Chapter 2
Usually a breeze swept in from the ocean and the nights were cool in Tiburon in summer, but this night was as still and sultry as any in Orinda. Fran awoke from a deep slumber, drenched with perspiration, her throat painfully dry. After drinking two and a half glasses of water at the kitchen tap, she returned to bed to discover that Vivian was wide awake.
"Hi, dear. I didn't hear you come in. You must have been very quiet."
"No, Mama. I think you were zonked."
"What time is it?" Fran asked, looking at the luminous dial of the alarm clock and then answering herself, "Twenty after one."
Viv giggled. "I think it's more like five after four!"
"Good Lord! I guess it is, at that," she said. "Well, what's kept you awake? Is it the heat?"
"No."
"Moving to a new place? When I was young, that always kept me awake."
"No, I don't think that's it"
"What is it then?"
"Oh, I dunno."
"Viv!" Fran said, her tone just imperative enough to indicate that she wanted an answer. Fran considered herself close to her daughter, and expected honesty.
"Oh Mama, I don't know ... It's ... it's just ... Well, it's Bob, if you really want to know."
"Bob?" Fran said, frowning. "Has he done something to you?"
"No!" Viv said, impatient with this unfamiliar density in her mother. And then the girl giggled, "At least, he hasn't done anything to me yet!"
"Oh!" Fran said, suddenly catching on. "My darling's lovesick!"
"I don't know if it's love or not," Viv said. "It's just that he turns me on."
"Does he feel the same way?"
"I don't know. Neither of us has said anything about it."
"Well, how does he act?"
"He acts fine."
Fran sighed in exasperation and Viv said, "Okay, he seems to be, but not all the time. Like maybe, he doesn't want to make it too obvious or something like that."
"Well, after all, he's living with us, your family."
"Do you object to him or something?"
"No, not at all. But it might inhibit him."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure that it's quite possible."
"I have a hard time telling what's on his mind-he's older than me and he's been around. He scares me. The idea of falling in love with him scares me."
"Well, you've been around a little bit, too. You don't have anything to really be afraid of."
"Come on now, Mother. You can't call those silly boys I went out with in high school getting around!"
"You were pretty thick, with Jimmy Harper, your senior year," Fran said. "As I recall, that's when you started taking the pill!"
"Oh Mom! You mean you thought I wanted those pills for... for birth control!"
"Didn't you? I thought that's why all the girls were taking them."
"I told you I wanted them to regularize my period!"
"I know dear," Fran said, soothingly, "and I believed you. I just thought, well, with you seeing Jimmy every day, it was best to play it safe."
"Oh."
"You mean nothing ever happened?"
"Well, uh, I wouldn't say nothing exactly, but nothing that could have made me pregnant or anything."
"You're a virgin?"
"Yes."
"Well, what'd you do with him?"
"Oh, we petted..." Vivian said, and even in the dark Fran could see that her face was flushed.
"Yes?" Fran said.
"And, uh, I sucked his, uhhh ..."
"His cock," Fran finished up her sentence for her.
"Yeah, Christ, he seemed to want to do that more than anything else. I mean, for a while there, for about a month before we broke up, I was sucking him off every day, some days two or three times."
"You must have gotten your fill of that."
Viv giggled, "Kind of. As a steady diet, anyway."
"Didn't he ever want to, uh ..."
"Well, when we first started going together he said that he 'respected' me too much to want to do that. Then when we started getting pretty heavy he wanted to screw me, but I always managed to suck him off first."
"What made you want to avoid it? I'm just curious."
Vivian thought for a minute. "I don't know, really. He was awfully awkward and didn't seem to know what it was all about-I mean, he didn't seem to care very much about me, about what turned me on. So I guess it always seemed best to try to get out of it. But I was enough in love with him that I probably would have anyway if it hadn't been so easy to bring him off with my mouth."
"You must be good at it," Fran said.
"Practice, I guess."
"You sucked your thumb until you were five; you always were an oral child," Fran said.
"Bob's a different matter, though," Vivian said. "Sometimes I get the feeling that if he so much as touched me, I'd turn to mush."
"Well, maybe he'll touch you soon, and you can find out," Fran volunteered after a moment's hesitation.
"You'd approve?"
"Sex is certainly one of the most powerful of human instincts," Fran said, musing. "And I think that sexual fulfillment is necessary to happiness. The problem is that you never know when or where you'll find it, or if the circumstances of your life might prevent you from having it."
"Yeah?" Viv said, after a moment.
"So I'd say grab whatever chance you have while you can. It's better to make a mistake living than to regret never having lived."
"That's a nice philosophy," Vivian said. "That makes sense."
Both mother and daughter were silent. It was after five and they had talked themselves to sleepfulness. Fran said, "Good-night, dear," and rolled to the side.
After a few minutes, Viv said, "Mom, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course. What would you like to know?"
"Well, if you think this way-I mean you seem to like sex and everything-why is it you never, um, you know, got married again or anything after Dad left."
Fran bit her lip. That question had been asked by numerous relatives and well-intentioned friends over the years, and Fran had always given the same answer-"I've never met anyone"-and her answer had always been a bald-faced lie, because she had met men, attractive men who had seemed interested in her. Had the time come to be honest with her daughter? She was almost grown now, and Fran had never been guilty of trying to turn her children against their father: they had seen for themselves what a low-down mean bastard he could be. "Well," Fran began, "your father didn't love me. I think you know that. He never had room in his heart to love anyone."
"Yeah?" Vivian said, knowing this somehow, having sensed it even as a little girl.
"He'd treated me like dirt for years-he hadn't even been to bed with me in over a year-but when I asked for a divorce he acted insulted, like it crushed his ego, and then he went almost insane. He wanted to kill me at first, then when I took my black eye to a lawyer and filed papers and got a restraining order to keep him from coming near me, he left-he had to-swearing that he would get even with me."
"What did he do then?" Vivian asked when Fran paused.
"Well, his only hold on me was you kids, the fact that he'd fathered you and Ted, and so he tried to get at me through you. Well I won the custody case-in spite of all the lawyers he hired-and there didn't seem to be anything he could do ..." Fran was quiet for a moment as she remembered, and she described how she'd met another man about six months after her divorce was final, a man she'd liked named George Webster.
"I remember him," Vivian said. "Even as a kid I thought he was a nice guy."
"You might," Fran said. "He seemed to like you kids. He took us all on a picnic one time, remember? Anyway, your father found out about it and he hired a detective to follow us around. Well, he called me up one afternoon, a Saturday afternoon, and told me he knew I was 'going into business' as he put it, that various men had been seen leaving our house in the middle of the night. He claimed to have proof that I was a 'lewd and dissolute' woman and an improper mother. He swore that Monday morning he wound initiate proceedings to have you children taken away from me."
"Did he?"
"No, but he scared hell out of me. He scared me enough so that I broke it off with George. He was bluffing and I fell for it-I was a bit more naive then."
"How did George feel?"
"Oh, he came by several times, but I refused to talk to him. He was confused and downhearted, but about a year later he married someone else," Fran said. "Anyway, that was how your father got even with me. He had me followed around from time to time after that, always threatening to have you kids taken away if I saw another man. You remember that creepy man who used to sit in his car all day just down the street-I think you were in about fifth grade, and he used to ask you questions after school? About me and my activities? You thought he was strange?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, he was one of the punks your father had watching us for awhile. He had me so spooked that I was afraid to speak to men who might have had an interest in me," Fran said, her voice bitter.
"Well, Mama, it's never too late," Vivian said.
"You think so?"
"Of course not! You're still quite a chick!" Vivian said, and her terminology made Fran giggle.
"Well, all I can say is that I will not be bullied like that any longer. I was a fool to have let it happen in the first place," Fran said, full of resolve.
Dawn had broken, the first faint rays of the sun were creasing the sky when the two women fell asleep side by side, the wash of the tide hurrying their dreams.
Fran awoke about ten in the morning and decided to let Vivian sleep. As soon as she had gotten herself together for the day and had a cup of coffee, she began sanding the kitchen woodwork to ready it for painting. Bob and Ted had begun nailing Sheetrock on the bedroom walls (the walls of the other two bedrooms, Fran's having been the first to be walled in). As she sanded, out of the corner of her eye Fran watched the boys work. They were handsome boys, she thought. Her son Ted was a bit thin-at least, he had always seemed so to her mother's eye-but he was a well-molded youth, lean-muscled and wiry. Bob was heftier and had obviously lifted weights sometime during his youth, his bulging biceps and pectorals rippling when he moved. Both worked without their shirts.
Fran's thoughts kept drifting back to Bob, whatever else she tried to think of, and she found herself sizing him up with her daughter's eye: she was well aware of his masculine appeal, although, having no excuse, she had never let herself concentrate on it. She found herself wondering what it would be like with a younger man.
Where Ted's brow furrowed when he worked, as if he was incapable of movement without fierce concentration, Bob was always on the verge of a smile. He was quick to point out the humor in any situation. All his movements had an easy rhythm.
"Christ, how can anyone sleep with all that racket!"
The voice was Vivian's, coming from the door of the bedroom.
"So sorry to have disturbed you," Ted chided, "if you'd have just said so, we could have put all this off until tomorrow."
When Bob glanced up, his eyes stayed riveted. Fran looked back over her shoulder: there her daughter was, poised in the doorway, dressed, or rather undressed, in her new bikini. Vivian worked in her bikini everyday, but in her old one which was by all standards a sturdier garment than this, which was one layer of nylon without any reinforcements whatsoever. The scantiness of her new outfit was evidenced by the inches of white skin visible between her tan line and where the new thing stopped short, the milky skin exposed being that on her breasts and around her waist. Through the thin material Fran detected the outlines of her daughter's nipples, surprisingly pointed for such a warm day. Fran made a mental note to suggest to Vivian that, if she continued to wear the thing, she shave the upper portion of her pubic triangle, which was the same orange-red as her hair, and a few wisps of which strayed above her "waist"-band.
Bob turned back to his Sheetrock, lifting a piece with Ted and holding it steady against the joists while Ted got the first two tacks in before tacking up his side of the sheet. Vivian put some ice in the tea which had been cooling on the stove and, since it was almost noon, began making sandwiches for lunch. While Bob glanced in Vivian's direction often enough, he kept his cool and if he had any interest beyond the casual in the girl's near naked young body he did not let it become obvious until late afternoon, when she would probably have succeeded in holding the attention of any male. Her exhibition even held Fran's eye, although undoubtedly for a different reason. Ted had walked on up the dock to sharpen a linoleum knife somewhere and Bob was having a glass of iced tea, leaning against the kitchen counter talking to Fran, when Vivian began to saw the end off a two-by-four.
Now, Vivian had sawed boards before, and no one questioned her when she began to saw this one. She carried the sawhorse to the middle of the living room and laid the two-by-four lengthways along the top of it. Fran almost cautioned the girl not to saw there because it had just been swept, but after a minute began to suspect that Vivian knew all too well exactly what she was up to. Vivian picked up the saw and put her knee on the two-by-four to hold it still. She then began to saw, seeming to be totally absorbed in what she was doing, frowning in concentration and never once glancing up at Fran and Bob. The two watched in silence as she sawed with great vigor and as if she'd never done it before, using up altogether too much energy-if her grandma had been alive, she'd have said to slow down or else she'd never make it-except that it was the wrong kind of energy: no one needed to swing their torso that much just to draw a saw back and forth in the groove. Fran and Bob stared, both equally engrossed as Vivian's full young breasts wobbled back and forth, straining at her bikini, about to pop out with each swing of her torso. Her straps kept slipping, and just before the flimsy cups slipped away from her swinging breasts entirely, Vivian would briefly stop her motion to adjust it, and then her breasts would sway and bobble and show their stuff, their milk white skin with a hint of freckles.
The girl sawed so hard she broke into a sweat: perspiration beaded unnoticed on her upper lip and glistened damply between her breasts. Fran noted that Bob was breathing a bit more deeply, without looking at him. The laboring girl might have sawed all day, or so it seemed, giving it more and more (both straps were now slipping at once) when she suddenly sawed clean through her two-by-four: a foot long section of it fell toward the floor and hit her square on the toe. Vivian yelped, grabbed her toe with both hands and began dancing up and down on her other foot, jumping this way and that as she cried, "Ouch! Ouch! Goddamn fucker! Ouch! Jesus!" Her straps slipped unchecked, her breasts jiggled free and bounced nakedly, in unison, each time she hopped, her pink nipples for some reason stiffening.
Vivian sat down on the sawhorse, cursing angrily as she adjusted one bikini strap and inspected her toe closely for damage, her right breast hanging free for a quiet fraction of a minute before she thought to adjust that strap too. Bob looked away and, when he saw Fran looking at him, blushed.
"That girl's getting ripe," Fran said, musingly, "one of these days some bright boy is going to pick her off."
When Bob didn't answer, she added, "Don't you think?"
"Kinda looks that way," he said, laughing, fixing his gaze on her for a moment.
"What in hell are you doing cutting that two-by-four!" Ted said, coming through the door.
"I was going to use it," Vivian said.
"Well it was just cut to fit one of the door-jambs," Ted said. "What were you going to use it for?"
"Over there," Vivian said.
"Where?" he demanded.
"Christ! Can't you see I hurt my toe!" Vivian yelled as she stood and then limped out of the room.
"What the hell got into her?" Ted asked, and when he got no answer he asked again, "Hey, what got into l'il sis?"
Fran shrugged and picked up a piece of sandpaper to go back to work on the cabinets; staring up at the ceiling, Bob began whistling as Ted glanced back and forth between them in curiosity, until Bob was no longer able to contain himself, when he cackled for a moment before downing the rest of his iced tea and saying, "What-say, buddy? Let's get back to work."
It was Ted's turn to shrug, since he had no way of knowing that he'd exposed Vivian's hand for her-that is, after she'd sawed so hard her tits popped out, Ted had happened along to point out to one and all that she didn't have any reason to cut off the end of that two-by-four in the first place, that whatever use she had in mind for the act of cutting it, she had no use for the board itself.
The boys finished tacking up the Sheetrock before dinner, all of it except for the pieces they would have to cut, the odd sections between the next-to-last joist and the outside wall. With only those few gaps remaining, they had put in a good day's work.
Dinner was eaten pretty much in silence. Too embarrassed to put in an appearance, Vivian pretended a fever and moped in the bedroom, while both Fran and Bob were strangely preoccupied. After dinner, in innocent solicitude, Ted's wife Ellen walked in and told Vivian that she was sorry she wasn't feeling well, then asked, "Which toe did you hurt?"
"That one."
"Which? They all look the same to me."
"Well, it hurts like hell!" Vivian screamed. "Just leave me alone! Please!"
Not being privy to the social undercurrents, Ted and Ellen withdrew to their own room soon after dishes were done. Most newlyweds have resources they can fall back on. Ted and Ellen were like that in spite of the fact that they'd gone together for about three years before tying the knot.
Being old hands, Ted and Ellen went about their business quietly. Since their mattress rested on the floor, there were no bedsprings to creak, and the only sounds were pants and croons and satisfied murmurs. Which was quite enough to suggest sex to their housemates, as if it hadn't been on their minds already ...
Had the time come for a concerned mother to step in on her daughter's behalf to gracefully smooth over a situation which had inadvertantly become difficult? Fran leaned across the kitchen table and whispered something in Bob's ear. He nodded and after a minute stood and walked into the bedroom where the embarrassed girl moped.
"A breath of fresh air would work wonders," Fran heard him say, "Why don't you let me help you out onto the dock for a few minutes?"
She didn't hear what Vivian said, but Bob was saying, "I won't take 'no.' You're coming along whether you like it or not!" his voice pleasantly teasing.
There were sounds of a minor struggle, Vivian giggled and a moment later came gimping out on Bob's sturdy arm.
"I think I'll turn in early," Fran said. "I'm awfully tired tonight for some reason. Try not to wake me up when you get into bed, okay, pet?"
"Sure, Mom," she replied, perfunctorily, on her way out the door.
Fran was at least half lying: she wasn't really tired; she was, in fact, somewhat excited for her daughter by the turn of events. But she went into the bedroom and undressed, dropping her clothes on the floor. The night suddenly seemed hot and lonely. Naked, she climbed into bed, knowing she wouldn't be able to go to sleep yet willing to sacrifice her own comfort so that her daughter wouldn't feel restrained, so Bob wouldn't feel restrained. It was just like the many other sacrifices she'd gladly made over the years.
After half an hour's tossing and turning, she got up and looked out the window. There the two were, sitting on the pier, their backs to her. She gazed upon them remembering her own youth, her own romantic youth. She was thankful for her youth; otherwise, it would have become unbearable, her life. She had had her hour of bloom, was it all over for her?
The moon had begun to rise over the bay. The two got up and began to walk back towards the houseboat, self-absorbed. Quickly, Fran darted into the kitchen for a glass of water before returning to her bedroom and shutting the door. She sat on the foot of the bed, wondering if she should try to lose herself in a book but knowing that she didn't have the patience to read.
From her room Fran heard the door open and close, then Vivian's giggle, then another door. Alone and consciously trying not to listen for any more sounds, Fran tapped her foot, thinking maybe she had better take a sleeping pill. Before half an hour passed Fran's throat became unaccountably dry again. She opened the door a crack and peeked out and, even though the living room and kitchen were empty and dark, considered putting on her nightgown before venturing forth, but decided what the hell: if everyone else was making love, there was no reason she had to stay covered up at all times.
From the kitchen sink Fran could not help but see that Bob's light was on, wafting through the unsheetrocked gap in the wall. Fran tiptoed over, intending to listen just long enough to ascertain what stage they had reached. She heard a murmur, a low masculine "mmmm!" and then nothing. Without thinking about it, she edged forward and peeked in. They lay pressed together on the mattress, Vivian half on top Bob and slightly above him, her weight on her elbow as she fed her tits into his mouth and ground her pelvis into his stomach. Fran couldn't see his face, but guessed Bob was sucking; her daughter's bikini pants were caught in the cleft of her buttocks, her smooth young behind quivering. Horrified with herself, in utter fascination Fran watched Bob's hand snake over Vivian's hip and down to grasp one of her throbbing buttocks, squeezing it vigorously before dipping his index finger into the cloth-covered crevice at the juncture of Vivian's thighs and running it up and down there. Vivian's thighs parted and she began to rotate her entire rear end.
Bob suddenly sat up and began to unbutton his Levi's. Fran drew back and only then became aware of the effect the sight she had just witnessed was having on her body. Her nipples had swollen achingly and elongated and she felt a tingling warmth down below which signified that the folds of her pussy had begun moistening. She shut her eyes and made an effort to catch her breath as quietly as possible.
When she looked back in Bob was just stepping out of his undershorts and when he straightened up she had to restrain a gasp, while Vivian blinked and licked her lips at the sight of his massive prick, stiff and blue-veined, sticking straight out from the thick curly mat of his pubic hair. The minute he sat back down beside Vivian the girl was on her knees in front of him. With one hand she cradled his huge sperm-filled balls while with her other she slowly peeled back his foreskin to reveal the red knob on the end of his pillar. Reverently, Vivian wetly licked the velvety head of the shaft, her tongue stretching to trace all around it, and she then began nibbling at it, nipping its underside all the way from tip to base and back again. Bob sighed and lay back.
Vivian opened she mouth to admit the shaft and Fran thrilled with her as its pulsing length slid over her tongue and its throbbing head filled the back of her mouth. Craning her neck like a sword swallower and rocking forward slightly on her knees, Vivian managed to slowly admit the entire length of it into her mouth and throat, whereupon she clamped her lips into a firm circle and sucked vigorously, her nose buried in his sweet-smelling pubic mat. Vivian shut her eyes and went about her work with singular intensity.
"Ohh! Oh Lord!" Bob moaned, whipping his head and thrashing his shoulders.
Working her mouth and tongue feverishly, Vivian seemed about to gag on joy as she stroked his buttocks and petted his balls and mashed her tits against his muscular hairy thighs.
"Arggghhh!" Bob yelped as he felt the first pent-up spasm coming on. Fran knew Vivian had successfully worked her feminine wiles again when, eyes wide-open now, she began gulping greedily, her throat working overtime in her attempt to swallow the impossible load of cum as she continued to lick the underside of Bob's twitching cock like a madwoman, while spasms wracked his spine and her tits jiggled along with his flexed thigh muscles as jism began to dribble from the corners of her mouth.
"Baby, you're great! I never known anyone who could suck like that!" Bob enthused, easing his sorely dwindling cock out of her mouth. "Where did a young thing like you learn how to do that?"
A thread of semen connected Vivian's lips to his cock in a thin line which glistened briefly in the light before breaking. She licked her lips to get it and then smacked them and swallowed a few times before saying, "I invented it," and smiling.
Fran stood transfixed in the shadows, knowing she should beat a hasty exit to her room, but unable to move. She felt strange, mesmerized by this first carnal act between two human beings she'd been involved in, however indirectly, for years. Too many years; she felt strange, as if she were viewing herself and the human condition objectively, as if the rational part of her mind had removed itself from her body and now looked on.
"Get those pants off and let me get a good look at your pussy," Bob said.
Vivian blushed and said, stammering, "I don't know, I ... I mean, you can't do anything right now and... well, I'm a virgin anyway."
"You sucked me. Now I get to suck you," he said, lasciviousness written all over him, "Get 'em off!"
Blushing beet red from her temples clear to her shoulders, Vivian hooked her thumbs in her waistband and, taking a deep breath, skimmed off her bottoms. She lay on the mattress with her knees tightly together and slightly raised.
"Spread your legs."
"You won't, uh, hurt me or anything, will you?"
"I never fuck a virgin unless she begs for it," he said, shoving gently on her knee. Vivian's legs flopped apart to reveal in the center of her orange-red diadem, the hot pink crinkle of her quim, slick and puffy.
"Wider."
Not knowing quite what to make of this and never having felt-in fact, never having been-more nakedly exposed in her life, Vivian spread her legs to their utmost, the tendons in her thighs standing out as her fur-lips pulled tight and her puffy inner lips parted. Her delicate button of a clitoris stood out visibly.
She felt like meat on a rack. She cringed inside and felt herself tingle down there. While she was familiar with what that peculiar intimate tingle meant, she had never tingled so damn uncontrollably and so damn nakedly!
Bob doubled Vivian's knees back against her chest, keeping them quite spread, and Fran saw, just beneath her daughter's glistening delicacy and just as exposed, the pink-brown ring of her tightly puckered anus. Kneeling on all fours before the girl's pussy, Bob rocked forward and ... and it was as if he'd applied his hot wet mouth to Fran, as if he'd opened his mouth wide and seized her pussy just as she watched him seize her daughter's, engulfing her as he caught her labia in a long sucking bite. Vivian moaned and Fran feared she would faint. His whole mouth oscillating, Bob tongued the girl's pulsing clitoris and slowly sucked her labia into his mouth, the breadth of his tongue slithering around.
"Ahhhhh!" she moaned.
Between her clenched thighs Fran felt her own pussy tingling, throbbing as only in long-lost memory. She didn't understand it. Hypnotized now, unable to turn away if she'd wanted to, Fran's hand like someone else's slid down her side and across her quivering stomach to rest on her bush, then nestling in to rub her fingertips back and forth and back and forth in her highly lubricated vaginal slit. Her juice flowed onto her thighs, as if spurting from her enflamed pussy. Her right hand rose to squeeze her breast, to feel her aching nipple throb in her palm.
Vivian thought: I am a fruit, a plump ripe fruit and Bob is sucking the pulp out of me, my center-I'm being eaten! She had never been more completely, more sensually alive, more thoroughly charged with delicious swooning tension.
Bob's cock had begun to revive the moment he began eating her, and as her scent rose to permeate his consciousness and as all of him focused on this pliantly yielding yet throbbing burst of sweetness, his cock continued to grow. Now, he could have sworn that it had never been harder or bigger or ached more.
Bob rose, then crawled forward, hovering over her until his rigid manhood was centered on the girl's throbbing center, when he took her hand and guided it to the base of his poised shaft, saying, "Ask me to fuck you," his voice soft.
A tremor of sympathetic anticipation jolted Fran's cunt as her daughter gingerly gripped the base of the turgid tool with both hands, her eyes popping open as she cried, "Oh yes! Fuck me! Please fuck me!"
Her eyes painedly intense, Vivian sobbed as she lifted her hips off the mattress, holding herself there, offering herself up to be split open like the ripe fruit she was, holding the base of the wicked shaft with all ten fingers. Her delicately puffed labia stretched and parted as the broad head of Bob's cock slid past and his cock gave an involuntary twitch when, its tip just inside her, the membrane of her hymen stretched tautly. There was a moment of quiet, of stillness, of suspense even, hearts beating wildly.
He lunged heavily.
Three sets of ears heard the membrane pop like a quiet, far-off noise, and that was the last thought any of them ever gave to Vivian's maidenhead, because the momentum of Bob's lunge carried him several inches into the girl's tight slick vagina, burying the velvety knob of his glans in her.
She moaned and, throwing her ankles onto his shoulders and using that for leverage, began swiveling her tight socket on the head of his cock. She continued to swivel as he slowly dropped the weight of his hips, his broad cock slowly widening her unused channel, reaming it out until she gasped and thought she'd been split in two.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered.
She was too out of breath to answer him. The pupils of her eyes rolled back under her half-closed lids. Then, taking a deep breath, she began to move her pussy on this shaft that penetrated her insanely, reaching to the core of her and making every fiber tingle. Fran's eyes bulged when Bob pulled his shaft almost all the way out of her daughter and she could see that the base of the ungodly thing was red with blood. Her cunt ached. She rubbed herself harder and harder, powerless to stop herself, her middle finger sliding along her wet cunt lips, finding her clitoris and bringing pressure to bear, waves of electricity rippling through her. She dropped her finger to insinuate it into her vagina and probed briskly as a jolt shot through her, and withdrew, and probed, and withdrew, and probed, working her clitoris with her thumb.
She saw Bob thrusting in and out, ravaging the hole between her daughter's legs, Vivian's cunt lining clinging to him as if he was going to pull her inside out. He lunged more and more rapidly until his hips became a blur, Vivian's bouncing quivering in unison. Both bodies glistened with sweat.
In spite of the buzzing in her ears, Fran realized that the loud slap-slap echoing in the room was Bob's heavy balls slapping Vivian's anus.
Caught in the frenzy of the moment, Fran sank to the floor, her back sliding down the wall until she was squatting, her glistening thighs widespread. Her cunt with its uncontrollable fever now more accessible, she gouged two fingers so deeply into herself that she touched her cervix and shuddered. The houseboat's cooling evening air wafting over her steaming cuntmouth helped bring the promise of release to her throat where it remained like a lump as she began to whip her fingers in and out of her sorely throbbing pussy, the wet sucking noise of her own masturbation becoming clearly discernible to her and working in counterpoint to the slapping balls as her body heaved and jerked to the rhythms. Whole years of Fran's life had gone by when she had not secreted as much cuntal fluid as at this moment: her breath labored in time with the "slap, slap" from the other room and the "slush, slush... squish, squish" of her own hand slapping into the folds of her cunt, sliding on the slick flesh and forming a suction of its own.
With her other hand, she cupped her breasts now almost brutally, going from one to the other, milking them like udders and pinching her nipples with complete animalistic abandon.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Vivian cried as she bit her lower lip and felt a muscle deep in her pussy begin to contract. At first she didn't know quite what was happening: it was as if her battered womb had begun to rebel, to fight Bob's shaft. And then she felt every muscle, every fiber in her cunt go stiff in one big contraction and grasp Bob's shaft. She tasted blood from her lips and her nipples felt so stiff and swollen she thought they might pop. One moment she writhed madly in a vain attempt to get away from that cruel cock, like a fish fighting the hook or gaff, and the next moment when the entire length of it began to twitch and quake within her she wanted every inch of it, wanted the skewering monster to plunder her so thoroughly there would be nothing left. She dug all ten fingernails into his ass, then felt herself begin to explode as, first her cunt muscles and then her entire nervous system went haywire.
"Ah... Ah... aiiiieeeeee!" she screamed as she felt the first giant spurt of Bob's cum boil into her. "I'm ... I'm cumming!" she cried, realizing that's what must be happening to her. And it kept happening and Bob's churning cock kept spewing fire and her tongue dropped into the back of her throat and she made loud sucking noises as she gasped.
"Agghhhh!" Bob groaned as spasms spread from his cock and balls up his spine and he began to whip his body, almost pulling her legs from their sockets as he writhed, his chest smacking her tits.
Fran wanted to wail, to cry out in unison with the joined lovers as she became almost delirious with her maddened passion. The simultaneous ejaculations of Vivian and Bob triggered Fran. She strained and splayed her legs wider in convulsion as the bottom seemed to fall out of the houseboat, dropping her into the tide. She lifted herself from the floor in a spasmodic arch, grasped the bone wall of her cunt and squeezed and squeezed... then suddenly collapsed, sliding forward onto the floor. She felt totally exhausted, and her body seemed momentarily at peace with itself.
The sounds from the other room were those of contentment. Bob lay limply atop Vivian for a few moments, both of them drenched with sweat, before he roused himself enough to roll off, saying, "You're a goddamn hot piece of tail."
"That was nice," Vivian said. Then, almost as an afterthought, she touched her tender pussy with her fingertips inspecting for damage. There was dried blood in the hollows of her thighs, beginning to flake. She inspected Bob's cock and found a ring of blood admixed with their mingled juices about the base of it. It was beginning to dwindle. She lifted it and saw that he had more on his balls, that they were almost covered with red. She had literally been broken in, she realized.
It was nice, Fran thought as she looked on the contented couple one last time and then drew herself up to slither stealthily away, it was nice for them! They had each other. Or, more specifically, Vivian had Bob's cock, and a handsome sturdy cock at that.
Wobbling slightly, Fran made it to bed. Luckily, the fury of her orgasm left her exhausted enough so that she soon found sleep. She slept deeply, a vivid-hued organ, red-tipped and blue-veined, slithered in and out of her dreams like the rabbit in a magician's hat act. When she awoke in the morning she was as drenched with sweat as if she'd labored all the night long, and before she had a conscious thought she recognized that tingling glow. She cupped her breasts with her hands to find them painfully swollen from her night's desire, her nipples startlingly stiff and pressing into her hands like diamond chips.
Taking the ends of her aching breasts between her thumbs and middle fingers, she pinched tightly and rubbed her nipples with her forefingers, rapidly, mercilessly. She pinched and rolled those tender twists of flesh, flicking rapidly at their long red tips until she groaned and felt lubricating juice bubbling in her enflamed pussy, when she turned over and, both hands in her crotch, writhing on her stomach, she held her breath and diddled her clitoris until she was quickly overtaken by her lonely orgasm.
This was why she tried to avoid entirely thoughts of sex, why she had not masturbated in half a year or more. Once started, she had no way of satisfying herself. It went on and on, obsessing her. Before it slaked off, she would feel totally depraved, demented.
After she had gotten up, she shuddered at the sight of a large dark stain on the floor where she had squatted and dribbled onto the wood. It was dry to the touch, however, and before long she decided that it looked enough like natural sap, wood sap rather than the human sap that it was, not to have to worry. Within a week, it was covered over with linoleum.