Chapter 6
Horror of horrors, what if her car should crash? That was just one of the questions Barbara was asking herself as she eased to a stop at the red light and waited for the green to give her permission to proceed to her turnoff. What if the police came, called to the scene of Barbara's as-yet hypothetical accident, finding not only Barbara but the boxes she now had on the seat next to her? What exactly would they think, seeing that black lace brassiere, black lace under panties, black garter belt, black net stockings, and black patent-leather spiked heels? Hardly the costume one would have expected for a widow, now was it?
The blaring horn of the car behind her snapped her out of her reverie and told her that the light was green. She gave gas to the car and headed out. She wasn't all that far from home. A few miles more, and she would be safely ensconced behind her own electric fences with no one to know what she had purchased. Most of her servants had the day off. Of course, Georgette might be a little curious, but Barbara was determined to keep even Georgette ignorant of these particular purchases. Barbara had already decided where to tuck the packages away so that no one would ever find them. At the moment, she was doubtful she would even unwrap the incriminating bundles.
What had ever possessed her to buy all of the black lace underwear? She must have been out of her mind! Especially since the only reason she had left the house at all that morning had been to make the purchases. Oh, she knew she had told herself otherwise. Her rationalization to both herself and Georgette had been that it was about time she started getting out and around just a little. She'd said she was going out for lunch.
Lunch? She hadn't even eaten lunch. She had parked her car in a downtown garage and had made a gradual approach to the specialty shop that sold everything from black lace undies to black leotards complete with tail.
She hadn't gone in immediately. As a matter of fact, she had even pretended genuine surprise when her window-shopping had suddenly brought her to the storefront displaying mannequins decked out in black leather brassieres, leather panties, and black leather boots, wearing black hoods and dangling wicked-looking whips. Ashamed that the leather and phallic whips somehow—for God only knew what reason-excited her, she glanced guiltily around in all directions to make sure no one she knew had seen her. She then hurried along, taking a circuitous route that eventually brought her on another approach to the same store.
By the fourth time she had registered her mock surprise at the window display, she had mastered enough rationalization to go inside. It, after all, wasn't as if the store were located on some sleazy side street, getting customers who were only streetwalkers and those into the kinkier aspects of sex. Quite to the contrary, the store was on one of the more fashionable avenues and had a very good reputation among the more avant-garde of that social group Barbara had belonged to before slipping into forced retirement.
"The kinky window displays are just put there as a come-on to .grab your attention," Mildred Westfallon had once told her. That had been shortly after the shop had opened and had gotten a big write-up, complete with photos, on the fashion pages of both city newspapers. Mildred was the first of Barbara's acquaintances, although certainly not the last, who came to admit (usually after one or more martinis) that she had picked up "a little something" from the store inventory. "Actually, they have the best selection of French silk lingerie I've found anywhere," Mildred had gone on to say. "And, they'll monogram them for a very reasonable extra fee." Barbara had wondered, at the time, whether it had been the wearing of monogrammed French silk lingerie which had kept Mildred's husband interested for the last five years, since he was almost fifteen years Mildred's junior.
While Barbara, the minute she had entered the store, had been prepared for some streetwalker-type salesgirl to come over and begin a high-pressured hustle, there was none of that. Actually, besides a rather nondescript young lady who asked if she could be of any help, who then retreated discreetly when Barbara had obviously seemed on the brink of panic, Barbara was left free to wander.
It took her a little time to find what she had in mind, since she was a little reluctant to ask for help, even though most of the other customers (probably repeaters) seemed more than willing to seek out assistance. When Barbara did find what she wanted, she immediately wondered how she could have missed it. What had she been expecting: an inventory of just one pair of lace panties, one lace brassiere, one black garter belt, one pair of black net stockings? There turned out to be one whole corner of the store that was devoted to those particular items. And, once Barbara had found that section, it must have been obvious that she had located what she wanted, because the salesgirl moved in and expertly took charge, acting as if there was nothing at all sinful about a woman wanting black lace panties, black lace brassiere, black garter belt, and black net stockings. While Barbara wasn't talked into trying on the merchandise in the store dressing room, she was persuaded to buy a pair of black, patent-leather shoes with stiletto heels, which the girl, as calmly as you please, said was one of the more popular accessories for complementing the rest of the black bedroom wear.
High heels in the bedroom? Barbara was a little dubious, but she had gone along with the idea nevertheless. The shoes were certainly a little out of style for wearing on the street.
Anyway, the embarrassment which had accompanied her efforts to enter the store, evaporated while she was inside, returned once she had the boxes of merchandise in the front seat of the car with her. She simply couldn't believe she had stood for half an hour in a store, listening to a salesgirl comment on such things as the merits of brassieres with holes cut for nipple exposure, as opposed to those without, or as to how the "secret" crotch openings of several lacy pairs of panties saved time and helped maintain an "effect" that could often be destroyed by more conventional underwear that had to be removed for comfort at crucial moments. She never had come right out and stated that these crucial moments were those encountered when a husband or a lover was all hot and turned on by black lace and ready to plow his blood-engorged cock up a nicely hot and tight pussy. A crotch opening in the woman's panties allowed his cock an easy entrance without risking that loss of excitement possible during the dropping of more conventional panties. Not only that, but it was certainly more comfortable for the foreman to have an opening for fucking, rather than have to push her panties crotch to one side in order to let the cock go plowing in when it was hard and ready for screwing.
Barbara heaved a sigh of relief when she pulled off the main roadway and came to a stop in front of the gage leading into her estate. She activated the electronic release by pressing the small control mechanism in her car, and she felt even more relief as the gate came open and she drove in. There would be no traffic between there and the house. There would be little chance of an accident and, thus, no curious policemen—or anyone else—to wonder why the victim was found in her car surrounded by black lingerie.
She parked the car and smuggled her packages up the back way, relieved when she actually got her purchases into her bedroom without being interrupted by Georgette. However, the minute she was in the room, the door shut behind her, she was struck by an intuitive sense of something being not quite right. It was a sensation she had experienced almost the minute the main gate had closed behind her, except she had been so concerned about getting her packages to her bedroom undetected, the full force of her suspicions hadn't been able to take hold until after she had assumed she had reached safety.
She pulled the bed comforter over the boxes and listened. There was something about the silence that disturbed her. What was it the hero was always saying in all those movies? Something about it being too quiet to be normal. Not that she was expecting all sorts of noise. The servants, except for Georgette and a couple of gardeners had the day off. How much noise was Georgette expected to make in a big, rambling house? Still, Barbara should have been able to hear some kind of sounds, especially since Georgette must have seen the car pull in, realizing by now that Barbara had slipped in by the back way.
Wait! There was a sound. Someone in the hallway right outside. Georgette? Who in the hell else would it be? Barbara chided herself for being paranoid, suspecting it all had .something to do with her guilt at having purchased lingerie for which she couldn't possibly have any use. Maybe she would have had a need for it when Willis was alive, but now? What was she planning to do, deck herself out in black lace brassiere, black lace panties, garter belt, and stiletto-heeled shoes, stand in front of a mirror and turn herself on by looking at her reflection? It was, after all, her own sinful impulse which had prompted her to buy the stuff, anyway, wasn't it? In her whole married life to Willis, she had never been given even the hint that her husband would have been excited by his voluptuous wife dressed in all that lacy finery. Her husband, in fact, had been a highly unimaginative lover. Barbara wasn't sure what an imaginative lover would have had to offer, but it certainly would have been a bit more than the standard wham-bam-thank-you-m'am, missionary position that was her husband's standard bill of fare.
There, that noise again, closer. Georgette, en route to finding out why Barbara had come sneaking into her own house? Barbara glanced nervously toward the bed, seeing that the bulge in the comforter had to look a bit suspicious, but Barbara had wasted so much time she really didn't have the minutes necessary to stash the packages where she had planned to put them. However, in order to make the bulge on the bed a little less obvious, she opened the sliding panel to reveal a closet. She pulled out three dresses, as if she were trying to make some kind of a decision on what to wear, and dropped them all over the hump, just as the door came open.
"Ah, Georgette, I was wondering where you had ... " Barbara said, interrupting her sentence at the sight that greeted her in the doorway. Not that Georgette wasn't there, as expected, because she was. It was who was with her that had brought Barbara up short. "What are you two doing here?" Barbara asked loudly, the very sight of her two children sending indefinable sensations jetting through her body.
"Come now, mother," Bobby said, entering the room, steering Georgette in front of him by a hand over her elbow. "Is that any way for a mother to greet her only two offspring's after all of this time? All Jill and I have seen of you lately is your name scrawled on the bottom of our allowance checks."
"I want you both out of here immediately!" Barbara said. She, then, cast an accusing glance at Georgette. "Are you responsible for admitting these two, against my explicit instructions to the contrary?"
"Now, don't blame poor Georgette," Bobby chided, flashing the same wide smile Barbara could still all-too-well remember. "She's really just a poor creature bowled over by the circumstances."
"I shall discuss that with Georgette after you two have left," Barbara said, backing away from the three of them, as if her two children were poison.
"Then, I suppose we had better get over the business Jill and I have with you, so you and Georgette can hash out explanations as to how Jill and I managed to get through the gate, or over the wall," Bobby said.
"If you and Jill have any business, I suggest you see my lawyers," Barbara said, thinking maybe the best defense was offense. She stopped her retreat and walked forward, having all intentions of gliding right by the three of them to take the Hallway to safety.
Bobby, though, wasn't about to let his mother bluff her way out of the room. He stepped in her way, preventing her exit. When she kept right on coming, he grabbed her by the shoulders, flinging her with a force that sent her sprawling obscenely on the bed.
"How dare you!" Barbara screamed when she had finally regained her senses. Her arms burned where her son's hands had touched them.
"You said you wouldn't hurt her," Georgette said nervously. This suddenly didn't look anything like the family reunion Bobby had assured her it was going to be.
"You are in this with them!" Barbara accused, turning her full attention on her maid. If looks could kill, Georgette would have been dead at that moment.
"We're not going to hurt mother dear," Bobby said.
"Not, that is, if you're cooperative," Jill said, speaking for the first time.
"I don't like it!" Georgette said, wishing now that she hadn't allowed her cunt to overrule her common sense. She was suddenly seeing how Bobby's fucking of his blood-engorged cock inside her juicy pussy had simply seduced her with pleasure into not seeing—until now—the possible consequences.
"It doesn't much matter, my dear, what you like or don't like," Jill said with an obvious sneer.
Barbara, counting on surprise, came up off the bed in an attempt to make her escape. In fact, she almost did manage, except that Bobby reached out a hand, taking hold of her blouse and yanking her back into the room. The force of his tug caused the blouse to rip, popping several buttons in the process. Barbara landed on the floor, her white brassiere showing through the tear, her mind reeling from her fall.
"Noooooo!" Georgette squealed, turning to flee the room, having seen quite enough to know she had allowed Bobby's big prick to fuck her into making one hell of a mistake. "You promised me there would be no trouble!"
It was Jill who stopped Georgette, not Bobby. She stopped her by reaching out and taking a handful of the redhead's short hair. The pull yanked Georgette back into the room and dropped her to her knees. The resulting drop telescoped her spine and made her teeth chatter.
"You aren't going anywhere, honey," Jill told her.
Georgette, though, still had other ideas, spawned now by a natural instinct for survival. She shifted her kneeling position, wrapping her arms around Jill's legs and toppling the dark-haired woman to the rug with her.
"You bitch!" Jill shrieked, landing with a thud but regaining her senses fast enough to grab hold of the ankle Georgette had sticking out behind her as she crawled for the hallway.
Georgette gave a backward kick that shook Jill's hand free, and Bobby moved in to give his sister an assist. He grabbed both of Georgette's legs and pulled hard. The tug was forceful enough to unfold Georgette's crawling body, bringing her breasts and stomach down hard against the floor. Bobby pulled her back into the room while Georgette tried desperately to find something to hold on to to stop her complete return into the bedroom.
The door was plugged by the threesome to such an extent that Barbara knew there was no possible way she could take advantage of her momentary fade from center stage. The windows were of no help, either, in that her bedroom was on the second floor, and she doubted she was capable of going very far on the slanting tiles of the roof. Her only other immediate alternative seemed to be the bathroom. Granted, it was a temporary escape at best, but maybe a miracle would bring help before Bobby and Jill could break down the door. She headed for the bathroom, made it, and slammed the door behind her. Bobby's hand was already on the knob of the bathroom door, turning, when Barbara successfully locked the door.
"Goddamn it!" Bobby swore. Then, realizing his mother had temporarily gotten the best of him, he turned his attention back to his sister and Georgette who were still struggling on the bedroom floor.
It was hard for Bobby to tell which of the young ladies had the present advantage. Both were in a decidedly rumpled state, hair tousled, blouses ripped, skirts hoisted almost to their waists. Jill's blouse was so ripped her breasts, not wearing any brassiere, were visible through the breached material.
Bobby leaned his back against the closed bathroom door, realizing suddenly that the sight of the two women fighting was as sexy as all hell. Bobby's cock was flooding with blood, going stiff as a board in his pants. He dropped his hands to his crotch, adjusting the lay of his swelling prick so that it could balloon to full size with the least amount of difficulty.
When he did walk over to the scuffle, it wasn't to give his sister a hand but merely to successfully rip Georgette's blouse almost completely from her body. Another tug pulled the maid's brassiere free of her breasts without unfastening any of the hooks. Georgette's small but well-formed breasts bounced free, her brassiere having slipped to form a lewd belt around her waist.
"Bobby, you big-pricked bastard!" Jill grunted, still trying to get the upper hand in the battle. She knew what Bobby was doing. She could read her brother like a book. Their mother locked away safely for the moment in the bathroom, he was merely taking advantage of his voyeuristic nature to get his rocks off watching the two women fight.
"Come on, sis, don't let Georgette here win," Bobby encouraged. "Pull out one of your big breasts and whip her silly."
"You shit!" Jill responded, simultaneously knowing she couldn't very well condemn her brother for something that was probably getting Jill even more hot and horny than Bobby was. There was simply something as sexy as all hell to be had in tumbling around on the rug with this sexy redhead. Ever so often, their breasts whacked together, or their cunts rubbed.
Bobby spent the next few minutes doing his best to get both of the young women stripped of as much clothing as possible, getting excited each time he managed to yank off a shoe, tear a blouse a little bit more, pull the waistband of a pair of pantyhose down so far that Jill's legs were tied up—putting her at a decided disadvantage—until she could kick them completely free. In fact, the result of having both young women end up clothed in tatters, instead of being completely naked, turned out adding to Bobby's growing excitement.
Finally, though, when Georgette had moved to a dominant position, her asscheeks astraddle Jill's small waist, her hands banging Jill's head against the carpet, Bobby moved in. He reached down, took hold of the maid and lifted her to her feet. When she turned on him, he gave her a slap that laid her cold, her arms and legs awry as she fell on the bed, her brassiere still locked down around her middle. Bobby had an enticing peek up Georgette's twisted skirt, but he wasn't seeing as much as he wanted. He knew he would momentarily go over, yank off her pantyhose, and God only knew what might follow after that. For the moment, however, he could give his sister a hand. He reached down, taking hold of her extended arm.
"You bastard!" Jill said, coming to her feet. "It's about time you did more than yank off our clothes and grow a big cock."
"It looked as if you were getting the worst of the battle there at the end," Bobby said and smiled. He glanced quickly toward the bed when Georgette gave a low moan that might have indicated she had regained consciousness. She hadn't.
"I would have managed, believe me," Jill said, catching a glimpse of herself in one of the full-length mirrors that veneered the closet doors. One breast was hanging completely out of her ripped blouse. Her skirt was askew. Her shoes were nowhere in sight, her pantyhose a crumpled ball kicked over into a corner.
"You look sexy as hell, you know?" Bobby said. His right hand was at his crotch, petting his erection through his pants.
"You pervert!" Jill said in playful accusation. She was trying to put her hair back into at least some semblance of order.
"Yea," Bobby agreed. His blood-engorged cock had leaked so much juice, it was beginning to stain the pants material beneath his petting fingers. "I'm a perverted degenerate who is as turned on as all hell."
"You mean that's actually hard cock you've got jammed into your pants? I thought it was a fucking fire hose."
"You've got the fucking part right, anyway."
"You're not thinking what I think you are, are you?" Jill asked, her smile widening. She had pretty white teeth that never seemed to get in the way of her giving near-perfect head. "Surely, you can't be! Not with mother dear locked away in the bathroom."
"Can you think of a better place for her while we indulge in a little fun and games? She'll hardly be going anywhere. And, tell me you haven't wanted to bury your face in Georgette's red-haired pussy ever since I first brought the sweet little bitch home?"
"How can I deny it when I've told you enough times?"
"Well?" Bobby asked, gesturing toward the bed and Georgette on it. As if on cue, Georgette groaned and moved slightly. "She's even coming around," Bobby said. "Undoubtedly she doesn't want to miss the fun of you going down on her while I fuck you in the cunt from behind."
"You think she's going to lie still for that?"
"Hell, no. She's going to be hopping all over the bed in her excitement."
"That isn't exactly what I meant."
"Well, it's not like we need to be too nice to her any more, is it?" Bobby said, unzipping his pants and reaching in to tug out his huge, meaty erection and his cum-ballooned balls, "She's got us in here, hasn't she? So, she doesn't need to be capable of getting up and walking around any longer, having already done her good deed for the day."
"Shall we tie her to the bed?"
"Yea," Bobby said, walking over to the closet to search for belts on several of his mother's dresses that might be used in securing Georgette to the bed.
They did just that, too, positioning the maid so that she was lying across the width of the mattress, her legs dropped over the side so that Jill could get to her hair-fringed cunt from a kneeling position. They tied her wrists and ankles with various pieces of clothing found in the closet, and they then tied the other end of the securing straps to the bottom of the bed. All the while, Georgette remained docile, hovering somewhere just on the verge of regaining consciousness.
"She's certainly being nice and cooperative, isn't she?" Jill said, moving in for a closer look. She squatted, running her right hand along the milky whiteness of the maid's left thigh.
"You telling me she had a choice?" Bobby asked, stroking the length of his thick meatiness. The small, pouted mouth, centering his pulpy cockhead, was leaking juices that slicked his pumping fingers. "I'd say I decked her a good one."
"Timed it just about right, too," Jill said. "I think the owner of this luscious, fleshy-lipped cunt here before my eyes is finally coming back to the living."
"Where ... am ... I?" Georgette asked weakly, momentarily disoriented. However, if she couldn't remember what had been happening prior to getting knocked on the bed by Bobby, she certainly got her memory back fast enough. "What in the fuck is going on?" she asked, trying to come to a sitting position, realizing finally that she was bound on the bed.
"Just keep it cool, honey," Bobby said. "My sister and I have got good times planned for you, even if you did kind of panic on us."
"Let me up from here!" Georgette protested, knowing she was helplessly vulnerable. All of her attempts to pull closed her lewdly splayed thighs were to no avail. It didn't take too many smarts for her to soon realize that she had purposely been tied so that her cunt could be put on obscene display.
"Your panic was the key to some mighty good things for you, baby," Bobby told her. He turned to his sister. "Jill, why don't you prop a pillow under Georgette's head so that she can get a good look at you eating her pulsing cleft. While you're doing that, I'll plan the slipping of my stiff cock up your tight and slippery cunt from the rear."
Georgette's eyes came wide open with surprise. She knew what she had heard, but she couldn't believe it. She wasn't the only one .who had heard. Barbara, locked in the bathroom, her ear pressed against the door in an effort to determine just what Bobby and Jill were up to, had heard, too. She, unlike Georgette, knew that Bobby and Jill were capable of anything. They had fucked each other, hadn't they? This three-way Bobby and Jill were proposing was only a short step away from what Barbara had seen her children doing on that bear-skin rug. She shuddered at her latest visions of the lewdly degenerate perversions her two children were contemplating with Georgette. Juices sloshed back and forth in her hair-haloed pussy, some of it drooling out to bead within her ebony cunt hair.
Jill had moved to the head of the bed to get one of the pillows. She proceeded to stuff it under Georgette's head. Georgette was left with a view that had her staring down the run of cleavage between her two breasts, over the indented navel that punctuated the smooth surface of a stomach concaved slightly between her two prominent hipbones. She focused on the fleecy red curls that began growing at the meeting of her creamy white thighs.
"You're both sick!" Georgette said.
"Sick!" Barbara affirmed to herself there in the bathroom. Yes, by God, they were sick! She had mothered a pair of lewd, perverted degenerates who, if she couldn't escape them, were liable to have only begun their present list of obscenities. Her juicy cunt was gushing so much lubricating liquids, she had to use a washrag to reach up under her skirt to wipe them away.
Jill threw the dresses on the bed to the floor to remove the clutter. She did the same to the bulged comforter, revealing the packages underneath as she did so. She was about to knock the packages to one side, too, except her curiosity got the best of her. She scooted off the binding ribbons of one package while Bobby and Georgette watched.
"Would you believe this treasure trove?" Jill asked, lifting out the black garter belt and black lace panties. She held them high so Bobby could see. "Do you see what I see, or am I only imagining this is ... ?"
"Black lace panties and a black garter belt," Bobby finished for her.
"And," Jill said, opening a second and third box," A black lace brassiere and spiked-heel shoes."
"Our mother's?" Bobby asked, hardly believing the discovered cache any more than Jill obviously did. Jill shrugged, and Bobby strolled over to the bathroom door, his thick cock rocking its meatiness from side to side like a phallic metronome. "Hey, mom!" he called, leaning in close to the closed door. "You been doing a bit of entertaining since the old man died? We seem to have found your work clothes."
"Go away!" Barbara said, blushing scarlet there in the bathroom. She knew that trying to go into any explanations regarding her purchases would have only make things worse. "Please go away and leave me alone. If you want more money from your father's estate, I'm sure that can be arranged." She had been a little guilty about their paltry share anyway. "You did come here for money, didn't you?"
"At first, yea," Bobby admitted. "But, since then, we've discovered a few things that might have us wanting to stick around for other things."
Barbara shuddered, simultaneously using the washrag to wipe up a new deluge of her cunt juices. She didn't know just what exactly it was that her son was insinuating, but she had no doubts but that it was lewd, degenerate, and pervertedly immoral.
Jill, though, her attention back on the red hair fringing Georgette's pubic vee, was temporarily willing to forego whatever Bobby had in store for their mother in order to sample the more immediately available pleasures offered by the maid. She laid all the frilly black lace off to one side where it could be gotten to when it was needed. She, then, came around the bed, drawn to Georgette's pouting pussy like an iron filing drawn to a magnet.
"Sure you don't want to come on out for the show, mom?" Bobby asked through the bathroom door. "Your sexy daughter is just about ready to get her pretty face smeared with those musky juices bubbling out of your maid's hair-furred cunt. Maybe you could give Jill a few pointers."
"You perverted bastard!" Barbara screamed through the door, ashamed that she had momentarily been wishing there was a keyhole through which to spy the action without coming out. There was no keyhole.
Jill removed her skirt, tossing it to one side. Her pantyhose and shoes having been removed during the scuffle, she only had left her tattered blouse. She was going to remove that, too, but Bobby stopped her. "You look too sexy falling out of the tears in your blouse," he said. "Leave it on."
Jill obliged, then turned all of her attention on Georgette. She got down on her hands and knees by the sided of the bed. She put a hand on each of Georgette's thighs, feeling the young man's creamy, white flesh tremble beneath her touch.
"Don't do this!" Georgette said. Oh, she had had men go licking down between her legs, tongue-fucking her sizzling cleft, but she had never had a woman. Granted, she had thought about how it might be, but she had never experimented. And, if she hadn't done girl-girl sex on her own, she didn't like the idea of being forced into it now. Although, simultaneously, there was no denying the excitement to be had from the mere touch of Jill's hands on Georgette's thighs, let alone the pleasure to be had from the feel of Jill's hot breath blowing on the flames springing to life within Georgette's pulsing vagina.
"You go ahead and protest all you damn well want," Jill said. "Because, I can tell just by the looks of this drooling little cunt of yours that you want the feel of my hungry lips and tongue almost as badly as I want to give them to you."
"Nooooooo!" Georgette protested. She struggled with the pieces of clothing binding her wrists and ankles, wondering why the pain only seemed to make her inflamed pussy go hotter.
"Bury your rubbery lips into her hair-fringed crack," Bobby said from his position by the bathroom door. "I can see the bitch's swollen clitoris, big as a prick, all of the way from here."
"Yea, a little female cock," Jill said, running her hands inward along Georgette's thighs, her thumbs hooking on the outer lips of the pussy and pulling the cuntal mouth wide to better reveal the hang of the sexual nubbin. "A female cock just waiting to fuck this hungry female mouth."
She lowered her face in deeply between Georgette's thighs, her mouth going leech-like over the fleshy lips of the pouted vagina. She sucked voraciously, burrowing her face deeper yet in wanton arousal. She moaned throatily, her lips gumming the sensitive hang of the blood-engorged clitoris.
"Nooooooo!" Georgette squealed, her hips hunching automatically to fuck her tongue-raped cunt even closer into Jill's feasting face.
"Mom, you don't know what you're missing out here," Bobby announced through the closed bathroom door. "You should really get your pussy out here and let your loving daughter take you on, too."
Barbara could only groan her extreme disgust over her son's incestuously perverted suggestion as she went to the sink to wring out the washrag that had become sopped with the juices already leaked from the reservoir of natural lubricant sloshing around in her pussy.
Jill knew what she was doing. Georgette's vagina, after all, wasn't the first one Jill had ever gone diving over. She was so expert in what she was doing, she immediately had Georgette groaning in the ecstasy of an orgasm. Georgette was spilling into yet a second orgasm by the time Bobby had knelt down behind his sister's revolving ass to put his cock to Jill's cunt from the back.
As Jill continued to eat Georgette's pussy, Georgette squealed up a storm in response to the pleasure racing through her. About that time, Bobby decided he didn't really want to fuck his sister's cunt, after all. Oh, he still had all intentions of fucking his sister, but now he had a need to sodomistically ravage Jill's asshole. With his left hand, he parted her cheeky buttocks, revealing the hair-fringed anal lips. With his right hand he repositioned his pulpy cockhead, moving it from cunt to asshole. As he did so, his cock leaked a string of translucent preseminal juice that outlined the pathway his drooling cockhead had taken.
He gently edged his rubbery cockhead tighter against the forbidden orifice, feeling the brown pucker give beneath the pressure and then begin to yawn open around his pressing prick. His blood-engorged cock kept in position by his continued efforts to sink it inside, he reached for his sister's hipbones and took hold of them.
In one hearty shove, he buried his thick meatiness to his cum-bulged balls up the rubbery rectum.
"Aaaaaaggghhhhhhh!" Jill groaned into Georgette's cunt as her brother's invading cock became lost in her asshole. She moaned throatily, trying to shake her ass free in animalistic frenzy while simultaneously knowing that she wanted Bobby's cock to stay right where it was. There was something about the crude depravity of an incestuous fuck in the ass which had always been able to get Jill as hot as hell.
"Like that, don't you, sister dear?!" Bobby asked, although it really wasn't a question. He knew by now just what his sister liked, and she was in seventh heaven whenever his vein-striated meatiness pumped her rubbery asshole. He drew his cock out to his pulpy cockhead and then, without a pause, socked all of his blood-engorged member right back through Jill's yielding, rubbery anal ring. His balls came swinging forward, slapping with a lurid plop against the fleshy moist lips of Jill's unfucked pussy.
"My God! My God! My God!" Jill bellowed, orgasming as her brother's cock fucked her asshole in strong, rabbity, fuck-strokes. At the same time, Georgette was climaxing yet again, her pink cunt pulsing against Jill's sucking mouth and fucking tongue.
Bobby socked his cock in and out ... back and forth ... faster ... faster ... faster. Jill's rubbery anal sheath vibrated as it orgasmed around Bobby's blue-veined thickness. Bobby knew it wouldn't be too long before he blasted his creamy cum up his sister's asshole. It never took him very long when he sodomistically pumped his hard meatiness up her forbidden orifice. He was heading for orgasm even faster than usual this time, because of the erotic sight of his sister going down over Georgette's hair-fringed pussy.
"I'm going to cum, you two sexy bitches!" Bobby announced, his cock pumping out of control. "I'm going to blast ... my creamy ... OH, JESUS, MY CREAMY ... CREAMY ... CUM ... UP MY SISTER'S TIGHT ... TIGHT ... RUBBERY ... RUBBERY ... ASSHOLE ... ASSHOLE ... FUCKING, JESUS, ASSHOLE ... AAAAGGGGHHHHREEEEIIII-UNNNGGHHHH ... TAKE IT ... TAKE IT!"
His bellows of pleasure, combined with the guttural mewls of Jill once again going off around her brother's cum-blasting cock, and Georgette's whimpering gurgles, penetrated to Barbara beyond the shut bathroom door. Barbara felt her mind raped by the vision she had conjured of how it was out there in her bedroom, her daughter eating her maid's cunt, her son fucking her daughter.
Barbara knew she would risk her sanity by staying where she was any longer. She had to get away, that was all there was to it. To stay meant she would soon find herself subjected to unimagined horrors once Bobby and Jill broke down the door to get to her. And, they would break down the door, wouldn't they?
It suddenly struck her that if she had any chance at all of escaping, it would be now, while her son and daughter, at least according to their grunts and groans, were occupied. She, also, knew that she couldn't wait around, thinking about escape, or Bobby and Jill would be through with sex for the moment and free to concentrate on their hiding mother. Already she had probably waited too long ...
She unlocked the door and ran out of the bathroom, stopping suddenly, almost as if she had received a physical blow to her stomach. The scene laid out before her at the bed was just too impossible to believe.
Georgette, tied to the bed, her legs lewdly splayed and hanging over the side, had the hair of her cunt wetted down with Jill's spit. But, that wasn't what had knocked the breath out of Barbara. What had done that had been the sight of her son's blood-engorged cock pulling out of her daughter's asshole. Her daughter's ASSHOLE, for Christ's sake! As if their incestuous perversions weren't enough, Bobby had been fucking Jill's asshole, his cum-slicked cock leaving behind it a brown pucker slicked with his cream.
"Hey, mom has decided to join the party," Bobby said, aware that his mother was out of the bathroom and staring.
Barbara knew she should have been running. What she should have been doing, however, had nothing whatsoever to do with the way her legs felt. They felt like rubber. They wouldn't move at her mental commands, seeming glued to the spot. Barbara was as much held by the sight of her son's large cock, which had just been incestuously fucked up his sister's asshole, as any small animal was ever held by the phallic sway of a killer cobra.
When she finally—somehow—did manage to muster the strength to continue her run, she knew it was too late. Bobby was already on his feet, his lewd cock still standing tall through the opening of his sweat-stained pants crotch. Knowing she couldn't make it out of the bedroom, she decided to return to the temporary security offered by the bathroom. But, it was too late even for that, Bobby was there at the bathroom door, his foot inserted to keep it from being banged shut. His cock was veneered with slime; his face was glossed with sweat. He smelled of sex, the fragrance a disturbing aphrodisiac in Barbara's nostrils.
"Why don't you come on out and show us how you look in your sexy black lace brassiere, black lace panties, black garter belt, and stiletto heels, mother?" Bobby asked, smiling widely.
Barbara felt a new gushing of natural lubricant oozing from her hair-fringed cunt and beginning to drool down the insides of her milky white thighs.