Chapter 4
Sweet Jesus, what have I done?
Max looked down at his twelve-year-old daughter, lying across his lap. Her rosebud mouth was stretched as far as it would go, stretched around the painfully huge erection. His tequila haze descended on him for moments at a time, and then he would manage to blink himself back to some kind of sobriety. And when he did-oh, when he did-oh, when he did!-he wished the blackness would come back and swallow him up!
Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and her hands and mouth slackened. Poor little dumpling, she was trying so hard to stay awake and-how had she put it?-make her Daddy happy. His heart filled with love, overflowed with it. Ignoring his throbbing penis, he pulled away and picked her up gently. His fingers were clumsy as he buttoned her back into her pajamas and robe, but eventually it was done. Cradling her carefully in his arms, he carried Sally back to the hotel.
He shoved the room door open with his foot, remembering as he did so that none of the rooms had keys. What was it the bartender said, some sort of joke? Yeah, he said if there weren't any keys to the territorial prison on the hill, why should a hotel need them? Some excuse. Anyhow, he'd gotten her back and lowered her into bed beside her mother. He sniffed the air warily. It must be his own sweat and sexuality he smelled. His hard-on died as he eased quietly into bed next to his son. Even the ache in his groin couldn't keep him awake long.
Max's hangover gave him an excuse for his quiet mood in the morning, and he didn't notice that the other members of the family were also subdued. Over breakfast, they discussed their plans for the day.
"Will you take me for a walk along the river, Daddy?" Her innocent brown eyes were fixed on his face, and he had to look away. He needed time to think things over.
"Didn't anybody notice the sun's out?" He tried to be hearty and jolly, but his hand shook as he lifted the coffee cup. "Why don't we drive south a ways and find a camping spot? How about it, Helen? Sound okay to you?"
She nodded morosely. She was all for moving on, or as she thought of it, getting away from the scene of the crime.
Sally pouted. She hoped to stay at the hotel and get her father alone again, when she wasn't so tired. She figured it would be easier to do here than on an isolated beach. But when they talked it over, Tim cheerfully voted against her. He wanted a return engagement as much as she did, but being a boy, he hadn't worked out all the angles yet. "That's what we came for, isn't it?" he said. "To camp out?"
They found the perfect beach within an hour's drive. A row of cabanas were flanked by campers and trailers of every size and style, but Tim's bright eyes spotted one which was isolated at the end of the beach. "I know why," Max said. "Nobody else wanted to drive through that ravine."
"You can make it, Daddy!"
And he did, though he hated to think of driving out again, over the loose sand. But it was perfect, he had to admit. Both the ravine and a slight rise of ground gave them as much privacy as if they had their own beach. Sally and her mother prepared lunch, while Max and Tim spread the ground sheets and sleeping bags.
Sally was nothing if not persistent. "Come on, Daddy, let's go exploring!" Her eyes danced and she smiled beguilingly.
"No way!" He tried to make a joke out of it. "Your mother and I are going to nurse our hangovers right here! You kids can go get acquainted with the other campers, if you want to."
He didn't really relish time alone with Helen, with his uneasy conscience, so it was a relief to see her settle down for a nap. Max was disgusted to find he was just as homy as ever, and he wished his body would give him some peace. The only thing to do, he decided, was take a walk in the other direction. He'd find some privacy, maybe even go in the water, but jerk off somehow, some where.
The sound of the waves on the sand calmed him.
Somewhere, he'd taken a wrong turn. Maybe it all went back to the sex parties. He remembered how his voice trembled and his heart pounded when he'd first suggested it to Helen. He'd been afraid she wouldn't agree; and then, in a funny way, he was disappointed when she did. It hurt his pride and made him wonder if he hadn't been a satisfactory husband. But he had to say, they'd both enjoyed it, and they'd lost a lot of old-fashioned inhibitions.
The one thing they'd been strong about was making sure the kids didn't know what their parents were up to. But now he began to suspect, Sally at least had a glimmering of an idea. She'd said something, he couldn't quite pinpoint it, but he knew she at least suspected.
The trouble was, he thought moodily, he didn't know, couldn't make up his mind, what he expected of himself or his family, either. In theory he was all for sex education, and honesty, and openness. But in practice .. . well, he wasn't sure he could handle it.
He found a nicely secluded cove and sank back in the shelter of a dune. Pulling his swim trunks down, he wrapped his fist around his stiff cock.
What a drag this was! He fondled the bulging scarlet head, remembering how Sally had done her best to stuff it in her mouth and suck it. The darling little girl, what did she know about sex? He pumped the long white shaft, rubbing the cream-oozing glans, picturing his daughter playing with it, sucking it, licking it like an outsize ice cream cone. He'd have to show her how to hold it, how to tickle his nuts, and poke the tip of her tongue into the seeping eye. He saw her smiling, shrugging her slim shoulders until her perky tits bounced, and he reached for them, and ... panting heavily, Max lost himself in unbelievably erotic, incestuous dreams.
"I cut my hand on a shell, Mom. Would you put a Bandaid on it?" Tim was afraid his excuse was too transparent; surely his mother would tell him to go do it himself. But to his hidden delight, she got up from the beach and followed him into the camper.
Of course he had to go through with it, letting her pour alcohol on it and wrapping the bandage around the thin cut. "Sally found some girls to talk to, but there isn't anyone my age," he said, biding his time.
When Helen turned to put the bandages back, her arms lifted to reach the upper cupboard, he pounced.
"Gotcha, Mom!" he said playfully, reaching around and cupping big handfuls of plump breasts. He was so close to her warmth, he could rub his crotch suggestively against her bottom. "Ummmmmmmmm," he murmured, nuzzling her neck, "you smell so good, Mom!"
Helen couldn't move for a moment. She'd been calm, almost icily so, until he touched her-and then her senses flamed with an intensity which scared her. "No, no," she said weakly. Then, as Tim pulled her even tighter and slipped his hand inside her halter, she tried to pull her thoughts together and ignore her busily creaming cunt.
"Let go, honey," she said, tugging at his wrists. When she turned to face him, she was determined, and the sight of his boyish face gave her strength. She knew whatever already happened would never have taken place if she'd been looking into his clear brown eyes, as she was now.
"Aw gee, Mom! Let's have some fun! Dad's gone and Sally won't be back for hours and-" He grabbed for her hips.
"No, Timmy!" Her face was red with embarrassment. "Listen to me, son. What we did last night... well, it never should have happened. I'd been drinking, and, well, it was a terrible thing for me to do. It can't happen again. And I'm counting on you not to tell anyone, not anyone at all."
She felt like a heroine for making that speech while his hands were still drawing her hips forward, and his panting breath fanned her face.
"I don't think it was terrible," he said stubbornly. "And if you do it with other people, you and Dad both, I can't see why you can't do it with me, too!"
"Oooooof!" Shocked, she sat down on the bunk. "What do you-Tim, what do you mean?"
"You know what I mean! Those parties-" his hands were still on her, running up and down her hips and waist and under her arms. "You must think Sally and I are stupid!"
Dizzily, she leaned back on the pillows. Then something warned her she'd better sit upright, and keep to the subject. "Tim, regardless of all that. We'll talk about the parties later. But this is-with you and me, child and parent, it's against the law. It's called incest, don't you understand?"
"Phooey on those laws! Nobody can convince me it's wrong to kiss you like this." He planted his hps on hers and forced his tongue between her teeth. He wanted to keep the conversation away from the swap parties for two reasons: first, because he resented his mother's involvement with other men, and second, in order to avoid telling her the truth. He wasn't proud of having spied on his parents and their friends. It seemed now like a sneaky kind of thing to do. The temptation had been overwhelming, though they hadn't really seen everything. Even now it made him shiver to remember as much as they did see.
He and Sally hardly knew how or why they noticed something different about their parents on those nights. There was an air of suppressed excitement permeating the house. Mom took forever getting ready, soaking in the tub, spraying on perfume, fixing her nails. And Dad bounced around like a kid, trying to hurry her up.
They had to wait until the party was held at their own house. The kids were all sent to the movies, and then were supposed to spend the night with friends. Halfway through the show, Sally turned to her brother. Her eyes glittered. "Let's go home for a few minutes," she whispered. He understood immediately and nodded yes. They both knew where to crawl through the shrubbery by the family room, the one spot the draperies didn't quite meet.
Helen pushed him back roughly. "How could you know?" she demanded. "Tell me the truth!"
He blushed and lowered his head. "We sneaked back one time when we were supposed to be at the movies. We peeked in the family room." He gulped, hoping she wouldn't ask him any more. He could still remember the sick excitement he'd felt, at the sight of his best friend's mother, stark naked on her hands and knees, with a neighbor over her plump back, fucking her like a dog.
"Oh, Lordie," she sighed. "I don't know what to say to you, honey, at your age. Your father and I... well, we believe in sexual freedom, and we wanted to try it. You can't understand how-no, you can't understand that. It didn't interfere with our marriage or our love for each other, believe me. And now we've given,it up, anyway." Damn it, she thought, these kids are not going to make me feel guilty! We did it, we enjoyed it, we weren't cheating on each other. How can you explain to a kid that marriages can go stale? That a woman who married as a virgin would want to see what other men look like, and act like, before she's too old to care?
"Anyhow," she said, coming back to the present, "The one has nothing to do with the other. Incest-"
"Incest is just a word, Mom."
"Yes, and cheating's another word. Your father wouldn't like this at all. I've never gone behind his back." '
"Shit! You've got an argument for everything!"
Tim turned around and stomped out. Helen let herself slump back on the bunk, her mind whirling. Maybe they were wrong to quit the swinging group. Her body cried out for sexual involvement and she was getting in over her head with her son. Max should have stayed sober last night, so they could get together in the camper. Come to think of it, where had he been?
Life was just too much sometimes, she thought. It'd seemed so simple when she met Max. They'd made love on their second date and after that, she was simply Max's girl. She remembered their honeymoon, and the first couple years of the marriage. They still giggled about it, one time in particular, which seemed to sum up all the early years.
They'd had company for dinner, two other young couples. Helen was proud of her ability to put a nice dinner on the table, and Max poured the wine and urged second helpings on the guests. After dinner, the six of them talked and played Monopoly. It was only about nine o'clock when Max passed some play money to his bride, and their hands brushed. The contact was electric. Their eyes met in complete understanding; how long before their guests went home?
At eleven o'clock they stood in the doorway, carefully not touching while they heard the last of the goodbyes and the thank-you's. In fact, Max closed the door while one talkative wife was still saying what a good time she'd had.
As the door closed, they fell toward each other and toward the floor. Her hands raced to get rid of skirt, blouse, bra, panties; while Max's clothes simply seemed to disappear. It couldn't have taken a minute and a half before he was mounting her, his hard prick where it'd been longing to be, her inner walls wet and slick and grasping. He thumbed her tits and kissed them, and kissed her mouth, and rammed his cock in and out as hard as he could go. She bucked back at him, her slim satiny hips a blur of movement. They came quickly, explosively, and only then could they get away from the closed door, up off the floor into the bedroom, laughing at the longest two hours they'd ever known.
"Oh my," she sighed, her eyes misty.
The camper door banged open, and she looked up. She saw Max reach behind and lock it, then skin off his sweat shirt and trunks. His eyes were fixed on her. Hers were glued to the huge pole that bobbled in front of him. Her juices seeped out endlessly, and she trembled with excitement as she tossed her clothes aside. "I was just thinking," she whispered, "of that night in our first apartment."
"The Monopoly game?"
"Yes, how'd you know!" She arranged herself more comfortably on the top of the sleeping bag, and widened the vee of her legs. Her eyes shone with anticipation as he climbed on top of her.
He grinned. "Because I feel the same way right this minute." His pulsing fleshy rod slid between her labia, up into her tight steaming passage. "This was a long game, too," he said, and he began to fuck her.