Chapter 12

Every Sunday morning after that Barbara and her father solved the problem that had been haunting them both for years. She would come to his chair in the living room and sit down on his lap, just like that day 'way back. He would suck in his breath with surprise just as he had then. Her warm, moist, parted lips would press against his. Her tongue was in his mouth, stirring gently, curling and gliding. Her hands moving on his body.

Then she would have him lying on the couch and she would be taking the clothes, his Sunday morning robe, his pajamas off. And Neil would lay there in the wonderful awesome force that Barbara had always generated in him, and which he had finally given up trying to control. It didn't take any capsules anymore-just the simple truths of life. He wanted-and always had-this girl, his own daughter. He wanted her carnally. His prick was proof of that, the way it was sticking up straight, speaking its own uninhibited truths. Pricks have a way of being uninhibited.

Barbara would smile as she looked at it. Then she would put her hand around it and begin to stroke it up and down, up and down.

"Ohh, Barbara-puss, my little pot of honey."

From there on in neither would be able to control the raging inferno inside their bodies and their brains. She would then bend and put her lips around the head of his cock, and she would suck on it gently. His penis would twitch in the circle of her sucking mouth. Neil would reach out for her titties, cupping them and sinking his fingers into their firm softness. He would use a thumb to toy with her nipples, rolling and tweaking, making them pebble-hard.

She would lift her lovely leg and Neil would gaze at the fissure between her thighs which was pink, juicy and open. Then she would mount him on the couch, and, grasping his stiff cock, feed his iron-hard protrusion into her soft, moist slit. 'Way up it would go until her lovely cunt clutched all the way from the head of his organ to its hairy base. Her inner muscles would ripple voluptuously along the whole length of the rod, her hot, clasping pussy only then beginning to glide with a quickening frenzy. She would fuck him deliriously as she gazed down into his eyes, her lips soft and sensual, her breasts quivering with firm, luscious fullness against his hairy chest.

And Neil would sigh contentedly, knowing that his entire mind, his soul, and all his senses had made a much-needed adjustment to this way of life-and how lovely, how untroubled it all was.

Tuesday night was for Grant and Harriette, and the whole group would make themselves scarce, leaving the two alone in the house. Harriette would have her necessary three stiff drinks to get her started, then she would wrap her fingers around his strong, handsome shaft. A drop of clear lubricant would ooze out of the hole at the tip, and Harriette would feel the throb of his hot young virility, and would thrill to it.

She would play with it for a while, and then Grant would put it to work, after Harriette would stand before him wearing only high-heeled slippers, fancy laced-trimmed panties, a garter belt and a lacy bra, perhaps remembering her own youth and drooling in the fancy that she still owned it. This she needed, just as Neil needed Barbara.

Grant's excellent physical specimen, naked and waiting for her body, would help that dream along. The tight gut and the muscular arms thrilled her back twenty years. His young hungry mouth would swoop and his firm lips would seal themselves to hers. His tongue would surge into her mouth and thrash about, rubbing her tongue smoothly and stirring her excitement. Then one of his large hands would slide down her back and span the fleshy, shivery globes of her bottom, enjoying their quiver through her thin silk panties.

He would sweep her up in his strong arms and carry her to the bed, placing her on her back. Then he would kneel beside the bed, run his rough hands over her body, and strip off her bra, while Harriette would say something about them aching for him to suck them. He'd free her breasts and fasten his warm, wet mouth to the crest of one of them, then the other. He would draw the big titty deep into his mouth and draw on it hungrily. Tentacles of excitement would spread out from Harriette's nipples and spread to all parts of her body, finding a final home in the warm crevice between her thighs.

Then she would roll over and part her legs to receive him. He would twist his body to pull her panties off and Harriette would scream, "Eat me, ohhh, eat meeee!" And so Grant would eat her, suck her, lick her, nibble at her clit, and saliva her asshole before finally buggering that tight dimple with his cockhead, holding on to her big tits for dear life, while she gave him a wild and furious ride, all the while feeling that huge prick sink deeper and deeper into her rectum-and finally gushing it with his thick glob of young healthy sperm.

That's when Harriette would scream with joy, her voice echoing throughout the empty house.

Wednesday night was for Jerry and Barbara. They would re-enact his rape of her the year before. She would lie naked on the bed and he would act the part of the sneak-rapist. The only difference would be the way Barbara would twist her head and groan passionately.

After Barbara had discovered Jerry's pleasure at having his prick sucked, she had, over a period of weeks, trained her throat muscles to relax and expand sufficiently to entertain the whole of his organ in her gullet. Her mouth would go so far down on the shaft that her teeth would join and press into the soft flesh where the penis joined his body, her lips squirming in the mat of hair at the very base.

A cocksucking from Barbara became indeed an experience that swept all thoughts of leaving the Bennett household from Jerry's mind. He'd lace his fingers back of his head to keep from tearing at the bed covers once Barbara would get underway. With her head dipped, her hot, moist oval of ripe lips would capture Jerry's aching glans, and his lust-jumbled thoughts would go white with blind heat.

Barbara had developed, perfected, then added to her already redoubtable expertise an artistry far above anything Jerry could compare it to. She would throw herself upon him, heat of female lust and need for thorough fucking flowing out of every pore of her beautiful body. She would purr, tenderly squeezing the glans between thumb and forefinger and stroking the smooth skin.

Then Jerry's cock would be in her belly, her luscious breast-fruit in his mouth, plump and expanding with his every downstroke. Through the soft, curly hairs he plunged his weapon, watching her face as the animal heat began flushing upward through her on forceful waves.

Her half scream would become a wail of feverish joy, and with arms and legs she would seize him, her face screwed into a mask of passion. Then she would hold him clamlike, find his mouth and slither her pink length of tongue between his teeth. Thus Jerry would fuck into her, hunching to smoothly enter the hot cave to the full length of his rod.

Barbara's orgasm would strike with a mighty force, and for the next few moments she would become a mewling, screaming, clawing fiend bent on using her fiery cunt as a tool to break poor Jerry's cock off. She would buck, heave, and rake Jerry's back with her nails, eyes rolling wildly as she chewed her tongue, the hot jets of Jerry's release spurting into her belly, adding fuel to her wild act. A deluge of feminine noises would bubble from her throat past lips that would form odd, unnatural shapes. Yelping like a lunatic, her ass up off the bed, dancing an outrageous dance, she would coil small, stretch big... and come... and come... and come.

Then Jerry would just lay there, his prick deep in her cunt, soaking in a hot bath of mingled juices.

Friday nights, just like before, Grant would take Barbara to a drive-in. Only now, they never saw the movie. Most of the time Grant's head would be down below the dashboard, buried between Barbara's opened legs, and they would have to keep the windows up, to silence her little moans of joy.

And Saturday nights were for Harriette and Neil, for they too had recaptured something of their almost lost marriage. They recaptured that certain something only after they were both willing to lose something-jealousy.

"What do you mean you're quitting the job? What have I done to you, Barbara?" Mr. Erickson asked.

"You haven't done anything to me, Vincent," Barbara smiled. "I just found another job.

Thanks for everything." She gathered up her personal things from her desk and made for the door.

"Barbara, honey, wait," Vincent pleaded. "What is this other job you've found?"

She opened the office door and turned to him with a coy smile. "Just being a woman, Vincent... just being a woman!"