Chapter 6

Their first kiss was brutal in its passion-lips slamming against teeth, tongues violently darting out to smash against the delicate tissues inside mouths.

He pushed his naked daughter back to the single bed in the room, tore at the buttons of his shirt as she, with what seemed like equal fervor, pulled at his belt and unzipped his trousers. In a mere second or two he was stark naked before her, his body covered by a slight layer of mature fat, yet his sexual organ extending before him a full two inches beyond the younger, more slender member Johnny has used with her earlier.

She gasped, half in pleased amazement, half in fear as he pushed her roughly to her back and without further ceremony mounted above her and forced the hard rock of his desire deep within her still-partially-dry womb.

It hurt at first. She wasn't that ready, but as he began to pump vigorously within her, the glands controlling expression of desire opened their gates to send sweet honeyed dew cascading along the walls of her vagina to slither along his thrusting piston lubricating its violent passage.

This was different than anything she had felt before! This time she was full-completely fullnot with the slender shaft of a boy but with the larger, more powerful organ of a man. How she could ever have been afraid of such a thing only a day before amazed her. Here was speed, drive and stamina that Johnny in all his wild dreams could never match.

Her father plowed into her and pulled back to slam hard and fast again, never slowing his pace, never allowing even the faintest hint of denial.

It was so thoroughly good that she could not resist the pure animal pleasure of it. She pulled him tight to her with her arms, arched her hips and snaked her legs around his back as the throbbing machine of his hips slammed into her again and again-a human dynamo of perpetual motion.

Without variety of position or rhythm, they remained that way for an eternity. She clenched her teeth against her first orgasm but could not hold it back. She wanted to scream, but fought against it. She could not have imagined such unbelievable control! He merely pumped in and out, in and out, always scraping the top of his huge shaft hard against the fiery flesh of her erect clitoris, sending a double shiver of sensation crashing through her with each ever-deeper thrust.

"Oh, God, Daddy," she heard herself moaning from an infinite distance. "Oh, God! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

"I'll fuck you, you little tramp," he grunted in her ear, "I'll fuck you so you never lay with anyone else. I'll split your whole insides open, you bitch!"

"Oh, yes," she gasped. "Do it. Do it good!"

Again she felt the waves of release begin to slide out of her. She didn't know she had that many orgasms in her! Each one drained her thoroughly and yet each new hard thrust of his shaft within her started a new rise to pleasure.

Again, she cascaded to supreme pleasure, but his hard demanding motions would not stop. Even though she no longer had the strength to keep her legs twined around his back, no longer was able to arch her hips or meet his violently thrusting demands, he kept on, oblivious to her exhaustion.

In half consciousness, she realized that she was really being raped, that he was making her climax again and again in a brutal attempt to kill her. Yet a third time she began to rise to the peak of pleasurable release, wondering how many more surges of abandon he would demand from her before allowing his own release.

"Oh, please," she murmured as the pleasure increased, as she felt the surge of tidal wave begin to wash through her, threatening to flood away body and soul in one cleansing torrent of undreamed-of passion. "Come! Come in me, Daddy. Come in me!"

And as her own body and spirit crashed violently on a somewhere shore she was doubly shuddered by his own convulsions. Within her the hard rod of his passion slammed farther up than it had ever been, actually hitting and spreading the mouth of the cervix and pressing almost up into her womb.

She felt the hot jet of his sperm scald her insides as his entire body was convulsed by an earthquake of gigantic proportions.

"Oh God, Daddy!" she cried again, "Oh, sweet God."

As the final spasm convulsed her, she was able again to lift her legs and arms to twine around his still spasming body, and pull the violent human machine of her own father tight against her as both grunted like animals fighting to achieve a tighter and tighter congress.

And then, almost as suddenly and violently as it had begun, it ended. He pulled roughly away from her, withdrew his still partially erect penis and stood beside the bed.

She was too exhausted to do more than lie where she was, legs spread wide, arms akimbo, a slim rivulet of white liquid running from her wide open vulva to drop silently into the coverlet under her.

He stood looking down at her, the hard expression that had covered his face earlier now replaced by one of slight bewilderment.

"Oh, God, Daddy," she sighed, but then could find no words to complete her thoughts.

The look of bewilderment still clouded his eyes, this time mingling softly with one of smug appreciation. He let his eyes roam the length of her reclining body, savored the satiated exhaustion mirrored on her face, the glistening sweat that had matted her blonde hair and the twin mounds of huge young breasts still heaving up and down as she tried desperately to suck air into tortured lungs. Still without speaking, his eyes lowered to her glistening stomach, her widely spread legs and to the gaping cave at their juncture.

"Slut," he said. "You've been fucking everyone in town!"

"No, Daddy. I-"

"Bet you've been sucking them off, too."

"I'll show you what sex is, you bitch."

She watched as he again mounted the bed, straddled over her and walked along the length of her body on bent knees. She looked up to see the still dripping tip of his penis hovering before her mouth, the scrotum dangling below her chin.

"Suck it!" he demanded. "Suck it up again, you cunt." He forced the half-flaccid organ toward her mouth as his hairy buttocks settled hard on her heaving chest.

All she could see was the glistening wet knob in front of her. All she could feel was the heavy pressure of his buttocks on her chest, and then the brutal pull of his hands behind her head, lifting it violently-almost threatening to break her neck-as they pulled her toward his member.

She opened her mouth as he leaned farther forward. Then it was in her, tasting of sperm and her own fluids, huge and filling even though partially relaxed.

As he thrust forward, she pulled it deeper into her oral cavity-sucked hard on it and drew it almost against the top of her throat. Then, completely dominated by the thing in her mouth, the weight on her chest and the demanding, arrogant personality that controlled them, she submitted.

Almost willingly, certainly with impassioned eagerness, she began to work her tongue rapidly around the shaft as her head bobbed up and down to slide along its length. She grasped the base of the thick organ in her right hand, complementing the hot movements of her mouth so that she knew he could feel sensation along the entire length of his virility.

As she did so, he continued to thrust violently against her throat, to grunt and to mutter.

"Suck it, you bitch. Suck it hard again and I'll fix you so you never fuck any more. God damned slut, fucking everyone-passing out ass like peanuts. Suck it! Suck it!"

Something in his passionate anger stimulated her. Blindly, without quite realizing why, she knew that she was enjoying this submission to parental will-this complete enslavement under the heavy body of her father. In her mouth she could begin to feel new life rising in the organ she sucked, and she increased the pressure of her lips and tongue-the rhythm of her bobbing head along the length of his shaft.

She was involved! She was hopelessly involved now, and could think of nothing except the penis she was bringing to new life. She could no longer feel the heavy pressure of his buttocks on her chest. It might have been the caress of twin feathers on her sensitive breasts as he twisted slightly, moving back and forth to complement the motions of her lips on him.

She began to moan in her own ecstasy as the shaft became ever harder in her mouth, filling it completely. Between her legs she could feel the familiar tingling of her own desire mounting again. She wanted it in her mouth, but she also wanted it again to fill her body as it had a moment before.

She longed for the brutal, filling thrust of it in her again and yet could not seem to pull her lips away.

It was hard now-totally rigid and ready for penetration. She thought it was so hard it could go through a steel wall. She sucked hard on it one final time and then lay back exhausted, gasping hard for a moment until she was able to speak. Above her she could see the hard lines of her father's face as he leered down .

"Oh, Daddy," she gasped. "Oh, Daddy . . . "

He didn't speak. His lips twisted in a half sneer-half smile.

And then, with her last gasp of energy, she sighed what could have been her last mortal wish. "Oh, Daddy, fuck me again. Put it in . . . fuck me, fuck me . . . "

He still rested on the soft cushion of her breasts, for a moment looking down at the gasping face, at the half-closed eyes and parted lips wet with saliva and their mixture of sexual fluid. Then, with determined gestures, yet without his original brutality, he slid down the length of her body and again planted his turgid shaft deep and high within her.

She gasped as she felt it enter and slide ever higher until the hard pressure of its head hit the barrier of her cervix. "Oh, God, Daddy . . . oh, sweet Jesus!"

"Fuck, you bitch!" he gasped in her ear. "Fuck your horny heart out!"

He slammed against her and she arched to send him even deeper. The pleasure mingled with pain and she knew she was going insane with the sensation. Nothing existed but the full hard shaft plowing within her with driving demand. She had come so much she didn't know if she could rise to the peak of release again; but it didn't matter-just the hard flesh within her mattered. She drove her hips high against his, clawed her fingers along his back and down over the rising and falling mounds of his buttocks. She clawed at his scrotum, pulling and tugging, hoping blindly to pull that, too, within her hot demanding body.

Her legs thrashed up and relaxed. She was completely out of control, writhing and twisting under him, trying to get more and more of the huge member inside her. She didn't care if it penetrated her stomach, her lungs, her heart. She didn't care if he thrust hard enough to spatter her brain and splinter the skull above. There was nothing but this hot pounding piston churning between her legs, pounding deeper and deeper within her with every thrust, raping her dreadfully, abusing her flesh, yet with the very abuse sending waves of ecstasy through every nerve of her body.

Her nipples were tingling under the heavy weight of her father's chest. She knew her entire body was flushed. Her fingers were clasped and unclasped-completely free from the control of her brain. Again she clawed her nails along the line of his spine, this time feeling the more viscous slip of blood mingled with the layer of perspiration there, but apparently he too was insensitive to the pain.

She clasped and kneaded his buttocks, pulling it tight to her and then letting her fingers flutter out of control as the great shaft pounded and throbbed within her.

Then she felt, rather than heard, his heavier breathing, vaguely sensed the gasps of breath against her ear.

"Come, you bitch," he gasped. "Come off good so your fucking ass explodes with it. I'll make you come, you cunt. I'll make you know what fucking is!"

The words, the gasps, the pounding force within her, all combined to begin a different shiver or pleasure through her. She was-she was going to come again! This time she could feel it crawling from the bottoms of her feet, from the very roots of her hair, slithering from top to bottom of her body, winding, twisting, slowly at first-each sensation striving to reach the center point, the hot wet swamp of desire in which the cores of their two beings writhed and twisted in impossible lust.

"Come, you cunt!" He grunted again.

This time she could feel the uncontrollable throbbing of his huge organ within her, snapping back and forth as it still continued to thrust in and out. Again the hot spurt of molten semen jetted high into her, threatening to scald her insides with its temperature and power.

He thrust again and she arched her hips higher to meet his. Her own waves of pleasure had reached knee and stomach and were moving faster now to crash together. She could not let him gocould not allow him to pull free before she experienced the ultimate, supreme pleasure which he promised to give her.

Again she lifted her knees, locked her ankles together as she clawed her fingers down his back, pulling his body as tight to her as she could.

And then she heard a faraway sound coming from some dense primeval jungle. The two waves of passion crashed together in her groin, spattered apart and crashed again.

She knew she was screaming, but she couldn't stop. Her entire body was being bounced and shattered from within. Rolling, twisting, slithering, out of control, her inner nerves each seemed to be exploding at once so that the combined force of their concussion wracked her entire form. She had no body, no mind. She was being swirled up in a kaleidoscopic maelstrom that swayed and twisted over hot seas.

There were spatters of color and sound. Her scream was coming from the lips of another. The grunts in her ear were echoing inside her head, yet coming from another century, but still the hard demanding thrusts of hip against hip would not cease. The delicate nerves of her inner body continued to explode. Each seemed to be possessed of a multiple atomic warhead that could shatter once and then again and again. She could not stop.

The orgasm raged throughout her. It consumed utterly and then flowed again, washing hot oil over her soul, swirling her into oblivion until finally, centuries after it had begun, she heard the far-off scream stop, felt the slow, sweet ebb of passion gradually subside, and fell back limp on the bed, hardly realizing what had happened.

A moment more the great thing within her throbbed and thrust-the great weight rested on her chest, and then it gradually lifted.

Her father rose on his elbows, then on his palms until his body hovered over her. She opened her eyes to see his exhausted face, the rumpled wet hair flecked with gray at the temples, and then down over the matted fur of his chest to where his huge penis still lay buried deep within her. She tried to contract her vaginal muscles, but couldn't muster the strength. She was drained, exhausted-orgasmed out of the real world into a soft, sweat-drenched euphoria that she prayed would never end.

They remained that way for a long moment, he gazing down at her, she looking up at him, their faces mirroring exhausted bewilderment. Then, he rocked slightly back so that a bare inch of huge glistening penis withdrew from her sodden flesh. He looked down to where their bodies joined and then moved his hand to the point. Still with determination, yet without any brutality this time, he touched her quivering clitoris, ran his finger around the very tip of it and then let it slide over the moist length to circle the member. Still staring down at her gaping vagina and the partial length of his own organ resting above it, he moved his finger lightly back and forth in, at first a slow, and then a more rapid, rhythm.

Each movement sent an added spasm of half-orgasm through her. She had not stopped, she knew. Somehow he was forcing little half-explosions to come again to her already ruptured nerve endings.

"Oh, Daddy," she gasped. "Don't. I can't anymore. I can't. You're making me come again and I can't."

His finger slid from the erect tip of her clitoris to the base until it touched the flesh of his own organ. Slowly he stroked the entire length of the hobbling nipple, then encircled it with finger and thumb to slide again up to the tingling tip.

"Oh, God," she gasped as the fire shot through her again. Involuntarily, she ticed her hips in response, letting every surge of passion roll through her, continuing to bring her again higher and higher to the pinnacle to release.

Then it happened-the impossible! She snapped, gasped once and felt the last surf of pleasure crash over her in one, violent wave of supreme passion.

She lay back completely drained, hardly feeling the movement away from her, hardly hearing the soft liquid sound as the huge penis was witlidrawn from her. She opened her eyes to see her father rise from the bed, stand looking down at her a moment and then reach for his shirt and trousers.

He dressed without speaking, zipped and buckled his trousers, buttoned his shirt and then sat down beside her to replace his shoes and socks. He tied the laces of his shoes, replaced his feet on the floor, and then turned to where she still lay sprawled on her back, breasts heaving, legs spread wide.

He reached out and touched her still-gaping vagina with the index finger of his left hand, let it remain there for a moment, then rubbed its top against her clitoris as he pushed his finger deep into her sodden opening.

This time the pleasure was a little tingle, but still very real. She moved her hands to cover his, to entrap the single digit within her.

"Oh, Daddy," she managed. "It was so good. Can we? I mean . . . "

He moved his finger within her. "You're a damned good piece of ass," he said. "Where'd you learn au this? How long have you been fucking around without me knowing it?"

"I never-"

"Bullshit!"

She felt the scrape of pain as his fingernail clawed against the delicate walls of her vagina.

"Honest, Daddy," she said. "Up to yesterday I was cherry. I never once made it with anyone."

"And just like that.. . in one day you turn into a cock-crazy whore. You don't think I was born Wednesday morning, do you? I've screwed a few women in my time, Ann . . . some of them pros. You know more about fucking than any of them. You don't learn that in one day."

She still pressed her hands tightly over her vaginal opening to hold his finger there, but now as she looked up to him, her eyes seemed to be pleading. Slowly, as he stroked her wet inner flesh, she told him what had happened while he and her mother were away.

She explained every detail about her date and his demands, about wanting to maintain her virginity as far as the community was concerned, but coming home to find her brother naked, poised over Sue about to thrust himself into her.

She couldn't explain what had gone on in her mind. Seeing Johnny like that, maybe, seeing a man's erection for the first time, something had snapped within her, but she was still determined to remain virgin. Then when Johnny had ruptured her hymen with the vibrator, she couldn't get enough.

"I just couldn't, Daddy. Honest. We've all been fucking all day. We didn't think you'd be back until tomorrow."

"Gave you a little surprise, eh?"

"Oh, Daddy, that was the best surprise ever. Let's do it again. Please?"

"Maybe," he said. "I hardly think your mother would like the idea, though." He pulled his finger free and stood up. "Get some sleep," he said as he walked to the door.

She saw his hand reach for the light switch, heard the soft click and lay in total darkness for a moment until he opened the door and the dull shaft of light crept in from the hall. She saw him turn into the room again, knew he was savoring the naked contours of her body with hungry eyes for a last moment, then heard him whisper.

"Yes, Ann, you're a damned good piece of ass."

The door closed. He was gone. She placed her hands over her vagina and let one finger slip into the wet folds. It was good, but it didn't feel the same. Strangely, she thought as her eyes closed, she was frustrated again. She wanted that huge filled feeling of her father's penis in her one more time-one more time that would last forever.

Despite the drugs she had taken, Martha Brillard twisted in troubled sleep. She did not hear her husband return to the room in which she slept, remained completely unaware of the soft sounds of his undressing and the rustle of sheets and coverlet as he slipped into the bed beside her.

Her mind was churned by other sounds and images. When she had entered the front door of her house that evening-had seen the scattered pile of clothing there-she knew. There was no doubt in her mind while she and John had been away, their three children had paraded naked through the house, perhaps even worse. The visions of their young supple bodies tortured her sleep, for she knew that they had not been content to limit their experimental play to the mere physical freedom of nudity.

Martha Brillard had been raised under a stringent moral code that forbade premarital sexual behavior, insisted on ultimate propriety and linked physical pleasure tightly to sin. Her first experience had been a shattering affair on the night of her wedding to John. He had been so coarse, so brutal, so demanding of her body, her virginity, that something had soured within her.

She had complied with his wishes, given him the children he wanted, but had never been able to attain climax under his rough caress. Sex with John had always been an impure thing-an animal thing. Yet always in the back of her straight-laced mind lurked the serpent of unrequited passion. What would it be like with another, more gentle, more understanding man?

She had looked and thought many times during their twenty years of marriage, but always the strict morality of her upbringing had conquered her purely physical urges and her desperate female curiosity. Sometimes she had weakened in the face of her desires, had allowed John to force his brutal hard way into her unwelcoming body, and then, when he had spent himself spurting hot seed into her womb, had rolled away from him to sur-reptiously insert her own more gentle finger into her painful opening. Then the pain had left her as she gently, tenderly, stroked the moist flesh and felt the little bubble of her clitoris rise to receive the faint pleasure it always craved.

But she had only dared bring herself to complete climax that way on isolated and rare occasions. Something in the act was, she thought, dirty and sinful. She should have been content with her husband. She should have felt the deep and intense female response of which so many doctors and clergymen spoke. But she couldn't, and the substitute of giving herself ultimate, shuddering pleasure with her own hand had always brought with it spasms of guilt more intense than the pleasure she hoped she could recieve. Almost always she had forced her finger away before the waves of orgasm began to drown her. She couldn't let John know of her secret desires-that she might love him as a man, as a husband and a father, but that as a sexual partner she hated him for the release his brutality had denied her.

This night, twisting in drug-induced sleep, the childhood inhibitions planted by her own parents mingled with the horrible visions of her children's lust, which she knew in her secret heart had turned all three of them into sex-crazed animals.

Her dreams swam in visions of naked teenaged flesh twining and churning in a great sensual mass. She watched with her mind's eye as Ann and Sue twisted in forbidden lesbian passion.

Her head twisted on the pillow. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and her dreams wondered what it might be like if another woman, instead of a man, touched her private parts with knowing and gentle kisses.

Again she rolled in the narrow bed. Still the twisting forms danced in her mind, but this time she saw her son-tall, lean, muscular Johnny. Nineteen-year-old Johnny home from college bringing with him all the sweet texture and hard beauty of youth.

Her dreams savored his naked form and saw the huge erect phallus extending from his hips. Then the phallus grew larger, and it was little Sue growing from her brother's groin, reaching out to her mother, her tongue extending and retracting, licking lips but coming ever closer to her own aching flesh.

Then Sue was gone, rolling in depraved abandon with Ann, their young firm breasts flattening hard to one another, their hips ticking in primitive rhythm as their mouths joined in impossible caresses.

But the vision of Johnny never left her. He grasped the huge curving organ with one hand and beckoned her with another. She was drawn to him-to his youth and muscular torso-to the faint, gentle smile that played over his sensuous lips and brought forbidden fire to his handsome face.

She flowed on a sea whose currents she couldn't control, ever closer to the hypnotizing organ waving and beckoning her ever nearer with a power she had no strength to resist.

Then it was her father, stern, moralistic, hovering behind Johnny, his cane in his hand, his deeply-lined face frowning. She saw him wave the cane at her in a gesture of forbidding, but then her father too was naked, the cane was a huge, long penis waving in his hand and he was laughing behind Johnny.

As he laughed, the two dream figures turned, and she saw the horror of what they were doing. Her body twisted again in the bed, her knees curled against her chest and her father's image disappeared.

Again there was nothing but her little babyher son, Johnny, now grown. Now he was a man and he still held the shaft of his manhood hard and curved before him, pointed at her, beckoning, demanding.

She flowed toward him in a mist of euphoria and felt the first touch of the shaft touch her aching flesh. It slipped deeper and deeper within, deeper and deeper until her body was filled with it and it still continued to penetrate. Johnny was miles away, but the shaft of the dream organ was buried a foot, two feet, four feet in her.

She could feel it throbbing in her chest, slipping up out of her mouth so that at once she could see it buried in her vagina and extending from her parted lips.

Her hips ticked, her lips moved. The ancient morality, the blind restrictions of her childhood were gone now; there was nothing but the huge thing within her pulsating now as it began to move both in her mouth and along the hot dampness of her vagina.

She moaned in her sleep, twisting tighter into herself so that her knees touched her breasts. Yet the vision of the dream was not of her own knees but of Johnny's gentle hands softly caressing the sensitive flesh, bringing the nipples to first arousal, tingling them alive and filling the breasts beyond with the milk of motherhood again. She felt her insides swell and saw the twin jets of milk spurt from her breasts, covering her son's face in sweet liquid which he now avidly licked from her breasts and torso.

He was crawling on her now, covering every tingling inch of her body with sweet kisses, lapping the life-giving liquid like a favorite house pet as the long, impossible phallus of the dream continued to snake through her, rubbing clitoris and vagina to unbelieving response, sending fire and chill through her thorax, twisting and sliding around her heart and through every vein and artery. Still, it was in her mouth too and this time she felt that it, too, was spurting the same milk that continued to jet from her aching breasts.

Hot fluid spurted into her mouth and she sucked greedily to swallow every sweet scalding drop, to suck it down into her throat and stomach.

She writhed in her sleep, churning against the impossible sensations soaring through her. She twisted in the narrow bed as the long snake of penis pulled in and out of mouth and vagina.

And then, only half asleep now, she felt the gush of fluid from her genitals, rivers of glandular fluid seemed to be pouring out of her gaping vagina, running along her legs, turning the very bed in which she lay into a sea of warm oil in which she was drowning.

Her breasts continued to spurt milk, but now tingled as if they were being sucked inward and then out through the tiny pores of her throbbing nipples.

Her lips clasped tight on the head of the dream organ within her and then she crashed and thrashed in pleasure so intense she could never have imagined it.

The rolling, tidal wave of sensation that churned through her brought her to shocked wakefulness.

The dream was gone, but consciousness returned in small parts. She was lying on her side in Ann's bed. Her husband lay opposite her in Sue's. Her knees had been pulled tight and were pressing almost painfully against her breasts.

The river of fluid she had dreamed of was her own vaginal secretions that had flowed out of her open lips to wet her hand and cover the extended finger that still ticked involuntarily against the tingling nub of her clitoris.

The shaft in her mouth was her own left thumb on which she had been sucking.

With a shock of disgust, she realized that the images of her dream had made her masturbate in-voluntarily. Or could it have been that the thought of her children debasing themselves in her absence had made the masturbation come first and then the dream had followed?

Martha Brillard pulled the thumb from her mouth, but could not seem to muster the courage or strength to release her finger from the open, sodden protection of her hungry vagina.

She looked to her sleeping husband and then beyond to the window where the light of morning was already creeping through the drawn blinds. He lay on his side with his back toward her. He had stripped out of his clothing and fallen into bed without bothering to don pajamas.

Perhaps his own worry about the situation they would face, or perhaps the heat, had made him twist sufficiently to remove the covers from his torso.

It didn't register on her at once, but as she looked again to the eight scabbed furrows running the length of his back, she knew. They hadn't been there the night before on their visit. Certainly, she had never been passionate enough with him to scratch him like that!

She knew that John had had another woman, before the full shock of the realization registered on her drug-hangover mind. Not another woman-a girl. It could only have been Ann or Sue!

Still not completely awake, she flexed her finger within the hot lips of her vagina, sending an added tingle of ecstasy surging through her long-deprived body.

Again a vision of Johnny came to her mind, but this time there was no fantastic phallus and no guilt. He appeared only briefly as a lean, muscular nineteen-year-old youth, stripped naked but endowed with a normal erection, one that would be tender and understanding of a woman's subtle needs.

The guilt she had always felt previously was completely gone now. She didn't care whether John woke up and saw her or not. She didn't care for him or for his opinions. She rolled on her back and pulled the bed-clothes aside so that she could see her still slender body unscarred by the stretch marks of multiple childbirth. She lifted her knees, and with both hands gently inspected her open outer labia.

Then with firm determination, she inserted one finger into the wet cup of her denied desire and began methodically to masturbate herself, sighing heavily and contentedly as she did so.

As she administered constantly increasing pleasure to herself, the half vision of Johnny formed in her mind and she smiled. If her husband was going to play games with his daughters, if their children had all been savoring the forbidden joys of carnal arousal, what could be wrong if she, too, had some pleasure after all these years?

Her husband had been brutal, uncaring in his demands.

Her finger moved faster and with more pressure within her.

He had never cared about her own desires.

It spread lips and butterflied gently against throbbing clitoris.

But Johnny had always been a nice boy.

She clutched the soft flesh of one breast with her left hand.

He had always been polite to his mother.

She squeezed the nipple gently between thumb and forefinger.

Had always been considerate.

The tingle increased in her clitoris. The wave began to form deep within.

Had always been gentle.

It began to surge through her, making her breath come in heavy gasps, making her hips tic in response to the fluttering movements of her fingers . . . making her crash headlong in sweet complete oblivion.

"Oh," she gasped as the full power of her release swept over her. "Oh, Johnny . . . Johnny . . . "