Chapter 13
He was able to see the door through slitted eyes in the semi-dark room. Joyce was breathing slowly and deeply, as though asleep, and he did the same. He suspected that she had positioned her head so that she could watch the door, too.
The knob was turning and then the door was swinging open in total silence. Who would it be? Jim wondered. Almost certainly Scott, back for another shot-unless it might be Helen, who had indicated that she'd be ready for more before long. Jim hadn't believed that either of them would be content to nap with fresh meat just down the hall.
He was so surprised that his eyes almost popped wide open. He took a second to get a good look and then he closed his eyes all the way.
It was Darla. She had been creeping in the door, still in her bikini, looking like some lovely forest creature coming to call in their camp. He kept his eyes shut as he rolled his head half away from Joyce. That way he could open his eyes a slit and not see his wife's profile at the side of his vision. He wasn't ready for that yet.
He watched as Darla crept up to the side of the bed where he was. Jim was pleased that he'd effectively cut off any view of Joyce, for Darla was gorgeous. She was probably 16 or 17 and, if she weren't a virgin, she sure as hell looked like one.
Not that he was putting down Joyce, but he wasn't ready to mix his women-not yet.
Now Darla was standing over him, still like a forest creature, studying his face closely. Her large blue eyes seemed to bore into him as she waited. Jim made himself he perfectly still and he controlled his breathing as best he could, keeping it deep and slow, and easy-difficult as that was.
Then she was leaning over him and through tiny slits of eyes Jim could get a good look at her. Wonderful skin that was velvet smooth with teen-age youth. Her face was un-lined, simple, direct, classic.
She eased herself down on her knees, just six inches from the side of the bed and less than a foot from Jim's shoulder. He didn't know what to do. He figured he'd play it cozy, pretend to remain asleep until the proper time-whenever that might be.
So he waited and her face drifted close to him. Her light blue eyes were fixed on his face, searching until they apparently were satisfied that he was out. Then she leaned back and slowly nibbled her lower lip.
He didn't see the hand. Instead he felt it touch his hip and then place itself on his belly. He had to work to not suck in his gut with reflex action. He kept on breathing as though he wouldn't awaken for ten hours. The hand rested lightly on his belly, very lightly. This wouldn't be a pushy kid. She was still in the years of exploration and that was nice.
The hand moved about slowly, along his ribs so she could count them, over his chest. She touched each nipple with a finger and he felt his crotch harden. Heavens, there was no way to hide that, not in his bathing trunks. She stroked his shoulders gently and she touched his lips, his forehead, his cheeks, his ears with a very gentle hand.
Then she was back to his belly and her ringers fluttered lower, over his trunks. He felt the touch of her hand on his crotch. She pushed steadily into the bathing suit, straight down to his hard-on and surely she knew what the hell that meant. Jim hoped she would believe he was having an erotic dream, or something crazy like that.
He tried to keep his breathing steady, but it was becoming more difficult. Then he worked on thinking about strategy. Even that was difficult, for she was pushing harder into his crotch. Then she was wiggling a small finger below his navel, where the cord of his waistband was tied in a bow.
She was pulling at the bow and when he felt it begin to loosen he sighed. She froze, but he went back to his regular breathing. She was still frozen and it was then that Jim was stunned.
"It's all right," a whispered voice said. "He's gone back to sleep."
Darla's lips hadn't moved. Somebody else was whispering directions to her. And he didn't think it was Joyce.
It was time for him to do something, Jim decided. He wasn't going to lay back like the fatted calf and let some slip of a girl seduce him and, with somebody else in the room, he was even less inclined to let her do it in front of an audience. He heard Joyce sigh.
Jim sat up abruptly, noting with satisfaction that Darla fell back on her bottom in stunned surprise. He looked the other way, toward Joyce, and it was then that he was himself stunned.
It was Ken, the young son, the 18-year-old surfer who looked like a golden boy. He was crouched over the reclining figure of his wife and she was pretending to be asleep, just as Jim had been.
Jim saw with shock and dismay that Ken had his hand on Joyce. He'd already lifted the top of her pajamas so that he could untie the bow at her waist. He had the bow slipped free and the fly open and flipped aside. Even in the shadows Jim could see Joyce's blonde pubic hair, a triangle of curly fur fully exposed to the kid's gaze.
The youth's hand was on her cunt and the finger seemed to be looking for the route inside. Joyce, even while pretending to be asleep, had stiffened her body and Jim saw that she was lifting her crotch, making an arch of her middle so that he'd had a firm base to work on.
All this Jim saw in the faction of a second as he'd sat up and Darla had gone down on her saucy little behind. He snapped out his words like a whip.
"Get your hands off my wife!"
Ken gasped and straightened at once, while Darla was scrambling to her feet. Joyce then sat up, pretending to awaken with a start. She looked down at herself and at once she pulled her pajamas shut and slipped the top down over her crotch.
"What? What's going on?" she blurted.
"These punks have something in mind," Jim snapped. "Probably planning to go through our things. What are you, a couple of thieves?"
"Heck, no, Mr. Babcock," Ken blurted.
"Golly, that's not right," Darla agreed, her voice throaty with fear.
"Well, what then?"
The two young people stood at either side of the bed, their hands clasped behind them as their eyes were turned toward the floor. At least a minute passed in silence as Jim and Joyce sat up in bed waiting, their arms folded in disapproval and rejection.
"Well," Ken said at last, "it's our folks, I guess you could say. Right, Darla?"
The brown-haired girl nodded, her blue eyes catching some light from the shadows. "They told us to be ... uh, nice to you. You see, we've done this before. You might say that our whole family is looking for ... fun. Daddy said you two had a problem and that we could help them straighten you out."
"Who said you could help us with our problems?" Joyce snapped, her voice indignant. "What would you know about adult problems?"
They shrugged. "I suppose it's adult, but our folks seemed to think they were pretty basic," Ken stammered. "If you like, we'll take off and leave you alone. Honest. And we sure as heck didn't care about stealing anything."
"Hold your horses," Jim snapped and he felt a strange excitement come over him. It was not too different from the sensation he had when he watched Scott' with Joyce. Perhaps it was time for another lesson, and this time it could be a lesson they could both share.
Halfway to the door the young people paused.
"What did you come in here to do, if it wasn't to steal?" Jim demanded to know. "What magic therapy did you have in mind?"
They returned to the bed. It was Darla who murmured, "I thought out there around the pool you kind of liked me, Mr. Babcock. You and Mrs. Babcock. Is Kenny really so hard to look at straight on?"
Joyce shrugged. "Well, no, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Our folks suggested we come in here and be nice to you," Ken stammered. "You know. Kind of mess around. After all, you're only a few years older than us. I'm already 18. How old are you, Joyce?"
"I'm 21 and it's none of your business, young man," Joyce snapped. "Besides, three years at our ages is a very large experience gap."
Darla giggled. "Not from what I've heard. Daddy said that was what you need, experience."
"Easy, Darla," Ken snapped at her. "We're supposed to be nice," He shrugged. "Well, that's about it."
Jim shook his head. "You really think a punk like you could do anything with my wife? You wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting her worked up. Hell, she's a woman; you're an adolescent."
"We both could," Darla murmured. "Both!" Jim looked at his wife in startled amusement. "Could you imagine such a thing?"
Joyce gave her husband a funny look. Then she turned to the young people. "You think the two of you could help me solve my problems, right? What sort of problems?"
'You know, kind of loosen you up, help you relax. Like they do in the massage parlors, I guess, although I've never been to one."
It was Ken who spoke, but Darla was nodding with every word. Now she said, "We're supposed to be pretty good. At least our folks think so, and they've had a lot more experience than all of us put together, I bet."
Jim was more aghast than ever. He pointed toward the door. "You can just get your tails out...."
"Wait, darling," Joyce interrupted. "All right, I don't believe a word you say, but I think you should be taught a lesson. I defy you to cure me of my ills, whatever you might think they are. Go ahead, do what you will."
The youngsters looked at each other and then at Ken. "Well sir."
"Joyce, this is a lot of...."
"No, let's see just how adult they think they are. After all, we're here to learn. Isn't that the theme of this wicked weekend?"
Joyce was still sitting straight up, leaning against the headboard, her arms folded over her breasts. She looked like a Gothic portrait of outraged womanhood and certainly not like a woman who might be in heat.
Jim shrugged. "All right. Anything you want. I'll just sit and watch like a dummy. That seems to be my fate these days."
Joyce touched his forearm. "Not entirely, darling." She looked back at the two visitors. "All right, have your way with me, children."
Ken and Darla paused, licked their lips and then Ken came up to her side. Joyce kept her eyes on the lad and Darla held back, a step behind her brother. Jim watched, eyes wide, frozen outrage on his lips.
Ken leaned down and, cupping Joyce's face in his hands, he kissed her on the lips. She didn't seem to respond, for her arms remained folded and her cheeks looked as though they were made of wood. He broke the kiss and straightened.
"Do I consider myself cured now?" Joyce snapped, ice dripping from her words.
"Not quite," Ken answered.
He leaned over her again and this time he began to unbutton her pajama tops. He started at the bottom and slowly her belly came into view. When he reached her arms he gently unfolded them and placed them at either side of her hips, flat on the bed. Then he continued with the buttons until he had them all open. With a sweep of his hands he brushed aside the pajama top and Joyce was fully exposed from just below her navel to the top of her head.
There were three gasps as her breasts swept proudly into view like two ships of the line. They were wonderful breasts, perhaps not so heavy as Helen's, but higher and more perfectly formed. The nipples were rather small and delicate, being of a light pink. There was nothing animal-like about Joyce. She was an all milk-and-honey boudoir type female.
She looked very good and Jim wished the kids would get out. He wanted his wife for himself, but events seemed to conspire against this. Well, it might be as well for them to take another lesson, anyhow. He continued to watch, arms still folded as he leaned against the head of the bed.
Ken shook his head. "Geez, Mrs. Babcock, you look really terrific, doesn't she, Darla?"
"Super," Darla gushed.
Ken nodded as he leaned over Joyce again. His hands came right down on her breasts and Joyce flinched. "You don't waste any time."
"Dad says the girl is supposed to respond a little quicker each time. That is, if she's getting the message. So I'm not supposed to fool around so much."
Joyce looked wide-eyed at her husband. "I see."
The boy pressed his fingers into her breasts and at once Joyce took a series of short breaths. Her hands moved up over her legs and she gripped each thigh hard about six inches down from her crotch. Jim watched her knuckles turn white. "Oh, my God but I love that," Joyce exclaimed.
"A good sign," Ken breathed. The kid was already panting over her and Jim felt his own metabolism change. He looked across at Darla and the girl was smiling back at him. Her lips and eyes were bright with anticipation.
Ken quickly massaged the breasts, squeezing them and pushing them about. Then he took his hands away and he got to his knees, leaning over the bed. Joyce had slid halfway down the headboard and he planted his mouth on her throat. There he pecked at her, raining kisses that gradually moved down to the tops of her breasts.
Joyce was gasping now and she touched the back of his head once or twice as though to guide him. He slid lower and all at once he'd taken a nipple into his mouth and he was nursing on it like an infant. Joyce's eyes rolled up in her head and she cried out.
"Jesus God but I love it!" She was panting steadily. He suspended his nursing to smile up into her face but at once she gripped his head and returned it to her breasts, to the other nipple which he promptly accepted.
Then he abandoned her breasts and moved down her body, across her belly, sticking his tongue into the hole. When he untied her waist string and spread her fly open again, as it had been before, Joyce suddenly gripped his ears and pulled him away from herself.
"You're too fast. I might go off too soon."
"That's all right," he said with a smile. "You're not supposed to fight it. Right, sis?"
"Right, Kenny," Darla replied and she moved
"Right, Kenny," Darla replied and she moved closer, her light eyes glittering with pleasure. "I'm going to do my share, Kenny, whether you like it or not."
She leaned down and kissed Joyce on the lips and at that instant Jim watched his wife slip all the way back down flat. She was helpless, being attacked by the two young vultures and Jim's crotch was loving it. He had a hard-on that behaved as though it wanted to remove his bathing trunks so it could come out into the light.
Darla was kissing Joyce's nipples now and Ken was slipping his hand back inside her pajama pants. He was worming into the blonde hairs and then he was over her box. At once he thrust a long finger and it went straight up into Joyce's cunt. She cried out and sat up for an instant before they urged her back down again.
"God! He's all the way up into my stomach! I love it!"
Ken laughed and then the finger began to pump. It thrust in and then almost all the way. In again, then away out. Jim watched his wife being stroked this way for perhaps three minutes before her climax came.
Her body stiffened, shook and then she made a bridge of her hips, thrusting them toward the ceiling while his finger rammed down, hard, deeply into her. Through it all Darla was sucking at her nipples, moving from one to the other.
Joyce was coming. He watched her cunt close over the finger and suck at it as though it were trying to pull him even more deeply into her body. She gasped, cried out and gripped her thighs until it looked as though her nails would cut them open.
She gushed and his finger at last came out shining wet with her juices. Grinning, Ken licked his finger clean and Darla leaned away from Joyce at that moment.
The two younger Englishes grinned at each other, then at Joyce and then at Jim. "Mr. Babcock, your wife seems to be fully recovered. She's all woman."