Chapter 15
Robot-like, powered by forces beyond her conscious control, Charlotte Mason stood balanced on stiff legs as the boys got themselves ready for this weird thing they wanted to do to her. The movement of the house car, the sway and roll of it around them, only seemed to heighten the impression that she was in some strange place, that they were all perhaps hurtling along in space, contained in a shell of their own making.
Blair lay down with his feet spread wide apart. His penis poked straight up, the slim length of it gleaming, the flanged head bluntly pointed and already oiled with a drop of pre-seminal fluid. Grinning, Duncan positioned himself carefully, lying so that his thighs overlapped Blair's, wriggling until his buttocks were tightly up against Blair's ass. This placed his balls to Blair's, and Charlotte, staring down, saw that their pubic hair was almost identical in coloring, that their rigidly erect cocks had been fitted one to the other until they seemed to be a single penis, with twin heads.
Duncan stretched a hand down and held his prick with Blair's, his fingers around the bases, blending cocks and balls and pubic mounds. Expectantly, he looked up at his mother, his eyes shining and his lips damp. Her knees shaking in anticipation, a tremble moving deep inside her vagina, Charlotte took a step toward the interlocked boys, then another, not certain that her legs would hold her up, wanting to just collapse and blot it all out with the salve of darkness.
But she couldn't back away now; there was no retreat for her, no way out. She had to go through with this bizarre act, because she had somehow become simply an extension of the youngsters, her desires being entangled with theirs. And little Jan was seated in the chair, staring avidly at them all, her blue eyes gleaming, her Little nipples rigid and her hand cupping her own humid mound.
Charlotte stepped across the end-to-end bodies of her son and Blair Chapman, her left foot beside Duncan's hip, her right foot touching Blair's hip. She lowered herself slowly, hands pushed down and out to balance herself, to take part of the body weight from her knees as she dropped her crotch upon them.
She was leaking already, her vulva hot to the touch and soggy with escaping juices that had her pussy primed for screwing. Squatting, she touched her hand to the snuggled cocks, moved her ass just so to correct the aim, and placed her fingers over her son's fingers, to guide the heads of those slim, lovely pricks to the lips of her steamy cunt.
They touched her labia, pressed up against those humid outer lips, and Charlotte allowed more of her weight to come down upon them. Her labia stretched, pushed, eased farther apart, and the combined heads of the pricks passed the inner labia, feeling as if they were one huge prick, as if they were one giant cock. Hungrily, Charlotte came down some more, an inch, and another inch, and knew the wondrous sensation of having her vagina completely filled with prick.
Elastically, the lips of her aching pussy spread wide to receive the twin cocks, and they shoved up into her wet cunt side by side as she brought her crotch down, down, until she had them locked into her. Thick, long, they stuffed her vagina, pressing against her clitoris until she moaned with delight.
The cheeks of her ass veed to take their balls between them, to press them up against her stretched labia. Charlotte quivered from head to toe, and stared glassy-eyed down at her hands as they spread their fingers upon Blair's belly; behind her, she was conscious of her son's hands lifted to caress her hips, and to fondle the cheeks of her ass.
She moved; she moved again, delicately and carefully, and the meaty poles slid tightly inside her cunt; her clit thrilled to the pressure. Looking up into her flushed face, Blair said, "Fine, fine. I can feel Dune's cock sliding on mine, the head of it slipping over my head. Both of us buried deep into your pussy-tight and hot-juicy and hot ... "
Charlotte worked her ass gently, back and forth, grinding it a little, and behind her, Duncan said, "Go, mother-what an ass, what an ass!"
Now both of them were squirming some, but not too much; they were afraid to work it out of her pussy, so they let her do most of the action, and Charlotte kept moving, sliding her crotch up and down, rubbing their pubic mounds with it, rubbing, rubbing.
She came before either of them did, but she couldn't hold off the orgasm, for every move of their welded cocks caressed her clitoris, and there was no stopping the sudden rush of bliss that centered there and spread through her vagina.
Then one of them let go; Charlotte didn't know which, but she felt the gushing of semen, the sudden flooding of the walls of her cunt with hot juices. One boy stiffened out, and the other pumped just twice more, then he also came, squirting the powerful jet of his semen high up, to bathe the very entrance to her womb.
She was washed with the combined creams, filled by the surges of come that packed her vagina from one end to the other. Panting, swaying as she sat upon their pricks, Charlotte felt the seepage from her distended labia. The slippery stuff wet the insides of her thighs, her pubic hair, and puddled over the jammed-together bases of their joined cocks.
"Man, oh man," one of the boys groaned, and the other gasped: "Yeah."
Charlotte's head bobbed loosely upon her neck, and she turned dizzy. It was the accumulative effect of the bourbon, she thought, and the powerful orgasm that had swept her, shaken her to the very core of her fevered being. She was weak, drained, loose in every joint, and yet she had never been more alive, more real, than she was at this moment.
"Mom?" It was Jan, standing naked beside them, her eyes worried. "Mom-are you okay?"
"I-Fll be all right, dear." Weakly, Charlotte lifted herself, and was glad for the assistance of her daughter. Jan caught an arm and helped Charlotte up, helped her to the bunk, where Charlotte sank gratefully upon the mattress. "Thank you, Jan. I-I was just all used up, there for a moment."
"You were great," Jan breathed, leaning over her, kissing her cheek, "just great, mom. I mean-I wish I could take both of them in me like that. I'm just not big enough, but you were wonderful."
Smiling, Charlotte leaned back on the bed and watched the two boys climbing off the floor, their penises at half mast, their lovely young bodies gleaming with the sweat of their recent exertions. They were beautiful as Olympian gods cast in bronze.
But she didn't feel like mistress to Zeus, nor instructor in the arts of love to junior gods; Charlotte felt more like some ancient mortal, drained and spent. She was weary, but it was a good sort of tiredness, a relaxing land of lassitude that filled her body now, as the combined semen of her son and Blair Chapman filled her warmed vagina.
Duncan came to stand beside the bed, his cock gone limp now, but with still a drip of come glistening upon its shrunken head. He leaned over to kiss her mouth, to lightly and lovingly kiss her nipples. He said, "Gee, mom, that was great. It couldn't have been any better for both of us. I mean, when we let go, and our come poured down over both our pricks at the same time-wow. I thought I'd never stop pumping it out. Your pussy was so tight on us, so hot and kind of biting down whenever you shook your ass-well, I just want to say thanks, mother."
She smiled at him, at her daughter standing close by with Jan's naked hip brushing that of her brother's, and daringly, reached out her cupped fingers and caressed the softened sexual organ between his slightly spread legs. "It was magnificent for me, too," she said. "I never realized how-inventive and completely wonderful sex could be. I thank you and Blair for showing me."
He closed his hand over hers, trapping his prick in her palm. "You're just the greatest. I mean, I really dig screwing Elena and Jan, too-but for me, your cunt is the best in the world. I love it, Just like I love you-and I can't say how great it is, to be able to love my mother and to love fucking her, too. I guess I'm the luckiest guy in the whole world."
"No more than Blair," Jan said. "He's got the same thing going for him, and both of you have me thrown in. I'm just as excited as either of you, belonging to a swinging family like this one."
Smiling softly, Charlotte rested her head upon the pillows and allowed her eyes to close. Her hand slipped away from her son's warm and sticky crotch, and she heard them moving around the house car, going into the little reefer, laughing easily together. Soon they would be at it again, Charlotte thought; soon they would be screwing and giving oral love and all the things three people could do to each other.
For they were people, and not children. They were individuals setting forth on the road to adulthood, and for them at least, the sexual paths would be more direct and far more honest than they had been for Charlotte's generation. Jan and Duncan and Blair were really using their bodies for enjoyment, for the utmost in pleasures, and they were also able to utilize the nearness of their blood relationships in order to further heighten their orgiastic raptures.
Such freedom, Charlotte thought; such opportunities to unleash each and every one of the desires that had gnawed secretly at her since her childhood. It was all open to her now, everything possible, nothing denied. There was no ogre figure looming over her to darkly threaten doom and destruction if she so much as stepped out of line an inch.
Free; she was free; she could accept or deny any chance of sensual variation offered to her, and who or what was there to tell her she could not? Not society, not neighbors or teachers or anyone else. She was Charlotte Mason, and she was free.
Dreaming, she rocked In the embrace of the bunk as the van moved over the highways. She relived the bad days of puberty, the frightened, unsure times when she wanted so very much to love and be loved, when her body was a hotbed of needs and urges that Charlotte didn't understand.
She was in love with every good-looking man, old or young, and she sweated through many a sleepless night, trying to deny the sexual desires that throbbed through her body. It was bad, bad, to caress her mound like that, and the guilt of such fondling almost drove her mad.
It was evil, to look at a boy and wonder how his slim body would feel, in between her legs. She knew this was evil, that somehow she had been infected with a virus which was sent from the devil himself, and Charlotte struggled valiantly to cast it out.
Still, she allowed a boy to feel her breasts, and the ache that raged in her distended nipples cried out to be assuaged. Of course, she could not permit him to put his lips to them; that would be going altogether too far, and she was still a good girl.
And the time at the school dance, when Pinky got his hand up under her sldrt. The shock of his boldness had stunned her, because no other boy had ever, ever tried to do that to her. She sat stiffly, too shaken to resist, while Pinky fingered up under her tight panties and stroked up and down and around over her suddenly hot and pulsating mound.
Then she slapped him-twice, both hands winging out and around with full force that knocked him off the bench and told him she wasn't kidding at all
They called her frigid, before she was even certain what the term meant; Miss Loser, they called her, and stuckup, icebox, and other things. And it wasn't that she didn't want to; oh how she wanted to do it, to seek out and find that peak of ecstasy that the love stories said was so magnificently moving.
But she just couldn't. There was mama and papa, and the terrifying figure of the minister standing tall in the wooden pulpit. So afraid, so cheated-especially when she heard the giggling whispers in the girl's bathroom, the boasts of conquest. Especially when she could actually see the glow a girl had about herself, after she'd found physical love with her steady.
And since Charlotte couldn't bring herself to do it with a boy, because she was so terribly frightened of becoming pregnant or catching some horrible disease, and because the urges were driving her out of her mind, she learned to masturbate.
There had been whispers of that, too, heard mostly in girl's gym class, but nobody had told Charlotte exactly how to go about it, and the only time she had heard the subject mentioned at home, was only to be informed that she would go crazy if she did such a nasty thing.
She was going crazy if she didn't find some kind of relief, so one night in her bed, Charlotte tried it. She cuddled her pubic mound and stroked it, wriggling sinfully in the thrills she got, the tickling. Searching with a fingertip, exploring carefully and with her entire body drawn taut and shaking, Charlotte discovered the little hood that shielded her clitoris, discovered that the lips of her virgin's pussy were turning damp in eagerness.
She played into the tight lips with her fingertip, rolling her sleekly trim hips in the most lascivious movements she could imagine. And of course, she touched the clit. An electric shock burst within her vagina, and she shuddered madly in the wake of it, as a young tree shivers in the wind.
Gently, fearfully, Charlotte explored the clitoris, dipping her finger into her untried cunt, wetting it in the unfamiliar hot oils that were seeping from within that quivering well cavity. She learned to caress the clit, to tickle it tenderly, and her entire body gave keen responses as each succeeding thrill lanced through it.
Stroking, playing, hunching her damply-haired pussy forward and back, Charlotte masturbated with a passionate intentness, her head beneath the covers, excitement roaring in her ears. Panting, arching her back and feeling the swollen, about-to-burst aliveness in her tits, she ground and humped upon her finger, the other spread fingers fondling mound and anus.
When she came, she bit into the crumpled pillow, to stop herself from screaming out in rapture. The bed vibrated and rattled beneath the spasmed throes of her body, and she was afraid that her parents would hear and come prying, come shouting and punishing.
Gasping, Charlotte burrowed even farther under the covers, and felt the ripples of wild joy die slowly inside her vagina. So that was orgasm, she thought; so that had been coming. It would be many times more wondrous, with a boy, with a man. Stretched out then, she began to know the guilt, to feel the weight of the secret she had to forever hide.
Then, as in the present, Charlotte turned and sighed often in her sleep.