Chapter 8
The next morning at the breakfast table, while the children were still upstairs dressing, Dorothy confided to her husband her fears that Charlie and May had had a midnight fling the night before.
"Maybe you're just jealous," said her husband, cutting a piece of French toast and dipping it in syrup.
"Why should I be jealous?" asked his wife, gulping her coffee to conceal her jealousy.
"Now, Dorothy, you've always had the hots for your brother, you know that." He plunged the piece of syrupy toast in his mouth and chewed it pleasurably.
"Well," she said, "now that you put it that way, I'll have to tell you something else, dear." Her husband, although she was not sleeping with him lately, was her closest confidante.
"What's that?" asked her husband curiously. He never particularly cared for Uncle Charlie, but long ago begrudgingly accepted him as a necessary part of the family.
"We made love last night!" Dorothy's eyes glowed.
"What?" said Roger, choking on the same piece of French toast. He had a sudden vision of a car running over Uncle Charlie.
"Yes, dear, you heard me. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Well, was it wonderful?" Roger took another bite of toast before he could throw up.
"Oh, yes, honey, it was terrific. I mean, I'd had so many ideas and thoughts and fantasies about fucking my brother, about how big his cock was, and just what it would be like, that I thought I'd try it."
"And how does Charlie's cock compare to Charlie's mouth?" Roger was trying his best to contain his acid remarks, but found it not easy.
"Darling, you're really being too rude. He was fine. He was every bit as good. Not quite ten inches, but a good seven, I'd say. And good technique too. Trouble is ... "
"What's that?" Roger's face brightened.
" ... May was downstairs when he went out, I think. I couldn't be sure, because I dozed off ... "
"In post-sexual euphoria, no doubt. I mean, he fucked you to sleep, right?"
" ... and there was a lot of talking and noise, like he was chasing her around, or she was chasing him around ... " Dorothy ignored him. " ... and I called downstairs, but she denied anything was happening, and since she didn't confess to being in any trouble, I left them alone."
"And you were jealous," finished Roger, finishing his meal off. "Come to think of it, I am too. She must have gone from his arms into mine. Why, that little cunt!"
"Shush, Roger, don't call her that. She's your daughter."
"That little cunt of a daughter of mine. I thought I'd raised that kid differently. What the hell does she see in the likes of Charlie?"
"Darling, she's only thirteen."
"Right. Doesn't know any better."
"Thanks!" said Dorothy. "I didn't find him all that bad!"
"Yes, well, dear, what's your problem?" Her husband snorted in laughter.
"If you weren't my best friend, Roger, I'd hit you. But I don't know what to do with her, really. I fear this thing has gotten out of hand."
"Don't worry about it," said Roger. He was already plotting revenge. If Charlie could cuckold him, well, he would cuckold Charlie.
Fern, Charlie's wife, had always attracted him. She'd even flirted with him on occasion. Judging from what she'd told Dorothy, she got pleasure from Charlie only about half the time. Charlie could fuck for hours if he wanted to, according to her, or come like a minuteman if he wanted.
He controlled the bedtime situation, according to his whim, rather than considering Fern's pleasure.
Roger had always preferred not to interfere. It was their affair. But now that Charlie was venturing out of his own family territory and into Roger's, Roger decided to return the favor.
He would seduce Fern. And Roger didn't think it would be all that difficult. He would be walking into a vacuum.
Fern was not so unattractive. Somewhat plain, she fixed herself up. She took care of herself. She didn't let herself go.
She was a little on the thin side, but Roger didn't think that would turn him off. The thinner the more agile, sometimes, he figured. And her personality was most pleasant.
She was full of laughter and humor. She gave an awful lot. How she ever got hooked up with a bastard like Charlie, Roger never could figure out.
When Roger left for work that morning, he was already hatching the seduction scene.
By the time he'd stopped at an art supply store, he'd plotted the first half. And by the time he got to the ad agency, the rest was worked out in his mind. While he parked, he was whistling.
The day went by rapidly. He did mechanical after mechanical. He automatically flirted with the boss' secretary, and made eyes at the woman who sat by the window on the same floor of the building across the way.
He would have old Charlie by the balls.
And Charlie's wife by the tits!
At four o'clock he called Fern at her office. Could she have a drink with him after work? he asked her. He had something personal to discuss with her. She was delighted. They agreed to meet at Mr. Jonathan's, a posh little cocktail place.
Fern was radiant when Roger greeted her under the awning. He held her at the waist and pecked her on the cheek. Probably no one had given her that much attention in a coon's age, thought Roger.
"Let's go in," he suggested. "You look terrific."
She had on a white ruffly blouse, that added to the bulk of her small breasts, and a short red skirt. When they sat down on a plastic-covered couch and ordered drinks, her skirt rode up her thigh, and Roger wanted to bite her there.
Instead he just eyed it respectfully and let her see him eye it. She blushed.
"How's Charlie?" asked Roger pleasantly, hoping the bastard would get hit with a bowling ball.
Roger smiled to himself at the picture in his head. Then he chuckled. Fern looked at him questioningly. She was smiling, but she looked hurt.
"I'm not laughing at you," he said. "I just had a funny thought."
"What's that?" she asked, her smile deepening.
"I-I just had this crazy idea that we should go run off somewhere together."
"Oh, that's not funny!" said Fern, her smile fading.
"I'm sorry," said Roger, thinking he'd blown it.
"It's not funny at all. I think it's a wonderful idea!" Fern grasped his hand and her eyes glowed.
"You do?" asked Roger, astonished. Now he was wondering what he was getting himself into.
He wanted to pull his hand away, but it was too late. Besides, he had her where he wanted her. He just had had no idea that it would be so easy.
"I've always wanted to go to Martinque," she said.
"Never heard of it," said Roger. "Besides, I don't want to go far. Let's start at home." He tried to be positive. "Get to know each other, you know?"
"Sure, Roger," she said, nodding. Then her face fell. "But where?"
"I don't know," said Roger. "All the beds at our house are taken." He thought of his naked daughter. "Several times over."
"Oh, what do you mean?" asked Fern, unaware of all the gossip.
"Oh," said Roger, thinking fast. "Uh, I just mean, we get bored being in the same old bedroom every night, so we all switch every once in a while. Make it interesting, you know? Don't have to look at the same old walls ... "
"Yes, how interesting," said Fern. "I think that's a good idea. I'll have to sleep in my son's bedroom sometime. I mean, without him, of course!" She chuckled embarrassedly. "I've always liked his wallpaper."
Roger took the deep-throated chuckle to mean that she had the hots for her fifteen-year-old son. Unconscious, of course. Well, Ricky, his nephew, wouldn't be such a bad choice. Not a bad kid at all, and pretty good-looking, thought Roger. He certainly didn't take after his old man.
Roger had to map out the evening quickly in his mind, before she lost the nerve. But he bit. "Uh, what's the wallpaper like?" He sipped his martini.
"Baseball bats." Fern chomped on a handful of peanuts and crossed and uncrossed her legs.
"I see," said Roger, nodding. Poor frustrated woman. He would be sticking bats in her before the evening was over.
"I just thought, Roger. We could do it in our back yard. After dark, of course." Fern's eyes grew large. She clutched at her blouse. "There are lots of trees and the neighbors can't see over the fence. It's very safe."
"Terrific," said Roger. "I'll drive you home, park down the street, you go in and get a blanket and I'll meet you out in back."
"Oh, Roger, it'll be wonderful! It's just what I need to perk up my married life. A lover."
They had several more drinks. By the time they left Mr. Jonathan's, they were high and the sun was low. They drove the several miles out to Charlie and Fern's.
It was nearly dark when they arrived. Fern snuck up on the front porch and retrieved an old Army blanket. While she tiptoed down the front steps and around in back, Roger parked the car and walked up the alley.
"Psst," called out Fern, as Roger nearly went past. He'd never come upon their house from the back at this hour of the night before.
She welcomed him with open arms, under the old oak tree. The tree was large and squat with lovely, protective, overhanging branches.
Right beside it was a weeping willow tree. It was there that Fern decided would be the best hidden natural bed. They could make mad, passionate love under its long branches.
There was a light or two on in the house. Charlie was up in his study, planning on which clients to visit the next day. Ricky was attempting to do his homework at the desk in his bedroom, beneath his batty wallpaper.
Fern knew all these things and pondered them in her heart. She felt the slightest twinge of guilt at being outside in the back yard with her brother-in-law, instead of inside with her husband and son.
She'd never done this before. It was a new thing for her. She had never fucked-out on her husband before.
But the idea of fucking Roger, whom she'd always secretly adored, was overwhelming. It was an opportunity she could not pass up.
"Roger, darling, how are you? Oh, it's so good to see you." She cupped his head in her hands and kissed him. His lips were sweet and tangy, with a slight odor of his three martinis.
The odor of alcohol only served to turn her on more. They sat down on the blanket Fern spread, and smoked a cigarette. They had to keep their voices very low.
Roger was already biting her upper arm. Luckily her sleeves were short. There was just enough flesh there to be pleasing.
The arm of the hand with the cigarette encircled her waist, and he leaned to kiss her.
He tongued her warmly between her lips.
"Oh, Roger, you're wonderful," she sighed. She felt his hand creep over her thigh and into her pussy. It inched up her thigh and under her short red skirt.
She moaned, anticipating the wonderful things that were about to happen to her.
She bit on Roger's ear and tongued in and out of it, all along the inner crevices and behind it, making him go crazy. Her hand went to his cock, which was ready to burst its seams.
She pried down his zipper and ran her hand inside. She was panting, aching to get her hands on his tool. She was high and horny.
She had never been unfaithful and wanted to free herself of that stigma. It would only be a matter of minutes now.
A cool evening breeze lifted her skirt high. Roger seized the opportunity to go down on her. He fell headlong into her crotch, and peeled her lacy panties down her thighs.
When he saw her magnificent little pussy, his heart melted. He patted it all over to make sure it was real. Then he pried her pussy lips apart, as Fern separated her own thighs quite willingly.
She moaned as his finger found her hole and thrust into it. Her eyes closed. She grabbed his other hand and sucked on one of his fingers, sliding down to a supine position.
They stubbed out their cigarettes in the grass. Fern opened her eyes to see the new moon overhead, a slim crescent that boded a new future for her.
Just before his mouth went down on her pussy, Roger's hand groped for the buttons of her blouse, practically ripping them off in an attempt to get at her little tits.
Fern's tits were not unlike his daughter's, Roger discovered when he finally exposed them to view.
That thought turned him on as he began blindly fingering them, playing with them, feeling the tiny little nipples erect right under his fingertips.
Something else was erecting too. His tongue and lips had found her little love bud. His hot wet tongue was probing it to action. It stood up and saluted under the caresses of his tongue. He whipped around the little cocklike projectile and made Fern moan with pleasure.
If only her husband could see her now. If only he would look out the window and see another man giving her all the sexual happiness in the world, maybe he would be taught a lesson.
Roger took her long, slim thighs and put them on his shoulders. Then he gripped her buttocks and sucked and sucked on her cunt hole.
His own tumescent prick was hurting but Roger was trying to ignore it and bring Fern off first. Fern had grabbed his dick before and touched it and whacked it a few times, before his own hot tongue pressure caused her to forget his cock.
He couldn't wait till she got her hand on it again. The sooner he brought her off, the sooner he could take his own pleasure. He was prepared to slap a hand across her mouth in an effort to silence her, should her pleasure be too much and her screams too loud.
Roger couldn't take a confrontation with Charlie just now.
"Ohhhhh, ohhhhh, nooooo, Rogerrrrr," Fern was moaning. She seldom had oral sex with Charlie. And she loved it so. It was one of the ways she could come completely and satisfactorily.
And she intended to make the most of it. She thrust her pussy again and again in her brother-in-law's face, pressing hard, pressing harder onto his tongue, onto his lips.
She felt his hot, stiff, writhing tongue muscle plunge in and out of her hole. She impaled herself on his tongue. She would die there, on his stake, if need be. Such was the incredible pleasure she was receiving.
She rode up and down on his mouth, scraping her sensitive, aroused little love bud again and again against his tongue tip and teeth. Every time, her little clit throbbed and sighed with pleasure.
She was getting higher and higher. She clutched the old Army blanket, digging her nails into the woolen fabric. She began moaning deep in her throat, a good indication that she was going to come any minute now.
She saw the fronds of the weeping willow sweep back and forth above them. The sight of the moon and the coolness of the breeze on her face made her feel like she was a nature girl. She was a part of nature. It was her identity, her calling. Charlie had never made her feel like this before. She wondered if she should get a divorce and marry Roger.
"Ohhhhhh, Roger, ohhhhh, honey," she was moaning. She wanted to come. She wanted to come badly. She wanted to come in his mouth, spurting her cuntal juices there. She wanted to hump herself on his sucking mouth until she'd exhausted herself.
She felt her pleasure on the rise. She felt her itchiness get itchier. She scratched her cunt against his mouth and tongue and teeth. He scratched her itch.
She felt herself rising. She felt her passion sailing across the sky.
"Ohh, ohh, ohhhh!" she was calling out, moaning softly at each exquisite plunge of his tongue.
She felt herself rise and burst then. She moaned loudly. She didn't care who heard. She had no m. control of herself then. She had to gasp her deep pleasure out. She didn't want to inhibit it. "Oh, honey, Roger!" she sang out, laughing and clinging to his head. "Oh, don't stop! Don't stop! Oh, eat me, eat me!"
And she came not once, but twice. And Roger kept on sucking. The tension had drained out, had evaporated from her body. She was giddy with the pleasure that had washed over her. And then she came again.
She kept humping herself against his mouth. Then he inserted one finger up her cunt and one up her asshole and kept sucking on her clit. He sucked and sucked. It drove her wild to have all her orifices covered. She was playing with her tits and nipples and sucking on her fingertips.
She was one instrument of humping, writhing pleasure. She shook and stammered. She vibrated all over. The spasms went up and down her spinal cord.
Her heels beat a rhythm against his back. Roger sucked her cunt to the bitter end.
Finally her body quieted. Her cunt had been drained of juices. She no longer had that terrible sensitivity, that overwhelming itchiness that wouldn't go away, that wouldn't let her go on with her tasks. Roger had played with her. He'd taken the need from her. He'd satisfied her. He'd relaxed her. Her cunt no longer craved the attention of male mouth and fingers.
Now she could turn her attention to satisfying Roger. "Come here," she said, pulling him down on her. She felt warm and alive. She felt like giving him everything, everything she had. Her whole body and soul. She felt like an instrument of love.
She took his stiff dick and jacked it up and down. It was a nice, long, thick cock, one she could ride to another pleasurable high. But more than that, she wanted to bring him off. She wanted to suck his cock into her pussy and ride it and suck all the sticky, milky, creamy come out. She wanted to milk him dry.
"Ohhhhh, that feels good, Fern," sighed Roger, feeling her tiny, firm hand on his cock. She cupped his balls and rolled them around and around in the palm of her hand.
She jacked the cock up and down and was especially careful to whip the ridge and head between her thumb and forefinger. She knew he was very sensitive there.
After she jacked him for a while, Roger had other ideas. He wanted Fern to give him head. He wanted her to eat him, to suck him off.
He scrambled to his knees and placed a knee on either side of her chest. He pinched and pulled on her little nipples and bent down to nip and bite them with his mouth and teeth.
Fern giggled. Then his staff got closer and closer to her mouth. She gasped. She wondered if she could get it all inside. She opened her mouth wide. She wanted to suck on it. She wanted to cram her mouth full of his sweet meat. She wanted to be full of him. She wanted to satisfy him with her mouth and tongue and teeth and throat.
But he was so big! Could she, get him in? Could she get him down?
Roger thrust his groin forward, pressing his hot, smoldering cock against her mouth. Her little lips parted and he felt the warm steaminess of her oral cavity.
"Ohhhhhhh," he moaned. "Oh, that feels good. Oh, suck, Fern, suck!"
Fern sucked. And she sucked hard. She wanted to please him. Her lips stretched tight around his fleshy, thrusting cock. He rolled it around in her mouth. He thrust it halfway down her throat.
She gagged. But she didn't stop. She didn't stop sucking. She wanted to give him head. She wanted to give him the best head ever.
Fern rolled her tongue all over the hot cock in her mouth. She whipped it over the cockhead, she rolled it under the ridge. She wet his whole prick with the saliva from her hot, wet mouth.
"Ohhhhhhh, mmmmmmmm, oh, let me commmmmmmmmme in your mouth, Fern! Oh, I'm getting so hot, oh, mmmmmm!" he was moaning, thrusting faster and faster, plunging in and out of her mouth, plunging up and down his sister-in-law's throat.
She gulped to take it all. She gulped to encompass it all, every square inch of his mighty prick. As Fern sucked, she played with herself between her legs. She played with her cunt, which was getting hot and horny again, as she sucked off Roger's sexy cock.
She let him fuck her throat. She felt him expand. She felt his cock getting even harder. She knew, from the rapidity of his thrusts and the urgency of his groans, that he was going to come any minute.
She sucked harder. She held his cock even tighter between her lips. She gripped his staff harder between her fingers. She mauled his balls with her other hand.
Finally she felt the first steamy drops of jism escape his piss slit. Then another and another. She jacked hard as she sucked his cockhead. She whacked harder as her mouth and lips milked him dry.
Then came another larger spurt of creamy come into her mouth, and another and another. Oh, her mouth was filling up fast! Quarts, gallons of super-X cock fluid left the hose of his dick and entered the tank of her mouth.
She sputtered to encompass it all. She worked her lips hard to take it all in. She swallowed it. She swallowed it all. She swallowed all the dick liquid in one, two, three gulps. Finally his cock was flagging. But she was tuned up- Her motors were raring to go.
Roger pulled his collapsed dick out of her mouth and fell down, beside her. The cuddled together on the old Army blanket. Fern clung to him. She hung around his neck like a newlywed.
Roger was spent. He had quite a sucker for a sister-in-law. He wouldn't soon forget that excellent sucking job which she had given him. He could tell she'd given him her all.
He was so tired, but he forced the muscles of his mind together long enough to wonder what her insides were like, or rather what she was like on the inside. She wasn't just a shell. There was a cunt inside there. And he wanted to find it.
He would, as soon as he recovered from the first round. He wondered if they would have time. After all, she had to leave to be with her husband tonight yet. It was like having to take a coed home. There was a curfew.
Roger didn't like that very well. But it was one of the sacrifices that had to be made if you took your sister-in-law to bed. Well, at least they didn't have to go very far.
Fern and Roger lay there under the stars for a while. The thin wedge of moon had risen a foot in the sky. Roger hoped his cock would do likewise.
They pressed nakedly together. Fern loved the feel of her nearly naked body against that of her artist brother-in-law.
"Can I model for you sometime?" she asked.
"You just did," he answered, trying to think sexy thoughts so his dick would agree to another round.
"I mean, with pen and ink in your hand, or brush and oils, or whatever," she said.
"Sure," he said, but what he was thinking was that there wasn't an awful lot of time before they would have to break camp and split.
Oh! what was that? His cock was stirring! Roger was quiet, hoping he had seen and felt correctly. Yes, indeed, there it was. Only ten minutes, and his cock was ready to go again.
Fern saw it too. Her fingers closed around the little thing to help it out.
"Careful!" said Roger sharply. "Don't smother it!"
"Silly!" laughed Fern. "You're an old silly!" And she pumped up and down on his cock and made it swell up like the big top that it was.
When it was ready to take the big plunge, Fern welcomed him eagerly between her thighs. Oh, how she ached to have that huge staff up her cunt.
Roger pressed his smoldering cock inside her. She gasped. It was wonderful. It was terrific. It was fantastic. She couldn't think of adjectives enough to describe that big foreign object wedged in her pussy.
He thrust in and out of her. Her hole was so hungry. After all, it had been a whole half-hour since she'd come. She was ready for more action.
It didn't take either one of them long to come. Roger thrust his dick into her and withdrew, thrust and withdrew. The pumped and pumped. Their groins slapped together sweatily. They panted and breathed heavy with the exertion.
"Ohhhhhh," moaned Fern, pale with passion, weak with wanting him so much. He was nicer than Charlie. And he was nicer to fuck than Charlie. Roger brought her more pleasure than Charlie.
"Nghnghngh!" grunted Roger, about to burst again.
"Mmmmmmmmm, ahhhhhhhh!" moaned and groaned Fern. Their naked bodies together on the blanket under the moon looked like a giant eight-limbed insect, sweating and moaning, sweating and moaning.
"I'm going to come, Fern, honey, are you ready?" Roger spit out the words between his heavy inhalations of breath. "Can't last!"
"Yes, oh, yes, sweetie, oh, plug me, fuck me, oh, please, here I come!"
Just at the moment when Roger was spasming and bursting his thick cream inside his sister-in-law's cunt hole, and just at the moment when Fern was swollen with passion and reaching the peak of her climax, the back door banged open and a huge, bright floodlight switched on.
"Ohhhhhh!" screamed Fern, coming and panicking at the same time. She shuddered with fear and passion. Which was which, she didn't know. But the one aided and abetted the other.
"My God!" moaned Roger, knowing they were being discovered. Their position was rather compromising, too. His groin thrust forward once more and spilled the contents of his balls into Fern's sweet, soft pussy. He was afraid to look up.
"Who's there?" came the awful, commanding sales pitch voice of Uncle Charlie.
Roger held his head in his hands. How could he explain this? They weren't even getting a divorce. He expected to see the flash of a camera bulb, exposing them forever on film.
"Ohhhh, noooo!" moaned Fern. She buried her face in her fists, hoping her husband wouldn't recognize her.
"Who is copulating on my property?" yelled Charlie, shaking his fist at the top of the back steps. "I better not recognize you! Such filth occurring in my back yard! If my wife hears about this, she'll throw a moral fit!"
"Oh, ho, ho!" whispered Fern in Roger's ear.
"At least he doesn't know," Roger whispered back.
"Who goes there, friend or foe?" yelled Charlie, making the most of the dramatic possibilities.
"If we answer that one, we get hell if we are, and hell if we aren't," said Fern, knowing her husband pretty well.
"Then don't say anything," advised Roger, pulling a corner of the old dirty-brown Army blanket up over his exposed ass. "Wait it out."
Charlie didn't come forward. He merely stood at his back door and harangued them from the safe outpost. "If you aren't gone immediately, I'll call the cops."
"Sure you will," mimicked Fern. She usually didn't make fun of her husband, but she felt she had another loyal supporter now, and could afford to.
"Do we run naked like Adam and. Even through the garden?" wondered Roger aloud.
Fern didn't answer. She was watching her husband make his way down the back steps. She didn't think he had the nerve.
He started down the back walk, picking his way between the inlaid rocks, to avoid getting the dew on his trouser bottoms.
He got closer and closer. Fern was scared shitless. She kept pulling the blanket tighter and tighter around her. That left Roger with less and less blanket.
Finally he had no other recourse but to spring up and confront his brother-in-law. A good offense was the best defense, he figured.
He jumped up, nude as a baby, and stood his ground.
"Roger!" screamed Charlie, astonished. "What are you doing out here?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing," said Roger, smiling affably, as if they'd just met at a cocktail party. "Uh, my girl friend and I didn't have anywhere to go, so I thought your back yard was as good a place as any."
Roger motioned weakly to Fern on the ground, now completely embalmed in the blanket.
"Well, who is it?" said Charlie. "Do I know her?"
"Aw, she's shy," said Roger, motioning to the lumpy figure on the grass. "Have a heart."
"Oh, sure, sure," said Charlie. "Uh, care for a drink?"
"Well, no thinks, man, uh, guess we better be going. She's got a curfew, you know. Awful sorry."
"Aw, well, sorry I interrupted things!" Charlie guffawed. "Uh, I know how it is, man. Put 'er there!"
And they shook hands over the naked, blanketed figure of Charlie's wife. He turned and traipsed back to the house. The floodlight switched out, leaving the two sinners again in total darkness.