Chapter 7

Anthony Hibberd picked up his suitcase, shifted it to his other hand, then put it down as he waited for the cab that was to take him from the hotel to the airport. It was a hell of a lot heavier than it had been when he arrived in San Francisco, he thought happily. He had cut down his visit as he had planned-but he hadn't been able to resist the shops, spending a small fortune on luxuries for his wife and daughter. There was the charm bracelet Shirley had long coveted, carefully gift wrapped and tagged with her name in gold. There was the Mexican silver bracelet for Helen, a bottle of French perfume for each, sets of underclothes, hand-tooled leather purses from Italy ...hell, they'd think it was Christmas all over again! He picked up the case once more; the doorman was signaling that the cab had arrived.

He settled back against the seat, peering at the darkened windows of the shops as the cab sped toward the airport. He could see nothing within, but that didn't matter: his thoughts were on his wife and daughter, his mind filled with the vision of himself as he entered the white brick house, stole up to his surprised wife's room, and kissed her gently. Gently, he repeated to himself. And lovingly. Not pulling her to him crudely the way he had the night before he left, digging his fingers into her soft, white shoulders until she winced with pain. Jesus, he'd been such a selfish bastard! But not anymore, he thought with a deep sigh.

From the front seat the driver's voice interrupted his reverie. "What plane you catching?" he asked has he threaded the vehicle through the late evening traffic.

"Flight 921," Anthony said. "It pulls out at a quarter of eleven."

"Yeah, that's right. Gets you home pretty late, won't it? In the wee small hours?"

"It'll be late all right," Anthony said. "But it's all the same to me. I'm kind of anxious to get back."

"Little woman waiting for you?"

"Uh-yeah. Yeah, she'll be waiting," Anthony said with a sudden rush of tenderness.

"You know," the driver said, "I get lotsa calls at night from guvs like you. Guys who want to get home, be with the wife, with the family. Fed up with hotels and such-like. Oh, sure, I know a lot of guys think it's a break to get away, go out on the town ...you know what I mean? They come here with big expense accounts; nobody knows them so they pick up some cheap little chick and spend a night or two with her-spend a goddamn fortune too!-and after they fucked the shit outa her ...you'll excuse the expression, sir? ...they think they're one hell of a big man, and then forget all about her. But other guys, guys like you, they're kinda mature; they know what the score is. They just want to get home to the wife and kids as soon as possible."

"You're right," Anthony said. "You're absolutely right." And he felt a warm self-congratulatory glow shimmer through him. Even this cab driver could see how he felt about his wife now. And if a cab driver he'd never met before could see, how could Helen help seeing it?

The trip passed quickly. He drank the coffee the stewardess brought him-no liquor this time: Helen didn't like it-leafed through a magazine, started to read a pocketbook. He was only halfway through when the No Smoking sign flashed on and the plane was preparing to land.

Anthony waited impatiently for his baggage, retrieved it at last, and headed for the taxi line. He stacked his suitcase and packages on the seat, climbed in next to them, and gave the driver his address with a complacent smile.

The small fingers of Shirley's hand were still embedded in her own cunt, hypnotically stroking her clitoris, when her mother sank down on the floor beside the couch and put her hand over the girl's. Franks and the two boys, leaning nakedly against the sideboard, were watching with lewd grins as they finished off the bottle of Scotch.

Helen's touch added extra darts of pleasure to the shafts of sensation searing up and down the masturbating teenager's spine ...and then her whole body began to vibrate as she felt herself cumming.

"Aaaaaaaagggghhhhh!" she screamed- and then her own hot, white juice flooded over her still-rummaging fingers and ran down between her tender thighs in little rivulets. As the dying throbs of her release subsided, her fingers slithered from the moist, clasping channel and she lay back limp, hand in hand with her mother.

The two women felt a peace, a happiness, and an overwhelming joy neither had ever before experienced: together they had marveled in their shared love, their shared tenderness, witnessed each other's rapture as they used their bodies-and the bodies themselves were used-for mutual fulfillment. But now Helen's hand on Shirley's sent a different message, unspoken but clear as crystal to her daughter. Her gently clasping fingers, curled around the girl's hands, seemed to soothe the girl's aching conscience, to wipe away what feelings of guilt she might have had. It's not wrong, she told her mutely; what we have both done isn't wrong at all. It's the most beautiful thing in the world, the most exciting, the most enrapturing. How could anything that gives such pleasure be wicked?

Mother and daughter had no need of words to communicate. As Helen pardoned the voluptuous teenager for her own excesses, she begged at the same time the girl's pardon for the false view of life she had imposed on her. It was a view that had blighted her own happiness and which could have had the same effect on Shirley. The thought of the harm she might already have done to her own flesh and blood sent chills of fear and shame dancing along her spine: she could have ruined her life, saddling her with the same complexes she herself had endured for so long. But the ravished teenager knew well what was in her mother's heart, and the return clasp, the pressure of her small fingers, told more plainly than words that she understood. Helen sighed gratefully. Shirley would be all right, she told herself thankfully. She would have a good life, enjoying every aspect of it....

But what about herself? She knew now that she wanted more sex, even more. She wanted to be used as she had been-used at the whim and desire of every man. That was her fulfillment as a woman. A whore? Perhaps. And then she shook her head. That was the nature of women, that was their purpose-to submit to men, to be used by them as she had been used ...and was to be used again, she saw with a thrill of excitement as Harry Franks put down his glass and strode toward her with a lustful glitter in his eye.

She felt a hand pressing against her shoulder, pushing her away from Shirley. It was Dan. He had watched the two of them as the girl had come to her final climax and had been excited beyond endurance. His virile young cock once again jutted straight out from his lean body and he was breathing hard in his raging passion. He sank down beside the girl and his head flicked forward as he fastened his mouth over her hot, wet lips. He's going to fuck her! the mother thought. My God! He's going to fuck my daughter! Her first reaction was one of protest ...and then she knew the reaction was false, because she wanted him to just as much as Shirley did!

A vision of her husband came into her mind. She had loved him-and she had submitted to him. But it had always been done grudgingly, with no excitement, no thrill, no pleasure in the act of submission. Certainly he had never understood her, never understood her terrible, needs. But then neither had she herself. So which one of them was to blame? Anthony had wanted her as if she was a whore, but at the same time he had respected her; he had wanted a prostitute-yes, that was almost what she felt now!-but at the same time he had wanted a proper little prudish wife. And the two didn't mix at all!

Well, with Harry Franks, who was standing over her now, they didn't have to: there was no mistaking what he wanted and what he was going to take. A shudder of excitement, more violent than any she had ever felt, tremored through her body. He was going to take it! And she would revel in it! All those masochistic longings, buried beneath thousands of years of civilization, came welling up in her now. Men were really still in the caveman stage, taking what they wanted by force. Anthony still pretended all that was behind him: his boss pretended nothing of the sort. Perhaps that was why he was the boss! And now he was going to take her, Helen, in the most lewd way possible force her into the most abject acts of submission, give her the ultimate in shame, in humiliation, in pain. She sighed deeply. It was exactly what she wanted.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a stinging slap across the face. "I told you to do something!" Franks barked. "Next time I speak to you, you reply! Understand?"

"Yes, Harry. I'm sorry," she replied meekly as little thrills of expectant pleasure flooded through her, making her tingle to her fingertips.

"That's better. Now get down on that floor and kneel with your head on the couch. I'm going to fuck you in the ass!" Franks commanded.

Fifteen minutes later, in a delirium of wanton abandonment, Helen thought: Oh, God! He's going to cum! Harry Franks is going to cum in my ass right now! She wriggled her buttocks back against him, rotating them in teasing circles as he fucked demonically in and out of her twice-stretched anus. She had never known such exquisite joy, and she moaned out her ecstasy in mewling sobs as she bucked and writhed against his lewdly invading shaft. From the corner of her eye, she could see Den Seifert fucking her daughter Shirley. She watched as his cock disappeared into the openly glistening slit up between the girl's lewdly parted legs, then saw Rudi stride over to the obscenely coupled pair, his thick penis jutting from his hairy loins. He pressed it against the girl's soft, moist lips, forced it in until she was almost choking from the gagging bulk of the lustfully pulsating staff. Greedily, she began sucking on it, her cheeks hollowing and expanding as her tongue teased the tiny hole at its tip.

Behind Helen, Harry Franks rammed his cock deep into her rectum, feeling the soft, warm folds of distended flesh envelop it. The pistoning shaft seemed to grow, to expand on every stroke so that the sperm in his aching, swinging balls was building up to the point of explosion. He would have to shoot his fiery, churning load into her belly or he would disintegrate! Abruptly, he threw back his head and let out a long, loud scream as his shuddering climax convulsed his body.

The sound of his exultant cry drowned the noise of Anthony Hibberd's footsteps on the front porch, the slight click of the front door lock as he inserted the key and turned it. ...

It was two hours later. Everyone had left and Helen and Shirley sat by the pool with Anthony. "Well, I'll be damned!" Anthony kept repeating, staring into the pool. "It was all here for me all the while, and I just didn't know it." He looked then into the lovely faces of his wife and daughter. Then they all smiled. Soon the smiles turned to loud laughter, with Helen being the last to join in.

"Life has taught us all a lesson today," Helen said, still laughing. "We're all human."

"And I thought I was the only one around here who was!" Anthony added.

"No, Dad," Shirley joined in. "I'm human. Maybe more than both of you. I just wouldn't admit it to myself. I kept putting these funny little thoughts out of my mind."

"What kind of thoughts?" Anthony asked his daughter, now serious.

"Oh, when I'd see you, Dad, out here at the pool, with that tight bathing suit of yours on. Wouldja' believe it, my mouth would actually water all up looking at that big bulge in your shorts. So I'd go up to my room and punish myself for being evil or something. And all I really wanted was to be made love to by my father. Like I do right now. And one day I saw you standing nude at your bathroom sink. I almost went out of my mind thinking about it all day. But of course I couldn't tell anyone then."

"How nice that you can now, dear." Helen smiled. "I understand." There was a wild glint in Anthony's eyes as he stared at Shirley, so Helen added: "Tell you what? Why don't you and your father go up to your room, Shirley? Get to know each other? It's obvious you never really knew each other before. But I warn you, I'll be up there myself in an hour to get my share of this wonderful husband of mine!"