Chapter 3
For a moment Tad Marshall just stood there with his mouth open, staring at the girl, wondering if he'd heard correctly.
"Would you repeat that?" he asked.
She laughed. "That's right, Tad, dear. The girl you've just fucked-and magnificently, I may add-is your stepmother. Welcome home, baby."
The naked girl tried to throw her arms around him, but he eluded her.
"My father's wife?" he said incredulously. "It's not possible."
"Of course it's possible. Older men like young wives, and your father is no exception."
"But he wouldn't remarry just a few days after my mother's death. That's too much to take."
"It's not a couple of days, Tad," she said seriously. "It's been several weeks since your mother died."
"Several weeks!" Anger surged inside him. "Then why wasn't I notified of it? Whose bright idea was it to keep it a secret from me?"
Laura moved in close to him and put her hands on his chest. He shivered at her touch, but at least she was only touching his shirt. Self-consciously, he realized he must look pretty silly without his pants or shorts on. He was reminded of this fact when she pressed so close her wiry pubic hair nuzzled his legs, and the slope of her belly massaged his limp cock.
She said, "You've got to understand what a strain your father has been under, Tad. He's been working twelve or eighteen hours a day on his business. Then your mother got ill and she died. He walked around for days like a man in a trance after that. He didn't eat. He could hardly carry on a conversation, much less dictate or write a coherent letter to you about what happened."
"And you were around to comfort him in his time of need, I suppose," Tad said sarcastically.
"Somebody had to," she said defensively. "We were afraid he might take his own life."
"So you appointed yourself his guardian. His permanent guardian."
She flushed at his words. "Neither of us planned it that way-not at first. But we both became emotionally involved with each other. He needed somebody, and I was handy. Oh, you know how these things happen. He was very depressed, and-yes, I did comfort him."
"The way you did me just a little while ago?" he said.
"You don't understand," she said. "You were thousands of miles away, living your own carefree little life. I knew you hardly wrote anything to him, so I figured you didn't care what happened. As for what we did, well, why not? You're one of the family. I'm one of the family."
He nodded. "The family that fucks together sucks together, I suppose."
He stared at her slim body, still unable to believe fully that this beautiful, sexy young girl was in reality his stepmother. Just a few minutes before, he'd had her on her back on the carpet, thrusting his stiff, throbbing cock deep into her hot cunt, enjoying the feel and the smell of her squirming female body, the tightness of her shapely legs clamping his back.
"If you want," she said.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, cradled his balls with one hand and stroked his cock with the other. Before he recovered from the surprise, she placed the knob of his cock in her mouth and sucked furiously at it.
"Hey, stop that," he said, pulling it out of her mouth.
She smiled up at him. "Oh, come on, Tad, don't be a prude. You liked it, you know you did."
Of course he liked it. He was only human, and he was immensely attracted to the girl. She was nothing but a goddamned fucking slut, but she was his father's wife.
"I didn't know who you were when I came in here," he said, "or it wouldn't have happened."
"I noticed you didn't bother to ask until you were finished having your fun."
"You should have told me before it happened."
"How did I know you were going to rape me?" '
He hesitated. "Is that going to be your story with my father?"
"Don't be silly, honey. I'm not going to tell your father. That would only make him angry. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Come on, be realistic. When he's at home, I'll let him fuck me till his balls hurt. But when he's not, then it's your turn."
"No." Tad began pulling on his trousers. '"I'm not going to have you cheat on my father, even if it's in the family. Especially if it's in the family."
"Well, at least," she said with a broad grin, "you'll know what you're missing."
"So tell me the whole bit," Tad pursued. "Were you the girl next door or the Avon lady coming by?"
She slipped her slim body into the bikini once more. "Neither. I was your father's secretary for a good many years, so as you can see, we knew each other for some time. It wasn't an overnight thing. Come on in, and I'll fix you a drink."
She led the way into the living room to the bar set in the corner. Everything was pretty much the way he remembered it-except once again for the the gorgeous ass twitching directly in front of him. Despite his wishes, Tad couldn't help but recall how wonderful her smooth skin had felt rubbing against his hard male body. He wanted desperately to feel those breasts nudging his mouth, feel the nipples hardening between his lips. He wanted to run his hands over her belly and feel her rounded ass and feel her mouth, her hands and her cunt on his cock.
He felt sweat break out on his body. He gulped air. He was aware that she'd been asking him something.
"What?"
"What would you like to drink?" she repeated.
"Oh, scotch on the rocks is fine," he said.
He didn't want to look at her. It was dangerous to look at her body, and he was afraid her face would tell him she knew what thoughts were on his mind. He sat on the couch and looked around the room at the familiar paintings on the walls.
A moment later, she came back with a drink for him and one for her. She sat beside him and folded one leg under her. They drank silently for awhile.
She said, "After a few days your father looked like he was going off the deep end. He asked me to marry him, and at first I refused. Then I caught him in the office with a gun pointed to his head."
"I don't believe that," Tad said suddenly. "He's not the type."
She shrugged. "Okay, he's not the type. Would he be the type if I'd let him shoot himself, and you came home to find yourself with both parents dead?"
Tad remained silent, pondering the conversation they were having. The whole thing had an unreal edge to it. On the surface, his stepmother seemed to be telling the truth. After all, why should she he when she was sitting in the catbird seat?
Funny the way his eyes kept going to her, even though he knew they shouldn't. Funny the way he stared at her nipples poking out of her skimpy halter, no matter what their subject of discussion was. Funny the way she had her legs spread enough so he could see right into her crotch, to the reddish pubic hairs peering out beyond the edges of the cloth, the outline of her wondrous cunt into which he had thrust his cock and where he'd had so much fun.
"A penny for your thoughts," she said in a mischievous tone.
"I was thinking what a slut you are," he said impulsively, reddening.
Instead of getting angry with him, she laughed. "Guilty, as charged. But that's part of my charm, don't you think?"
"No," he said.
"I have the feeling you'll change your mind."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-four.'
"And my father's fifty-six."
"Don't let that worry you," she said, "he's quite a he-man in bed. On our honeymoon he fucked me all day and all night."
"By that I suppose you mean made love."
"By that I mean, we fucked, and fucked, and. fucked, and fucked-"
"All right, all right." Coming from her sweet red mouth the word seemed somehow dirty. "Spare me the details."
"I wasn't going to tell you any details," she said. "Don't tell me you're getting jealous. Of your own father!"
He sighed, forcing himself to not get into an argument with this woman. "It doesn't matter. I'm not staying here anyway. Just tell me where my mother's grave is. I want to visit it."
Laura took a sip of her drink. She said quietly, "Your mother was cremated."
"That's impossible."
"Of course it's not impossible. Lots of people are cremated these days."
"She always wanted to be buried in the same plot at the cemetery with her own parents."
"Well, don't get on my back about it. It wasn't my idea. Your father made the decision. Talk to him about it."
"I will," Tad snapped.
He rose, set his drink on the coffee table, turned and strode from the room. He couldn't help but look back at her, and as he did so, she deliberately opened up her legs wide so he could get another look at her crotch.
"Damn slut!" he said under his breath.
He stormed up to his old room and slammed the door behind him. Sitting on the bed, he thought of what the two of them had done downstairs. He was ashamed of himself-but then he didn't know the lovely girl he was fucking was his stepmother, did he? Not until after he'd shoved his cock up her cunt and had an orgasm. He was only human, and when it was over with, there was nothing he could do to take it back.
It had happened. He'd fucked her. Forget about it now-if he could. And never let it happen again. He thought about his father and wondered if the man had been having sex with her even before his mother died. She was his private secretary. On his business trips into other towns, he might have taken her along with him and cheated while his own wife was waiting patiently at home.
To get his mind off the subject, Tad looked around his old room. Everything had changed. It was nothing like the room he'd slept in and studied in. His old Worn furniture was gone, as were the pennants from the walls and the photos he'd taken. It was not like coming home at all. It was like going to a strange house and being given "the guest room" to stay in.
The sooner he got out of here, the better he'd like it. He could probably stay with Jill for awhile. Sweet, lovely Jill with whom he'd had a lot of fun before he went overseas with the Army. Sure, he enjoyed fucking her, enjoyed the feel of her young female body squirming under him and over him, the touch of her hands on his balls and her lips on his cock. He loved the smell of her, the taste of her cunt pulsing against his mouth. But there was more to their relationship than the sexual side. He wasn't sure he loved her, but there was certainly a very deep affection between them, and he liked being with her even when they didn't fuck.
He rummaged through his closet, looking for civilian clothes he could wear. He found none. They had all disappeared.
"Damn her!" he cursed. "I suppose she's thrown out everything I own."
Angrily, he marched down the stairs, calling, "Laura, Laura."
She wasn't in the living room. A glance at the patio showed she was stretched out in the sun once more. The sight of her stopped him in his tracks. Involuntarily, his eyes roamed over her slim, full-breasted body that was barely covered by the two wisps of cloth. He'd loved fucking her, he knew that, and he'd love to do it again if he had the chance. The notion of his stiff cock sliding easily in and out between her legs made him shudder.
This is crazy, he thought. She's becoming an obsession with me!
He stormed out onto the sunlit patio. "What the hell's the idea of going through my things upstairs and getting rid of everything?"
Calmly she removed her sunglasses and looked at him. "I don't understand."
"My clothes," he said angrily, "my jackets, trousers-they're gone."
She laughed. "Oh, those. I sent them out to be cleaned. They're probably ready to be picked up now. What are you getting so uptight about anyway?"
Her simple explanation made Tad feel sheepish. "I'm sorry," he said, "it's just that-"
She moved over on the lounge and patted the cushion beside her. "Come over here, Tad, and let's have a little heart-to-heart talk."
Reluctantly, he sat beside her. He couldn't keep his Byes from her marvelous pear-shaped breasts. He had an urge to nuzzle them, to feel their roundnesses against his cheek. She'd be willing, he was sure. All he had to do was reach around her and unfasten her bra, and then he could kiss her breasts and suck the nipples.
"Whether you approve or not, Tad," she said, "I'm married to your father. So we may as well be friends. There's no point in us quarreling all the time."
He saw the wisdom of her remarks. She was his stepmother, and he'd have to make the best of it. Then he almost jumped as her hand came casually to rest on his thigh.
"I didn't mean to scare you," she said with a laugh.
"I'm not scared," he said, annoyed. "You just startled me."
"Nothing I do should startle you, Tad dear," she said. "I'm a hot-blooded, uninhibited woman-as you well know."
Her hand grew bolder, moving into his lap, seizing his cock through the cloth of his trousers and squeezing. As he winced-but not with pain-she continued massaging him.
"Does it feel good, honey?" she purred. "Does it make you want to fuck me again?"
He gritted his teeth. He knew he should move away, but he couldn't. He'd been away from a woman too long, and the sample he'd had earlier had not been enough. He could feel his cock responding, swelling, growing large and stiff in his pants.
"Yes, dammit!" he said.
His hand flowed over her belly, down across the skimpy bikini bottom, and between her legs. Suddenly, he snatched his hand away from her crotch, self-conscious.
"There's something I wanted to ask you," he said.
"Can't it wait?" she said, giving his cock an extra tug.
"No. It's been on my mind. What happened to the Bakers."
"Who?"
"James and Shirley Baker. A middle-aged couple who used to work here?"
She shrugged. "Never heard of them. I guess your father got rid of them. We have some people come in two or three times a week now. We don't need anybody full time now. But let's not talk, Tad. There are other things to do with our mouths."
Her hand on his cock was building him up very fast. She was an expert at massaging a man in ways that would do good to both the man and herself. She opened her mouth slightly and raised her head for his kiss, at the same time reaching with her slim fingers for the zipper of his trousers. Tad was lost, and he knew it.
A stiff cock, he told himself silently, has no conscience.
He moved his hand down along the girl's leg-and from the corner of his eye, he caught a movement near the patio doors. He looked up quickly and saw a gray-haired, craggy-faced man standing there.
"Dad!" Tad cried, leaping up from the lounge. "Well, I see you two have already met," the old man said.
"We were just getting acquainted," Laura said easily. She got up from the lounge, walked over and kissed her husband on the mouth. "Have a nice trip?"
John Marshall nodded. He was a big man, slightly over six feet and built like a wrestler. He put a covetous arm around the slim girl in the bikini.
To Tad he said, "Sorry I couldn't meet you. Business."
"That's okay. I understand," Tad told him.
He did, too. Business always came before anything else with John Marshall.
"I'm bushed," the older man said. "I'd like to take a shower and then talk to you later, Tad."
"I'll look forward to it, Dad."
The man moved away into the house, taking his young wife with him. For some reason, Tad was certain they were going into his father's bed to do some plain and imagine fucking. He also realized something else: he was jealous of the older man's intimacy with his stepmother.
That was crazy, but that was the way he felt about it. There was also something strange about the way the man had looked at him. How long had he been standing there watching his new wife and his son on the lounge? Had he seen Laura massaging his cock? Had he seen his hand delving between the girl's legs?
In response to a sudden thought, Tad looked down at the front of his trousers. There, in bold relief, was his stiff male flesh standing out, obviously excited. The old man would be an idiot not to have known. That explained the look-it was one of anger and jealousy.
The question was, what would his father do about it?