Chapter 3

Peter knocked on the door of Lars' den. Lars opened the door and smiled. "Peter! Come in. We don't see enough of each other. I've wanted to get to know you better."

"I have a sort of a problem..." Peter entered the small room formerly a sewing room in the big old house and avoided looking at the floor to ceiling bookshelves that had been his dad's pride. The shelves and thousands of books were dusty. Lars was not a reader or a heavy thinker. Lars used the room to drink in.

Lars closed the door. He nodded. "Growing up is a long series of problems." He picked up a glass. He sipped whiskey. "Sit down."

Peter sat in a big leather chair. Lars sat on the edge of the heavy mahogany desk at one end of the room. Lars grinned. "What is it sex, money...want a car of your own?"

Peter flipped his long brown hair away from his eyes. "I guess...sex. Girls." I "I hope girls!" Lars bellowed with laughter. He downed a mouthful of whiskey. "Want a drink, boy? You're old enough big enough, for sure. What are you six feet about?" I "Six-one." Peter looked at the bottles of liquor on a nearby emptied-of-books shelf. "Okay, yeah."

"Make you a mixed drink." Lars poured some vodka and Coke into a tall glass and dropped in some ice. "Now, what about girls?"

"Well some of the guys at school were talking and they say girls like a guy with a big one. You know."

"Yeah. So?" Lars handed Peter the glass. His blue eyes twinkled. "You worried you're not big enough?"

"I don't know. Do girls like a man who's really hung...does it really make that much difference?"

Lars settled onto the edge of the desk again. He swung his leg. "Women girls, too say they like small ones, or average ones. They say big ones hurt." Lars grinned and snickered. "But, boy, in my experience and I've had a tot in my day women go for the man who's hung like a horse, every time."

"You mean, they lie?"

"Sure they do. They like to make men think they aren't interested in sex and muscles and pricks. They pretend it's all love and companionship and sincerity that matters. But, that's crap! They're just like us! We go for a girl with big tits and a great body they go for a guy with a good chunk of prick and some muscles on his arms and shoulders."

Lars grinned as Peter drank. "Time you learned the real facts of life. Time you learned the difference between the window dressing and the real truth."

"I sure want to know."

"I'm glad to give you the lowdown."

"I guess you're pretty big, then, huh?"

"Well..." Lars grinned and winked. "If I do say so myself, I carry a lot of weight in the right place."

"I guess I'm sort of curious about size. I mean, how many inches is big?"

Lars nodded judiciously. "Fair question. Now I've had chances to talk to a lot of women intimately about pricks. Some whores, too. They don't mind leveling with a man who knows the score. So I can tell you, if you've got around six inches that's about average...or normal. No woman will kick you out of bed or sneer. But if you're seven inches long or more, you're in the charmed circle. You're a real man!"

"I guess you're in the charmed circle, then."

"I guess you're right, Peter. And I've got thickness, too. When I get into a woman, she knows she's been gotten into!"

"Do you know what your exact measurement is?"

"Think it's...been a long time since I bothered to stick a ruler up against it. Usually a woman is curious and will make a game out of finding out. They're size-conscious, too, you know. They like to brag to other wives and such.

"Me..." Lars downed a gulp of whiskey. "I forget now. Over seven, that's for sure..." He plunked his glass down on the desk. "Let's find the fuck out how big I am! We're both men what the hell!" Lars casually unzipped his pants. He reached in and pulled his cock free of his white briefs. "Have to get 'er hard..." He began flipping it. "Look for a ruler in the desk, will you, Peter?"

Struggling to keep from grinning, Peter circled and started pulling open drawers. He found a blue plastic twelve-inch ruler and handed it to Lars.

Lars had managed an erection. "See what I mean, Peter? Isn't this a hunk of prick?" He positioned the ruler. "Seven...and an eighth. And a big-around handful for any woman."

Peter looked and nodded. "It sure is big."

Lars handed the ruler back. "Let's see what you've got, boy. Drag it out."

"Oh...no..." Peter shook his head. "I "

"Bashful, huh?" Lars slapped Peter on the back. "Got to get over that. Can't be bashful with girls. But you're young yet."

Lars stuffed his softening cock back into his slacks and zipped up. "Thing to remember about girls be firm. They don't like wishy-washy men. Be strong make the decisions."

"Yes, sir."

"Some women like a man to be a little cruel sometimes. That's a fact. They like a little pain. That's when a big prick helps smack it into them and make 'em howl. They love it!"

Lars went to pour more whiskey into his glass. "And some women like to be humiliated. Some like a little danger with sex...like being made to do something to a man out in the open...like in a park or a forest where somebody might see."

Lars turned, drinking, smiling. "Gives 'em a thrill. They wet their pants and get hot to boot!"

"How do you know what one girl wants and doesn't want, though?"

"That comes with experience...just a feel you get after you've talked with them for a while, and watched them."

Lars regarded Peter speculatively for a few seconds. "I want to be your friend, boy. I know I can't take the place of your real father. But I want you and Penny to like me."

"I like you okay. You're not responsible for Dad leaving."

"As to that...I'll tell you something, Peter, man-to-man, just between you and me and the fencepost okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Peter sat up, attentive.

"From what your mother tells me in private, your dad wasn't much of a man. He didn't give her what she needs a strong, guiding hand. He was the passive kind. Let her lead and make the decisions. Didn't like sex much, from what I hear."

Peter didn't say anything.

"Strictly on the Q-T, boy, Mae is a...what you would call a responsive woman...once she's pushed a little. Put her in a position where she's not responsible for what she does, and she's a hot a warm woman. But she needs excuses to do things. She's got an old-fashioned conscience and she needs a strong man to force things sometimes and make her do things she wants to do. Lots of women like that. Take 'em off the hook and they'll go wild."

Peter nodded. "I'll remember that. That's very interesting."

"That's the key to most people men and women both. Solid truth. Be strong and the weak one'll follow you...do damn near anything you say."

"I guess you're right. I guess Mom is one of the weak kind."

"Confidentially, yes."

Peter stood up from the big leather chair. "Thanks for the advice, Lars. I learned a lot."

"Anytime. Hey you want to see some good dirty pictures? Ever seen any really low-down porno?" Lars grinned lopsidedly. "Got a few hidden. Educational, know what I mean? Want to see 'em?"

"Sure."

Lars went to a bookshelf and took down a thick old dictionary. He took an envelope from between the pages. The envelope contained photographs. Lars passed the photos one by one to Peter. They were a series showing a naked young woman, tied with thick ropes, legs wide, with a shaven mound, being whipped by a hooded man in leather whose big stiff cock was sticking out of his black pants.

Lars watched greedily for Peter's reaction. Peter said obligingly, "Wow!"

"Turn you on? Look at this one." The second photo showed the man kneeling, forcing the thick, blunt, braided leather whip handle into the girl's bare pussy. The third picture showed the girl on her knees, hands tied behind her back, sucking the man's cock. Lars said thickly, "I like that one." His pants bulged. He massaged the erection openly.

Peter glanced at him for a split second. Peter remembered the picnic. He asked innocently, "Do you have to force girls to do that?"

"Huh! Most of them love doing it. Just give them a chance. Add a little submission and humiliation to the scene and they'll come back for more."

"Does Mom do it?"

"Ahhh...I don't think I should tell you that, boy. But...you can guess." Lars smirked. He continued his self-massage.

Peter blinked rapidly for a few seconds. He took the next photo from Lars. Five minutes later, Peter left the den and went to his room. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Soon after Peter left the den, Lars came out and went into kitchen. Mae was at the drain-board, making a salad. She smiled. "Hi, honey."

"Hi, yourself." Lars went to her. His powerful arms went around her from behind. His big hands clamped over her ample breasts.

Mae felt his cock pressing against her rump. "What got you so passionate now? Supper is almost ready." She frowned apprehensively. Her hands shook as she continued to slice tomatoes.

Lars grinned and kept on squeezing her breasts. He rubbed his erection against her.

"Please...Penny or Peter might come in and see."

He hunched over and kissed her right ear. His tongue stabbed wetly into the deep whorls. Mae shivered and gasped. Her hands became still. Her eyes closed. Lars forced his right hand down past the edge of the drain board at her belly. He pulled her dress up and pressed his fingers in between her stockinged thighs. "No, not here..."

His hand clamped up into her black-pantied crotch. He rubbed.

"My God, if one of the twins should see us!" But Mae did not struggle. She felt his cock pressing urgently against her thinly covered buttocks. There was a growing excitement in her.

Lars whispered gruffly, "Two minutes a quick back-door fuck."

"All right." Mae tried to turn toward the hallway, to their bedroom.

But Lars kept her pinned against the drain-board, in his arms. "Here!" His fingers pressed the stitched seam of her panties in between her pussy lips. The thin nylon turned wet and sticky immediately. I can t -

"You will not refuse me!" Lars' finger poked a hole in the panties and sent into her. His fingertip instantly found her swollen, juice-covered clitoris. Mae moaned helplessly. Her breasts were warm and expanded in their bra cups, irritated by the constricting material. Her protruding nipples especially. Lars pulled her back, away a few feet, from the drain board. He pulled her dress until her black panties and black garter belt were exposed.

"We can't. It's too awkward!" Mae was almost weeping with anxiety and shame.

"Like hell!" He bent her forward at the waist. "Put your arms on the drain board!" He nipped her dress up higher and pulled down her panties.

Mae sobbed, "Oh...oh..." Her white buttocks were exposed, both plump cheeks divided by taut garter belt straps and snaps.

Lars unzipped his slacks and dragged out his hard cock. He fisted the shaft and directed the blunt purple arrowhead glans into the flushed, wet lips that pouted in her crotch. He probed for the opening to her vagina. Found it. Thrust in! Mae groaned. She rested her forehead on her crossed arms on the edge of the drain board. She unconsciously pressed back for greater penetration. Lars gripped her hips and buried as much of his cock as he could. He enjoyed the tightness, the tiny spasms of her cervix. He drove into her, smacking her rump with his loins, making her pale globes quiver with the impact.

Neither of them saw Penny come to the kitchen doorway, stop and gape at them. Lars was in heaven. He husked lungfuls of air. His cock jammed into Mae's cunt like a piston. Penny's brown eyes were saucers. She pressed a knuckle into her mouth as she watched.

Mae was grinding her hips, taking the deep lunges, wanting more, panting, staring blindly down at the red and white linoleum squares. Lars climaxed. He grunted with ecstasy. His big cock spat into her hot, juicy channel. He held himself tight against her pale, sweat-speckled buttocks. He sighed, dug a handkerchief out of his pocket, and slowly pulled out of her. He wiped his drooping, dripping cock. He sighed deeply again. He looked around. "See? No one came in. No harm."

Penny was gone. Mae wiped herself with a paper towel, pulled up her panties and tugged down her dress. She couldn't look at him at his satisfied grin. She flushed and picked up the knife and uncut tomatoes again.