Chapter 1
Kimberly Marchini was a very curious eight-year-old. She had an inquiring mind about those things around her which she didn't understand. Sights, sounds, words—anything which was new. She always wanted to investigate her surroundings. She was like a newborn kitten, always poking her nose into things around her, inquiring about her world.
Thus, late one Saturday night she wondered about the sounds which were coming from her parent's bedroom. The squeaking bed springs, the feminine giggles, and the masculine laughter. It seemed to go on for an hour or more. She had noticed the racket before. The squeaks and giggles and laughs were not foreign sounds to her ears. They seemed to occur every Saturday night. And they always occurred after she had been put to bed and her parents had closed their door.
Why was that? she wondered. Why did they only occur after she had been tucked in bed?
During that particular evening there was far more squeaking, laughing, and giggling than customary. She tossed and turned in her little bed, attempting to ascertain the origin of those strange noises.
At long last her curiosity finally got the best of her. She knew that something secretive was going on behind her parent's closed bedroom door. Something of importance was being concealed. Something was being hidden.
Like all curious children, Kimberly loved secrets. She liked to uncover them. Someday she wanted to be a detective—just like those guys on TV. She thought it would be neat to drive around in fancy cars and wear disguises. She already had some experience searching out Christmas presents.
The more that she listened to the mysterious sounds emanating from her parent's bedroom, the more she resolved to uncover the mystery. She arose from her little bunk bed and quietly stepped into her closet. Being careful to make as little noise as possible, she tiptoed across the carpet and held her breath. She carefully pushed aside her small dresses and climbed up on her wooden toy box. She pretended to be a kitten, making as little noise as possible, tracking things stealthily. When she was comfortable, she painstakingly pulled back a worn section of wallpaper and peered through a small crack in the wall.
She had first discovered the tiny opening several weeks beforehand when her mother had told her to clean up her room. She had kept its existence in mind ever since, not telling anyone about it. She thought that it might come in useful someday.
Through the crevice she could see into her parent's bathroom, and beyond to their bed. Because it was apparently located right between the medicine cabinet and some shelving, it had gone undetected for years.
Luckily the bathroom light was off so Kimberly could see easily into the well-lit bedroom. Her eyes took a little while to focus, but when they did she was taken aback by the sight.
Wow!
She pulled away from the wall and rubbed her cute little eyes. For a moment she thought that she was seeing things. She thought she might be dreaming. When she was certain that she wasn't, she again leaned forward and peered through the small opening.
Wow again!
She couldn't believe it! Her mother and father were as naked as jaybirds! Moreover, they were bouncing up and down on the bed like a couple of rowdy kids during recess in the junior high schoolyard.
"Hey! That's not fair!" whispered Kimberly in an indignant tone. "Mom always yells at me for bouncing on my bed."
Kimberly had recently learned the meaning of the word "hypocrisy". She liked it. The term seemed to explain a lot about the workings of the adult world, where parents behaved just the opposite of how they've instructed their children.
Once Kimberly's eight-year-old temper subsided, she concentrated on the exhibition taking place right before her eyes. She was suddenly struck by the realization that she had never seen her mother and father naked before. The closest that either ever got to nudity was when they wore their skimpy swim suits at the beach. But that didn't count. Everyone wore skimpy swim suits there.
A loud series of noisy squeaks emanated from the bedroom. She saw that her father had apparently pinned her mother on the mattress in some type of a wrestling hold. He appeared to be wedged between the long lovely legs which were bent at the knees.
It seemed as if he were attempting to shove himself into the V formed at the juncture of the legs. He seemed to be moving the middle part of his body up and down urgently, as if he were rubbing something with his hips.
"That's odd," whispered Kimberly. "I've never seen daddy do anything like that before. I wonder if this could be a new type of exercise."
She knew that he had recently gotten concerned about his weight, and was talking a lot about diet and exercise. But as was typical with everyone who talked about exercising, they never did any. They simply rented videos and watched lean lovely creatures of the opposite sex do workouts.
Kimberly had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was seemed to be fun, as evidenced by the continued giggles and laughter. There was no way that she was going to leave her secret perch in the closet until she found out exactly what was going on.
A child of normal intellect might have simply said, "Big deal! My parents are wrestling in the nude," and then gone to bed. But Kimberly didn't approach things at face value. If she saw a bird, she wanted to know what species it belonged to. If she saw a squirrel, she wanted to know what kind of acorns it preferred to eat. If she saw a thunderhead, she wanted to know why it developed that peculiar anvil top. Hence, she wasn't about ready to go to bed until she knew precisely what her parents were doing with their bodies. After all, she might learn something which she could later talk about in Show-and-Tell.
Her father, Tom, was a fairly handsome man. His hair was black and lustrous, as was typical of Italian-American men. And his limbs were strong and wiry from doing a great deal of physical labor over the years. His only fault was the pronounced development of a beer belly. It wasn't terribly gross like Mr. Fletcher's, but it was getting bigger and more rounded with each passing year. In fact, he could no longer buckle his pants without sucking in his gut, and was unable to zip his fly without some difficulty.
Kimberly couldn't understand why her father was driving his body up and down so rapidly against her mother. He seemed to be in a race or something, bobbing his naked buttocks up and down like an out-of-control teeter-totter. He never moved that quickly when he played kickball. And even when he played catch, he seemed to be far older than his thirty-five years, always getting winded from just a little exertion.
Kimberly giggled. Her father looked so funny bouncing up and down like that, his hairy buttocks flexing, seeming to pump the front of his pelvis forward with that much more urgency. His vigorous activity was causing the bed springs to squeak loudly and the mattress to sag with each violent thrust.
"What are they doing?" the young girl whispered aloud. "I've never seen anything so odd. They look like they're wrestling, but they don't resemble any wrestlers I've ever seen on TV. Where are the funny costumes? Maybe they're performing some secret adult ritual! Perhaps something like a secret handshake for club members!"
She was at a loss to explain the strange proceedings, so she turned her attention from her father to her mother. She watched as her mother strained and pressed her beautiful body against her father's, attempting to rub her naked breasts against his large hairy chest.
"Oh good!" moaned Pamela Marchini. "So good," she said as she smashed her nipples onto his smaller ones.
Kimberly still had no idea what they were doing, but whatever it was seemed to be pleasing her mother enormously. The woman was as happy as a lark and as playful as a puppy with a rubber ball.
In the same manner that Kimberly had never seen her father move his body so quickly and urgently, neither had she ever seen her mother move her body so sensually and demandingly. The beautiful woman was writhing all over the bed, moaning, groaning, and panting.
And she keep saying the same thing over and over again: "So good! Oh! So good!"
Ironically, her mother didn't sound like herself. There seemed to be a heightened sense of urgency in her voice. The grunts and groans were frequent and made the words hard to understand. Many words were unintelligible because of all the sighs.
Kimberly was also surprised to see that her mother didn't seem to care about the bedspread having fallen on the floor, nor that the light had been knocked over, nor that the vase was on its side. This was totally uncharacteristic. Pamela Marchini kept an immaculate house. She prided herself on it. A dust particle didn't have a chance in her residence.
The youngster was also surprised to see that her mother was using household items improperly. For instance, the pillows from the bed were mistakenly placed beneath her shapely butt. Goodness! Everyone knew that pillows were for the head to rest on, not for the butt to sit on. And the olive oil was on the table—with the cap off! And a can of whipped cream was on the floor!
Hmph! Not only were her parents being extremely messy, but also very discourteous. To think, they had had whipped cream for dessert and hadn't offered any to Kimberly!
The youngster turned her attention again to her mother. She secretly hoped that someday she would grow up and be as pretty as her mom. The woman was truly beautiful. She was taller than Tom and lighter in complexion. Everyone in town thought that she was lovely. Whenever Kimberly walked with her downtown, the young girl would notice numerous men stopping their work to stare at her mother. Some of them would whistle, and for some unknown reason, a few would rub their crotches. Occasionally a fellow would energetically move his hips back and forth—just like her father was doing at that instant—and make some comment about wanting to have her for lunch.
Her mother didn't seem to mind the whistles and the catcalls that she generated. She handled it in stride. In fact, whenever she heard men from a construction site whistle she would frequently look back over her shoulder and wink. That, in turn would cause the men to rub their crotches that much more vigorously and move their hips that much more energetically.
Kimberly peered through the crack in the wall at her mother. She saw the beautiful light blonde hair spread out on the sheet, the dazzling blue eyes fully open and staring at the ceiling, and the tall sensual frame complete with a nicely proportioned figure. In many ways, she thought that her mother resembled Sleeping Beauty. After all, she was just as pretty in the face and just as beautiful in the body.
Certainly her mother was as pretty as the contestants in the Miss America Pageant. She walked just as proudly, stood just as straight, and could move her shapely hips with the same vibrant sexy grace.
Kimberly thought that her mother would have made an excellent Miss America contestant, but the young girl realized that she wasn't very well educated. Most of the Miss America girls had gone to college, whereas her mother had dropped out of high school.
Even Kimberly realized that her mom wasn't very bright. Whereas the youngster had been taught by her father to be curious about things and the natural universe, her mother was more like the proverbial dumb blonde depicted in the beer commercials. She was one of those people who accepted things at face value, without utilizing reason or logic to delve beneath the surface. In a way, she was like a lot of mothers in the neighborhood whose weekly reading consisted of tabloids and television schedules.
On the whole, however, Pamela Marchini was a very loving mother, taking good care of her home and family. And in reality, those things mattered more than the ability to read the Sunday New York Times and converse at length about the bullshit on the editorial pages.
"Oh! Fuck me, Tom!" Kimberly heard her mother say. "Fuck me! Fuck me!"
The youngster immediately gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth. She couldn't believe what she had just heard! Goodness! Her mother had said a naughty word. In fact, it was a very very naughty word. Surely her daddy would slap the living daylights out of her for that infraction.
The young girl watched and waited, fully expecting her father to reprimand her beautiful mother for using such foul and indecent language in the house. After all, when Kimberly had once used that very same word her father had spanked her good.
But no slap was forthcoming. In fact, her mother, instead of apologizing for using the vile term, began chanting, "Oh fuck me, Tom. Fuck me! Fuck me like I've never been fucked before—you wonderful fucking machine."
Tom began driving his pelvis up and down with lightning-like speed. He resembled a jackhammer. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" he said, three times in succession.
Again, Kimberly gasped, and once more her hands flew up to cover her mouth. She was shocked. She was stunned. She was amazed. Her mother was saying the awful word over and over. And it wasn't just slipping out by accident, but rather purposely.
And then she heard her father say, "All you've got to do is fuck back, baby. Mmmm! Just like that. Oh yea. So good. So very good."
Now she understood why her father hadn't slapped her mother. He was using the same kind of gutter language.
Kimberly frequently heard the word "fuck" bantered about on the school playground. It was very popular with all the kids, both toddlers and teens alike, but she wasn't quite sure what it meant. She had tried to look it up in the school dictionary several times, but was frustrated to learn that it wasn't listed. Apparently many other kids had tried to look up the word as well because that particular page appeared to be quite worn.
She thought it odd that the word wasn't listed because all the boys in her class said the word a lot. It was either, "Fuck this," or, "Fuck that," or "Fuck something or other," or "Fuck you."
Being able to use the word seemed to carry a lot of prestige amongst the boys—especially during recess. And if a boy combined the word with another to make a new word, then he or she was thought of highly. That's why Dirty Little Johnny was such a hit when he preceded everything he said with the word "motherfucker."
Kimberly scratched her head and thought for a moment. She began to put two and two together. Maybe what she was witnessing through the crack in the wall was the act of fucking. Maybe the great mystery of the fourth grade had been solved.
Could this be fucking? she wondered.
She watched as her mother lifted her long beautiful legs and wrapped them around her daddy's waist, fitting them securely around his torso and locking them behind his back. The beautiful woman seemed to be using her lower limbs to hold him snugly to her, even though they were already snugly fitted together.
Maybe this is what they mean by fucking? Kimberly wondered again, this time with more certainty.
She tried to see how this activity differed from TV wrestling. She ascertained that the participants in this event were required to be of opposite sex, use a large bed as a substitute for a roped ring, and needed to be nude. The bottle of olive oil and the can of whipped cream might be necessities too, but Kimberly wasn't sure about those items.
Kimberly saw her mother flex and hips and lower torso. The older woman seemed to be trying to spread her lovely legs even further apart than they already were.
Her mother had such long exquisite legs. Even from a distance they appeared to be beautiful and very smooth, devoid of any unsightly razor stubble. They were the kind of limbs that men wanted to touch and feel. Whenever they were exposed, Kimberly's father was frequently seen running his hands along their smooth skin. He seemed to be especially attracted to the flesh on the inner thigh.
Even Kimberly had felt them on occasion, noticing their warmth and pliant texture. The youngster had taken to noticing other women's legs and comparing them with those of her mother. She was surprised to learn that not many women's were as lovely. Fatty deposits, varicose veins, and bow legs took a terrible toll on the feminine gender. If a woman made it to thirty-five without some kind of unsightly leg problem arising, she was lucky.
At that moment, Kimberly watched as her father moved his hands down so that they gripped the back of Pamela's luscious thighs, as if holding them for support. He ran his palms up and down the backside of the smooth flesh, feeling the unblemished skin as if he were running his hands along a recently sanded piece of wood.
And that's when Kimberly saw it!
A great big vicious-looking sausage-like object was sticking out at an angle from her father's thrusting pelvis. It was huge and as big around as her little arm. It was dark and ugly and all covered with a syrupy looking substance. But most amazingly—it seemed to be travelling into her mother's body! In and out, in and out, in and out—over and over and over again!
Kimberly wasn't entirely without knowledge of boy's bodies. She knew that they had penises down there between their legs. But the penises she had seen in the schoolyard during recess were harmless-looking little things—not ugly vein-covered monstrosities like her father's. His was the biggest she had ever seen—bigger than Charlie Smith's even! And he was in the fifth grade! He was always displaying himself to the girls in the fourth grade and boasting about how big his was in comparison to those of other boys.
But her daddy's penis made Charlie's look like a minnow. His was as big around as a salami.
"Hmph!" said Kimberly. "I'd like to see the look on Charlie's face if he saw my daddy's penis. I bet he wouldn't be so anxious to show himself anymore."
She squinted her eyes to get a better look at the action. She wished that she could get closer so that she could get a better view. Nevertheless, she managed to see enough.
Her mother's breasts were bobbing back and forth as if they were overturned bowls of jelly. The youngster hoped that when she got older she would have titties as lovely. They were firm and stood up proudly. They were large and full, and didn't sag. They were capped with large pink nipples, which were slightly upturned and about the size of silver dollars. They were very pretty to look at—just as pretty as those on the women on the calendar that her father kept above the workbench.
Kimberly was just learning about the mysteries of the opposite sex, but from what little she already knew she guessed that men liked to look at women's tits. At least her father did. That's apparently why he was always thumbing through the pages of his calendar. He seemed to have a fixation about the month and mammaries of September.
At that very moment the nipples on her mother's breasts seemed to be puckered, like little nubbins, but it was hard to be certain of their precise appearance because the titties themselves were jiggling around so much.
"Oh fuck me, Tom! Oh fuck me! Fuck me!" her mother called out in desperation, wriggling around on the bed like a fish out of water. "Oh give it to me! Give it to me!e! Fuck me harder! Fuck me harder! Fuck me harder!"
"They are fucking!" Kimberly exclaimed. "Wow! Just wait till I tell the kids at school!"
The youngster had her answer. She felt like Madame Curie after having discovered radium, or Isaac Newton after having discovered gravity, or Albert Einstein after having discovered relativity.
"So this is fucking!" she whispered in obvious delight. "Wow! And to think this secret activity has been going on every Saturday night right under my very nose. Fan-fucking-tastic. Dirty Little Johnny won't have anything on me."
"Are you about ready, babe?" Kimberly heard her father ask between thrusts.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" her mother screamed with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth and drops of saliva dribbling down her dimpled chin.
Tom rammed himself into her very hard a few times before saying, "All right. Here it comes. Here it comes!"
Pamela arched her back off the bed and gave a series of grunts which coincided with the final powerful lunges. "Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!"
"Ahhhhh!"
"Unnnnggh!"
Kimberly was fascinated by the words that her parents were using. From all indications it appeared as if there was a special vocabulary required for the act of fucking. A lot of "Unghs!" and "Ahhhs!" seemed to be needed to properly express oneself when heavily into the act.
Suddenly the youngster became angry and said, "Why in the shit do I need to learn how to spell when all my parents do is grunt and moan when they're in bed? Hypocrisy! Hypocrisy! Hypocrisy! Motherfucking hypocrisy!"
Kimberly squinted her eyes and watched her mother with concern. The beautiful woman seemed to be on the verge of hysteria. She was rocking and rolling all over that bed. She was pitching and swaying this way and that. She seemed to be throwing a fit of some sort, wiggling her ass in a hundred different directions at one time.
The youngster worried that her mother might sprain her back from so much vigorous exercise and so many different bodily contortions. Goodness knows what daddy had done to her to provoke such hysteria. If Kimberly behaved like that she would have been scolded and told to behave herself.
Her mother continued to rock her pelvis up and down, but slowed her gyrations considerably. Now she was sensually and lovingly rolling her hips from side-to-side, and she continued to do so long after Tom had quit pummeling.
Kimberly looked at her father with an equal amount of concern. He appeared to be quite winded—in fact, he seemed to be exhausted—as if he had just run a long-distance marathon at a record-setting pace—uphill. He was literally covered with perspiration.
She watched them for a considerable amount of time, but they primarily lay side-by-side and seemed to be simply enjoying each other's presence without saying a word. Apparently the act of fucking wore the participants out.
When her mother had rested for a while she slid out from underneath Tom. The beautiful woman brought her long lovely legs to the side of the bed and stood. She raised her thin arms above her head and stretched.
Since Kimberly was looking from the bathroom into the bedroom, her mother was facing her. The young girl had never seen her mother completely nude and exposed like that before. She was surprised to see that her mom had a curly patch of blonde hair between her long shapely legs. In the middle of that furry mound there was a wide-open slit which was pink in color. And dribbling out of that slit were gobs of a white gooey-like substance which resembled Elmer's glue.
At first, Kimberly thought that her mother was bleeding, or seriously hurt. But one look at the contented expression on her pretty face proved that she wasn't hurting at all. In fact, she seemed to be deliriously happy.
Kimberly deduced that fucking had the interesting effect of making people happy at the same time that it wore them out.
"No wonder grown-ups never have any trouble falling asleep," said the youngster. "And no wonder they always look forward to going to bed. Ha! So much for the hard day at the office routine! What they really wanted was a hard-on up the orifice!"
The older woman finished stretching, and began walking towards the bathroom—directly towards Kimberly's field of vision. The youngster liked the way her mother moved—so gracefully. The legs flexing and unflexing their myriad muscles. The skin smooth and taut and reflecting the overhead light. With every graceful step the large breasts shook slightly, as did the flesh on the inner thigh, as did the firm rounded flesh of the buttocks.
But the most interesting thing was the way she moved her hips. Kimberly had seen women do that in television commercials, but nowhere else. It appeared as if her mother had springs in her pelvis. Of course, those hips might have looked more active than they were because the waist was so tapered and thin.
There was no doubt that her mother was in perfect shape. She had a body like that of the woman in the Special K commercial. Sleek and fit.
Just as her mother was about to close and lock the bathroom door, Kimberly's father yelled from the bed. "Hey! Wait for me!" Apparently he had gotten a second wind.
"Why Tom—whatever for?" Pamela asked with a slight giggle in her voice.
"I want to watch you douche."
Pamela smiled broadly and said, "Nasty man."
Kimberly had never heard the word before. She tried to recall seeing it written on the asphalt in the schoolyard, or on the hallway walls, but couldn't. She also tried to recall if Dirty Little Johnny or Charlie Smith had ever used the term, but it didn't ring a bell. She decided that she would have to remember it for future reference. Obviously the term had something to do with this secret adult activity called "fucking". Since she wanted to know everything there was to know about this wonderful new act, she committed the word to memory.
Her mother closed the door, locking both her and Tom inside. She turned to him and gave him a hug. She pressed her body very close, rubbing her womanly pelvis against his long-hanging manly sausage, and pressing her large succulent breasts against his virile hairy chest.
Kimberly was amazed at how close her parents were standing and how much they were touching each other. She hadn't seen this much fondling, caressing, and feeling in all the years she had lived with them. In fact, they seemed unable to keep their hands at their sides.
"What do you want me to do first?" Tom asked as he fondled Pamela's choice rounded buttocks.
"Why don't you lick me clean. After all, you put all of this sticky sperm inside me."
Sperm! Now there's a word that Kimberly had heard in the schoolyard. Yes, she remembered precisely. The boys in the eighth grade called each other "spermheads". She didn't know what it meant, but the boys seemed to think that it was funny.
She was surprised to see her father bend down and kiss the tops of her mother's titties. And he didn't just kiss them—he began licking them! And he wasn't satisfied with just licking them—he began sucking them. And he didn't just suck them for a minute or two, but for many minutes—just like a little baby feeding on a bottle!
Kimberly was very interested in what was transpiring. Her father wasn't an infant, so then why was he sucking on her mother's breast? Was there milk in there? Even if there were, why would her dad want to get it from a nipple? After all, there was plenty of milk in the refrigerator.
"Mmm! I swear," Tom said as he continued to suck. "Your tits are just as good as the first day that I married you. They haven't sagged a fucking millimeter and they're still as firm as ever. I swear they're the best looking tits in town."
Kimberly saw her mother lovingly cradle her father's head protectively to the right breast and heard her say, "I keep them in shape just for you, darling."
"Thanks. As long as you stay fit I'll never leave you, but if you let these tits droop you'll be out of here before I can say 'Fuck trucks'." Tom said this as he kissed her right nipple and then her left, and then her right again.
Kimberly could she her father's tongue sticking out, flicking around the hard little upturned nipple. Her mother didn't seem to mind a bit. In fact, she was smiling broadly.
Her father lowered his head and kissed the underside of the right titty, and then began working his way downward across the flat plain of the beautiful woman's dainty tummy. The flesh there quivered slightly as he licked a moist trail downward to the belly button. He paused to swirl his tongue around the perimeter of the navel. He dipped his lingual digit inside the indentation several times, moistening the entire area with his saliva.
He then he lowered his face still further—down to the blonde curly hair which covered the pubic mound. Without stopping for so much as a second he buried his face in the furry muff.
"Eat it, lover! Eat it good!" screamed Pamela.
This was another new term for Kimberly. What exactly was he eating? It didn't look like there was anything between her mother's thighs which could be eaten. Nevertheless, her daddy was rolling his face back and forth ecstatically. He looked happy as a corn-fed hog from Iowa down there.
Kimberly's mother began thrusting her hips forward and saying, "Oh Tom! Oh Tom! Lick it! Lick it! Lick it!" She was breathing with difficulty. In fact, she had a hard time standing. She reached behind her and held onto the sink for support. She rested her buttocks against the edge and spread her long lovely legs wider, so that she was standing merely on her tiptoes.
In this position Kimberly could see a great deal more of her mother's pussy. She could also see her father better as he licked it diligently.
"Oh Tom! Tom! Tom!"
"Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!" he replied.
"Oh Tom!"
"Mmph!"
"Oh Tom!"
"Mmph!"
Kimberly watched her mother lean back and actually sit on the lip of the sink and rest her back against the wall. She saw her mother spread her legs as wide as possible—wider than Kimberly knew that a woman could, so that the thighs were at a 180 degree angle, and the calves dangled over the side.
The beautiful woman reached between her outstretched legs with her forearms, forcing her thighs even further apart. Now the tendons at the juncture of her legs were straining and standing up beneath the lovely golden flesh.
Kimberly was shocked! Her mother had a hole between her legs! And it was a big hole!
The youngster wondered if her daddy had done that, or if that cavity was always open like that. She reached down and hiked up her own nightdress. She felt the juncture of her legs and noticed that she too had a slit, but not a gaping hole like her mother.
Maybe that's what happens when a girl gets older, she thought. They get a great big opening between their thighs.
Kimberly saw that her mother was flushed. She worried that she might be getting sick. But if the beautiful woman were coming down with something, she certainly didn't exhibit any signs of fatigue and ill health. Far from it. She was rocking her hips against her daddy's face as if she had several bowlfuls of Mexican jumping beans in her pelvis.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Tom! Oh you cunt-licking bastard! Oh you fucking doll!"
Kimberly had gotten used to her mother using the word "fuck". It no longer singed her ears, or caused her to wince. She merely accepted it as the way her mother spoke when Kimberly wasn't around.
Talk about hypocrisy!
Pamela seemed to be undergoing some type of physical transformation again. A slight quivering tremor could be detected on her body. Her skin flushed. Her breasts seemed to swell noticeably. She took more intakes of breath. Her nostrils flared. Her lips seemed unable to form words. Her nipples, already puckered, strained that much more.
She seemed excited and frantic at the same time. She seemed flustered, yet tickled. She was excited, yet trembling. Her eyeballs were rolling and her eyelashes were fluttering fitfully.
Suddenly Kimberly realized what was happening. She was witnessing her mother having an orgasm. Wow! Geraldo, Donahue, and Oprah talked about this all the time! Heck! They hardly broadcast a show without mentioning the word "orgasm" at least a dozen times on any given afternoon.
Ah ha! thought Kimberly. So this is what it looks like. No wonder this topic is covered on the talk shows so much. Just look at the way mom is going out of her wits. The poor woman is delirious! She's behaving as if she were bitten by a rabid dog.
"Arrrgggghhh!" screamed Pamela at the top of her lungs. It was such a loud piercing scream that the youngster wanted to jump back and away from the wall. But she remained in place, afraid that any sound she might make would alert her parents to her presence and end her secret access to their private activity.
"Oh glorious hallelujah! Oh! Oh! Oh!" gasped Pamela as she attempted to catch her breath in spasms, while rocking her pelvis frantically and uncontrollably onto Tom's face.
"Mmmm!" he moaned, looking up from between the widespread thighs. "And you taste as good as did on your wedding day. Maybe better."
Pamela's eyes were still rolled back in her head. The lovely woman seemed to be mumbling the word "fuck" over and over again, as if it were part of a dream. For a moment, Kimberly worried that her mother had drifted off into another cosmic dimension. The youngster had seen on "Star Trek" where people could do that. Perhaps her mom had drifted into the Fucking Zone!
Meanwhile, Kimberly watched her father as he stood up and grabbed a washcloth from the towel cabinet. He wiped his face clean of a great deal of syrupy-looking substance. She noticed that the substance was all over her mother's inner thighs as well. Just what this mysterious liquid was, she didn't know. Hopefully one day she would find out.