Chapter 7
The first word out of the teenager's mouth was rather predictable. "Mother!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes wide with genuine disbelief. He stood there, frozen and unmoving, staring down at the naked bodies of Amy Witney and his mother.
"Get out of here!" the woman exclaimed, trying to pull the covers up around her and finding it no easy task, for Chuck was able to see the very parts of her body she was trying so desperately to conceal.
"Lock the door, Chuck. Your mother and I were just discussing you," Amy said in a cool and even voice, flashing a warning at Joan, as if to say, Open your mouth and I'll tell him more than you'd ever want to know.
Chuck was trembling, but his insatiable and adolescent sexual appetites took control of him. With numb and tingling fingers he shut the door behind him, locking it slowly and methodically, almost as if he was afraid to look back and confront the twin naked visions of his mother and Amy Witney.
That he was turned on, as well as surprised, could not be denied. Amy, intent upon gaining sexual control over the entire Clayton family, had already thought up some un-likely combinations and now she was anxious to prove her general thesis, that incest was far less of a taboo than most people thought and that sex between consenting blood relations need not be shrouded with an aura of perversion and abnormality.
On the contrary, for she had seen the way the boy had stared at his mother, a look that had told her everything she'd wanted to know. Now, just imagining, picturing what the three of them-not to mention the addition of Blake and even Cindy to the menage-could do in bed together got her hot and bothered and fired up in no time at all.
Joan held her tongue, as frightened of having her lesbian tendencies revealed to her son as she was of Chuck himself. That she and Amy had been naked in bed together left little if anything to the imagination and now, perhaps the only way to convince the boy that she was "normal," was to prove to him that she was capable of being just as aroused by men as she was by women.
By this time the color had drained from her cheeks and she lowered her eyes, unable to look up at her son, unable to see the slowly rising and distended bulge visible now behind the front of his tight-fitting faded blue jeans.
"I ... I don't understand, Amy," he whispered, dry-mouthed, beside himself with a mixture of sexual excitement and rampant confusion.
"There's nothing to understand, Chuck. My goodness, isn't it obvious to you that we were waiting here in bed for you to come up to my room. I just know you like the back of my hand and I knew you'd take advantage of your father's absence to be alone with me," she said, covering for Joan and putting the woman slowly at her ease.
"Then ... then why did you tell me to get out, mom?" he whispered, still not sure, not certain of what he had seen a moment before.
"I ... I was still a little uncertain if it was the right thing to do," Joan stammered. But when the boy smiled and nodded his head, filled now with trust and total belief, she smiled too in relief and found herself catching sight of the outline of his rigid and swollen member.
The image of Chuck and Amy fucking in bed together flashed across her mind and she knew he wouldn't be disappointing in the meat and potatoes department. But the very notion of having her cunt filled with her teenage son's thick and sturdy young dong was still something she found virtually impossible to conceive of as actually happening.
But Amy was intent upon getting her way, as per the usual.
The fact that she hadn't failed so far only impressed the challenge upon her and now she beckoned Chuck even closer, flaunting her lush nude body before his wide and staring eyes. "You certainly can't expect to have a good time with us if you persist in staying in those clothes of yours, Chuck," she told him with a laugh, anxious to get started, knowing how arousing it would be to watch the boy cramming his pecker right inside his mother's hot and dripping cooze.
Chuck was thinking exactly that. The fact that it was his mother somehow had no bearing on the situation. If anything, Amy had taught him that sex was the one thing in the world never to take for granted, to get as much of it as he could and from as many people as possible, sharing the skills she had taught him and sharing his firm and athletic body as well.
So now, he no longer hesitated.
Joan was silent, unable to say anything, glad that Amy had gotten her off the hook, but just as apprehensive as she had been when the boy had entered the room. Nevertheless, she found herself unable to resist watching him as he hurriedly skinned off his clothes, rushing to undress and join them on the bed.
And as he stripped down to his birthday suit, Amy threw aside the blankets and pushed Joan onto her back. "Take a good look at your mother's cunt, Chuck. I know how hot she is for your cock, but I think she'd really appreciate having your tongue inside her pussy first, more than anything else," Amy announced with a smug and self-satisfied little grin.
Chuck blushed, but that didn't mean that he hadn't listened to every word she had said. He dropped his jeans without feeling any self-consciousness and then his briefs came off with a snap of elastic so that his mother was able to see what she'd caught glimpses of several nights before.
His hard-on rose straight along his stomach, leaking pre-come and quivering with excitement. Amy pulled Joan's thighs apart and before the woman could say or do another thing, Chuck was bounding onto the bed, kneeling down right between his mother's legs.
He gave a frenzied groan of excitement, ignored the worried look in his mother's eyes and pressed his flushed and eager face down, right against her snatch. The instant his tongue thrust forward to lash across her muff, Joan trembled violently and cried out. But it was a cry of pleasure and not of panic or pain.
The boy was maddened with excitement, having seen his mother naked once or twice before, when he'd spied on her outside the bathroom. And now, he was able to put everything Amy had taught him to good use, and immediately, at that.
His tongue thrust out hotly and he slurped up and down, tasting the thick oily droplets of cunt juice which sluiced down the shuddering walls of Joan's box. She trembled, moaning with pleasure, not believing what her son was doing, but not wanting him to stop doing it, either.
That, needless to say, was not about to happen.
The heavy and pervasive odor of her muff made his nostrils flare and he drank her sap as greedily as he inhaled the spicy perfume of her box. His fingers grabbed hold of the twin outer lips, lips he saw as being much thicker and plumper than those bordering the opening into Amy Witney's pussy.
His mother's meaty trench entranced him and he dug his tongue deeper inside, hitting against her swollen and pulpy clitoris, refusing to let go of it as he held it tightly between his juice-smeared lips. The friction of his mouth, his lips and the edges of his front teeth, all combined to send a fresh hot gush of sap drooling down her fluttering vaginal walls.
Beside herself with pleasure, pleasure that only mounted with each successive stabbing pistoning motion of the teenager's long and agile tongue, Joan Clayton gave in to the needs of her hot-blooded body, unable to deny the ecstasy she was well on her way to experiencing.
Her eyes were shut and so she failed to see the way Amy now swung around on the bed, not about to remain a passive witness to these torrid incestuous rites. She had her eyes on the root of pleasure and now she wiggled down on the bed, perpendicular to Chuck's kneeling body.
He saw her approaching him and made room for her, knowing what she would do seconds before she reached out with one hand and grabbed hold of his meat. She pulled it down towards her gaping mouth and he panted loudly, feeling her gluing her thick sensual lips around the leaking head of his penis.
Unable to speak, he could only respond by lapping away more frantically than ever, slurping in and out of his mother's hot and itching muff. And as he licked and sucked her juices down, Amy was stuffing more and more of the boy's pecker right between her tightly fastened lips.
She was absolutely delighted with the way things were progressing and she worked on Chuck's cock with gusto and excitement, thrusting her mouth down over inch after thick hot inch of his meaty prong, stuffing it right up inside of her mouth.
His excitement, so young and overheated, communicated itself to all of them. For Joan, it was a moment of mindless pleasure and she flowed with it, ignoring the fact that she was Chuck's mother, that her teenage son was now hunched down between her legs, sucking avidly and skillfully on her cunt.
He smeared his lips with her murky juices, nuzzled her wiry reddish-brown pubes and growled with excitement, hissing under his breath. His tongue nipped along the pulpy inflamed walls of her vulva and his pleasure was boundless.
And between Chuck's legs was Amy, now able to take in the entire length of the boy's dong. She smacked her lips and felt the bulbous cock head bending her tonsils back, hitting the back of her throat as well.
Then, pulling in her cheeks and creating additional suction, she used her tongue like a paddle, licking up and down his throbbing shaft. He moaned louder then, trembling as he felt her mouth enveloping his dick. Her tongue seemed to be everywhere at once and then she pulled back and began licking his cock as if she was sucking on an ice cream cone.
Her tongue skidded all the way down after circling his glans, farther still until she was slurping over his balls and making him moan and pant with incredible delight.
She tongued each stone-like testicle, his firm rounded nuts crinkled with fur, a tight sac that swayed gently as his head bobbed up and down between his mother's thrashing and shuddering thighs. Amy was groaning now as loudly as they were and what she wanted to see, what she knew would really turn her on, was to watch mother and son fucking, balling together and going at it hot and heavy.
She hardly had to verbalize her thoughts or suggest that they start balling. Chuck couldn't take much more. He didn't want to come, didn't want to shoot his load down Amy's throat. Rather, he could think of one thing and one thing only, ramming his dong all the way down his mother's hot and fleshy muff, there to savor the indescribably delicious warmth of her pussy.
Her cunt was so hot it could have melted butter and it was so wet and syrupy that it almost seemed as if she had stuffed a stick of butter down her cooze moments before he'd entered the room. So instead of asking permission, words being more difficult to master than the acts themselves, Chuck finally pulled his tongue back and reared up between his mother's legs.
There was no need to stuff a pillow underneath her ass. Her pussy was meaty enough, perfectly aligned so that he would have no trouble at all making contact, inserting and then penetrating her to the best of his abilities, to the length of his dick in fact.
And this, needless to say, was precisely what the horny young man now commenced doing. Without saying anything he took hold of his poker. Amy stared hotly, all eyes to his lurid incestuous display. Just watching the two of them, the close proximity of their naked bodies, the way Joan's eyes were stuck open, glazed over, reddened and staring, delighted her to no end.
As for Chuck, he was trembling as if he had a fever, clutching his straining boner with one hand and pressing his palm down right next to his mother's side to support his weight. With bent knees and trembling dick he surged forward, thrusting down with his weight centered at his hips.
An uncanny and inhuman sound escaped his mother's lips. She gurgled as if in terror and then slumped back on the bed, panting loudly as she felt and watched the way her son had managed to wedge the head of his leaking tool right inside her meaty vulva.
"Oh mom, mom it's so hot, so wet mom, I can't help it, can't stop," he stuttered, hammering down and giving it everything he had.
Joan was too far gone; she made no move to stop him, much to Amy Witney's delight, if not her relief. But she hadn't thought Joan would cop out this far into the game. That was one way she saw it, a delicious little forbidden sexual game, a romp between and upon the sheets, mother and son fornicating like beasts in the field.
Chuck was bestial at the moment, driven wild by the thought of fucking his mother, by the fact that her plump and meaty box was more developed, lusher than Amy's. Not nearly as tight, it still afforded sufficient friction as he thrust agilely forward and half the length of his rigid staff slid right down into place, down into the wet undulating depths of her muff.
"Oh baby, baby don't, don't," she whispered, but her words only made him move all the more eagerly, pushing forward, not content until he had completely and irrevocably succeeded.
This he managed to do within another minute. He wiggled hotly and probed the creases and dripping wet folds of her vaginal sheath, digging down into place, not stopping until he had buried himself to the root. Completely ensheathed in the hot shuddering depths of her vagina, he let go and lay upon her, pressing his flushed and eager face between her heavy jugs.
His tongue lapped against her cleavage and then using both of his hands, he pressed her heavy tits together and began to kiss them with boyish passion and enthusiasm. And all this time his cock was throbbing and hidden from sight, deep within her rippling trench.
That she was liking it could not be denied. Joan hardly believed this was all happening, but there was no way to refute the fact that there was a pecker inside of her pussy, and that it was attached to her son's studly and athletic young body.
It filled her comfortably, not tight and burning the way Blake's cock often felt when he slammed it into her. Amy sat on her haunches and watched, smiling to herself, loving the way mother and son were joined together, coupled at their roots, their searing genitals.
The contrast between middle-aged Joan and teenage Chuck also was a delightful one, inspiring her to begin instructing the boy, telling him to brace himself with his hands outstretched, palms flat on the bed, legs extended back as well so that she had no difficulty seeing the way he was plowing in and out of his mother's cooze.
This he did as well, afraid to look Joan in the eye. He slid his dick back to the head and then crammed it forward again, stuffing it down into place. Suddenly, her hands flailed out in the air and she gripped him right below his armpits, holding on as if for dear life.
Her body took on a fresh glow of sexual ardor and she panted, clinging to her son as he now began to ball her in earnest. He stroked feverishly, eagerly, ramming down as hard and as fast as he could. Each fresh pistoning stroke, each forward bucking motion of his lunging body sent chills up and down her spine.
"Yes, that's it, oh good, more, again my darling. Oh it's so good, I can't believe it's so good you're going to make me come, you will, you'll make me come!" Joan squealed, giving in to her baser instincts.
She gave in to her body as well, to the needs of her voluptuous and womanly self. And as they moved as one, each downward stroke accompanied by an upward thrust from Joan, Amy now moved around and got behind the teenager's body.
She had lots of choices, enjoining Chuck to go a little slower, to take his time. Then, gripping his tight dimpled buns she pulled them gently apart, staring at the pink folds and puckers of his virginal bottom-hole.
She wanted to tickle his prostate and made no bones about it, not even taking her time to fully lubricate his bum furrow. Rather, she licked circles around his clenching hole, the folds contracting each time he thrust down and rammed his pecker inside of his mother's hole.
Chuck felt her warm breath on his asshole and he trembled, the pleasure he was experiencing beyond belief, defying description. His mother's cunt was incredibly hot and wet and it seemed to squirt juice out around his prong each time he slammed it down inside of her. She held him tightly, looking down between their legs and watching the way his penis was moving in and out, his motions slower now, but no less arousing or stimulating.
Behind him, Amy licked his asshole and then held her tongue as stiffly as she could. She pulled his buns farther apart, exposing the dry red flesh of his perianus. And then her tongue crept forward, sliding into place.
He whimpered, loving the way she was rimming him, loosening and relaxing his ring of sphincter muscles so that with a minimum of effort Amy managed to immerse her tongue right inside of his tight hot rectum. And the instant she felt the nodular swelling of his prostate gland, licking against it with her slim and raspy-edged tongue, he screamed out as if she had burned him, as if she had touched off a raw nerve of searing and ecstatic pleasure.
He knew what she was doing, though he'd never experienced it before. But as her tongue moved against the swelling out of his prostate gland, his balls seemed to tingle and he panted, loving the way she had her tongue stuck right inside his shuddering rump.
If Chuck was loving what was happening, so was Amy. She wasn't that selfish that she couldn't enjoy giving someone eles pleasure, even if she wasn't being given pleasure directly in return. And so she worked on the boy's asshole with her tongue, slurping loudly, her strokes deafened by the loud squishing sounds his cock made each time he rammed it down into his moth er's trench.
As for Joan, she was almost there, unable to stop herself. She babbled incoherently and clutched her son against her, feeling the way his shaft frictioned and rubbed against her shuddering vaginal walls. Her cunt muscles went into action, milking and nipping at his prong, adding to his excitement as the two of them moved as one.
And from his asshole Amy's tongue crept finally out, only to slide down the length of his bum furrow. She slurped over his nuts, licking and fondling them with her tongue, sliding down on the bed so that her legs hung over the side and her chest was flat against the wrinkled sheets.
She had an incredibly exciting bird's-eye view of the proceedings, able to see the way his penis was fitting itself right between his mother's vaginal lips. The cunt lobes were gripping the rounded sides of his meaty shaft tightly and Joan's body bucked and undulated, heaving up against her son's sweaty torso.
His balls banged along the bottom of her pussy, right next to her hidden asshole. Amy wiggled closer, letting go of his nuts, but still keeping her tongue extended. She sucked around the swiftly moving shaft of the young man's penis and he moaned with additional pleasure, savoring the way her tongue dipped down each time he rammed his cock into his mother's pussy.
Joan too could feel Amy's tongue licking around the outer edge of her sopping wet muff. She trembled more violently and suddenly and without warning, went tumbling over the edge. Hot rivulets of musky sap drooled down and she shivered and came like a bronco, bucking up and down against her son's battering ram of a cock.
That he had succeeded in getting his mother to come delighted him to no end. He labored her cunt harder then, watching the way she moaned and trembled, her cunt burning, the muscular walls shuddering tightly around his meaty staff.
Amy dug her tongue right underneath the boy's dick, slipping it into Joan's pussy. She tasted the oily droplets of cunt juice which were now streaming down in hot profusion and she knew, even as she licked with her tongue, that she couldn't waste much more time.
Chuck was almost there. Even as Joan screamed and threw herself up towards his heaving body, the teenager was on the verge of getting off as well. Amy's tongue only intensified his pleasure, but she finally and rather abruptly slid it back and squirmed out from between his muscular thighs.
Quick as a wink she got back on the bed and moved around, hurrying to sit on Joan's face, to squat there with her cunt pressed right over the woman's wide and gaping mouth, soundless screams now emerging from the very depths of her being.
She caught sight of Amy moving around, but made no attempt to stop her. After all, she had proven something to Chuck, if not herself, for there was no way to deny the excitement she was still feeling, her release joyous and intensified by the way the boy was skillfully wielding his penis and giving her maximum pleasure by its expert use.
"Oh soon, mom soon," he panted, lashing in and out, the bedsprings creaking rhythmically in time to his heated and surging cock strokes.
And then he saw Amy moving around, pushing her cunt right over his mother's face. The sight drove him wild and when Joan made no bones about wanting to dig her tongue right inside and sample the accumulation of syrupy juices which flooded Amy's pulpy vulva, Chuck cried out with excitement and began to move like he was obsessed, crazed by the very sight of the two women making it together.
"Do it, eat her, lick her cunt, lap it up," he moaned, all eyes as Amy wiggled and corkscrewed her hips from side to side.
She thrust down, obscuring Joan's view. Joan asked for nothing other than a chance to work her magic, her tongue sliding right inside Amy's box. Amy held her cunt lips wide apart, allowing both mother and son to feast their eyes on her lush and throbbing box. And then she began to quiver as her clit was strummed by the tip of Joan Clayton's tongue.
"Do it, more. Oh yes, make me come, too," she wailed, shaking with delight. She turned her head up and watched the way Chuck was searing his mother's cooze with one hot stroke of his joystick after another, never stopping to catch his breath.
He crammed his pecker in and out, panting, about to get off. But he couldn't pull his eyes away from what Joan was doing, the way she was wiggling her tongue in and out, spearing it down into the wet and overheated depths of Amy Witney's muff.
It was a scene out of a book he used to jerk off with it and that he was now seeing it happening in real life made his eyes bug out with astonishment and lust. He couldn't hold back any longer. His cock seemed to burn inside of his mother's heaving throbbing hole and his balls swayed back and forth between his thighs.
"Oh yes, oh now, now it's happening. Oh mom feel it. Oh shit, now!" he screamed out, heaving forward and failing against her. He stuffed his mouth with one hot nipple, nipping at it with the edges of his front teeth while his other hand pawed his mother's other heaving and melon-shaped gourd.
And then his semen rushed out of the head of his burning tool, a thick spurt of viscous slippery come which splashed against her burning cunt walls. She could feel his cock ejaculating, his wiry pubes tangling and matted with her own copious cunt fur.
Unable to speak, her mouth filled with Amy's burning twat, a twat that was about to spill its own brand of come down her throat, she could only signal her delight by working her vaginal muscles, frenziedly nipping them and squeezing the very life out of her son's poker.
More and more cream gushed out and he was shuddering, convulsing on top of her, his body shivering and stiffening as his muscles went through one palsied contraction after another. And all this time his penis was sending out bolts of gism, hot wads of come which poured like froth down into his mother's quivering trench.
Drained and exhausted by his vigorous workout, he fell against her, still sucking on her nipple like a baby suckling at his mother's breast. That he had done too, but many years before. Now, he still kept his eyes open, for Amy was almost there, about to join them in their threeway and tumultuous release.
"Do it, eat me, eat me you bitch!" she squealed as Joan wrapped her tongue around her clit, squeezing it tightly and hotly, lapping up the warm sudsy juices which rippled down the walls of Amy's succulent and hot young box.
Finally, a minute or two later, Amy went tumbling over the edge. She joined mother and son in the pleasure of their heated release, squatting down on top of Joan Clayton's face. She closed her eyes and flowed with her orgasm, moving with her release and letting Joan do the work of sucking down her free-flowing juices, murky rivulets of syrup which smeared over her lips and chin and dribbled right down her chest.
Chuck licked them up as well, letting go of his mother's tits to lean forward. He bent his head down, trying to work his tongue inside of Amy's pussy. But by this time she was over the hump and she fell back against the pillows, gasping for breath.
Her pleasure had not been monumental, not nearly as stimulating or even as long-lasting as when Blake and Chuck balled her. Nevertheless, she had no complaints, having enjoyed Joan's attentions, no two ways about it.
For awhile there was no movement on the bed, no sounds other than the three of them breathing heavily. Finally, Chuck pulled his dick back until it plopped out into the open. Once again he saw how it was covered with the foamy white residue of his abundant spend. Come drooled out like white spittle from between the dilated and puffy outer flaps of flesh bordering his mother's meaty trench.
He didn't think twice about sliding down on the bed and stretching out once again between her legs. And when she felt his tongue working on her muff all over again, licking up the mixture of cunt juice and semen which now filled her twat, her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled, glancing down at her son with a look that was a mixture of motherly love and sensual delight.
He had given her pleasure, pleasure she knew she would want from him again. Even if they were of one flesh, even if they had committed what in some circles was and perhaps always will be considered the cardinal sin, she still couldn't stop thinking of the pleasure she would have with him, pleasure that her husband rarely gave her, for he was into a more violent and selfish form of sexual release, more interested in his own pleasure after all these years of marriage.
But Chuck was different, holding himself back until she had gotten off. She couldn't nor wouldn't ever forget that. Behind her, her legs touching her sweaty sides, lay Amy, panting and smiling with the remembrance of the pleasure she had received.
Her thoughts flashed from Joan and Chuck to Cindy and Blake, and then the four-no, the five of them, together, writhing in one tangled heap of shuddering arms and legs, an orgy of licentious and volcanic proportions.
This was her goal. She wasn't about to say let it happen and then I'll go onto other challenges. Far from it, for she liked her work and she liked living with the Claytons. They were giving her the kind of family life, and in more ways than conventional ones, she had not enjoyed in her youth.
Yes, she would have all of them, one by one and then all together.
Who was Cindy Clayton, anyway? After all, attention must be paid, as our famous playwright once dramatically enjoined. And since we have had ample opportunity to meet every other member of the Clayton household, why then have we withheld perhaps valuable information about their youngest child, fifteen-year-old Cindy.
No, she was not dying of an incurable disease. If anything, she was incurably our typical American teenager, her taste in clothes and music reflecting the current pop fads, her annoyance with her brother visible more times than not and her lack of communication, generational or perhaps merely the result of an Electra complex of emotional proportions, with her mother evident in the daily events of the household.
She was daddy's little girl, despite the fact that she looked like her mother and her side of the family, with the same tawny complexion and reddish-brown hair, as opposed to Blake and Chuck's darker and more latinate features.
She accepted Amy Witney's presence into the household with good-humor, relating to the recent college graduate as one would to an older sister. For what we haven't told you is that Amy had begun to have "long" talks with the girl, exchanges of confidences as it were.
Within a month after her arrival she had successfully seduced three of the Claytons, leaving Cindy the sole survivor of her sexual schemes. But not for long, as things turned out, needless to say. Amy, as you will remember, loved sex everyday and in every way, and Cindy was not going to remain a statistical but noticeable exception too much longer.
What Amy had learned was basically the existence of Cindy's infatuation for her father, an infatuation that was perhaps rather normal, though one that figured prominently in her daily life. She judged her dates and boy friends by whether or not they were like Blake and there existed an unconscious rivalry for him between her and her mother.
What she didn't know was that Blake had long fantasized, or at least as long as Cindy had reached pubetry and had begun the transformation from caterpillar child to butterfly beauty, having sex with the girl. This sense of incestuous desire, realized fully by Blake and only imagined on a subconscious level by his daughter, intrigued Amy considerably.
It had been one thing to match up mother and son, even though neither Joan nor her son had ever seriously entertained incestuous fantasies about each other-though Chuck sometimes wondered what it would be like to ball his sister. But it was a horse of an entirely different color in terms of Blake and Cindy.
Nevertheless, Amy accepted the challenge.
It gave her a great sense of accomplishment, as well as erotic excitement, just dreaming up ways to get the two of them together, knowing that she would ultimately succeed, ultimately witness the two of them having sex together.
Just picturing what it would be like, Blake's incredible delight, the way he would stuff his cock down into his daughter's pussy like a battering ram, made her cunt get wet with expectation. And when Cindy told her that she was no longer a virgin, that she had allowed one of her former steady boy friends to take her cherry, Amy knew that half the work had already been done for her, and for Blake as well.
She began to bring up the theme of incest each time she spoke to the teenager, changing Cindy's views on the subject from initial feelings of disgust and abhorrence to a growing sense of curiosity. Afraid to tell her what had taken place between Joan and Chuck-at least for the time being-Amy resorted to drawing graphic word-pictures, turning Cindy on by degrees with her torrid descriptions of incestuous affairs between fathers and daughters, affairs that gave each partner more pleasure than either of them would have ever dared to dream possible.
As for Blake, the same went for him.
Now that he and Amy made no bones about enjoying each other's bodies each and everyday, she was able to play with his head, to get him out of his shell so that he began to talk about himself. And when she struck up the familiar chord concerning Cindy, a week went by before he was willing to admit the true state of his feelings.
She told him that she had spoken to Cindy, under the most innocent and unpremeditated and unrehearsed guises of course, and that the girl felt very much the same way her father did. And when she finally revealed the menage a trois that had taken place between her, Chuck and Joan, Blake's initial gasp of horror was almost immediately replaced by an animalistic and wolfish look of cunning and secret delight.
Whatever she was doing to the family, no one was about to call it destructive, nor did she even think of it in those terms herself. She saw herself as a missionary of sexual freedom, bringing an air of enlightenment to the Clayton household. And so it was that she was the guiding force, the matchmaker for want of a better description, behind the scenes, behind the eventual and perhaps-at least in her estimation-long overdue tryst between her boss and his curvaceous and inquisitive teenage daughter.
It was all planned in advance, though neither participant-except Amy of course-knew what was going to take place one evening when Chuck and Joan were not at home, the boy at a movie with his friends, Joan attending a lecture at a nearby college.
That left Cindy, Blake and Amy alone in the house.
And Amy knew that the time was right and ripe and that her head would not hit the pillow that night until she had witnessed the lusty fruition of her long-planned and feverish sexual schemes.