Chapter 4
At thirty-two, Scott was the youngest and handsomest of the three Felton brothers. He was six feet tall, and weighed a constant one hundred and eighty pounds. Though his hair was almost black, and his skin was tanned a deep brown, his eyes were the brightest of blue. His mouth was big, sensuous, constantly smiling over white, even teeth. His nose was large, masculine, with a Romanesque arch that caused women to almost invariably drop their eyes from his nose to his crotch to compare those two extremities.
Since Scott usually wore tight-fitting slacks or jeans, and since he had yet to see a cock as large as his own, he had come to take it as no more than natural when both men and women did a wide-eyed, unbelieving double take every time their eyes fell on the protruding bulge of curled cock and egg-sized balls bunched at the apex of his muscular thighs.
Scott's wife, Sylvia, was twenty-eight, and looked enough like him to be his younger sister. She was five feet ten, 40-26-40, and her jet-black hair hung in a wavy, glossy cascade down to the middle of her back. Her eyes were a darker blue than her husband's, and fringed by thick, sooty lashes that curled up almost to her eyebrows. Her lips were full, voluptuous, usually parted to reveal snow-white teeth in a smile that matched her mate's.
Sylvia was not a nymphomaniac (she kept telling herself), she just loved to fuck. Here again she was perfectly matched with Scott, because he unabashedly proclaimed himself to be the happiest, horniest satyr in all creation. It wasn't merely the fact that they couldn't get enough of each other that kept them joyously humping away morning, noon, and night with each other or any likely sex partner that they could find; it was more the fact that neither of them could get enough sex-period.
"You're just wasting your time trying to tell me all this w-with-y-your c-cock in my ass, babeeeee," Sylvia wailed as Scott kneeled behind her on the carpeted living room floor, driving all of his ten-inch cock smoothly, savagely into her bowels as he related to her the terms of the will.
"I c-can't lis-listen-and-and c-come at the s-same time, and-ohhh, damn, damn, damnit, I'm c-com-c-commmin agaaainnnn!"
"Shit," Scott growled into her ear. "If I waited to catch you without a cock in your cunt, mouth, or asshole, Betty and Marsha would be grandmothers, not to mention mothers, and we'd be on the outside looking in."
"Oh God, darling, I'm trying to understand...trying to lis-listen t-to what you're s-saying, b-but your-c-cock is too g-good-it's driving me crazy! Pl--pleeease-w-wait until you c-come t-to tell me all this."
Scott gave up, and concentrated on blasting his nuts. He had met an old friend while in Chicago who had arranged an impromptu party for his long lost buddy. Though Scott had only dropped by for a quick threesome with the guy and his wife, the couple's eighteen-year-old daughter had come in from a date and caught them in the act. Rather than screaming in outrage and shock, the lovely girl had blithely joined the orgy, and what started out to be a quickie lasted until the wee hours of the morning.
As he had gotten out of the cab in front of his suburban home at 8:00 a.m. Pacific Standard Time, a handsome young man stuck his head out the front door and called, "Hey, Scott-hold that taxi!"
Sylvia was lying naked on the couch, one long leg thrown over the back rest, using a bath towel to sop the slimy gism from her wildly tangled crotch hair.
"Hi, doll baby," she greeted her husband happily, "I waited up for you practically all night. What happened, how did things turn out?"
She was up off the couch and in his arms, already reaching down between them to unzip his fly.
"Nothing like we expected," Scott replied, stepping away from her to shuck off his own trousers. "Dad was flat broke-didn't leave us a cent. Unless we can perform a miracle and get you pregnant with a male child, the only possibility of salvaging anything goes right down the drain."
"Run that past me again," Sylvia said, a puzzled frown on her face.
"My God, your cunt is as wide open as a barn door," Scott exclaimed as he ran his hand up between Sylvia's hairy thighs and stuck one-two-three-four fingers into her soupy love cave, "and it feels like a quart of come in there-what kind of stud was that who just left here?"
"Oh, that was just Greg Malone, you remember him from our party last week. I called George and Dotty Weems to come over and keep me company while I waited for you last night, and they brought Greg and another dude with them. I knocked them all off by three or four o'clock this morning, and Greg was the only one left when we woke up about an hour ago, so we had a farewell quickie. Try my asshole; it's still in good shape."
Scott had pushed her gently down to her knees on the spot, aimed his massive cockhead at the hair-fringed ring of her cherry pink anus, and socked it to her for all he was worth. Now, going all out for that orgasm, he leaned back and away, watching as the thick, ropey-veined snake of his endlessly long cock pummeled in and out of the tiny back hole that looked too small to take his little finger, but stretched amazingly, hotly, tightly around his hammering tool. With both hands he spread the billowy soft cheeks of her ass as wide apart as he could pull them, and gave himself over completely to the thrill that he knew he would never be able to get enough of.
"Oh God-here it comes I" he croaked as a surprise orgasm thundered up out of his balls.
In the last fraction of a moment, he jerked out of the convulsively contracted anal ring and slammed his already spurting cock into her still widely gaping cunt, shooting his own come in to mix with the slimy goo already trapped there.
"Why did you do that?" Sylvia cried, looking back over her shoulder. "I wanted you to come in my asshole-it would have made me come again."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past half-hour," Scott said, pulling his still hard cock out of her oozing cunt, and rolling over on his back. "You can't get pregnant in your asshole."
"Shit, I can't get pregnant in my cunt, either, and well do you know it. What's with all this pregnancy jazz?"
Scott patiently reiterated all he had been trying to tell her while they were fucking.
"Oh well," Sylvia sighed when he was finished, "you can't have everything, and we certainly can't miss what we never had, so to hell with it, let the others compete for it."
"It's just funny how tricky fate is," Scott mused; "Ve've wanted kids from the first and couldn't have them. Neither Marsha nor Betty wanted any-at least Marsha didn't want but two, and she's had a half dozen abortions since. Betty didn't want any, and almost died of anger and frustration when her girls slipped past her contraceptive methods.
"We dig sex-any kind of sex-openly and frankly, and don't give a shit who knows it. Those phony bastards-especially Carl and Betty-pretend that sex is a necessary evil, and would swear on a stack of Bibles that all of their little girls are as pure as the driven snow. Still I'd bet you dollars to donuts that by the end of this month every Felton female with the exception of you will have an immaculate conception, and come up as pregnant as a freshly bred bitch dog."
"Let them," Sylvia grinned, gently stroking her husband's indomitable cock; "it's no skin off our asses. We've got a good life, we really don't need that money. You were the only Felton who wisely invested the annuity that Grandma Felton left you guys. The rest of them were so busy living up to the filthy rich image that they've borrowed more against their shares than they've got coming. They have got to produce a son, or they're up the well-known shit creek without a boat-forget the paddle."
"If they weren't so phony-so greedy," Scott said, "we could work something out. Why should they put the girls in it? Marsha and Betty could get pregnant, and the one who comes up with the first boy could-and should-get the lion's share. But since that land is a gift-more or less-to the Felton family, why shouldn't it be shared? There's enough there for everybody."
"But hey," Sylvia cried, "you said every other generation, and your brothers are it. The girls are another generation-they shouldn't be in this anyway, it won't count."
"Yes, it will count," Scott corrected her. "Carl saw to that. He argued a clause had stated within every other generation and got a positive legal opinion that as long as we three are alive, our daughters' son can collect. The only way they would be disqualified is if we three were dead, and then they came up with a son. But I still want the girls out of this. I'd gladly take care of my brothers' bills and expenses until one or both of their wives came up with a son."
"Why don't you call your brothers and put the proposition to them, dear? They'll have to go for it because they are both in hock over their heads, and no bank would lend them money on the possibility of their wives getting pregnant with a son."
"Good idea," Scott said, getting up and going to the telephone to call Carl.
"Hiya, Scotty, what's on your mind?" Carl said as soon as he discovered who was on the phone. "Make it short and sweet, I'm busy."
"I'll just bet you are," Scott chuckled; "that's why I called. I want to take the pressure off you cats. Instead of fucking yourself into a state of bad health trying to get Betty knocked up before Chet clicks with Marsha, both of you guys can cool it. Stop competing, relax, and enjoy your baby making. There's no real hurry, because I will support both of you financially until one of you hits the jackpot. Then when one of your wives comes up with a boy, we all share the take, the lucky winner getting the biggest part, of course."
Carl's derisive bark of laughter was like a slap in the face. "You goddamned phony jerk," he snarled, "who do you think you're kidding? You know that that nymphomaniac slut that you're married to couldn't get pregnant with a baby making machine, and now you want us to do the job for you and split the take-fuck you.
"Do you think I'm a goddamned fool? That money is as good as mine, and I do mean all mine. We haven't done any splitting before, why the fuck should we start now?"
"Forget it, Carl," Scott said sadly, "forget I called. I don't particularly dig you calling Sylvia names, but I'll let that slide, too. See you in church."
"Wait-wait, don't hang up," Carl ordered, "let's get everything straight here and now, once and for all. Do you know why we haven't spoken to you two perverts for years? It's because you used to come over here bragging about your stinking sex orgies, not even bothering to see if one of my daughters might be within hearing range. If you don't respect the women in my family, why should I respect that slut of yours?"
"You were the one who pumped us about our swinging, Carl. You were the one sneaking over here trying to fuck Sylvia behind my back until she laughed in your face. It's not our fault that Betty doesn't dig group sex. And I hope you'll continue to protect the virtue of your daughters--they shouldn't be forced into this thing, Carl."
"I didn't have to force them," Carl retorted without thinking, "my girls saw-uhh--that is--uhh--shit, I don't have to even discuss it with you, Scott. I'm just telling you, don't call my house anymore."
Scott hung up and dialed Chet's number. "Hello," Marsha's voice came over the wire. "Hello, Marsha, this is Scott-let me speak to Chet."
"Well uhhh-he-he's uhhh-busy-uhhh-he's in the bathroom-in the tub-can I-uhh-give him a message?"
"No, that's all right, tell him to call me when he gets a minute-it's very important."
"Ohhh fuck me, Daddy, fuck meee!" Scott heard a girlish voice shriek clearly in the background. "I'm used to you now-I can take as much as Susy can-as much as mommy can-sock that sweet dick to meee-make me come-make meeee commmme!"
"Oh my God," Scott cried, actually shocked, "don't tell me you people want that money that bad. How could you two do this, Marsha?"
"Damnit, Scott, do you think I like this-that this was my idea? This thing has just gotten out of hand. I went along with Susan getting pregnant, but not by Chet, and I certainly didn't want Thea in on it, but they seduced their father; he didn't seduce them.
"Chet justifies it by the fact that Carl and Betty have Jan and Liz fucking around the clock; he's even pulled them out of school. Pat, the middle one, is the only one they can't force into the act. She is in love with a boy and refuses to participate in their marathon orgy. She called me this morning, crying her heart out, because Carl and Betty are giving her such a hard time. I'm trying to be broad-minded about this-look toward the end result, rather than the means, but it ain't easy."
"Drop by here later and let's talk about this," Scott said earnestly; "maybe we can work something out. Bring Chet with you if you can, but even if he won't come, you try to make it anyway. What you people are doing is insane; the whole thing can be handled better than this."
"Well, Chet can't seem to get enough of the girls, and vice versa, so I'm left out in the cold here, anyway" Sylvia said, "so I might do just that. Wait, here's Chet; he can talk to you now."
"Who's that?" Scott heard Chet ask Marsha.
"It's Scott-he wants to talk to you."
"What about? You didn't tell him what I was doing, did you?"
"I didn't have to; he heard Thea."
"Oh fuck-Hey, bro, what's up?"
I've got a proposition for you, Chet. I tried to talk to Carl, but he wouldn't listen. It looks like I'm already too late with both of you, though, because you seem to have gone completely out of your minds-neither of you seem to realize what you're doing to yourselves and your daughters. Anyway, Sylvia and I thought. . ."
"Wait a minute-wait a minute," Chet broke in; "just what are you trying to say, Scott? Isn't it a bit late to pull the morals act-you of all people? You had no scruples about fucking Marsha and watching me shag Sylvia. Don't come on preaching to me now, especially when I know exactly what's behind it."
"What's behind it, Chet?"
"Hell, it's obvious. You want a slice of the pie, and haven't got an oven to bake it in. And speaking of what we're doing to our daughters, why do you think Carl and I keep them away from you two? Because we both know that you wouldn't hesitate to seduce them, that's why. Incest upsets you only when you're not doing the incestingright?"
"Wrong. Susan has begged me to fuck her, and I told her to come back when she's eighteen. I wouldn't touch a minor, related to me or not. And I'm not condemning you morally, I could care less if you fuck your daughter, sister, or even mother, as long as it is done out of love and mutual desire. The thing that upsets me here is the air of hysterical greed and hypocrisy, Chet, the pure dishonesty and the damage that it can do to your family emotionally. And that brings me to my proposition-why don't you.. . ?"
"Save it, Scott," Chet interrupted; "I'm not interested. If Carl wouldn't listen to you, what makes you think that I would?"
Scott hung up and turned to Sylvia. "You followed that, didn't you?"
"Yep. Fuck 'em all-we tried, anyway. Now why don't we go to bed and have a nice, long, sweet loving fuck for the fun of fucking, not for a baby-then let's get some sleep."