Chapter 13
Carla Murden was in Sydney, Australia, when Roy and Roger reached her by telephone; and Phillip was in Hong Kong. Both doting parents dropped what they were doing and flew home to their sons' double wedding.
At forty-three, the tall, willowy, silver blonde Carla could have easily passed for fifteen years younger. She was a six-foot tall study in elegance and grace, whose classically beautiful face, and slender, mannequin figured had graced the covers and pages of fashion and gossip magazines all over the world. Her six-foot-two-inch, prematurely gray, five years older husband was just as handsome as she was pretty. They both looked spoiled, pampered, worshipped-and they were. They both looked jaded, sexually depraved, as though they had been raised on a steady diet of far-out, highly imaginative sex from the cradle-and they both were.
Their twin sons' marriage to the eight months' pregnant Felton sisters titillated their imaginations, aroused their indulgent, horny curiosities, opened their flamboyant minds to the infinite possibilities of the situation.
"The younger girl can't be any older than thirteen, can she?" Phil asked his wife as they climbed into a cab at the airport for the drive home. I
"Ummm-I don't know-kids grow up so fast these days. I think she's a year or so older than that, though. We always had more to do with Scott and Sylvia than Chet and Marsha. God, I'd almost forgotten those two sex machines, we've got to have at least one session with them before we leave. But what difference does it make how old Thea is? My Daddy got my cherry when I was thirteen, and my brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles had done everything else under the sun to me long before then. Don't tell me you're getting those kinds of scruples in your old age, darling."
"No-no, quite the contrary. I was more hoping that she was only thirteen than actually thinking it. This American bullshit about the age of consent bugs me to death. That's what I like about the Middle East, and parts of Asia. There a girl is old enough to fuck when a man can get his cock into her. When the boys reached me in Hong Kong I was enjoying the favors of two darling little sisters, whose father had brought them up to my hotel suite exclusively for my pleasure. One of them was eleven and the other was twelve.
"Some time while I'm masturbating you'll have to give me all the juicy details," Carla mused. "Tell me all the dirty things you did to them and made them do to you. I wasn't a bad girl at all in
Australia, didn't do anything freaky, and you know that isn't like me at all."
"My God, were you sick?" Phil asked in mock concern.
"Nooooo, not sick. I just missed my two sweet babies so much that I concentrated on the big, blond, Greek god types-you know, the surfers-beach bums. I'd even try to always take them on two at a time to heighten the illusion. Some of them were good and really lit my fire, but none of them could compare to my babies. Now my tongue is itching to get into some hot juicy, pregnant teenaged pussy. I wonder if the boys schooled them-told them about us?"
"Don't be silly-of course not," Phillip said. "This is America, not Samoa. You know how square Chet and Marsha are, and so do Roy and Rog. They fell in love with those girls, got them pregnant, and now they're doing the right thing by marrying them-that's the extent of it."
"Kiss my ass, Phillip Murden," Carla laughed in mild derision. "You don't believe that bullshit yourself, and you know it. Like me, you're wondering how you're going to get it on with those two girls, if not their parents. You know I'm not going to see my sons without fucking them, and I know damned well that you plan to use that opportunity to rejuvenate your old, cold ass in some of that hot, young, juvenile pussy."
"Give the lady a big ceegar," Phil quipped, laughing lustily. "If Rog and Roy haven't brought some open, swinging sex into that household, we sure as hell will. We won't rush things, well jus play it by ear, get the lay of the land, so to speak. Then well enlist the boys' aid to get our full share of the goodies."
"I'm with you," Carla laughed as the cab cruised around the long winding driveway leading up to the front door of the Murden mansion. "Well go in, unpack, have a quick fuck-suck for appetizers, then make our grand entrance next door."
At that moment Marsha was stopping on her way through the living room to ask one of her future sons-in-law, "Roy, what time do you expect your parents?"
Roger was sitting naked on the living room couch with equally naked Thea on her knees before him, deep throating his cock. Marsha still couldn't tell the twins apart, but she knew that Thea was marrying Roy, so she assumed that she was talking to him.
"Some time tonight," Roger answered, not bothering to correct the case of mistaken identity. "They'll be here for the wedding in the morning, so they'll have to make it in tonight. Why?"
"I was just thinking, we'd better clean up our act a bit, in case they come in unexpectedly. People change over the years, you know, and in spite of Phil and Carla's reputations for swinging, our bare-assed, indiscriminate fucking and sucking all over the place might not sit right with them. Let's all get dressed and at least greet them normally; then if something groovy develops, all well and good, no harm done."
"My parents will never change," Roger assured her, "and no matter how we're dressed or what we're doing when they get here, before they've been here thirty minutes, I'll bet you dollars to used rubbers that I'll have my cock about a foot up Carla's ass while she gives head to somebody in this house."
"I wish I were as confident as you are," Marsha said, "but I just can't be. I couldn't bear it if something we did ruined it for you kids even before you are safely married. Please, just for me--get dressed."
"Aw-wight, Mommy, just as soon as I tome," Roger lisped like a young boy, smiling indulgently at the worried, also naked woman. "But what about you-how about everybody else?"
"I'm going to bathe and dress now. We four were fucking in Sue's room, and Chet and Roger are giving her just one more orgasm, then they're getting up and dressing, too. They've already agreed."
"Oh God-ohhh God!" Susan shrieked, as if to confirm what Marsha was saying. "Sock it to meeee, Daddeeeeee! Sock that big, hard cock deeper-deeeeeeper into my burning cunt! D-don't wor-worry, Roy, babeeee-I-I'll fin-finish s-sucking you off, b-b-but I c-can't n-now-I'm C-C-COMMMMMINNNNNNNG!"
Chet walked tiredly out of Susan's bedroom as Marsha left the living room. Flopping down on the couch beside Roger, he sighed, "Shee-it, it won't bother me at all if Carla and Phil have turned straight. Trying to keep up with you kids has aged me forty years. Too much of even a good thing is still too goddamn much. I might do more than just get dressed. I'm strongly considering putting on a chastity belt."
"It's all in the mind," Roger instructed the older man. 'The amount of sex you can give or take, no matter how old you are, is all in your head. Grandpa Murden died of a heart attack at the age of ninety-two while coming for the third consecutive time in his eighteen-year-old mistress' cunt.
"Carla's mother Lady Phyllis Preston Higginbotham Nottingham Mosley has run through four husbands and a couple of thousand lovers, and she's still going strong at eighty-seven. Roy and I have both fucked her within the last five years, and she still takes it and gives it from any hole with the same pleasure and enthusiasm as Marsha. She has a regular harem of well-hung young studs working for her in her house and on the grounds of her English estate-no less than six dudes ranging in age from eighteen to thirty-eight. Granny's idea of a really good day is to be fucked at least once by every member on her staff."
"My God, and to think I used to think that my brother, Scott, and his wife, Sylvia, were some kind of sex maniacs, because they could never get enough. Tell me, has your family upbringing and training got anything to do with your ability to sit there calmly talking to me while Thea gobbles your cock in that hot, wet, magic mouth of hers? Shit, she can make me come in three minutes flat when she deep throats my cock like that."
"No," Roger said with a short laugh, "give me some credit for some imagination and experimentation on my own. This comes from practice. Nobody enjoys getting well-done head any more than I do, and I've trained myself to make the pleasure last. I can come at will-in the next three seconds, or the next three hours."
"Come right now," Scott ordered, testing, staring intently at Thea's busy mouth to see if he could do it.
Almost immediately Thea's swiftly bobbing head stopped dead still in mid-stroke, and she went, "Gurrrrgluulllp-gulllp-gulp," as her throat babbled frantically, and she smacked her lips noisily, licking them to catch the thick, slimy string of come that leaked out, and was running down her chin.
"Jeeezus, what a heavenly sweet load of gism that was," she sighed, now licking the shiny head clean, catching the last oozing droplet on the tip of her tongue and flicking it into her mouth.
Within an hour they were all bathed, dressed, and sitting decorously around the living room awaiting the arrival of Carla and Phil. Marsha had called the Murden house and was informed that the Murdens would be over "shortly." One of the boys had rolled a couple of joints, and the young people were smoking pot. Marsha toyed with her martini, and Chet gulped Scotch after Scotch in rapid succession. The three men all had raging hard-ons. The three women were all overly aware of their itching, burning, leaking cunts.
"Uhhh, Mommy, did you call Uncle Scott and Aunt Sylvia?" Susan asked, more to make conversation and break the nervous silence than out of any real interest. "Are they coming to our wedding?"
"Uhhh-y-yes-uhhh-I called them," Marsha bed, "but they said they're sorry, they can't make it. Pat isn't feeling well, and they have to stay with her."
Actually, Marsha really had wanted to call Scott and Sylvia to invite them to the wedding, but Chet had overruled the idea. He still felt threatened by the openness, frankness, and honesty of the hedonistic couple, and he was deathly afraid that something they might do, something they might say to the Murdens would spoil this one last chance for them to get their hands on riches beyond their wildest dreams.
The front door chimes rang, and Chet forced himself to count slowly to three before getting up with exaggerated nonchalance, and sauntering over to open the door. The greetings were initially somewhat stiff and strained, but effusive. The whole group met in the middle of the floor, exchanging handshakes, hugs, kisses, and laughing small talk. Only Carla's greeting of her sons was noticeably long and warm. Her tongue was clearly seen darting in between their lips, their hands were seen to drop fondly, familiarly to her ass cheeks to squeeze and knead the tempting, cotton soft globes affectionately. She didn't try to hide the fact that she was sensuously bumping and grinding her loins against their hard cocks.
Seeming to take his cue from Carla, Phil began putting more feeling into his greeting of the Felton females. He gave Marsha his tongue to play with in her mouth while he explored her ass cheeks and the crevice between them with both hands. As if to measure the sizes of the babies they were carrying, he ran his big, well-manicured hands slowly over the mounds of Thea and Susan's bellies. Not content with that relatively harmless maneuver, he weighed all four milk-engorged titties in his palms as if to see which one was heaviest. Then, in a surprise move that brought a gasp of surprise and pleasure from both girls, he ran his hands swiftly down their bellies again, nipped their skirts up, and stood smiling down at his future daughters-in-law, as he faced them with his palms cupping their wet, naked, shockingly hot cunts.
"Well, do we pass inspection?" Susan giggled.
"So far-so good," Phil grunted his smiling approval.
Removing his hands and spinning on the balls of his feet so that he ended up facing in the same direction as they were, he shot his hands flat up the girls' skirts from behind. He could not stifle a croaking exclamation of oven-hot, smooth-as-silk globes of their full, naked, pregnancy-fattened asses.
"Jeeezus holy fuck, are you girls sick? Your cunts and asses feel like you're running 120 degree fevers."
"We just seem to get hotter and hotter down there," Thea explained innocently. "Stick your finger in the crack-it's even hotter there."
"Stay away from those holes, though, Dad, unless you're wearing asbestos gloves," Roy warned, laughing.
"I-I f-feel cheated," Chet said nervously to Carla. "I seem to be the only one who just got a peck on the cheek."
"We can remedy that easily enough," Carla smiled, melting against him with her lips parted for his probing tongue and her thighs parted for his digging, fondling fingers. Chet stiffened his big, flat tongue like a dick in her mouth, and Carla sucked on it in kind.
"You're getting my dress wet, dear," Carla moaned into his drooling mouth. "I flow like a fountain from my cunt when I'm hot like this, and y-your fingers are s-soaking my dress in my pussy juice."
"Pull it off-pull it off," Chet croaked.
"Only if everybody else strips," Carla said laughing. "Come on you people, let's get out of these hot, unnecessary clothes."
In less than three minutes clothing was scattered helter-skelter about the huge living room floor, and both families were stark naked. The removal of clothing seemed to calm and cool them, rather than further excite them. Instead of leaping at each other and fucking their heads off, as everybody expected, they began to laugh and talk as though they were fully clothed, and fucking were the last thing on their minds. Drinks and pot were passed around, further relaxing them, making them feel more intimate, close, and no longer under pressure to have to prove anything to anyone.
Phil had the longest, thickest, most fat-headed cock in the house, but the difference was so small between his cock and Chet's, and between Chet's and the twins', that his cock got no special attention. All the cocks were hard, and all the cocks were beautiful. Carla was doubtless the most beautiful woman present, and her tall, pointy breasted, slender-assed sexiness was a matter of naked fact. Still, Marsha's unblemished, centerfold figure, with its lushly compact curves was just as exciting, just as prick hardening and mouth watering.
If there was any special interest shown in the tiny gathering, it was to Thea and Susan. Both of their faces glowed with an inner beauty that was blinding. Their titties stood high and round over their fat, smooth bellies like oversized honeydew melons perched atop a gigantic, silk-covered pumpkin. One cheek of either of their asses was nearly as big as both perky mounds of Carla's boyishly slender buttocks. They both generated heat and light, and the circle tightened around them.
Nobody present could say with any degree of certainty who had begun fucking or sucking whom. One moment they were walking about chatting, laughing, fondling, fingering lovingly and indiscriminately. In the next moment Carla was on her knees with her mouth glued to Thea's cunt, lapping up her sweet, flowing juices, tonguing her tingling, turgid clit. Marsha was on her knees behind Carla, spreading her delicate, silky ass cheeks apart with both hands, rimming her powdered and perfumed asshole with wet, slurping sweeps of her frantic tongue.
Susan lay on her back on the carpet, with her face buried between Marsha's spread thighs, sucking her mother's cunt with avid, voracious hunger, gulping noisily as the juices flowed down her throat in a steady stream. Chet was up on the couch, standing straddling Thea's belly, bowed in the knees. Holding on to the back of her head with both hands, he gently fucked her open, clinging gullet.
Roger stood spraddle-legged over Marsha's head, patiently waiting until her spit-slick tongue had sufficiently lubricated his mother's beloved asshole. His cock was already dripping saliva from somebody's mouth. When he was satisfied that the mini-orifice was also ready, he lifted Carla by the thighs, causing Marsha's sucking mouth to slide down to her open, wet, blonde-thatched cunt.
Reaching up to help him, Marsha grabbed the pulsating shaft in her fist, aimed it at the miniscule, almost non-opening, and watched in awe and amazement as the ropy-veined cudgel of flesh sank easily into the suctioning, pink, round eye. Lifting her face flat up, Marsha began licking and sucking Roger's swinging nuts, licking his cock as it slid in and out, licking Carla's cunt and all the surrounding area between strokes.
Roy was on his knees straddling Susan's mammoth tits, vigorously cornholing Marsha. Noticing the asshole reaming that was going on a scant inch above the delicious cunt that she was sucking, Susan shifted her tongue into double action also. She licked and sucked Roy's balls just as her mother was licking and sucking Roger's. She let the long, hard, spit-slick tool slide over her lapping tongue in the same way. Her tongue also curled into Marsha's cunt hole between strokes. But she went her mother one better by sliding her tongue under Roy's cock into Carla's bung hole and having it plugged in deeper by Roy's hammering tool.
The group formed a fucking, sucking bouquet, rather than a daisy chain. Phil was lying on his stomach, lifting both of Susan's fat, firm thighs high and wide spread, so he could get at her asshole with his tongue, as well as her cunt. What with his long, hairy legs straight out behind him on the carpet, the floral arrangement was complete with long, bristly stems.
And they had only just begun. The soft, sensuous moans and groans had yet to rise in volume and tempo. Sweat had not yet begun to pour down bodies and faces. Orgasms were still just a promise. As they changed partners and positions, however, the atmosphere became charged with an electric, funky lust that changed the soft moans to yelping, deep-throated shouts of ecstasy. The whispering sighs became panting, gasping barks of overbearing pleasure. Gentle, coaxing urgings and endearments became gurgling, cursing demands for more-more-more.
Now all the ladies were tangled in a cunt-slurping, clit-licking circle of frenziedly sucking lust, some of them with men bowed around then-backs, shooting cock to them like crazy. Now they lay separated, one-on-one, each man with a woman draped over him, under him, taking his hammering cock in the hole of his choice, and giving it back to him in double measure. Now Carla was showing her stuff by sucking two cocks simultaneously, while a third plummeted in and out of her cunt. Now Marsha was outdoing Carla by sucking two cocks at once, while two more cocks briskly, rapidly, and simultaneously squeezed in and out of her asshole.
And so on and on and on they went. Round and round and round, stopping to rest and watch, smoke, drink, and chat. Sometimes the entire group would lustily cheer and applaud an extraordinary performance, such as Marsha's unique, first-time-ever feat of taking two cocks in her mouth and two in her asshole all at the same time. Somebody-or bodies-was in the process of coming at all times, and the orgasmic clamor rose and fell like tidal waves.
At 10:00 the following morning they interrupted their non-stop, round-the-clock orgy long enough for the justice of the peace to come and pronounce Roy and Thea, Roger and Susan, man and wife.
"Where's Dad?" Roger, already disrobing again, asked Carla, after the public official had gone. "Why wasn't he here for the ceremony?"
"He's in the bedroom chartering a plane," Carla answered.
"Chartering a plane? You two aren't leaving again already, are you?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, we all are. Stuff your cock back in your pants, and zip up. Not only are we giving you kids an around the world honeymoon, we're joining you."