT FROM WHERE YOU ARE just why you gave the servants
the day off without first consulting me?"

"I thought maybe they might misinterpret your screaming," Creagon said,
flashing another smile. "You know, and I know how you like to play
games; but, I was afraid the servants might actually think I was hurting
you."

Melissa must have looked confused; because, Creagon laughed with genuine
amusement.

"Come on, now," Creagon continued. "Admit it. You are going to shout and
cry and carry on, no end, aren't you?"

"Whatever are you talking about?" Melissa asked, feeling a chill in
spite of the heat of the morning. And, she really wasn't all that sure
she even wanted to know what her brother was talking about.

"Why, when I fuck you, luv," Creagon said. "Why, when I incestuously
shove this blood-bloated cock of mine right up your juicy little cunt."

Melissa's mouth dropped open. Her eyes went wide. She ... actually ...
thought ... she ... was ... going ... to ... faint.

This was madness! This was utter ... utter ... madness!

"Hold on, sister dear," Creagon said, "I'll be right up; and, we can get
started. It'll rather be like old times, won't it?"

"Creagon!" Melissa screamed. But, her brother had disappeared through
the French doors and disappeared into the house.

It wasn't true! It couldn't be true! IT SIMPLY COULDN'T BE TRUE!

Melissa got a cramp in her stomach. She actually thought she was going
to be physically sick.


Chapter 8


Melissa cringed back against the wall, finding the sudden silence even
more nerve-wracking than the barrage Creagon had been making as he
pounded on the door.

Melissa had hardly managed to rush from the balcony to the door and
secure the safety chain before she had heard Creagon outside in the
hallway. Melissa had then heard the scratch of metal against metal.

HE DID HAVE A KEY!

The doorknob had turned, but the inside chain held.

THANK GOD THE CHAIN HELD!

And, then the noise had begun. Creagon had pounded ... and pounded ...
and pounded.

"Creagon, go away! Go away!" Melissa had screamed over ... and over ...
and over.

And, Creagon had not answered her with words but with more banging. The
door had creaked under the strain.

Now, though, it was quiet. Too quiet! Creagon had stopped pounding,
stopped banging.

And, Melissa was trapped. There was no place she could go. There was
only the door and the window.

My God, the window! She had sudden visions of Creagon outside right then
with a ladder, climbing up to get her.

Melissa had turned from her spot by the wall, thinking to make a rush to
the balcony, when something hit the door from the hallway with such a
force, that the wood actually splintered around the holding safety
chain. Another blow followed; and, the inside chain broke under the
strain. The door came open with such violence that its doorknob
pulverized the plaster of the wall when it hit it.

Creagon had kicked open the door. He stood there now in the open
doorway, naked except for a pair of boots he had put on for the chore
now completed. He was breathing hard from the strain of his exercise,
his muscled chest rising and falling with the expansion and contraction
of his rib cage.

"Creagon, for Christ's sake ..." Melissa said, cowering. She had faded
back once again to the wall, pressing so tightly against the plaster
that she seemed intent on being assimilated by it.

"Breaking down the castle doors has excited more than one soldier to
rape," Creagon said. He stood, legs slightly apart, arms akimbo, his
cock reared up so stiff in front of his belly that all Melissa could see
of it was the wide expanse of the cock belly and the blossoming of the
heart-shaped cockhead. "Battle always makes a man horny. You might ask
your husband to tell you about that some time."

"Where is my husband?" Melissa asked.

"Don't worry, I've taken care of both John and Marne for the moment."

And, Melissa didn't know whether she should have been filled with horror
or relief over that particular revelation. Because, in the final
analysis, it seemed highly unlikely that John would have offered her
much assistance. Hell, no! If Melissa knew her husband, John would have,
more than likely, been turned-on himself by Creagon's disgustingly
animalistic display of male macho.

"Look at the mess you've made of the door, Creagon," Melissa said,
hoping that by calling his attention to the more mundane things she
could possibly get his mind off whatever else he might have in mind.

"When we have another of our little talks with the lawyers, I'll have
them deduct the cost of one door from my share of father's inheritance,
huh?"

"Creagon, I really think this little game of yours has about run its
course, don't you?"

"Game?" Creagon asked, as if it was news to him that he was even playing
a game. "What game?"

"This me-Tarzan-you-Jane act of yours," Melissa said, trying to make
light of the whole frightening situation.

WHY COULDN'T SHE KEEP HER EYES FROM WANDERING BACK TO HER BROTHER'S HARD
COCK?

"You think I'm playing games?" Creagon asked, giving Melissa a smile
that seemed to contain more than just the humor. He swaggered into the
room, his cock weaving back and forth ... back and forth in front of his
muscled belly.

And, had that huge, blood-engorged truncheon ever really been shoved up
Melissa's cunt? Surely not! Jesus, surely not!

"I'm not playing any game here, honey," Creagon continued. "All of this
is dead serious. Because, I've come to deliver you out of that
puritanical cage our dear old man so successfully managed to lock you up
in before he died and went off to rot in hell."

"What cage?" Melissa asked, refusing to believe what she was hearing.
"Do you really know what you're talking about, Creagon?"

"Oh, yes, I know," Creagon said. And, his smile grew wider. "Oh, yes, I
certainly do know. And, you know, too."

"Really, I don't, Creagon," Melissa insisted. She wanted to run. Jesus,
she wanted to run! But where exactly could she run to? The only exit,
besides the window, was the door. And, she would have never been able to
make it past Creagon without his stopping her. "I haven't the faintest
notion."

"Then, let me spell it out for you," Creagon said. And, his right hand
dropped to his stiff cock and began to obscenely stroke it. "Daddy
caught his little boy and his little girl screwing. No harm really done,
of course but, daddy wouldn't believe that. Daddy was born in,
generation that looked upon all sex as slightly tainted So, he spent the
last of his lifetime making you feel guilty."

"He was sorry," Melissa said, knowing she didn't like being forced into
a position where she had to defend her father. "He did say he was
sorry--in the end."

"The only thing he was sorry about was that he couldn't stick his cock
in you himself," Creagon said.

"Oh, Creagon, don't even think such filthy thoughts!"

"That's why he was so put out, don't you know!" Creagon said. "He wanted
you, and I got you. So, he punishes you, he punishes me, he punishes
himself by locking you away in a school where the good nuns would rap
your knuckles if your hand even got within playing distance of your
sweet vagina."

"What do you know about those schools?" Melissa asked, embarrassed and
indignant. "I was the one who went to them. Not you."

"So, you were, little sister," Creagon said. "And, you managed very well
in pretending that the good sisters had converted you to their sexless
ways. You probably even convinced our randy old man; so, any ideas of
his ever trying to get his cock into your Christian-cleansed cunt would
have put so many black marks in the big book against him that even his
money would have never bought his way into paradise."

"You're disgusting!" Melissa spat. "You are a sick ... degenerate ...
perverted ..."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, save me the sermon!" Creagon said before his
sister could think of any more damning epithets. "The speeches aren't
going to do you any good anyway."

"What are you planning to do to me?"

"I thought I made that perfectly clear. I thought this made it perfectly
clear," Creagon said, glancing down to call Melissa's attention to
Creagon's cock which was still being caressed by the man's right hand.
"I'm going to fuck you, sister. I'm going to fuck you long, and hard,
and deep, and make you beg for more."

"Ooooooooooooo!" Melissa groaned. She couldn't help her automatic
response. She ... simply ... couldn't ... help ... her ... surprise.

"You're going to like it, too, Melissa," Creagon said. He dropped his
left hand to his balls. He rolled his nuts between his fingers. "You're
going to love it, just like you used to love it. And, you did used to
love it, baby sister. Brother Creagon here remembers just how much you
used to love it."

"Liar!"

"Oh, do you actually think I could ever have forgotten the way you were
moaning and groaning, begging for more when our old man came barging
into the bedroom?"

"Liar! Liar! Liar!" Melissa screamed. She had to get away. She had to
get away! She simply couldn't listen anymore to this vile filth. SHE
WOULDN'T LISTEN TO IT, EITHER!

"Where are you off to, little sister?" Creagon asked as he reached out
and caught Melissa as the woman tried to rush by him to the door. The
momentum of Melissa's moving body made the two of them stumble to the
floor.

Melissa continued to try to get away. OH, JESUS, HOW SHE TRIED!

But, Creagon was all over her. He seemed to be all hands, all arms, all
legs. And, those hands of his were grabbing, and holding, and pinching.

"No ... no ... no!" Melissa screamed. She tried to scratch him. She
tried to gouge out his eyes. She would have killed him if she could have
... if she could have--BUT SHE COULDN'T.

He was strong! Jesus, he was strong! And, his body was hard ... oh, so
hard ... as it rolled over on top of her, taking her breath away.

Creagon's legs pinned Melissa's legs to the floor.

Creagon's belly pinned Melissa's belly beneath him. Creagon's chest
pinned Melissa's breasts to a mushrooming atop Melissa's rib cage.

Creagon's hands were like manacles around Melissa's wrists. Creagon was
stretching Melissa's arms upward over her head.

"Let me go, Creagon! Jesus, let me go!"

Was she going to cry? No, she wasn't going to cry! She wouldn't give
this bastard the satisfaction!

"No, you don't want to be let go at all, do you, sister of mine?"

Creagon hunched his hips, placing his hard cock lengthways into
Melissa's saddle. He rolled his lower body, grinding his cock against
Melissa's cunt so that his penis oozed pre-seminal juices onto the
nglige material that still covered the hair-fringed pussy.

"CREAGON, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, LET ME GO!" Melissa screamed, continuing to
struggle; although, her movements were impeded by the weight Creagon had
placed over and on her.

And, she could feel his cock, the only thing keeping it from her naked
pussy being a strip of filmy nightie cloth. Melissa could feel the
wetness of her brother's cock juices as they drenched the nylon and her
flesh beneath.

"The only problem," Creagon said, when he once again felt himself in
complete control, "was that, somewhere along the line, you went a little
too far and convinced yourself right along with everybody else that you
were a sinner. You fooled yourself into believing that not only was the
sex you had with me a sin, but all sex was a sin. It's time you came
back to the more enjoyable reality."

"You're crazy!" Melissa sobbed, real tears filling her eyes and
overflowing. "YOU'RE CRAZY!"

"We'll see," Creagon said. "We'll both see, won't we?"

"Don't do this," Melissa pleaded, trying to reason with him, trying to
make him see. So, why couldn't she even keep her voice from cracking?
"It was wrong what we did. It is wrong what you want to do to me now.
And, two wrongs do not make a right."

"Jesus!" Creagon said with an accompanying laugh. "Is that one of those
fine platitudes they drummed into you in all those sexless schools?"

"We're brother and sister," Melissa said, trying once more to move;
finding, once more, that she still couldn't budge. "Those schools have
nothing to do with it."

Oh, his cock was like a hot poker laid out lengthways over her cunt,
burning into her flesh!

"And, you're too pretty, little sister, to go through life deluded into
thinking that sex was never meant to be as pleasurable as you and I both
discovered it can be. That's not fair to you. And, it's certainly not
fair to your husband."

"Fair to John?" Melissa asked, her voice squeaky with her building
hysteria. "Did my husband put you up to this?"

"John didn't put me up to anything," Creagon said. He brought Melissa's
forearms together over her head, manipulating so that he could take hold
of both of Melissa's wrists in one large hand, freeing his other. "But,
it doesn't take any marriage counselor to see that your husband has got
a lot of loving to give that you should be enjoying but aren't."

"There is a difference between loving and fucking!" Melissa said, her
voice so shrill it hurt even her ears.

"Maybe," Creagon said, bringing his right hand down to the bodice of his
sister's nglige and hooking his fingers along its neckline. "Then
again, maybe not."

His body lifting slightly, Creagon's right hand gave a simultaneous
hearty tug that succeeded in, ripping his sister's nglige from
Melissa's neck to her crotch. The sound of the tearing material was a
loud grating on Melissa's ears. The woman was shocked senseless by the
sudden rushing of air over her exposed flesh. She was further shattered
when she felt Creagon's naked flesh making actual contact with her own.

"NOOOOOOO, CREAGON, NOOOOOOO!" Melissa squealed, her struggles doing
little more than sensuously moving Creagon's bareness against her.

AND, HIS NAKED COCK BELLY WAS BURROWED AMID THE TAWNY PUBIC HAIR THAT
BUSHED ON MELISSA'S SEXUAL MOUND. AND, MELISSA COULD FEEL THE HARDNESS
OF HIS MEATY SEX POLE. AND, MELISSA COULD FEEL THE GLUEY STICKINESS OF
THE JUICES HER BROTHER'S COCK MOUTH WAS LEAKING TO THE CREAMY SOFTNESS
OF MELISSA'S LOWER BELLY.

"Don't do this, Creagon!" Melissa sobbed. "We'll be damned if we do.
WE'LL BE DAMNED!"

"Listen to me, sister," Creagon said, shifting his fat cock through the
pubic hair sprouted between Melissa's legs, "the only reason you thought
you were damned before was because father caught us, There's no one left
to catch us now. The old man is dead and gone."

"But, what if I get pregnant, Creagon?" Melissa asked, grabbing at
straws. Still, it was something, wasn't it? Even when they were younger,
Creagon had had sense enough to use a rubber when he had screwed her. If
he had brought any prophylactics with him this time, he must have had
them hidden in his boots--since he was still naked except for his
footwear.

"Good try, Melissa," Creagon said, his chest feeling the hardness of
Melissa's nipples. Who in the hell was she trying to fool? She wanted
it! Sure, she did! Her hard nipples would have told Creagon as much if
nothing else had. "I know you're on the pill."

How? How? Jesus, how had he known? John obviously. Her husband, who
found so little sacred, would have never had any qualms whatsoever about
broadcasting to the world that Melissa was on the pill to deprive him of
children.

"Really, Creagon, I'm not on the pill," Melissa lied valiantly. "Really
I'm not ... I'm not!"

"Then it looks as if we'll just have to risk having an idiot child,
doesn't it?" Creagon said, his grin indicating more than anything that
he didn't, not for one minute, believe her lie. "But, then I know an
excellent abortionist, should the need arise."

"Oh, you ... sick ... sick ... bastard!" Melissa moaned. If she could
only get her arms free! If she could only scratch out his eyes!

Creagon, keeping his left hand holding his sister's wrists safely out of
the way, worked his whole lower body to open Melissa's thighs. Creagon's
balls rolled down along Melissa's cunt mound, the blond hair on
Creagon's scrotum entangling with the blonde hair on Melissa's pussy.

"Oh, Creagon ... for Christ's sake ... Pleeeeez!"

"Please give my cock to your cunt?" Creagon mocked. "Are you back to
begging for it already, baby? You all that anxious for the feel of my
hard meatiness plowing your guts to mush? You beginning to remember just
how good it was?"

"Pleeeeeez ... let me go ... pleeeeeez."

"The only thing that's going to be let go, honey, is about a gallon of
my hot, wet sperm into your orgasming vagina."

"Oh, Creagon, don't ... pleeeeez ... pleeeeeeez ... please don't."

Melissa was so convincing, Creagon might even have been tempted to
believe that she didn't want his cock. But, he knew better. Her hard
nipples, tack-like points against his chest, told him she was lying to
him through her teeth, whether she personally recognized her lie or not.
And, memories of his sister's passion told Creagon that neither their
father nor years in those sex-sapping convent schools could have
successfully destroyed all of Melissa's ardor. Conceal it, maybe. But,
destroy it? Never in a thousand, thousand years!

Keeping his chest pressed hard and fast against his sister's mushroomed
breasts, Creagon, his booted toes to the floor, began to slowly open his
thighs. As he did so, his opening legs pushed Melissa's thighs open,
hiking the as-yet unripped lower portion of her nglige up over
Melissa's pussy. But this temporary new protection for Melissa's cunt
was really too flimsy to give Melissa any real confidence that it would
offer any barrier to her brother's cock, once that cock started jabbing
to claim her.

Creagon scooted his body down along his sister until his hard cock had
slipped completely free of Melissa's hair-covered pussy mound and into
the space between Melissa's yawned thighs. Thus positioned, Creagon's
cock was a rocket-like mass of phallic stiffness that aimed its blunted
juice-sopped head right toward the nylon-veiled slicing that was
Melissa's pouting cunt mouth.

"Don't ... don't ... don't," Melissa moaned. She had to keep up some
kind of protest, even if it was only a verbal one. She would have
protested more, but Creagon's dominant body position made it literally
impossible for Melissa to give any more physical protest than she had
already tried.

"Just relax, sister," Creagon told her. "Just relax, and enjoy."

Relax? How in the hell could she possibly relax? This was her naked
brother on top of her. And, he was going to rape her. Yes, by God, he
... was ... going ... to ... RAPE ... her!

"It'll be good," Creagon promised. "Oh, sister, dear, it will be good."

Creagon's left hand clamped even more tightly around Melissa's united
wrists. Creagon's grip was like a vise, cutting off Melissa's
circulation. Creagon's right hand moved down to his hard cock, his
fingers splaying wide to judge the distance between his cockhead and
Melissa's pussy. While his hand was down there, Creagon made short work
of the segment of Melissa's nylon nglige which still wrapped her lower
body. He unceremoniously ripped it all away.

And, Melissa's cunt was now once again naked, now completely vulnerable.
And, Creagon's cock was ready--more than ready--to have at that luscious
sexual pit that drove inward between Melissa's lovely white thighs.

Creagon took his thick cock in one hand and guided it to the small
vertical fissure that punctuated the meeting of his sister's inner
thighs. He nudged himself up along Melissa's body until his rubbery
cockhead slipped through the hairy curls of Melissa's pulsating pussy.

"Aaaaagggghhhhhhh!" Melissa gasped, holding her breath as her brother's
pulpy cock corona made direct contact with the mouth of Melissa's
vagina. Melissa was filled with feelings of revulsion mingled with
pleasure. The latter gave Melissa agonizing guilt, making the woman
fight against the enjoyable quivers that suddenly took hold of her body.

The blood-swollen tip of Creagon's enormous cock pressed in tighter,
working into the snugly clenched opening of Melissa's naked cunt.
Melissa could see a sudden vision of her father, William Davenport
standing over her, shaking his head in disappointment and disbelief.

"Oh, don't!" Melissa begged. "For God's sake! Creagon! CREAGON!"

But then, with a persistent pushing, Creagon's cockhead began an actual
penetration between Melissa's cuntal lips.

"CREAGON ... JESUS, NO ... CREAGON!"

But, Creagon wasn't listening. He was concentrating on his mission of
mercy. He was re-experiencing all those old memories. He was about to
renew the acquaintance of his cock with a tightly vising cunt it hadn't
seen for fifteen long years.

"No ... no ... NO!" Melissa groaned, surprising herself with the
frenzied torque she was able to perform beneath her brother's pressing
body. The force of her drive to freedom actually lifted Melissa's ass
all the way off the floor and dumped Creagon almost completely out of
the saddle.

Creagon's thick, rubbery cockhead slipped completely free of Melissa's
pussy fissure and went careening through Melissa's cunt hair, leaking a
gooey trailing of pre-seminal juices as it went.

"Damn it!" Creagon cussed, frustrated that, if he'd but been just a bit
quicker, he could have been buried deep up his sister's clutching vagina
now, instead of having to start all over again.

Melissa, having been made overly confident by her success, thought for
sure she could go on to even more victories. She was, therefore,
thoroughly disappointed when she realized she was still trapped. She had
done little more than, delay her inevitable rape. She certainly hadn't
completely thwarted it.

"Shall I beat the shit out of you and then plug your pussy?" Creagon
asked, genuinely angry that Melissa continued to resist something that
Creagon knew they both wanted. "Shall I? Huh?"

"God, Creagon, don't hurt me. Please, don't hurt me."

"Then quit acting like an innocent virgin, goddamn it! You know what a
fuck is. I know. I broke you in, remember? So, you lie back and enjoy,
or so help me, I'll beat you into submissiveness."

And, he could do it, too, couldn't he? Melissa knew that he could. He
had always been stronger than she was. He had always been more powerful.
He had a thoroughly muscled body that was a perfect compliment to that
muscled mass of obscene meatiness he seemed so intent on feeding her.

"Oh, Creagon, please don't hurt me. Please."

"Damn it, I'm not going to hurt you, Melissa. It's not going to hurt you
at all. Quite the fucking opposite, as a matter of fact. Now, damn it,
quit fighting me!"

Once again, Creagon moved his lower body into attack position. Once
again, Creagon fisted his thickly hardened cock and guided its blunted
rubbery head to the mouth of Melissa's pussy.

Once again, Melissa gave an audible gasping as her brother's cockhead
made contact with Melissa's cunt mouth.

The searing touch of her brother's huge cockhead against her tender cunt
was also responsible for sending Melissa into sharp little jerks of pain
and pleasure.

Once again, Melissa was going to plead with Creagon; but, this time,
Creagon was determined to get an entrance before his sister could find
any other way of thwarting him.

With a sudden thrusting, Creagon flicked his hips downward. His cock
jabbed to its halfway point up Melissa's cuntal slit, stabbing in
without mercy.

"CREAGON ... NO!" Melissa screamed; and from somewhere, she got a final
burst of seemingly superhuman strength. Aided greatly by Creagon's
disorientation at having placed his cock up his sister's pussy and by
Creagon's believing he would soon have all of his blood-engorged
massiveness enlodged inside of her, Melissa was able to take her brother
quite off guard.

Melissa pulled her wrists free of Creagon's grasp. She dug her
fingernails into his flanks and unmercifully raked his sides,
simultaneously twisting to free herself of his cock and of his
oppressive body.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhrrrrrreeeeiiiiiii!" Creagon groaned. Since the pain of
Melissa's scratches hadn't yet registered on Creagon's brain, his scream
was made more in frustration at having had his cock once again
mysteriously deprived of its victory. His blood-bloated penis was no
longer cupped by Melissa's tight and juiced pussy mouth but was fucking
nothing but thin air instead.

Melissa pushed, scratched, and twisted her body, actually surprised when
she was successful in coming free of her brother's naked control. She
quickly rolled to her belly, came up on her hands and knees, and began a
fast, crab-like scampering toward the open door.

"Goddamn ... you ... fucking ... bitch!" Creagon bellowed. Not only was
he recovered from his surprise, but he began finally to feel the running
burns that Melissa's scratch marks were making along his sides.

Creagon came right after her, diving across the rug and landing
belly-down. He reached out, clamping both of his hands around Melissa's
ankles. He pulled.

Melissa's stomach and breasts hit the floor with a dull thud,
momentarily taking her breath away.

Creagon struggled to a kneeling position, dragging Melissa's prone body
even closer to him. He then lunged forward, landing atop Melissa's back
with such a force that the resulting exit of air from Melissa's lungs
was an audible whooshing in the room.

"You stupid bitch, you want it forcibly this first time; and, by God,
you'll get it that way! You're also going to get a little more than you
might have bargained for."

"Ooooooooh!" Melissa groaned. She wasn't quite sure what had happened.
She was sure, however, that she had lost all hope of getting out, of
this. She was completely sapped of energy.

Still spread out along Melissa's back, Creagon stretched both arms
upward over Melissa's head and grabbed her arms. Roughly, he pulled
Melissa's hands down and then up into the middle of her back, holding
them there in a double hammerlock.

Melissa's body was wracked with helpless sobs. Terror was convulsing
her. Her heart was hammering uncontrollable in her body. But, her heart
almost came to a complete stop when she felt the pulpy head on her
brother's cock gliding its stickiness through her ass cheeks for a final
resting on her chocolate anal pucker.

"CHRIST, NO, CREAGON! THAT'S MY ASS!"

But, Creagon already knew it was her ass. He had to teach his dear
little sister not to put up such a fucking fuss when she really wanted
this screw as much as Creagon did.

"No!" Melissa screamed, shaking her head frantically. Her whole body was
rumbled with a paralyzing chill. Oh, dear God, no, he couldn't be
thinking of fucking her ass ... it wasn't human ... it was something
Melissa hadn't even let her own husband do (as much as the animal had
wanted to). Surely, Creagon wasn't going to try! Surely, Creagon was
just trying to scare her! AND MELISSA WAS AFRAID!

But, Creagon's massive cock head was positioned right on the tiny,
shivering aperture of his sister's anus; and, Creagon felt perversely
exhilarated by the appalling difference in the circumference of
Melissa's ass pucker and his cock corona.

"Oh, please, Creagon ... think about what you're doing. For God's sake,
THINK!"

But, Creagon was thinking. He was thinking about how lusciously tight
his sister's ass hole would be once it was wrapped securely around
Creagon's blood-engorged cock neck.

With a sudden downward surge, Creagon used all of his power to place his
cock through the opening of Melissa's rectum.

"AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHRRRRR ... OH, GOD, STOP IT! STOP IT ... SWEET
JESUS, STOP IT!" Melissa bellowed as a sheet of blinding pain enveloped
her. Frantically she tried to twist her impaled buttocks free of the
stabbing stake; but, escape was impossible. She was a slavish victim of
her brother's animal lusts; and, there was nothing or nobody who could
save her from this incestuous sodomizing.

Melissa sobbed piteously as her brother thrust even deeper into her
futilely resisting anus. Pain exploded again in her body and she
suddenly wished only to pass out or die ... anything to be relieved of
this wanton crime against God and her body.

Creagon's face was flushed with his exertions. He concentrated all of
his energy on ramming the last of his blood-bloated cock up his sister's
ass hole.

"Oh, God, Creagon, you're killing me! ... You're splitting ... me ... in
... two!" Melissa groaned as she felt her rectum becoming seemingly
cleaved by the violent penetration of her brother's lust-engorged cock
inside of her bowel.

Melissa felt as if her ass hole were on fire. She was sure her rectum
was torn and bleeding. But any physical pain was nothing compared to her
mental anguish at that moment. Because, she was bathed in shame and
degradation. Never in all of her life had she ever conceived anything
quite this horrible happening to her.

Inch by powerful inch, Creagon was continuing to spear his sister's
quivering ass hole. Deeper and deeper his blood-heavy cock dove into
Melissa's sorely stretched anal passage. Creagon's own pleasure soared
as he felt Melissa's bruised anal flesh giving way to the superior force
of his plowing cock stiffness.

"Ohhhhhhhh, Jessssssus!" Creagon groaned triumphantly as his cum-bulged
balls came to a sweeping slap against the cheeks of Melissa's helplessly
speared ass.

Melissa's body gave another violent shudder in revulsion at having
itself completely impaled on Creagon's cock. And, Melissa gave up any
resisting. What was the point? Her struggles had all been useless
against this lust-crazed animal. There was nothing Melissa could
possibly do to Creagon to turn him away from his taking what his
lascivious desires demanded. Melissa could now only try her best to
endure the mortification her brother was heaping on her. She had to
somehow bear the terrible pain resulting from Creagon's savage
sodomistic assault on her rectum.

Creagon held his blood-ballooned prick enlodged inside of his sister for
a good long minute, feeling triumphant and excited in knowing that
Melissa had been powerless in the end to stop his taking of her snug
anus. Creagon had completely subjugated her.

Creagon began to withdraw his long, hard cock. He eased it out slowly,
bringing fresh moans of pain from his sister as his cock grated against
Melissa's still comparatively dry ass hole.

When just his lust-bloated cock corona was embedded in his sister's
tight sphinctral ring, Creagon rammed forward again.

A steady gushing of pre-seminal juices allowed Creagon to eventually
establish a slow and laborious fucking rhythm.

Creagon's vicious thrusts filled the bedroom with licentious, noisy,
smacking sounds that blended obscenely with Melissa's continual moans of
agony and torment. Creagon was panting heavily, too, his cock driving
solidly into Melissa's rectum.

And, Melissa's anus was miraculously adjusting to Creagon's plowing
stiffness, dilating to accommodate the frenzied movements of Creagon's
raping cock.

"Oh ... pleeeeeeeez!" Melissa cried out beneath her brother; but,
strangely enough, her pain was beginning to recede. Her pain was
beginning to blend into a strangely seductive pleasure that seemed to
have swelled quite unexpectedly out of nowhere.

Pleasure? God, no, surely not pleasure! How could there possibly have
been any pleasure to be derived from the monstrous, sodomistic raping of
her body? To even think there could be pleasure was an obscenity in
itself!

Creagon was thrusting harder and harder. His belly and Melissa's ass
slapped noisily together.

Melissa strained beneath him, unconsciously bouncing her naked ass
upward over his ramming penis.

Melissa's ass hole continued to relax as the tension inside of Melissa
lessened with the woman's fading pain. Melissa's body jerked
uncontrollably each time Creagon's long cock strokes sped through the
yawning mouth of her stretched pucker, or when Creagon's contracting
scrotum slapped hard against Melissa's sweaty ass.

"Aaaaaaghghh ... ohhhohhh ... ohhhhhhh," Melissa moaned; but for once,
the sounding wasn't entirely spawned by just the agony and the pain.

Creagon's mouth came to kiss the nape of his sister's neck. Creagon
still had Melissa's hands locked in the middle of her back.

"It's good, baby," Creagon moaned, his voice choked with his swelling
ecstasy. "Jesus, it's ... so ... so ... fucking good."

But, Melissa fought with her own rising passions, continuing to tell
herself that there was no possible way this could be good.

THERE WAS JUST NO POSSIBLE WAY!

Yet, as Creagon's cock continued to throb deep within her ass hole,
Melissa's lusting pleasures were on the increase. More and more often,
the ecstasy began to intrude upon Melissa's intentions to recognize
nothing but the agony.

"Ohhhhhhh, God!" Melissa moaned uncontrollably as a sudden flooding of
pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over her, temporarily obliterating
all the torment.

Melissa's lower body began to bounce with more forceful movements.
Melissa was beginning, despite herself, to detect a certain thrilling to
the way her brother's hardness was pistoning in and out of her rubbery
ass hole, as well as in the way Creagon's blood-hardened cock was
slipping and sliding along the slicking of moisture supplied by the cock
secretions.

Creagon's cock continued to enlarge and to balloon with arousal as it
worked Melissa's rectum.

Creagon could intuitively sense that his sister was finally beginning to
enjoy--as he had always known she would. His dreams were becoming the
reality.

Creagon fucked Melissa's narrow, tiny ass hole even harder. The
battering of her quivering rectum was causing more and more pleasure to
fill his penis and be transmitted to his balls.

"It's good, isn't it, Melissa?" Creagon asked, still fucking, still not
losing a beat. He knew his own balls were getting ready for ejaculation;
and, although he well knew his fucking wouldn't be over with the one
blasting, he wanted to hear his sister admit her resurrection here and
now. "It's good, isn't it? Tell me, baby. Tell your brother how damn
good it really is."

"Ohhhhhhhhh, Creagon," Melissa groaned noncommittally.

How could she admit it? How could she? She had quite convinced herself
all these years that sex was a filthy, degenerate thing, a hangover from
more primitive times. It certainly wasn't pleasurable! Was it? Was it?
Oh, Jesus, was it?

"Come on, Melissa, tell me how you like it. Tell me."

"Ohhhhhhh, Creagon," Melissa groaned again.

And despite the fact that Melissa hadn't come right out and said as
much, Creagon knew he had her. He just knew it. He was so confident that
he released his hold on her wrists, freeing her arms. And, as he
suspected, Melissa made no move whatsoever to take advantage of her
additional freedom to break away.

"Come on, sister," Creagon continued his verbal attempts to force an
admission of enjoyment out of Melissa. "Who's to hear? Not the old man.
He's dead and buried. Not the nuns in those sexless schools. Only me.
Only your brother. And, I knew all the time. I knew even when you didn't
know."

"Oh, yessssssss," Melissa mumbled, frightened by the fact that her
admission had somehow just slipped unwittingly from her. "Ohhhhhhhh,
nooooo!"

"Come ... on ... baby," Creagon persisted. "Don't deny it. You've
already admitted it once. Admit it again. Tell me ... how ... much ...
you ... enjoy ... fat ... cock ... up ... your ... ass."

"Ohhhhhhhh, God, it's good!" Melissa grunted. And, why the hell deny it?
Creagon, after all, was right. The old man was dead, wasn't he? There
was no one left to stand Melissa in the corner. There was certainly no
one left to pack her off to one of those dismal convent schools. Melissa
was her own woman now, answerable to no one but herself. Why had it
taken her so long to realize that? Why had she so fought to protect
herself from recalling what was so pleasurable? "OH, GOD, IT'S GOOD!"

"Yes ... yes ... yes," Creagon grunted, punctuating each inward thrust
of his penis into the depths of his sister's rectum.

"Yes!" Melissa told him and told herself.

Thank the Lord for her brother! Who else would have been able to rescue
her from that dreary pathway she had set herself upon? Who, but the one
person she had ever known sexual pleasure with, could have forced her
into remembering that there had indeed been pleasure with sex and that
there still was pleasure to be had in sex?

God, but she had been like an ostrich with its head in the sand!

Melissa's verbal admission of pleasure only incensed Creagon all the
more. He drove all the harder into her. He ground his pelvis into her
sensuously yielding ass cheeks. His breath came ragged and hot as he
panted.

"Fuck deeper!" Melissa commanded. Now that the plug on her emotions had
finally been pulled, she was no longer restrained. It was almost as if
it were still that night fifteen years ago. Only then, of course, her
brother had been screwing her cunt. But even then, fifteen years ago
that seemed like just yesterday, Melissa had begged him to fuck her
harder ... fuck her faster ... fuck her deeper. "Screw me ... ugh ...
screw me ... ugh ... harder ... faster ... GODDAMN IT, JAB MY GUTS!"

Melissa was building to a frenzy that bordered on distraction. Her whole
body shuddered with each sinking of Creagon's cock up her ass hole to
his cock hilt.

"More!" Melissa wailed, feeling a growing need for the pump ... pump ...
pump of the hard cock stroking through her rubbery bowel. "Fuck me
more!"

Both Melissa and Creagon were now caught up in the total insanity of
their fucking. A tornado was raging inside of their bodies as their
naked lusts drove them on and on to further heights of ecstasy.

For Creagon, his cock and Melissa's ass hole had become the very center
of his universe. His fucking prick was all that mattered. That hungry
cock, Melissa's eating anus, and nothing else!

And no matter how much of his cock Creagon gave, Melissa now seemed to
want even more. She heaved her ass up off the floor to make it take
every last fraction of Creagon's cock meat. She ground her ass cheeks
hard against Creagon's belly, twisting his cock deep ... deep ... deep
inside of her bowel.

Melissa unmercifully writhed her body against Creagon's body,
luxuriating in the feel of her brother's pumping cock within her guts.
She was no longer afraid. She was no longer in pain. Nothing mattered
except the enjoyment of her being filled with Creagon's solid penis,
except the enjoyment of having Creagon's cum-bulged testicles
continually squashing against her ass.

Melissa's rubbery anus sucked, squeezed, crushed, pressed, and milked
Creagon's swelling prick.

Melissa, herself, was on the verge of an earthshaking orgasm; and, she
was unable to stop herself from running closer and closer toward the
brink. Uncontrollable fires of pleasure flared inside of her.

"I'm ... ohhhh ... I'm ... going ... to ... cum!" Creagon gasped loudly
in Melissa's ear. "Yes, God ... God ... yes ... I'm, uggggghhhhhh ...
oh, I'm ... Jesus ... fuck ... I'MMMMMMM CUMMMMMMIINNGGGG UUGGHHHH!"

Creagon burrowed his face against his sister's shoulder. He thrust his
entire penis length and breadth as deep into Melissa's anus as possible,
and then he screwed it even more firmly into place.

Torrents of hot, wet sperm spurted from the throbbing tip of Creagon's
insanely jerking prick, the mess surging through the depths of Melissa's
anus like fire through a dry woods.

Melissa experienced the hot jets of Creagon's cum, willingly accepting
the sticky wet feel of her brother's sex cream.

Creagon's penis twitched and lurched with each shuddering blast of semen
that exited it. And, Melissa was pushed that last few inches to the edge
of her own climax, and she toppled over the cliff into the most massive
orgasm she had ever known.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHRRRRRR EEEEEEIIIIII! YYYYYYEEEE EEIIIIIIII!" Melissa
screamed, her breasts and belly thumping out of control against the
floor.

Melissa was lost, consumed, sucked into the raging holocaust. She soared
on hot waves of ecstasy that seemed somehow determined never to let her
go.


Chapter 9


It was over but not finished. The cataclysm had ceased; but, Melissa
still hadn't come back down to earth. Her eyes tightly clenched shut,
Melissa was enjoying the sensual aftermath. As her brother moved,
Melissa moved with him, suspecting that any new positioning he desired
would only--in the end--mean more pleasure for her.

Melissa was her brother's slave. She was his to do with what he may. He
had shown Melissa that she hadn't really known her own mind. What would
he show her now?

Creagon worked his arms between Melissa and the rug of the floor,
pulling her back in tightly against his chest. He then rolled gently,
going to his back, bringing Melissa over on top of him so that her face,
her breasts and her pussy were facing the ceiling--Creagon's cock still
enlodged to its balls up Melissa's cum-drenched asshole.

Melissa's head dropped back on her neck. her left cheek laid out against
Creagon's right one.

"It was good, wasn't it, sister?" Creagon whispered in Melissa's ear,
his breath warm.

"Yes ... oh, yes, oh, yes," Melissa muttered in reply, knowing that her
brother's cock was still hard, still able to carry on whenever he
wanted.

"It'll even be better soon," Creagon promised.

"Mmmmmmmm," Melissa moaned, her body giving a shiver in anticipation.

Creagon opened his thighs, letting Melissa's lower body drop to the
floor between them. He then raised his legs off the floor and crooked
them so that his heels could securely lock over Melissa's ankles. Then,
he opened his legs wider, forcing Melissa's thighs to spread open
further with them. Simultaneously, Creagon's hands had once again found
Melissa's wrists. He had brought the woman's arms up and across her
breasts, holding them in position.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," Melissa moaned sensuously, feeling the air moving in to
caress her lewdly displayed cunt, feeling the delectable drooling of her
brother's cum as it drained down around his submerged cock shaft to an
eventual beading within the hair on Creagon's balls.

What was next? Oh, what wondrous, wondrous ecstasy waited just on the
horizon?

"Aaaaaaggghhhhhhrrrrr!" Melissa groaned helplessly as she felt something
touching her vagina.

And, how could Creagon manage that? His legs held hers open and locked
to the floor. His hands and arms held hers hard to her breasts. Creagon
only had the two legs ... he only had the two hands.

Melissa's eyes popped open, feeling two hands suddenly gripping her
thighs. She tried to sit up; but, Creagon held her secure. But, her head
was able to get enough elevation to confirm her horror.

Melissa's sister-in-law was naked and kneeling on the floor between
Melissa and Creagon's open thighs, her hands resting on Melissa's creamy
upper legs.

And if that horrible obscenity wasn't enough, Melissa's naked husband
was standing just to the right of the doorway, his hand slowly pumping
his blood-engorged cock. John was looking down on the menage on the
floor before him, his eyes slightly glazed.

Oh, God, how much of what had come before had he seen?

Melissa felt her body flush with embarrassment. Her preoccupation with
only the pleasure momentarily fled her. She could now only imagine what
a lewd picture she must have cut, pinned as she was on her brother's
hard cock, her legs splayed, her sister-in-law (her brother's wife, her
husband's sister) poised between Melissa's legs.

"Ohhhhhhhh, Christ!" Melissa moaned, not in pleasure but in
mortification.

What had she let happen? How had she possibly allowed herself to
succumb? She had been a fool! It all became even further degrading when
she realized that Marne and John must have been involved in this
travesty all along.

"Don't worry, honey," Marne said, flashing the wide-eyed Melissa a big
smile, "the good times are just beginning."

"Oh ... let me up!" Melissa said, struggling to be free. She wanted up.
She wanted to go someplace to hide. What had she done? WHAT HAD SHE
DONE? Oh, God, but she felt dirty ... degraded ... humiliated.

But, Creagon wouldn't let her up. His arms held Melissa's upper torso
secure. His legs held hers anchored to the floor, Melissa's thighs
lewdly displayed to Marne and John's viewing. Melissa's struggles only
caused her ass to work up and down, around and around, the cock that
still plugged it.

"Ohhhhh, pleeeeeeeez, let me up!" Melissa begged, wondering if she was
ever going to get over the shame that now filled her.

"Don't get up just on my account," John said sarcastically. He had a
funny expression on his face that Melissa couldn't quite explain. John's
right hand had stopped on one of the upswings over his large cock, his
thumb now making small circles over his rubbery cockhead as he smeared
his pre-seminal juices to the corona.

"Melissa doesn't really want up," Creagon said, his voice now a low
obscenity being whispered in Melissa's ear.

"I want up!" Melissa contradicted, giving an upward heave that raised
her ass almost clear of her brother's cock and then dropped it down
again. A shudder of livid pleasure flushed through Melissa's body as a
result.

"The company has just gotten her a little upset, I'll bet," Marne said,
her grin widening. She turned to give her brother a wink. "How about if
I show her we're, friendly?"

"Be my guest," John answered with a shrug.

Melissa stiffened as Marne's right hand slid along the inside of
Melissa's left thigh. Melissa gasped, struggling to free herself from
those lecherous female fingers. Even as she was battling, though,
Melissa was uncomfortably aware of a tiny spark of unwanted pleasure
igniting between her legs.

What if her father could see her now? What if the nuns at the convent
school could see her?

Huge wet tears were in Melissa's eyes and flowing down over her satin
cheeks. Even if no one else ever did know of this depravity except the
people in this room, Melissa would never be able to face any decent
human being again with a clear conscience.

Melissa began to helplessly plead with them all. "Pleeeeeeez ...
pleeeeeeeez ... pleeeeeeeeeeeeez!"

Marne gave Melissa a silly little grin and then dropped her face down
between Melissa's legs. Marne fastened her hungry mouth over the lips of
Melissa's cunt, gently forcing her tongue out and in between the
futilely resisting cunt lips.

"Ohhhhhh ... no ... God ... oh ... NO!" Melissa groaned helplessly. Her
head flopped back on her neck. She found herself seeing nothing but the
ceiling. She closed her eyes, somehow hoping that she could find
unconsciousness in the blackness.

She ... had ... her ... sister-in-law's ... mouth ... at ... her ...
cunt! She had her brother's cock stuffed up her asshole. She had her
husband watching, beating on his meat like a lecherous voyeur!

IT WASNT POSSIBLE! NONE OF IT COULD BE HUMANLY POSSIBLE!

Marne's tongue flicked in and out, then pressed deep into Melissa's
cuntal throat.

Melissa continued to try to get free until the last of what little
strength she had was drained away. She then submitted weakly. She lay on
top of her brother's chest and belly, sobbing softly as Marne's tongue
roamed at will over and in the slash between Melissa's obscenely splayed
legs.

Marne moved the palms of her hands so that her thumbs could seek out the
fleshy edges of Melissa's cunt. She then pressed to make the softly
hair-fringed lips pout to expose the pink, glistening little hole
beyond.

Marne smacked her lips lewdly and returned her tongue to the delicious
vee of Melissa's spread crotch. Her tongue flicked in and out of
Melissa's cunt, running over the pouted pussy lips with lascivious
expectation. Then, darting forth like a snake tongue, it slipped once
more into the very depths of Melissa's throbbing vagina.

"God, God, Noooooooo!" Melissa cried out as the lewdly delicious
sensations roared through her cunt and fanned out into the rest of her
body. Convulsively, against all of her conscious efforts to control
them, her legs jerked even wider apart.

Marne's tongue was back, running the length of Melissa's cuntal furrow,
probing and exploring until it located Melissa's blood-glutted clitoral
nub.

"Eeeeeeeee!" Melissa squealed at the contact.

With a maddening spiral motion of her tongue, Marne licked Melissa's
quivering little erection. Melissa continued to whine with agonizing
pleasure, torn between the ecstasy and the shame.

Finally Marne's mouth closed in over the hardened clitoris, breathing
heavily as she began to suck on the taut stub of flesh as if it were a
straw through which she was expecting to siphon nourishment. She
followed by giving the tender nub of flesh a small nibble with her
teeth.

"Aaaaaggggeeeeeaaaaiiiiiii!" Melissa cried out in tortured
pleasure/pain. She arched upward, struggling once more to free herself
from the cock up her ass and from the tongue at her cunt. Then with a
mingled gurgling of pure ecstasy, her body shivered with an orgasm.

Marne's tongue slithered in and out a few more times and then pulled
free. Marne, her face wet with Melissa's cunt juices, came up for air.

"My turn," John said. "Seems it's about time the husband took some of
what was rightfully his, doesn't it?"

Melissa's eyes came open again. Her head came up. She watched
horror-stricken as Marne got up and John came walking towards Melissa
with his cock weaving back and forth in front of his muscled belly.

What was the bastard thinking? Jesus, she had a cock up her ass already!
She couldn't possibly take John's stiffness up her cunt at the same
time, could she?

"Christ, John, no! You'll split me!"

John, though, only grinned. He took his thick cock in his right hand and
knelt down in the space Marne had just vacated. He guided his cockhead
toward the vertical little spit-washed mouth between his wife's creamy
legs. He pushed forward insistently until his thick, rubbery cockhead
slipped through the long blonde strands of Melissa's pubic hair and to
the slightly pouted lips of Melissa's pulsating pussy.

"JOHN ... NOOOOOOOO!" Melissa gasped, holding her breath as feelings of
uncontrollable desire mixed with the agonizing guilt still inside her.
She fought hard to control the delicious tremblings that shivered
through her belly, thinking all the while of the disgrace of this whole
vile scene.

As the enormous head of John's cock pushed harder and harder against
Melissa's cunt mouth, Melissa let her head drop back once again so that
she at least wouldn't have to witness the expression of supreme triumph
that would undoubtedly soon be registered on her husband's face.

With a sudden bucking of his hips, John's cock came forward to penetrate
into the narrow tightness of the cuntal split.

"John!" Melissa grunted, feeling an unexpected elation warming her whole
being. "Oh ... Jesus ... John ... John ... John!"

John gave another forceful thrusting of his hips, plunging his cock
deeper and deeper until it seemed to Melissa as if his cockhead was
thrust to the very center of her being. Forbidden waves of painful
ecstasy came rolling through her. Without success, Melissa tried to save
herself from the ultimate humiliation of enjoying this dual raping of
her body.

Melissa's body gave one final jerk as John at last impaled his cock to
its total length into Melissa's trembling insides.

Within Melissa's belly, two cocks rested belly-to-belly, separated only
by the thin membrane that divided Melissa's cunt cavity from her
asshole.

Melissa felt stuffed to the brim.

"You love it, don't you, you cunt of a wife of mine?" John asked, his
voice a mocking leer.

Melissa's lips trembled. She tried to stifle another sob. She refused to
answer him. She refused! She refused! She refused!

"Tell him, Melissa," her brother cajoled, feeling his own cock regaining
whatever degree of hardness it had lost during his orgasm up his
sister's ass.

Melissa refused!

"Tell him, honey," Marne said, sitting now on the edge of the bed, her
right hand almost completely buried up her cunt. She was really
turned-on by the sight of Melissa getting plugged at both ends by
husband and brother.

Still, Melissa refused!

John pulled back on his cock and then fucked it forward, once again
stabbing Melissa's trembling pussy.

"Aaaaaaaagggghhhhhh!" Melissa squealed in a long wailing of
pleasure/pain.

John withdrew again, holding just his cockhead inside of Melissa's cunt
lips.

"You love it, don't you, Melissa?" John asked again. His tone was
confident, as if he already knew the answer while being somewhat
surprised by it.

And, did he know the answer? Did he? Did he?

"Y-yes!" Melissa gasped, frankly terrified that she might indeed be
enjoying this perversity.

"Yes what?" John asked. He marveled at what he had seen happening to his
wife beneath her brother's sexual pumping. He marveled at what was
happening to her now.

Creagon had been right about Melissa all along! Thank God for Creagon!

"Yes," Melissa moaned. "I ... I ... I ... do love it."

And, she did! Yes, by God, she did!

"Want more of my cock?" John asked. "Want more of your husband's fucking
prick?"

"Yes, John! Jesus, yes! Give me more of your lovely prick!"

"Say 'Fuck my cunt with your hard meatiness, husband!' I want to hear
you say it."

Melissa's head rolled on her neck. Tears were flooding down her face.
But, they were no longer tears of shame. Melissa was crying because she
really did want her husband's cock inside of her. She wanted it where
but just a few hours before she had been convinced she could have gotten
along just fine for the rest of her life without another male penis
screwing inside of her. And, what kind of sterile life would that have
been? WHAT PLEASURES WOULD HAVE BEEN LOST TO HER?

"Oh, John ... husband John. Please fuck me ... please fuck me ... please
screw me with your stiff meatiness!"

John slipped his hands beneath his wife's smoothly rounded ass cheeks.
He then slugged his cock back inside of her, feeling his cock belly
gliding against the hard slideway made by Creagon's cock up Melissa's
rectum.

John fucked in and out of his wife's tightly fitting pussy, using long,
smooth strokes, driving his cock deep up inside the wetness and then
pulling it out again until only his cockhead remained inside.

And, Melissa's groans turned to soft mewls of pleasure as John continued
to fuck ... and to fuck ... and to fuck.

John's screwing cadence began to get wilder--harder and faster.

Melissa felt on fire. Exquisite tongues of flame seemed to be searing
her loins. Her belly quivered in the heat. Her ass jiggled over the
phallic stake her anus was still securely impaled upon.

Melissa became possessed of an insane lust that canceled out everything
except the wondrous feeling of her husband's driving penis skewering her
cunt while her brother's cock skewered her rectum.

John thrust again and again. His cock pulsed as it was driven nearer and
nearer an impending climax.

John felt Melissa's cunt quivering spasmodically around his prick.
Melissa's cunt walls then suddenly collapsed around John's fucking
penis.

"Ohhhhhhh ... fucking God!" Melissa squealed loudly. "I'm ... I'm ...
Jesus ... I'm cummmming. I'm cummmmmming. I'm ... ohhhhhhhh ...
I'MMMMMMMM CUMMMMMMMMMMMING!"

John's own lust-tormented cock ballooned in sensual ecstasy. The juices
inside of John's testicles seemed to explode. A white, hot liquid
churned as it raced the length of John's bone-hard prick and then spewed
into the depths of Melissa's sucking pussy.

"Take it!" John commanded. "Take it! JESUS, TAKE IT!"

And, Melissa took it all right. She took all that John had to offer as
well as the rumbling gushes of milk her brother's cock was soon erupting
up her anus.

She took it! She took it! She took it!

And, when she had taken it all, she found she couldn't wait to get some
more.


The End
