Chapter 9

Dorie and Marilyn were invited to dinner at the Boreman ranch Wednesday evening. It was a sonofabitching hot day and Mrs. Boreman chose to serve the meal outside on the terrace. Steven and Dorie were silent most of the meal. Marilyn, who did not realize there was a shit-slinging feud between father and son, was having a swell time.

Throughout the meal Dorie kept sending signals to Steven. He knew she was pushing for the confrontation with his dad, and he avoided her eyes.

"What do you girls think of country living? A lot different from the city, isn't it?" Mr. Boreman tried to make polite conversation.

"Actually, .Berkeley isn't a city. It's a quiet college community," Marilyn answered.

"You kids have your share of trouble on campus, don't you? Why is U.C. so radical?" Mr. Boreman had touched upon Dorie's favorite subject.

"It's not that we're radical, the establishment can't accept change. I'm sure the trouble on campus today is no different when you were in college."

Cybil rose from the table. "Please, dear, let's not get into politics this evening. The children are on vacation; they want to get their heads together-if that's the way to say it."

"That's right," Marilyn replied.

"Steven," Boreman looked at his son. "You haven't had much to say this evening. How are things with you? Your grades were very good this semester. As I recall, you weren't doing too well at the beginning."

"Everything is all right, Dad." Steven glanced at Cybil, then remembered that Dorie was there. He must not let any of them see him look suggestively at Cybil. It wouldn't do for his dad to know they'd been fucking.

"Mr. Boreman," Dorie interrupted, "Steven does have something he would like to discuss with you."

Steven glared angrily at her. Boreman looked at Dorie and then at his son.

"Oh, is that right? Well-Steven, Dorie says you have something to discuss with me?"

"Ah, yeah, that's right, Dad."

"Can it wait until after dinner? We'll excuse ourselves and go into the study."

"Fine, Dad."

Cybil was uneasy through the entire meal and Steven wondered why. Although she pretended to be jovial, he could tell that she was out of sorts. Whenever she passed through the sunlight he could see the silhouette of her thighs. And there he was, sitting there getting a hard on for her. He was thankful she remained on the far side of the table facing him. This way he could observe her lovely body without being too obvious.

Later Steven joined his father inside the study. Steven hated this room because it was his father's favorite. The big mahogany desk, the bookshelves, the trophy case, and the stuffed moose over the fireplace were all distasteful to him. He hated the segment of the Establishment his dad represented. He wondered how many good people his dad had fucked up or ripped off to attain his empire.

Boreman lit his pipe and sank back in his high-backed leather chair. He examined Steven's face: he was certainly not a carbon copy of himself. Why did his son let a woman do his talking for him?

"Dad, I'll come right to the point. I need money."

"Why didn't you say so sooner? How much?"

"My inheritance."

"You know better than that, Stevie. Not until you are twenty-five years old."

"I don't want to fight you, but Mother left everything to me. The trust fund was your idea."

"It's foolish to waste my time on this matter. Besides, I thought you were so dead set against the Establishment. If you receive your inheritance, that would make you a member, wouldn't it?"

Steven stormed out of the study in a rage and slammed the front door! Dorie and Marilyn followed him outside. Boreman emerged from the study. Cybil looked at him with disgust, turned, and walked away.

Steven accelerated the sports car to 100 m.p.h., driving recklessly and with abandonment. Dorie and Marilyn sat paralyzed, holding on for dear life. Suddenly a truck appeared from around a blind curve and crowded the center lane. Steven missed hitting it and streaked off the highway and down a slight embankment. A tree loomed up and he cut the wheel hard and narrowedly missed it. The right front fender scraped a boulder and the car spun into the air and came down on two wheels. Then he miraculously brought the car to a stop.

They all sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead at the cracked windhsield. Dorie was livid and did not dare look at Steven. Marilyn threw open the door and walked a few paces away from the car. They saw her grab her stomach and hurry behind a bush. Her wretched gagging echoed in the ravine.

"I hope you got all the shit out of your system."

"Don't start, Dorie. I don't feel like taking a bunch of horseshit from you!"

"You are old enough to lead your own life, but when you put other people's lives in jeopardy, that is just plain stupid! The way you let your father run you out of the house, like a piece of shit, was disgraceful. I have never been so humiliated in all of my life."

"I'm warning you ... Everybody's giving me bullshit and I'm fucking sick of it!"

Marilyn came back to the car. She was feeling better now.

"Well, Steven, I don't know about the truckdriver, but you sure scared the shit out of me. What is this-how to kill yourself in one easy lesson?"

"I apologize, Marilyn."

"His dad upset him."

"Did anybody ask you to say anything?" Steven snapped. "You got a joint on you, Marilyn?"

Marilyn leaned over the car and dug into her purse. "I could go for that. My nerves are shot."

"Well," continued Dorie, "you did let your father get to you. You blew your cool."

They all had a hit on the joint. Steven got out of the car and sat on a boulder. Marilyn sat beside him and Dorie stood before them.

"What's the big hassle with your dad?"

He was not going to tell her, but maybe the world should know. "He killed my mother."

The girls looked at each other. Marilyn searched Dorie's eyes to see if what Steven said was true.

"That is a horrible exaggeration."

"It's true."

"Ahhh, come on, Steven."

He looked into the sky and brought the vivid memories of that stormy night back into his mind. "He married my mother for her money. He was seeing another woman on the East Coast. My mother hired detectives and had him followed. The detectives confirmed her suspicions. She loved Dad. She went to pieces and turned into an alcoholic and freaked out on pills. He made her do that. Then one night there was a storm, the worst one in years. I thought the wind would lift the roof right off the house. I was awakened by them arguing violently about his leaving for New York. She told him about the detectives discovering his mistress. She was going to divorce him and kick him out without a penny. He knocked her down and I heard her fall. Then she ran out of the house and drove away before anyone could stop her. She was too drunk to know what she was doing. Dad and Jack found her, dead in the wrecked car-she had skidded on a sharp turn and went over the cliff. Dad didn't mourn her very long before he brought the mistress to live here."

Marilyn said, "You don't mean-"

"That's right, Cybil was the mistress. He married her right away and she tried to step into Mom's shoes. To top it off, even though Mother left me her entire estate, including the chain of newspapers, he fought the will, and with his connections and his crooked lawyer friends, he was able to gain control over the estate because I was still a minor."

"Gee, I'm sorry, kid," said Marilyn. "Just think how you could change the country if you controlled all those newspapers."

"Come on, let's get out of here. I'm sorry I behaved like such an asshole. I could have killed both of you driving that way."

"How will you get your car out of here?"

"I'll have the garage pick it up."

After the kids had left the ranch, Cybil and John Boreman spent the next hour discussing all the trials and tribulations of the newspaper business. She pretended she knew what he was talking about, nodding like a good little housewife, bored to tears. Men were like little boys-the more you make them think you want their cocks the less they are inclined to give it to you. Her husband was absolutely no different. When she first married him, he found her attractive and sensuous. He never missed an opportunity to rub his prick against her ass. He thought her ass was something special, and loved to feel her up.

Evenings when he came home tired, she would strip down to panties and bra and move about his study and sit on his lap. She would kiss him, bite his ears and tell him how hot and horny she had been all during the day, and that she just couldn't wait until he arrived home to give her a good fucking. This had always worked to a tee; men enjoy having their cocks complimented, the same as a woman enjoys being told that she is sexy ... or sensuous. She would put on a big act as if she got frantic to fuck just by his touching her anywhere. The thing that used to really give him a hard on was when she would stand up-face away from him, and pull her panties down her ass and shake like a strip-tease chick would do. Then she would say something like: "Honey, do you think I'm getting too fat back there? I can't seem to get into any of my old skirts anymore." She would say this in a girlish voice, helpless, innocent but ready to obey his sexual will. She made him think he was directing the action and that his dick was the key to the whole thing.

He would reach for her, she would step away. "No, no ... I didn't show you that to get you horny, honey. Is that baby getting hot for some of Momma's pussy? Let Momma see!" He would blush and pretend he didn't want to. "Oh, come on, let me see it, honey. I like it ... it's so big!" There would be a faraway look in her eyes: she was really hot for a fuck. She would unzip his trousers and take out his cock. By the time she had finished kissing and sucking it, he would have shot his come a mile high! That was all there was to it-even when she didn't feel like fucking she would do it. But he got used to her always doing this, so she tried to coax him into doing the same for her. He ate her cunt once or twice but he did not really enjoy it; he was selfish that way, so she would put him on short fuck-rations for a couple of days, just to whet his appetite. At every opportunity she would mention the fact that the man next door had an abnormal-size prick and she saw it when he wore shorts, or tell her husband how a girl friend boasted of how well her husband ate her cunt.

The moment she saw his cock hardening, she would let him put his arms around her in bed, and during this teasing she would wear nothing. Just the contact of her naked body against his long cock was enough to excite him. She made sure that he slept with her ass pressed up against it. Sometimes she would wiggle in her sleep and he would grab for her, and she would moan as if she was having an orgasm. "No ... no, don't bother me ... and move that thing away! I'm trying to sleep ... come on, honey-it's too long, and it will kill me because I don't want to fuck now ... You know how it hurts when my pussy isn't properly lubricated!" Then she would push him away and pretened to fall asleep. He would get up and light a cigarette and storm about the room, pissed as hell. But he knew she was working on him. By the time she did submit to him, he would give her such a fuck that it would make her tear out her hair-and she knew the servants could hear her screaming and moaning. Just to demonstrate his masculinity, and what a masterful lover he was, he would eat her pussy for good measure. It always worked. She knew it was unfair, but that's the method she had to use on him.

Tonight he displayed signs of not wanting to be bothered. He wanted to talk about his work, which was always the topic of conversation. Ashamedly, she was thinking of his son, how he always had his hard young dick ready. The father-she would have to work on.

There was a worried look on his face as he stood by the bed unbuttoning his shirt and kicking off his shoes. She sauntered to the dresser and slowly took off her blouse. She saw his reflection in the mirror.

"What's wrong, dear? Why the wrinkled brow?"

"It seems that my hippie son wants to become a member of the Establishment. Nothing to worry about, though."

"Steven and Dorie want to get married. I could tell by the way they look at each other. That romance has gotten serious. And dear, I know that Steven hasn't really accepted me as his mother, but I do care for him. And I don't think he's old enough yet to take on such responsibility."

"We both agree on that point."

"And besides, this might sound horrible, but Dorie troubles me. I mean, she comes from a poor family and I can't shake the idea that she's after Steven's money."

"That's exactly what he's pushing for. From the way she spoke up for him during dinner, I'd say she's putting him up to it. You might have a point."

"Ah, not only that but her father-"

"What about her father? Old man Johnson, right?"

"There are rumors that he and she ... well ... you know ... that he raised her alone without the guidance of a woman in the house."

"Yes. Go on-"

"Oh, forget it. It wasn't a very pleasant thing to say about father and daughter. But I'm happy that you settled Steven down."

"I didn't say that. The kid is like me in the stubborn department. He just didn't push me tonight. But one day I'm going to have to oppose him and what he believes. He thinks the system is corrupt and that social revolution will solve this nation's problem. But it will not. He will see that when he's thirty."

"Yes, dear, of course, dear, you're right, dear."

He peeled off his shorts. She had become fascinated watching him prepare to shower. She nearly saw his penis but he turned too quickly. She wanted to see if it was still the nice stick it had been, and if he had been fucking anyone in New York.

"What did you do while I was gone, Cybil?"

"Oh nothing much ... I, ah, fucked four big muscle bound truckdrivers. A slow day."

"You did what?"

"Oh, nothing ... I didn't say anything."

The thought of his big cock made her lick her lips. Having fucked young Steven, had made her curious about her husband: was there a similarity in size? Since Steven had inherited his dick from John, she was curious to see if John was that huge.

She stripped down to her panties and nonchalantly went into the bathroom. The shower door was open and he did not notice when she entered. She went to the medicine cabinet and pretended to search for some lotion, or anything that would give her an excuse for being there.

"Did you miss me, dear?"

"Of course I did," he shouted over the spray of water.

Her back was turned to him and he could see what she was doing. It was perfect because she could work from this angle to get him hot enough to ball her. Her tits felt larger and heavier than ever; they were beginning to swell. There was a bottle of skin cream and she spread some around one tit. She massaged it for a while and tried not to give him the wrong impression. He had never seen her freak off on herself before. She saw his eyes in the mirror and he was digging her half-naked body. He was interested in what she was doing, standing there pricking her nipples.

She gave her panties a yank and pulled them taut between her thighs. The firm globes of her asscheeks spilled out and splashed! Then she moved her hand down the front of the briefs to unpinch her cunt.

She turned around and saw his eyes lock onto hers. He was interested now. She acted as if she did not want him, but nevertheless, she was hot to fuck. What the hell? Why not blow his mind. She stepped into the shower in front of him, hogging the spray of water. He was shocked beyond words and when she first wiggled her ass back against his dick, he moved back. She turned and fluttered her sexy eyes and said in a raspy voice, "Let me put some soap on your body, honey...."

Before he could do anything she pinched his nipples.

"Don't!" He shriveled up and turned his shoulder to her. She rubbed his ass and he reached back and grabbed her hand. "What's wrong with you tonight, Cybil? You've been a little pushy lately."

"And you're a little touchy, aren't you?"

"I'm old enough to bathe myself, in case you haven't noticed. Now give me that soap!"

She held the soap out but tucked it under his balls; his face turned red and he looked as though he wanted to slap her. She rubbed it hard enough to make his balls pluck up. Nothing was happening with his cock-it just sort of flopped around. "Okay, here's your soap!" She shoved it into his stomach and stormed out of the shower into the bedroom.

He followed her. "Oh ... I'm sorry, honey, but not tonight. Okay? I'll fuck you tomorrow night."

She faced him and pulled the hair from her eyes, giving him a dirty, get-fucked look.

"Oh no, oh no, don't do me any small favors."

"It's not your fault."

"I know damn well it's not my fault. But let's just forget it!" She flopped into bed and yanked up the covers.

He stood looking like a lost soul. When he did come to bed, he tried to put his arms around her. "Take your hands off of me. Don't you touch me." She was baiting him to make him want her pussy all the more.

Then he drew her knees up and pushed her ass out. He sheepishly tried to rub his dick against her. She stirred and wiggled a bit further back. His prick was getting harder.

"No, go on, just leave me alone," she whispered, making sure he couldn't break the embrace; actually, it was kind of cozy and nice. His body draped over her ass, and her ass crack was teasing the shit out of his dick. "You don't have to fuck me if you don't want. I don't ever want you to force yourself, John. If my pussy is no longer any good to you, I understand perfectly."

She rolled over and her big, firm tits trembled. They were like a bright flash in his face after coming out of a dark room. They hung there quivering, her nipples winking at him. His eyes were glued there.

She turned her back, and this time she made sure that her ass was flat against his cock. She wanted to. get his dick right down the center of her crack, where it is hot and he would be buried by her warmth. It was feeling good back there to him and she damn well knew it. Shit, the crack of her ass was as hot, if not hotter, than her pussy hole. His cock didn't quite come up between her legs because it was held up at the conjunction-just at the tip of her anus. He hesitated, wondering if he should stick it in. The second she felt his dickhead in her crack, she puckered up her asshole. She whimpered like a wild animal, experiencing the erotic sensation, and overplayed the forbidden aspect of it.

"Oh, shit, John, don't put your cock there. It feels so strange." It felt strange all right, she was about to jump right through her asshole.

"Strange how?"

"I don't know, but I want more in me...."

"Won't it hurt you this way?"

"I'm so hot you could fuck me any. way!"

"Can you take it in your asshole?"

"Of course, silly." The word silly was to imply he was incapable and every husband except John Boreman knew the lesson well.

"Put it in me nice and slow, I'm sure it won't hurt. It will get warm soon."

She had been fucked in the ass many times but it was always exciting to experience ass fucking with a man who had not done it. The trick was to convince him that it was a virgin maneuver. She whimpered and groaned so loud that he was encouraged to "go a little" deeper. His cockhead came into her narrow channel with the speed of a train-ninety miles an hour, and she had to freeze to make him slow down. He began to fuck much softer and every inch was a nut buster. She could tell how hot he was getting by the way he was straining, huffing and puffing.

Her asshole was dry, which made him all the more aggressive. The more she screamed the more he wanted to jam that big fuckshaft of his harder into her shithole. She could feel the cock expanding and getting hotter at the tip. There wasn't much more room left inside her tunnel and he was nearing his high point.

"Shoot off in me-make me feel you come, honey."

"It's so good and gritty and hot!"

"Deeper, deeper!"

"Oh baby-"

"Is that as deep as you can stick it?"

"No, baby-it's just so tight."

"Then pump it in me-do it baby, come on, fuck me, fuck my ass!"

"Hold still, let me fuck you good." :

"Hard as you want-I can take it, give me, give me."

He gave her one final whammy! She dropped, rolled and spun out from under him. His dick missed the target and tore a hole in the sheet.

"Oh, no! Oh, no! Please, Cybil, don't do this to me. I was just about to shoot off!"

She curled up, looking like a sixteen year old virgin, making a dirty old man beg for a piece of her twat. Then she sucked her thumb. "Say please."

"Please, please, please!" he groaned.

"Nope, it's not good enough for you." She leaped out of bed and put on her robe. He was snarling and ranting like she would never believe, as if he had just been deb ailed.

"Dammit, I said please! Now get your ass back in that bed."

"Hell, no! You don't appreciate me, or my cunt!"

He had the grand view of her magnificent ass flesh. She playfully patted her cheeks. When she turned she made sure that her tits were dancing, as he would never see them again.

"You can't leave me hanging."

"Try sticking your finger up your ass, you piece of shit!"

To add insult to injury, she brushed her flesh back around her hips, and looked down. She strummed her pussy and squeezed the insides of her thighs. Then she reached back as if something back there had been violated or broken. "Oh ... you poor, sweet thing. Did that bad old man try to hurt? Yes, Momma knows. Momma's going to do something about getting you a good dick to fuck." At that point she snapped the lights out and rushed out of the bedroom.

Outside in the hallway she slumped against the door and busted her guts, laughing. It was cruel, but some men had to be treated this way. The reason he was not fucking her was that she had failed to show her authority. What she was doing would serve two purposes. One, by the time she did get around to fucking him, he would have a superhard cock and would dick her for days. And two, the more he had to worry about, the less suspicious he could be about what was happening between her and Steven.