Chapter 11
Darla said something as I followed him into the living room, but I wasn't listening to her. I was hearing the echo of what Mark said, that I needed alcohol in order to have sex. I yelled it after him as he strode out the door: "It's a lie, you bastard--it's a big lie!"
Angrily, I whirled to the bar and poured myself a double, not bothering to find ice. The whiskey burned down my throat and made a comforting little blaze in my belly. I did not have to get smashed to screw. I had done it plenty of times without ever having a drink; plenty of times.
How about just the other day, when Johnny made it with me in the meeting room? I was cold sober then, and had been for days. And before that there had been my first husband. I didn't take a drink with Don Carter, not until I realized that something was missing from our sex life; not until I had my first swinging affair with a neighbor's husband.
Or was it before? Hell, I couldn't remember. I didn't have to remember, because it wasn't true. Sure, the drinking had been heavy at the wife-swapping parties; liquor kind of lubricated things and made them easier for everybody, not just me. And my third husband never cared how much I--but that wasn't true, either. The poor old guy had done his best to make me stop, and I hadn't paid any attention to him.
It was my own damned business, anyhow. If blurring the sharp edges made it better, made it hotter for me, then why not drink? I didn't try to tell anybody else what to do with their sex lives, so why should that bastard Mark hassle me about mine?
Darla purred at my side. "He's a brute, isn't he? Mark really mauled you around, darling. I had a wonderful view in all those mirrors."
I had forgotten the mirrors. I hadn't seen anything but the blur of his face and body, and the kaleidoscope of my own whirling Mind. "Screw him, Darla. It was your idea to get him over here, not mine. I much prefer Angel and Kent."
She poured me another drink, spilling some over the edge of the glass. "Do you know what I like best about the kids, Patti? The fact that they're brother and sister, and committing incest so cheerfully. That's how I first got turned on--by my older sister. Oh, I've had a few men in my time, too, but I go for women more. How about you, darling? Did you ever swing with your brother?"
Shaking my head, I sipped at my glass. "I was an only child, and my mother died young. I never--"'
Flashing back, I saw myself reaching up on tiptoe to take a sip from my dad's glass. He thought it was cute, and so did the woman with him, that polished blonde woman with long and curling nyloned legs. Often, they used to feed me little gulps of whatever they were drinking and laugh with me when I got silly.
There were different women, and as I grew up, I could tell that some of them weren't women at all, but girls only a few years older than. myself. I liked the young ones least of all; the older ones I could take, but the girlish ones, I could hate, and sometimes did.
I finished my sentence: "--I never got a chance at incest. Come on, Darla; why don't you call up the kids and let's have ourselves a ball?"
Her grin was lopsided and smeared. "Gettin' a little smashed, darling: Guess we better wait until I sleep it off again. I--hell, you can do without fucking for a little while, can't you?"
I watched her wobble over to the couch and flop upon it, her robe flying open to expose her slim thighs and the nest of silver pubic hair. "Sure," I said, "I can do without anything--for a little while."
This time, I used a lot of ice, and found a cigarette before I walked out onto the back patio that was surrounded by trees and washed by salt ocean air. Finding a beach chair under a flowering bush, I dropped into it and stretched my legs. Darla's extra dressing gown was a little snug, but I liked that, enjoying the way it outlined my high breasts and fitted warmly about my thighs.
No matter what kind of crap Mark put out, he hadn't been able to resist this body of mine. It had turned him on so much that he practically raped me, and I liked that, too. He was simply full of shit with that line about me needing booze to turn me on. I sipped my icy drink and thought about how early I had been turned on, thought about what a miracle it was that I still had my cherry when I married Don Carter.
What was I, a dumb-ass teenager... when I hid in the closet that time, determined to find out exactly what those women and girls could do for my father that I couldn't. Very young and very frightened for certain.
It was dark in that closet, and only the little bed lamp was on when they came into his bedroom at last. Her name was Missy, and she was about eighteen years old; she had red. hair and a wiggly way of walking, and she had been living with us for about a week, I guess. I remember staring at her tits when she slipped off her bra and stood there cupping them in her palms.
Missy had big, soft tits, and I put my hand on mine, barely feeling the little bumps they made under my nightie. I hated her for having such big, round ones, when I didn't have much, because my dad came over and kissed the nipples one by one, running his hands over her sleek young body and evidently enjoying it very much.
Then he stepped back and slipped off his pajamas and I caught my breath while my heart started thundering so loud I was sure they could hear it. It was the first time I had seen his thing, and the sight of it frightened me. It was so big and long, very thick through the shaft, and his balls hung down below the veined stem, all furry and wrinkled.
Missy laughed at him, and pirouetted slowly before him, peeling down her panties and drawing one shapely leg out of them at a time, with slow and sensuous movements. The hair on her pussy was red, too. It stuck up all crinkly and bushy, with the light glinting in the tightly-wound curls.
"All ready to ride, sweets?" She always called him that--sweets. "Boy, and I thought you were an old man. But that was before I knew you, lover."
"Come on over here, baby," he smiled, reaching up for her and pulling her down upon the bed.
Baby; that's what he called me, and I didn't want him saying it to anyone else, especially not to a naked girl who had ugly-red hair between her thighs, who had fits that were too big and soft. I stared through the crack in the closet door, shaking all over as I saw him kissing her mouth and throat and her nipples.
I could see plainly as he worked one hand between her legs and began to finger her mound, and I was shocked to see one finger slide out of sight into her pussy lips. It didn't seem to hurt her any; in fact, she squirmed around on it, rolling her fiat white belly and making hunching motions.
My daddy's shaft got bigger and longer, and the tip of it turned purple. I stared at it, at the way her fingers played over the pole, over the swollen knob, then down into his balls. With a giggle, she climbed over on top of him and balanced upon her knees, just brushing the fiery tip of his cock with her pussy hair as she swayed back and forth above him.
He stroked the cheeks of her slim ass as she steered his bulb into her crotch, and I thought then that she was going too far, that if she tried to squeeze that huge thing up into her pussy, she would tear herself wide open and bleed to death, and it would serve her right.
But it went in. I watched it slip right on inside the red lips inch by slow inch, until she was sitting right down on his tummy, with every bit of my dad's big prick locked tightly inside her body.
And it didn't hurt her at all. She was smiling down at my dad, enjoying that big thing up inside her narrow pussy, and he was running his hands up and down her thighs while she wiggled her ass. I could. see when she lifted her crotch, and made out my father's prick all greasy and shiny, all but the head, which never slid out of the grip of her red-haired cunt lips.
"You've really got a prick," Missy whispered. "It's so hard and good, and it reaches up all the way. Fuck me, sweets--fuck me real deep."
She hiked her ads up and down and around at the same time, wiggling on his embedded shaft, pumping it inside her hot pussy, and I started to get itchy all over, but especially inside my own virginal snatch.
"Hot and tight," my daddy murmured. "That's the way I like a pussy, when it bites down on the head of my prick."
That sliding cock hypnotized me as I watched it move in and out of her crotch, as I saw the spread cheeks of her polished ass and the rosebud of her hole. My hand crept up between my thighs, pushing under the nightie to find the almost hairless mound which was throbbing and hurting so much, which seemed so hungry inside.
As Missy leaned forward and fed my father the nipple of her big, soft tit, I fingered along the lips of my pussy, my eyes fixed upon them in awe and in jealousy. By all rights, that should be my cunt, I thought; Missy didn't love him the way I did, and she hadn't been here all her life, as I had. Besides, he would get tired of her before too much longer, and there would be another girl to take her place, a blonde or someone with hair black as my own.
She leaned forward on him, plastering her mouth to his and darting her quick tongue inside his mouth while her breasts rubbed back and forth across the greying hairs of his chest. Her ass continued to swing in little, eager circles, grinding his big, lovely cock around inside her ravenous cunt, her greedy, greedy pussy. They were moaning together, making grunting noises, and the tip of my finger probed between my rubbery pussy lips to reach the wet softness beyond them.
I had tickled myself there before, but this time I was going to go deeper, to ignore the little pains and the big fears, and see if I couldn't find the magic spot that must feel so very .good. My breath was rasping in my throat and my little nipples were painful against the material of my nightie.
"Ooohh, sweets!" Missy gasped. "Oh, darling, lay that good, hard meat up inside my cunt. Fuck me hard, sweets--fuck me low down and mean. Jam that rod up me--oh, oh, oh!"
She shouldn't talk dirty to him like that, I thought. But the words thrilled me, because I didn't dare say them yet, and I wanted very much to hiss them into my father's ear. I wanted to feel the rapture of his beautiful, slippery thing working inside my small body. I could make him just as happy, I thought; I could make him wiggle and hunch the same way, just as soon as I taught myself how, and I was learning.
My finger was halfway up into my own pussy, and I was working it back and forth, pretending that it was his cock. Then I touched the good place, discovering my clit.
My legs went tight and my ass drew its cheeks together. I stared hungrily at my father's prick and heard Missy cry out that she was coming, coming! My finger played over the newly found nub that radiated such exquisite pleasures, and I shivered deliciously. The welcome thrills raced up my legs and across my taut belly, and I began to dimly realize the wonderful feelings that Missy was experiencing with my daddy's cock inside her.
My glazed eyes saw my dad's balls give a funny, upward jump as they contracted, but I didn't know then that he was pumping his semen up through his flexing cockhead, that he was spraying his adorable, rich come into her clenching, satin-lined pussy. It took me awhile to discover the fulfillment of having a man's semen boiling within my body.
But I was making myself pretty happy, finger fucking. Every time I stroked my pulsing clit, weird little quakes of fever rocked my body, and they got stronger and stronger. Missy and my father were lying quietly, clinging to each other, when I hit my first real orgasm. Clenching my teeth, I fought to keep my heels from banging against the closet floor, and my entire body went stiff, hot waves of passion hissing and tumbling through my contracting pussy. I went blind there for a few moments, my back arched and my finger stilled.
It was a fiery, bursting kind of climax that changed my entire life. I hadn't known it could be so magnificent, so terrifyingly wonderful, and perhaps I understood why my father kept bringing good looking girls and sexy women into our home. But that didn't make me forgive him for it.
They flicked again, this time with my father on top, and I got to see it that way. It was better, I thought, because he could work his shaft better, and it thrilled me to watch his hairy ass bob up and down as he fed that long, thick piece of man meat into Missy's greedy snatch. When he came again and pulled it out of her, I saw the drippy stuff around the cockhead, saw the little stream of sticky fluid that he left upon the inside of her thigh.
I didn't dare do it to myself again; that first orgasm had been too wild, shaking me from head to foot and making the blood run crazy in my veins, making my heart pound until I thought it would break right out of my chest. Besides, I still had to get out of the closet and back into my own bedroom before I made some kind of stupid noise that would get me caught.
The light went out after awhile, and I gathered my courage to push the closet door open enough so I could slide out like a snake in the dark. Slithering across the carpeted floor, I made it into the hall, holding my breath when the outer door squeaked a little. But I guess they were too tired out from screwing and deep into a warm, relaxed sleep to notice any little sounds like that.
It wasn't the last time I watched my father fuck his women. I got pretty good at sneaking around and made myself a nice little hiding place in that closet, where I could pull some old coats over myself in case they got suspicious and looked inside. And I got better at masturbating, too, fingering myself to climax after climax as I watched daddy and his lover of the moment make it together.
I learned to be sweet to the women, too, not sulking or giving them any trouble, so that they thought I was the nicest kid around. In my heart, I hated their guts, but I never showed my feelings. I sipped their drinks and pretended I was smashed, so I could go to bed early and wait for them to start turning off lights. Then I'd head for the closet and get ready.
That was where I discovered that it wasn't only his prick in their cunts that turned him on; my daddy went down on his girls, too, eating into their crotches as if it was the most delicious thing he could find. I saw some of them take the head of his swollen cock into their mouths and suck on it until he came, grunting and heaving in ecstasy as he rolled his belly and stiffened out his legs.
At first, that seemed kind of nasty to me, but I came to accept it as a natural part of love making. But I needed more sips from their glasses of liquor to keep myself happy, to make me agree that my father should change his women often. It bugged me, I'll admit, and pretty soon I didn't wait for them to offer me a drink; I sneaked my own, out in the kitchen, and sometimes I got so smashed that I stayed in bed and didn't make it to the closet to watch them.
I don't know if I broke my own cherry or not. I mean, there was a little blood, a time or two; I masturbated every night, finger fucking myself into a warm, wiggly oblivion, making myself feel loved and beautiful, even if my tits hadn't grown very much and my thighs weren't filling out quickly enough to suit me. But the liquor helped a lot. It became my friend, and I had to hide its odor by chewing gum.
Not that he would have noticed.