Chapter 8
"Word, ah, sort of got around," Jack's sister Sandra said on Wednesday. "I mean, not all around. But Eunice knows."
"Eunice knows what?" Jack asked.
"She knows you saw us, and about the tapes, and about ... Bonnie and Dawn and Laura."
He chuckled. "How about that She left town yet?"
"Nope. She asked me today when in the hell you were going to get around to blackmailing her." She giggled. "She's got a bad case of the hot pants for you, brother mine!"
"You're serious?"
"Cross my heart"
He grinned. "Well, how about that!"
"Anyhow, she broke off with her boyfriend, too. She's, ah, a bit horny."
"Have a club meeting and sic the six studs on her."
"She said that if you didn't start blackmailing her pretty fast she might have to blackmail you!"
"Oh lord! Hell I'm tapped out...."
"Uh-huh. I know all about 'Bon-bon' meeting you in the stockroom down at the store last night. I hope you didn't get stains all over any of that new furniture!"
"You damned girls are blabbermouths!"
She wriggled up to him on the couch and snuggled close. "You have a loving harem, Mister Studley. We've had ... discussions. Everybody's agreed that no one can beat Mark Gerrold in the hung-well department, but the cat with the imagination and technique would be number one if he had the smallest equipment in town. That's you, doll."
"Me? The smallest equipment in town?"
Giggling, she patted his crotch. "Lord no, darling, the cat with the imagination and technique. Anyhow ... what about Eunice?"
He sighed. "Dad's coming home this weekend."
"Hm, yes-sss ... Eunice isn't going to like that!"
"Fuck Eunice!"
"Uh-huh. That's the idea, Jacko!" .
"Jack," his father said frowning, on Friday evening, "is this what it looks like?"
"What's it look like, Dad?" Jack asked, walking across the basement.
His father stood beside the exercise mat. He was squinting down at it. "You been entertaining your female friends down here, son?"
Jack looked down at the stains, and he sighed. "Sorry."
"Jesus! I hope you're being careful about ... you know."
"Some are on the pill, and some wear rings and coils, and some douche."
"What the hell happened to old-fashioned condoms?"
"Science," Jack grinned. He glanced down, frowned. Poor Dad ... there was a very creditable bulge in his trousers, straining the fly. The poor guy was so horny he got it up just looking at gism stains!
"Something, ah, funny happened over here the other night, Dad."
"Funny! Yeah, it looks like it!" John Huffman was still regarding the stains on the mat
"Not that," Jack laughed. "No, I mean this friend of ours. Of Sandra's, really. She kept babbling to her about what a handsome pair we are."
"You and Sandra?"
"You and me."
"Oh, aren't we though," John said, touching the bulge above his belt. He was careful not to touch the one below.
"Um. So Sandra, like a nice sweet sister, told her I was, ah, you know, like available."
"You can be had."
"Face it any male's an easy make, Dad." His father chuckled. "So? That explains the stains?"
"Afraid not. This doll has her cap absolutely set-are you ready?-on you."
Silence. Then, "On ... me!" The bulge behind John's fly quivered and the belly-bulge above sucked in. "How ... how old is this, uh, girl?"
"Old enough, believe me. Old enough. Says she's tired of boys. Say, listen, this is a pretty weird conversation, huh?"
"Well, it's two males talking, and I guess it's one way of getting to know each other."
Jack chuckled. "Yeah. She says boys just don't have much imagination and they come too fast."
After another silence, John gave a short, rather bitter laugh.
"It is a weird conversation, and here's something I never foresaw I'd be saying to my son. The way things have been for me lately, I'd come as fast as a teenager. Oh, no offense."
"I'm twenty. Post-teen."
"Oh, right. Sorry. Why don't you give her a break then, son? Or should I say ... stud?"
"I'd rather you didn't say it But anyhow ... why don't you?"
"Give her a ... Jack!"
"Pardon me, Dad, but would you like me to sort of wander off a minute while you readjust your pants? They're getting tight"
"Jack! You bastard!"
"Dad! Oops ... I mean, sir. Is Sandra yours? She isn't my sister? Wow, that sexy piece...."
"Jack, damnit ... what ... oh!" John had to chuckle. "I see. Okay, figure of speech. So you're not a bastard." He studied his son with a twinkle in his eyes. "Not by birth, anyhow."
Jack laughed again. "Anyhow, about giving Eunice a break...?"
"Look, we can't even talk about that. I admit it has a, uh, an exciting effect on me. Is she pretty? Eunice, hmm?"
"Christ, if she were homely would I mention it?"
"Anyhow, you know that's ... impossible. Me. My God, if I, uh, made love with some sweet young thing and word got around...." He shook his head. Rather wistfully, Jack thought. "Anyhow, it's out of the question. About this mat...."
"Dad. Let's have a drink and a talk, okay?"
"A drink! Since when...."
"Since several years, and you know damned well you had a fake ID card or a buddy who got you a little beer when you were under twenty-one, too!"
"You are getting too damned smart, Jack, you know it?"
Jack sighed. "Well, that sure blows the business of two males talking, doesn't it?"
They stood there in silence for a long moment. Then John Huffman sighed.
"I stand corrected. Great idea, fellow male. Let's go have a beer or two and a talk."
Jack and John Huffman had a beer and a talk. And another beer, and some more talk. And another beer, and some more talk. The talk got pretty intimate.
Next day Jack gave Sandra the word. Eunice. Tonight. "Here?"
"Right. In the basement. A little phallic ceremony."
"Here, in our basement? With Dad home? Jack! What if he comes down there!"
"Oh," Jack smiled, "he'll come, down there. He'll come, all right"
Eunice knew that the tall male figure in the long long robe and hood was Sandra's brother, Jack. The hood was one of those used in the Venus Club ceremonies, white and shoulder length. He stood stiffly, presumably staring at her with burning eyes behind the eyeholes of the mask.
Eunice Bentzen trembled excitedly as Sandra bound her. It seemed just a little crazy, this masked, robed, bound ritual. But she was perfectly willing to go along. Ritual, after all, was part of where Sandra was at. Sandra-along with Dawn-had pieced together the Club and its rites and the fancy flowery words. (Eunice had corrected a few.) She was readily willing to admit that ritual excited her. It was fun. Mysterious.
She knew what was going to happen, anyhow, and if this was the way Jack and Sandra wanted to play it-okay. What was going to happen was that Jack, who had seen them and recorded part of their ritual, along with all their names, was going to fuck her. Just as he had balled Dawn and Laura and Bonnie. And they had dug hell out of it.
Eunice was sure she'd dig it, too. She dug balling anyhow. And word had it that Jack really knew what he was doing. Here was just more evidence of his imagination.
She was going to get screwed while she was tied up!
She was going to get screwed, lewdly and nudely screwed, while she was bent forward over this wooden table. Screwed from behind, without being able to see her screwer or even to cooperate!
It was a ping-pong table. She had seen it before, of course. It was often covered with an old blanket and shoved into a corner, which had led her to assume that the Huffman's didn't play much ping-pong. The clamps that held the net in place were still there on either side, and they were screwed down very, very tightly.
After first being stripped, by Sandra, slowly and excitingly, Eunice had been ordered to turn and place herself in this position. With her feet on the floor, still wearing her stockings, she leaned straight forward over the table. She had emitted a little gasping squeak when her naked breasts encountered, then folded down onto the cold surface of the table. Then her belly. But her body's warmth, heightened by her excitement, soon had her adjusted-or soon had the tabletop adjusted, and warmed.
They could have left the darned blanket on, she thought.
Then Sandra had ordered her to stretch out her arms. Sighing, Eunice had. Now they were stretched all the way out. And bound, secured to the side clamps on the netless ping-pong table. She was secured in place as if for a lashing ... , A lashing!
Oh no, she thought with a flash of fear. The whole idea is that Jack is punishing us, "blackmailing" us. That's the schtick ... and suppose Sandra told him I was ... um, anxious ... and ... and he's not going to ball me, he ... he's going to BEAT my poor naked ass.
She knew it was a good ass, and she knew how provocatively it was displayed, poked up and out because the table was lower than necessary for her to stretch straight out, and she had to hunch a little, and that meant-poking out her pretty bottom.
She tightened her cheeks in pure reflex to her thoughts.
"Uh!" she gasped, for now Sandra was stuffing the folded mattress between her lower belly and the table. Folded many times, the old cover made a thick pad.
Maybe its to pad me so I won't hurt my loins while I'm being screwed from behind. ... but ... maybe it's to make my tail poke out even more, for a ... a beating!
She quivered and squirmed a little.
Sandra came back around where her friend and sorority sister could see her. "Comfy, Eunice?"
Eunice licked her lips. "What ... what's he going to ... is he going to ... to whip me, Sandy?"
Sandra grinned, then touched an upraised finger to her lips. (It was her middle finger.) "Sh. That's up to him. Now the blindfold."
"Blindfold!"
"Right," Sandra said, flourishing the elasticized black headband of some soft, stretchy fabric. Eunice whimpered a little when the other girl pulled it down over her head, down over her eyes. Then Sandra adjusted it about her ears. It was a clever and most effective blindfold, fitting snugly about the girl's head.
She was bound in a most compromising and, she knew, inviting position, and she could not see. She trembled, and even her tearfulness was ... exciting. Sexy. She waited.
"Lady Venus will now leave the chamber," a male voice said, stiltedly, and Eunice had to smile. She recognized Jack Huffman's voice. "The vessel is prepared for the holy phallic injection."
Presumably, Sandra left. Eunice heard footsteps. Then she heard the rustle of cloth behind her, and muffled footsteps. She tensed up, clenching the hard, clearly defined cheeks of her naked ass strongly together with the muscular control of a girl one month away from being seventeen years old.
It had been very exciting, shaving her pussy and thinking about the effect that naked, childishly hair-bereft bulge and cleft would have on Sandra's big brother. When she'd finished the delicate job behind the locked bathroom door, Eunice had swung her robe about herself breathlessly and hurried into her own room. She had locked the door carefully before approaching her sixteenth birthday present: the full-length mirror on the closet door. Then she opened the robe. She had gaped at herself.
The totally hairless bulge of her soft, delicate, and blatantly thrusting mons Veneris had been an extremely sexual sight. She had watched herself fondle it. And kept on watching, while she spread her legs and hunched and her mouth came open. And she had kept on fondling.
Finally, she had collapsed onto the floor in her sweaty orgasm.
How beautiful my pussy is, she had mused. How Jack's going to turn on over this!
But now, bent forward, she felt embarrassed. II must look ... obscene! Just bare, naked fuck hole sticking out, without the slight "modest" covering of its natural fleece!
"Eeep!" She jerked when a large warm hand came down onto one out-thrust buttock. But it came down gently, and it stroked.
"The initiate will open her legs as far as possible. Wider! Yes, that's better. Well ... what have we here? How sweet! A little girl's pussy, all soft and naked and hairless."
She flinched and squirmed a little as he caressed it. Fondling, delicately pretending to pinch, squeezing slightly at the whole bulge of her pubis, his fingers trickled over it. She felt his wrist at her buttock, and the flapping sleeve of the robe.
He ran his finger along the fluted pink lips and she knew that his eyes were fixed on the tight red cleft between them. Then, very quickly, he inserted two fingers into her, one above the other. She grunted and surged forward as they came intimately into her body. But there-was no place to go. Her tits rubbed rubberily along the top of the ping-pong table.
She jerked, she grunted, gasping. Male fingers slithered about in her helplessly proffered vaginal slash. He felt the immediate flow of her warm inner fluids, flowing over his imbedded fingers.
God, she thought, what a sexy little slut I am!
Blind and bound, she waited for the entry of a considerably larger and hotter probe into the wet slit of her sex.
"How wet the initiate is!" she heard Jack's voice say behind her. But she did not see him. Or the other man. The other robed man, whose fingers, rather than Jack's were twiddling up her gash.
The two men looked at each other. Jack glanced meaningfully down at the other's robe. Its front, below the tied sash, was tenting strongly outward. Its wearer used his free hand to twitch the folds of fabric aside, and a big mean-looking red cock thrust eagerly out.
The bound girl jumped-as much as her submissively proffered position allowed-when she felt the hot silky knob slap her ass. The cheeks tightened up again and squirmed.
Then Jack put a hand on his father's robed shoulder, squeezed, smiled, nodded, and began backing slowly, silently away.
And John Huffman slipped his fingers caressingly out of the girl's cunt and trailed them wetly up the crack between her ass cheeks.
Lord, the excitement of it! He was forty-three. He'd been married twenty-one years. After the first few frustrating, floundering years with his wife, it had got better. They had discovered sexuality together, discovered that the things they'd been told and taught were mostly baloney. They had settled down to a lovely sexual life together. Aged together. Put on weight together. Developed wrinkles and gray hairs and lessened activity together.
And once, once only in all those years, had John housed his manly and man-sized organ in another cavity than his wife's. And that had been unsatisfactory, because of guilt and the fear that he and that silly chubby girl would get caught, there in the basement stockroom.
And now here he stood, his cock presenting arms while he stared down at the smallish, tight, smooth-skinned ass of a girl young enough to be his daughter. The same age, in point of fact, as his daughter.
And he was going to fuck her. And no one would know, other than his own loving, helpful children. This girl would always think it was Jack's cock she'd had in her, and she'd soon have reason to believe he was really extraordinarily virile!
He couldn't prolong it, postpone it any longer. God, how he wanted and needed the feel of wet juicy cunt flesh all around his prick! It took very poorly to priestly life, and it had showed him so last night. For the first time in many years, he'd had a nocturnal emission. A wet dream, in which he was wearing some sort of old Roman soldier's uniform, sandals and skirt and all, and in which he had fucked Elizabeth Taylor, wearing her sexiest outfit from the movie Cleopatra.
Coming that way, on his sheet in his sleep, had bothered hell out of him, made him mad. And fearful. But now he knew it was okay. He hadn't wasted anything. He had just pumped out the storage tanks of his balls, and here was his penis, all up and hard and fat and long again. Ready to go, and that wet dream guaranteed that he wouldn't come so damned fast as he'd thought, sadly, that he would.
Gripping her buttocks, he bent his knees slightly and took a last look, down her crack at the nakedly bulging pouch of her childishly hairless sex slit.
Then he shoved the head of his bulging prick into that slit.
"Uh!" the girl gasped. Her feet moved even farther apart, making him smile; her wanting to get open more and more was a tribute to his manhood, as if she were having trouble taking his big cock!
The tightness of her took his breath away. He had forgotten how tight a youthful, muscular pussy could be. He had to shove and force his swollen tool into the searing cavity of her vagina. Slowly, reluctantly as it seemed, the ragged pink mouth and wet interior of the teenage cunt enveloped his cock, like a searing sexual furnace.
Good ... Lord, he thought, feeling the clasp of her wet and hot inner flesh, next time I have a sexual dream it won't be of old Liz.
He started fucking her in earnest. His forty-three-year-old cock started ramming in and out of that eighteen-year-old cunt. His paunch jostled her tight young ass cheeks.
Gripping the glories of those beautifully rounded buns and dicking her hard, he fucked her. Making her writhe and twist under the salacious sensation of his cock whipping in and out of her wet pussy from behind, he fucked her. Feeling the curling hairs of his crotch rub over her buttocks as he lunged and twisted, he fucked her. He screwed and stroked hard, making the tender white flesh of her ass jiggle and cringe. The cheeks flattened out-slightly, only slightly-beneath the repeated impacts of his lunging body.
He paused to test her own arousal.
He pulled his cock out of her slushy pussy with a sucking plop that spattered hot juice on her quivering thighs. He slid one hand down to check the hole he had just vacated. It was sopping with the hot juices of her lust!
Grinning, he shoved his prick back into that supercharged chamber.
Moaning and sighing, straining her bound arms to arch her back in and shove her butt back, she moved, too. Those knowing movements and the taut silky texture of her hot cunt could have forced an iron statue into orgasm. She was writhing and twisting beneath him, the thick manly pole filling her scalding cavern with the driving power of its hard, lunging thrusts. And he was no iron statue, although one portion of his working body resembled iron in its hardness, if not in its temperature.
His muscular butt was working furiously to shove him against her fuller, softer ass, filling her full of cock and grinding to get even more into her.
Lust and the desire for fulfillment hungered deep inside her itchy womb. It was like a ravening animal waiting, without patience, to be fed.
"Oh, baby," she sighed out, writhing. "That's beautiful-give it to me hard!"
Those words of youthful enthusiasm and complete freedom in her sexuality made him dizzy and grabbed him in the balls like a silk-gloved hand. Rooting hard, he grunted and trembled in the spasmodic release of his lust. Spurt after cataclysmic spurt of warm fluid burst into her with shattering force in a total gamic release of his sperm reserves.
It was so marvelous that he nearly fell down. He hated to pull out of her. Padded by the folded blanket, she brought her legs together and bumped her butt up and down to work his dying prick inside her.
Ssslupp! ... it came out of her and swung loosely down to ride the bulge of his emptied balls. His semen glistened between the parted red lips, then began trickling slowly out of that hairless pussy. He was reeling as he backed away from her. His eyes remained fixed on the beauty of her lewdly upturned and out-thrust ass and the deep-sliced purse beneath.
He and his son exchanged a look. Then Jack moved forward to rub the girl's ass, and his father retreated once more into the darkness of the little separate room in the basement, the toolroom. The door was made of planks, and he could easily see through the cracks.
It was his turn to watch. Jack's turn to do.
"Oh, that was lovely, darling," Jack gasped, sliding his hand in under her, over the slime of his father's emerging come, and slipping a couple of fingers into the semen-slick slit. Finding the firm out-thrust tongue of her clitoris, he worked it with two fingers.
She panted, wheezed, gasped and grunted, and came in about twenty seconds. Mingled come and vaginal spend flowed down her legs. Her body quivered violently. Her tight-clenched, trembling ass thrust out in bold relief and he began stroking and patting it.
Then he stepped back and closed his eyes and worked very, very hard to think of anything but sex. He settled on the families of the last two Presidents. Slowly, reluctantly, his cock went down.
Then he untied the girl and straightened her up. She was shaky and weak in the legs from her long sojourn on the table. He fondled her breasts, which were strangely pointy and almost hard in their firmness. They rounded again, out at the ends, into swollen areolas like pink turrets. From their shining centers rammed outward the darkest nipples he had ever seen. He squeezed them between scissoring fingers so that she trembled.
"My ... my God," she gasped, "you've got another hard!"
"All the better to screw you with, my dear!"
"I ... I need to, ah, go to the bathroom...."
"No bathroom down here, but there's a toilet and a sink. You can take off the blindfold inside," he said, guiding her over to the door beside the one his father stood behind. He opened it, flicked on the light, and pushed her inside. After a final pat on the ass-which was nearly as hard as her tits-he closed the door. He winked at the adjacent door, knowing without being able to see him that John Huffman was watching.
Glancing up, Jack saw Sandra sitting on the steps. She made a face and, opening her legs wide, an obscene gesture.
He grinned and turned away. He stood against the wall beside the bathroom door, listening to the sounds of flushing and running water. Then the knob turned and she came out, preceded by those twig-like nipples.
His quiet "Hi," startled her, and she jumped.
Then she swung to him and slipped both hands up behind his neck. Pressing herself firmly to him and rubbing, she kissed him.
She gestured at the table. "That ... that was lovely," she murmured.
Stroking her hips, he said, "You don't get any disagreement from me."
"But ... how can you be up so big so soon ... after?"
"Don't you have any mirrors at your house?"
She smiled. Her hand slipped between them. His cock stood high and hard, burning into both their bellies.
"Something's come between us!" she smiled, touching it.
He nodded. "It's going to come again, too."
She laughed, then glanced around.' "Across the table again?"
"Face to face?"
Suddenly she rose on tiptoe, clinging to his neck with one hand and pulling a little. With her other hand she bent his cock down. Its swollen crown scraped along her hard belly. Just when it started to get painful, being bent down like that it slipped into a narrow little groove. Concentrating, holding her breath, she tried to raise herself higher.
He slipped both hands under the rounded shelves of her rump and lifted. She grunted as his cock slipped up into her freshly washed cunt. It was very hot, and very tight, and only minimally wet That made her grunt again. He stood there leaning back against the wall, in her, holding her up with his hands under her ass. Now both her hands were around his neck. She kissed him. The tight flesh surrounding his prick began to slicken.
"How about standing up?" she grinned naughtily.
"We seem to be doing it," he smiled back. "But not for long. This is for athletes ... and picture books. Hang on."
She giggled, wiggling her shoulders a little to stab him with her sharp dark nipples. "We going for a walk?"
"Yup," he said, making the effort. He lunged away from the wall. With his cock joggling in her and pressed in absolutely as far as it would go, he began walking, slowly. She flinched and groaned as the fingers of one hand slipped between the buttocks his hands flattened slightly. He walked, slowly and carefully. Meanwhile, his finger quested blindly-until it found its pulpy target. "Uh ... uh ... nnggg!"
She tried to climb him. But she could not. There was no place to go. She rode him, bouncing slightly, as he walked slowly. His cock prodded way up her pussy. And her asshole felt terribly full of finger. Fucked standing up? She was being fucked from both ends, standing up! And not only that, but his slow, heavy steps joggled both hot probes in her contiguous holes every time his foot came down.
Reaching the exercise mat, he braced himself, then smiled and turned, slowly, allowing his father, to see them from every angle. Then he dropped to his knees.
"Guh ... aaagh!" She grated out, as the impact of his knees striking the mat threatened to pierce her cervix and her intestines simultaneously.
Then he toppled forward, and she groaned still again.
He had carried her half across the basement, and turned, and kneeled, and then assumed a prone position. All with his cock and finger imbedded in her hot channels. Now she lay on her back beneath him-and she was still fully pierced. She groaned and tried to wriggle.
"You ... you're hurting my ... my bottom."
He shook his head. "Nah. Your bottom's fine. If anything's hurting, it's your asshole."
"Uh ... that, then. Ow! Ohhhhhh...."
The unbelievably strong jaws of her sphincter were clamped tightly all around his finger. He held it still, anchored well within her, while he waited for the anal channel to adjust itself to his entry and deep, throbbing penetration.
Eventually, it did. His finger felt less tightly grasped. Not until then did he take it out.
Then, for the first time since shoving it-up her cunt several minutes ago, he withdrew his cock until only the helmet-like crown remained inside the silky folds. She sighed as it slipped from her, relieving the strain he had maintained against her quivering guts. But she grabbed his shoulders when it felt as if he might leave her altogether.
"All that ... hurt," she murmured.
"Good."
She sighed. "Also ... it was ... good." And she bucked against him, squeezing him between her legs with an implacable pressure.
Smiling, he rammed it home again until she groaned under the deep inner pressure of the prodding glans. He pulled. He pushed. He pulled. He rammed and ground, crushing her beneath him and trying to smash the arrogant musculature of her hard tits. Which was totally impossible.
Slithering over her, he planted his hands on either side of her and lifted himself up above her. His legs stretched out between hers. Their bodies were joined, now, only at the loins. His prick remained within her, about halfway out That left plenty more for the necessary friction.
"Okay, luv," he grunted, gazing down at her. "Now fuck me."
She fucked him.
She fucked him and fucked him, and she fucked him dry, and then she didn't want to leave, and by the time she had gone and his father came out of the little toolroom, he was about to piss in the pants he wasn't wearing. When he emerged from the bathroom, he wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders.
"Let's go have a drink, fella."
"Right stud."