Chapter 8
My sister Estelle guided me through the whole evening with the maid, constantly there, watching, encouraging, helping and cruelly holding me back from the impending orgasm that I was intended to have. I'm not sure what it was that she seemed intent on doing. It was only that when the sweat broke out on my body and I closed my eyes in the great expectation of that soul-releasing satisfaction, she would jab me in the ass or stab her fingernails into my scrotum. I couldn't come and I couldn't get it up for long minutes, minutes that were filled with the pain and the pleasure of her presence and the whisky and the smell of her honey-sick weed that always wafted around me.
And then we, Estelle and I, would try again.
She was a darling, my sister, always ready and eager in her strange mind to make me her lover and all the while I knew in the back of my mind that she wanted to kill me. But just as she had my cock up again, all stiff and manly and sinking eagerly into her wet love purse, she would throw me off and, stiff as I was, I had no choice but to follow her to the abused bottom of the maid. Only to be unsatisfied again.
Alice's poor, beautiful, abused snatch was sopping wet and when I shoved my cock deep into her hot hole it was like putting it into the folds of a hot, wet washcloth. I collapsed almost as soon as I had entered the girl. Not that that was all bad. There was Estelle. Ever-eager Estelle, and 1 recall thinking somewhere during the rest of the night that that was a good line, always came to my rescue; and I rucked Estelle until I was ready for the final climax.
And we repeated the earlier performances.
Again.
And again.
A thousand shards of crystal light erupted in my head, spread out like a great ball of glass and came to piercing rest between my eyes. My temples hurt, so great was the effort to close off the light and the stabbing slivers of the chandelier sun that seemed to want to dissect my retina.
There was a voice, distant and soothing, but I couldn't make out what it said and I closed my eyes even more tightly. But it was no use. The chandelier lights penetrated me as easily as I had penetrated the soggy slit of the maid. With one exception: I knew I wasn't hurting her, and the light was hurting me. And the voice. Stop. Stop, I cried out. And the voice went away. For a moment. And I wished that I would have been able to wish away the light, but by the time I felt that I was able to do that there was the voice again. I had to awaken.
No doubt it was my room. And my bed.
"Feel better?"
The crystal light shards were slowly easing their way back again from the center of my brain, slowly, still painfully, taking their retreat over the same worried path by which they had entered. Then they were gone, and I knew that I had the world's greatest hangover. Yet I knew that I dare not open my eyes for fear that the damned light would get me again.
"Feel better?"
Stupid fucking question, I thought. I didn't move, but I knew somewhere inside me that if I made no indication of being alive my examiner would ask the same stupid question again and again until I answered.
"Drink this."
Cool and bubbly. Awful taste. Drink, I told my self, or the voice will hound you. I drank, burped. But I didn't feel much better.
Feel better? Feel better?
"No. Dammit, I feel like hell," I moaned.
The cool fingers that were supporting the back of my neck eased my head back down into the damp, sweaty hollow of the pillow. I tried to sit up, but it was pointless. 1 couldn't sit up even though I didn't want to settle my throbbing head where it was. So I rolled over, found a cooler part of the pillow and let the bromo or whatever it was do its thing to my body.
All that took place some hours earlier. The voice was Ginger's, and the bed was my own, and the day was the next one after my experience with Estelle and the maid Alice.
"Are you all right?"
There she was again, Ginger, with questions. I guess I managed to nod some sort of affirmative for I remember her smiling down at me and then telling me to close my eyes and go back to sleep I did.
The next time I woke I was famished, but the fog and the shards of light had departed. I clearly saw all about me, and I could see that I was alone. I looked out the window after I got out of the bed and saw darkness. But that was easy to explain: it was night. I shrugged, still not thinking too clearly, and went into the shower. Tingly hot and then icy cold. I came out and dressed and began to wonder.
"I was worried about you," Ginger said as I stepped from my room. She was still a few paces from my door and I could tell immediately from the look in her eyes that she was sincere. "Feel better?"
The fucking question again. But I withheld my irritation and nodded. "Care for a drink?" I finally said.
"I know I need one."
"Don't you think that you've had enough?"
Very slowly I shook my head and then turned away from her to continue on down to the library and the soothing fire of a few brandies.
"Kevin, please."
"Please what?" She seemed so distant to me at that moment that I really couldn't figure out what she was trying to get at.
"Don't drink any more," she said softly. "I don't think that it's safe around here, especially if you're drunk."
"My God, Ginger! Do you think I'm a lush? I have a helluva hangover, but I'm old enough to know that a couple of drinks will fix me up." I stared at her and wondered why she had such a frightened look in her eyes. "Would you like to join me?"
She nodded her head and followed next to me as I went down the stairs and headed for the library.
I gave her a glass of brandy, extending my arm across the desk. The damned liquid in the glass looked like it was in a full gale. That's how much my hands were shaking, and I hadn't notice it until then. I was waiting for her comment, but she didn't say anything. But I had a little difficulty with the first couple of sips that I took. After that my body seemed .to warm up and my hands stopped shaking.
"I guess I really tied one on this afternoon," I said with the most casual voice I could manage.
"Yesterday afternoon," she said flatly.
I gave her a puzzled look.
"That was yesterday afternoon."
Slowly it came back, but I was still blank as to where the time had gone. I asked her.
"I was gone yesterday all day. Myer took me to the city to sign some papers that I had forgotten but I had to do some shopping, too. I got back early this morning and found you outside your door. Quite bare-assed naked, too."
I let out a groan and sipped a little heavier on the brandy. I had no recollection of being naked outside my bedroom door.
"And you helped me to bed all my yourself?"
"You woke up enough to talk. Once in your bed, you passed out again. I don't know what in the hell you were drinking, but you sure had me scared for a while. And why you took all your clothes off and just piled them beside you at the door I'll never understand."
"I don't remember," I said and I didn't. Gradually, though, some of the bits and pieces came back. Alice. Estelle. The room. The drinks. What in the hell had Estelle spiked my drinks with? And as soon as I tried to reconstruct the events, they shattered around my head until I had to take another sip of brandy.
"Kevin, darling," Ginger said, "I'm scared."
I noticed that she hadn't touched her drink, but I said nothing.
"I told Myer everything about Estelle and the man in the garage," Ginger said.
Suddenly it all seemed like a bad dream as the stuff Ginger had overheard and told me came back. I remembered then that my sister wanted to kill me and our step-sister. And the recording. But why hadn't Estelle ever mentioned it that morning? I was beginning to doubt Ginger's story just a little. It seemed impossible that Estelle would be so naive as to simply record the bedroom parts of that little drama. Or would she? I felt all of a sudden like a mouse caught between two cats and with no place to turn.
"And what did Myer tell you? That you were imagining things?" The brandy was beginning to help clear my head. Well; it was at least taking the shakes from my hands and restoring some confidence.
"No. Quite the contrary, he told me that Estelle was probably capable of doing it," Ginger said. This time she looked me square in the eye for a full minute and then picked up her glass, draining it down in a single gulp. Her eyes watered for a moment and then she closed them.
"Don't worry about it," I said, getting up from behind the desk and stepping behind her chair. I could smell the light perfume in her hair and, although I remembered the orgy I had had the day before with my sister and her friend, I felt a sudden jab of urgency between my legs. I know that I should have been so well satisfied the previous day that I shouldn't have such thoughts. But Ginger's dark hair and the sensuous swell of her boobs, very well revealed from my position just above her, turned me on. I put my glass down and pressed the palms of my hands over the lush rise of her breasts and through the thin material of her blouse I could feel the sudden warmth and then the hardness as her nipples stiffened to my touch.
She got up and turned to me, her arms quickly encircling me. She buried her head against my chest and I could feel her shudder. "I'm scared of being alone here, Kevin. Take me to my room."
She still clung close to me as I guided her up the stairs and into her bedroom. It wasn't as though I really wanted to sock my swollen cock to her, but I knew that she would find some comfort and relief from her fears, fears which I was beginning to believe were mostly imaginary. She made me lock the bedroom door and only after she had tested it herself did she seem to relax a little. 1 smiled at her and she laughed, pulling her dress off and kicking her shoes across the room.
"Damn. Make mad love to me," she said as she dropped her panties in a flimsy heap of sheer black silk.
"I want to be fucked until my cunt screams."
I pulled off my own clothing as I watched her perform a sinuous little dance in front of me. She rolled her fleshy hips from side to side and humped her pelvis in forward motion twitched that pretty obviously duplicated what she would do when her back was flat on the mattress and my prick was buried in her hot, wet hole. All the time she was moving towards me and when I dropped my shorts and flipped them onto the nearby chair, she was next to me, her fiery tits burning twin brands on my chest. Then she wrapped her warm arms around my body and slipped down to her knees, taking my cock between her breasts for a long moment and then, forming a perfect circle with her moist red lips, she accepted the meat, taking my cock right down her throat until I could feel my knob bump against the back of her palate. Her tongue worked feverishly, twirling wetly around and around the sensitive nerves before she moved back slowly and sucked until I thought she would suck the blood right out of the head.
A moan escaped my hps with the first encounter with her mouth that night and then I settled into a fine sense of pleasure as Ginger's head bobbed back and forth and her tongue played twitching melodies on the throbbing nerves of my cock. But I knew that I would not be able to stand there in the middle of the room much longer, so with some reluctance I pulled her mouth from my dong and helped her to her feet. She planted a kiss on my mouth, sticky and sweaty smelling from her ministrations on my prick, but I accepted her salty offering as I led her over to the bed, easing her down and spreading her thighs wide.
I crawled between her firm, smooth-fleshed legs and tried to break the kiss we had carried across the room, but her thighs clamped around my waist and I felt her fingers seek my rigid member and guide it into her steamy crevice. She cried out as I sensed her readiness and shoved deep into her box, cramming myself into her so far I could feel her plump buttocks under the sway of my balls. She rocked her ass up and down, making me thrust my meat into her to meet her rhythm and then she would change, holding her hips arched all the way back so my exit and reentry would drive her to an early orgasm.
I suppose that it must have been the draining effects of the previous day's activities for I felt that I would never come, Ginger's bottom became a puddle of warm moisture as she creamed over and over again, but I just couldn't seem to get it off. Not that that was bad. It was one of the few times I was able to enjoy myself thoroughly without seeming to fatigue. It was as though I was someone else watching myself fuck her, watching her grow wet with perspiration, watching her eyes gloss over with passion and hear her moans turn to cries of ecstasy. Yet I throbbed on and on into her, soggy cunt, plunging my fat prick deeper and deeper it seemed with each stroke. She sensed my urgency and the fact that I wasn't quite ready to get it all off.
"Oh, god, make it, Kevin. Please make it. I'm ready. Ooh." And she crushed her thighs tightly around my hips as she came still another time.
I labored between her legs for another eternity before the pressure in my loins went over the top and, collapsing wetly across her hot body, I let it all out in grunts and moans of pleasure and deep inhalations of air. We squished together for a long time after that before I finally rolled off her lush curves and relaxed on the bed beside her.
Ginger got up and fetched my cigarettes and poured a couple of glasses of brandy from her own stock. I wasn't much in the mood for talking right then and so I let myself enjoy the smoke curling from my nostrils and sipping slowly on the brandy. But I knew there was something that was bothering me about Ginger, and it wasn't just the report that my sister wanted to kill us. That may or may not have been accurate, but I was sure that I could handle it. No. What was bothering deep in the underpinnings of my conscience was not the threat of murder, but the thought of what Estelle had told me about Ginger and my father.
Earlier in the evening after I had gotten up and bathed I thought of it, but running into Ginger in the hall and drinking and fucking made it slip my mind. But in the cool afterglow of just-completed passion it came back with a vengeance.
I wanted to hit her with the knowledge of her affair with my father, or at least with the fact that that was what Estelle told me. I snuffed out my cigarette and finished off the brandy and then I changed my mind. It didn't seem quite right to do it that way so I went around and around with the subject, going over what Estelle had told me the previous morning, complete with the recording segments that she had played for me.
Ginger seemed embarrassed that our little tryst had been discovered and recorded, but I told her that there was nothing that Estelle could do with them. Not even old Myer would tolerate blackmail even if the damned recording was very authentic.
"Then she told me about you and father," I said as quietly as I could.
Ginger's reaction was not what I had expected. She made no effort to conceal her feelings. She blushed, but she didn't deny it.
"I guess you would have found out sooner or later," she said, turning away from me and pouring two more drinks. I took the offering and sat down on the edge of the bed again, waiting for her to tell me about it or tell me what she could about it.
"It's true, Kevin," she said. "Your father took me when I was fourteen. Mother was one of his secretaries at the time, a minor one. Ted ran into me one day when I was waiting for her to get through work to take me shopping. Naturally when he made, a fuss over me, mother just went along with it. She was very flattered."
She stopped and took a long pull from her drink and reached over to take one of my cigarettes. I lit it for her and waited for her to continue.
"What's the use. You don't really want to hear all the gory details, do you? He fucked me in his office while my mother waited outside the door. And if you ask me, I think that my mother knew what he was doing during that thirty minutes we were alone in his office. And if she never said anything, it didn't matter. By the end of the month, we no longer had any more money problems and mother was suddenly put on his private staff and then, as you know, he married her." "Why did he marry her?"
Ginger blushed again, but she looked right at me. "Mother caught us in his office one afternoon a couple of months later."
"So what?" I said, getting somewhat ticked off at the whole scene. "You were probably a very attractive fourteen-year-old and the old man could hardly be blamed for wanting to throw the blocks to you."
"I wasn't fucking him," she said. "I was blowing him. It was awful. She screamed and carried on until I got dressed. But Theodore Parker was a very persuasive person. He gave her a drink and calmed her down, telling her that what she had seen was just something that happened and that it would never happen again. But mother threatened to go to the authorities even after she was calm.
"Your father finally convinced her that he was too powerful for her to get anywhere, but I guess he was still in a weak mood because he promised to marry her and he did."
Ginger stopped and stared out into the blackness of the night and I didn't feel that there was much that I could say to alter what she had just told me. Obviously Estelle knew about it, but I wondered how.
"Mother made him promise that he would never have anything to do with me, and he agreed to that. The only trouble was, I couldn't get enough of him. I suppose I was really the one who wanted the affair to continue after they were married," she said.
"Right here at Parker's palace?"
She nodded and then it started to get clearer. I knew that there was very little that went on around the place that Estelle did not know about. She must have found out about Ginger and T.C
"How long did it last?"
Ginger turned away from me and poured another drink for herself. "Until the day before the accident."
What an old satyr! I thought as I realized that my father and my step-sister had been balling each other for a year before I even left the castle. No wonder, I thought, she was so expert in the arts of love. At eighteen, she had had more practice than the average twenty-three-year-old hooker. It made me look at her in shightly different light, not with any less affection, however, but just different. For the first time since I had started fucking her I felt no guilt about it. I looked at her delicious curves and the sad-eyed expression she wore and called her to me.
"Let's forget about that whole thing, darling" I said. "Come to bed and make love to me."
Ginger snuggled close to me and draped one warm, velvety thigh over my legs just below my knees. Her hand snaked out and took my docile cock between cool fingers and massaged my stem until I could feel it begin to pulse with renewed vigor. When it was rigid one more time, she slid down my torso and enveloped the head of my manhood in her hot mouth, working her lips and teeth and her flicking tongue so adroitly that I ejaculated into the back of her throat within minutes.