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The boyfriend's dad fucking me - sex story


The boyfriend's dad fucking me



Tamera West slouched in an easy chair, watching an old Tarzan repeat on the television and eating an apple. Her thoughts weren't on the screen, but on her date for that night, Eddie McDonald, a big, handsome boy, with craggy features like James Colburn -- only younger, of course, Eddie was going to be a senior when school started again, (but sadly, he was going to be bussed to another district. Still, there was the rest of the summer to see him, and who could tell what would happen by September?) She'd only been out with him once, last Saturday night, on a blind date arranged by her best friend, Nancy Cannon, whose steady boyfriend Jason, had brought Eddie along. And wow!

Tamera stretched out and yawned, running her fingers feline-like through her long silken blonde hair, blissfully thinking of his strong, muscular arms and how they'd held her in the backseat of Jason's old car, of how he'd kissed her so hard her toes had curled, of how he'd tried to put his hand on her breasts, under her sweater, and of how, when she hadn't allowed him to, he'd attempted to slide his hand up her naked thigh and under her skirt.

It made her quiver all over again with excitement, strange awakening tinglings of budding womanhood pervading her belly, breasts, and vagina. Eddie made her feel so alive, so much like a woman, even though she was only fifteen. Or -- was it him, her mind cautioned, or just her own chemistry changing as she matured. Was it time, she asked herself, like her girlfriend Nancy had told her once? One day you're a child, and the next you're ready for sex and everything. She didn't know, but she figured that the important thing was having the feeling of being alive and generating a tingling heat every time she thought about it and Eddie.

She moved her legs so that they were straight out in front of her, arching slightly, and then she stiffened her back and yawned. In only one more hour...

She was a beautiful young girl, much like her mother, with an upturned, freckle-splattered nose and cheeks like spots from a paint brush, and her ice-blue eyes were more cat-like and devilish than distant, as many blue eyes can be. Her ripely budding young breasts were two small firm cylinders, tapering from their swollen moorings to cherry-nippled crests, and they bobbed invitingly as she moved in the chair, for she wore nothing more than a thin bra and sheer, almost see-through panties. The day had been so hot, and she had been too comfortable to worry about dressing for her date until the cool of the evening. The way she sat now, her eyes were drawn to the thin white nylon of her panties, and the way they creased in the thin visibly dividing slit of her vaginal lips. She liked looking at it, studying the soft, pink curves and silky blonde strands of pubic hair that curled out from around the elastic legbands; she liked looking at it through her panties almost as much as she liked seeing it naked. For the last few months she had liked looking at her sensually awakening young cunt, almost as much as she had enjoyed touching it.

She had learned the delightful way her fingers could arouse her, make her thrash and oscillate with delicious sensations. She had learned to finger herself from Nancy -- which was one reason that they were friends. She'd walked into Nancy's bedroom one night when she'd been sleeping overnight there, not wearing even so much as she was now, for she'd been taking a shower; her nakedness had never given her a second thought. After all, they were both girls, and they'd seen each other in the flesh in the school locker room before, so why should it be different here? It proved to be very different.

Nancy had been lying on her bed, her back against the headboard, and her hand was between her legs rubbing her dark, thinly curled pubic triangle as fast as she could. Her eyes had been shut, and she'd been moaning. Thinking she was in pain, Tamera had run over to her and asked what was the matter. Nancy had told her to put the towel on the bed and lie down upon it beside her; and then, after the innocent Tamera had done so, Nancy leaned forward and told her to spread her legs...

The thought of Nancy's cool fingers on her sensitive little pubic lips made Tamera blush even now, for she knew instinctively that what they had done was wrong, though such things were never discussed in her sex classes.

But, after a few moments, Tamera hadn't wanted the strange scintillating feelings she'd been introduced to by Nancy to stop. Nancy and she had gotten together a lot after that, and Tamera alone often fondled the soft little cuntal valley between her legs. Not that she'd ever allowed the boys who dated her to finger her... never.

She was determined to be married a virgin like her mother had, and anything past necking and fondling her breasts -- and that only after quite a few dates... was strictly off limits. There'd been times after a drive-in movie or a hot party or like last week with Eddie, when she'd cried her frustrations into her pillow, for she'd been aroused hotter than ever before. And then she'd had to use her fingers again for relief. She kept telling herself that in a few weeks a particular boy would no longer be important, and she would grow fond of another, and she couldn't give in her virginity for one that wouldn't last forever. She wasn't ready to settle down, to truly fall in love -- and so far she'd been right.

Of course, no boy had come along like Eddie before. Tamera knew instinctively that she'd have an awfully hard time keeping her moral resolutions intact with a "wow" guy like him.

There was a noise then, interrupting her train of thoughts, and Tamera looked up as the front door opened and her mother entered. Carla West, thirty-five years old and widowed, staggered into the living room with a pile of grocery sacks. She was dressed in a light blouse and shorts, the long expanse of her tanned legs provocative against the white of the cloth. Her hair was askew, however, and perspiration beaded her face, and it was obvious that she was tired from the shopping she'd done. Still, there was a fresh, young beauty about her in spite of the fact she had a teenaged daughter; firm taut breasts, trim flat stomach without the slightest stretch mark to interrupt the silken smoothness of her skin, and the same kind of pouty, sensual face as Tamera's.

"There's another bundle in the car," Carla said. "I'd ask you to get it, but I can see you're not dressed." She eyed her daughter's bare sun-browned body with disapproval.

"Aw, Mom," Tamera objected. "I was just resting like this."

"Resting to do what? Strip-tease for the neighbors?"

"I've got more on now than when I'm wearing my bikini, for crying out loud."

"Listen, honey," her mother retorted waspishly. "I don't care if you run around the house completely naked. In fact you have a lovely body and it's enjoyable to see, compared to most girl's figures. But a bikini is one thing, see-through panties and bra are another -- and especially when the curtains are open and everybody passing can see you."

"Oh," Tamera said. "I forgot."

"Uh-huh." Carla sighed, exhausted and too uncomfortable to continue arguing, and sat down on the sofa to the right of her daughter. "What a mess at Goodermann's today. You'd think it was the Fourth of July or something. I'm bushed."

"I'll get dressed," Tamera offered, "and get the other sack of groceries for you."

"No, no," Carla replied wearily. "No need. I'll get a second wind in a little bit."

"I have to get dressed anyway," Tamera said, rising out of her chair. "I mean, it's almost time for Eddie to get here."

"Eddie? Oh, yes, Eddie, the boy you were with last week. You're going out with him again tonight?"

"The four of us. Jason -- that's Nancy's boy-friend -- doesn't have his car running, so we're all using Eddie's. Last week Eddie's was broken."

"Where were you today?"

"At the park. Me and Nancy, we swam in the pool there. But it was awful crowded, you know? And it sort of smelled from everybody." She wrinkled her nose with disgust. "It wasn't very nice."

"I worry about you," her mother started to complain. "Out all day, gone most of the nights... I don't know what to do at times."

"Don't worry, Mom. I'm a big girl now."

"You're the only one left now, the only one. Some women who've lost their husbands don't try to be both parents to their children, never care where they are or who they're with, but I do."

"You want me to put away the groceries, then?" Tamera asked, knowing what happened when her mother got wound up on the maudlin subject of just-the-two-of-them.

"I've got so many troubles, I don't even sleep any more."

"Sure you do," Tamera said. "Don't take so many pills, that's all. They're not good for you." She didn't mention the pints of brandy that her mother kept by her bedside. "But honest, Mom, you've got nothing to worry about."

Nothing a good man wouldn't cure, Tamera thought. Her mother was a very lovely woman, with a good figure and svelte, smoothly tapered legs, and she should have somebody to replace the father and husband which had been missing for six years now. It wasn't right that her mother should deny herself the love and passion of a man, not right at all -- but Tamera knew better than to bring up that subject. The few times she had in the past, her head had been chopped off, for her mother considered such talk sinful. Her mother was definitely a product of her mother's Victorian generation.

"Well, if you must leave me alone, you must." Carla sighed. "You know that I'm tired and need you to help me."

"I'll be in early, Mother, and help tomorrow. You'll be all right this evening, won't you?" Sure she will, Tamera thought. Nothing the matter with her except neglect. That's why all the aches and pains; she's looking for sympathy and interest -- why, the doctor as much told me that when I saw him last. Neglect and disuse, that's all the matter with her, neglect of mind and body. Why couldn't she break down her old-fashioned ways and be the real woman that she is underneath those imaginary black ankle-length skirts and whale-bone corsets...

"Oh, I realize I'm only being a selfish old lady," Carla said, smiling. "It's your time to be out and find your man. I've had my love, now better luck with yours."

"You haven't finished loving, Mother," Tamera said sharply. "You're only thirty-five, and a beautiful thirty-five at that!"

"I know. I have you, dearest child."

"That's not what I meant! I -- Ohhh, what's the use." Tamera turned and started across the room. "I have to get dressed now, Mom."

Carla looked at her beautiful offspring tenderly as the almost naked Tamera padded barefoot into the hallway. She was slightly disturbed at her child, because Tamera had almost spoken -- and was no doubt thinking -- what she herself hadn't dared to think at her young age. But she couldn't stay mad or upset for long, and she felt herself warming with love and affection at the radiant, tanned body, the cornsilk hair fanning out behind her head, the way her conical young breasts beat with the rhythm of her heart, solid and not as large as her own, but then not fully developed, either. And Carla had to admire with pride her daughter's smooth flat belly and cute navel and the gentle sloping to her thighs, where she knew there was a down of softly curling pubic hair slightly thinner than her own -- at the moment covered by merely a wisp of sheer nylon -- and the pink petals of her still untouched young vagina. Her tight, almost boyish buttocks swayed gently as she walked toward her bedroom, and her feet, small, with delicate toes...

Still, she couldn't help fearing that Tamera was perhaps emerging into maturity faster than she should, and that she wasn't experiencing the joys of childhood. Was Tamera growing up too fast? And then Carla laughed wryly, realizing that she was being foolish. She was overprotective, desperately clutching her child to her bosom because that was all that was left. No husband, not since Arnold died, and there wouldn't be another -- not so long as the memory of her one true love was still fresh and poignant in her mind. Six years... but the telegram from the Army saying he'd been killed in a munitions accident could have arrived yesterday for all the dulling effects of time. No, Tamera was of this generation, a world faster than her own. There was no cause to worry... Tamera might not be the mental innocent that she had been at fifteen -- but she was still as physically pure, that Carla was sure of.

With another long-drawn sigh, Carla West lifted herself out of her chair and began taking the groceries into the kitchen. They weren't going to put themselves away, that was for sure...

Tamera had showered when she'd returned from the park, so her dressing consisted merely of putting on whatever outfit she chose to wear that evening. She stopped before the mirror in her bedroom, gazing with satisfaction at the voluptuously curved body her attractive mother and father had given her, and again studied the way her panties outlined her slightly puffy little cuntal mound. She tugged the panties up with her fingers until the smooth round cheeks of her buttocks and the thin divide of her vaginal slit were tightly impressed into the soft nylon and she giggled with secret delight. Then she slipped into a mini-skirted jumper, the top of which covered her breasts but still gave the impression that she was naked underneath. A summer dress, befitting the heat -- and good for getting a boy like Eddie all hot and bothered. But she'd handle him, she thought to herself as she smoothed out the thin, light yellow material, and she'd stop his crude passes tonight, just as she had last week, but she was going to have loads of fun getting up to that point...

She began to comb her softly waving hair, and again she looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the way the mini-skirt clung to her buttocks and was more than half way up her tanned thighs, with slight creases in front where her legs joined her hips. With sudden awareness, she realized that she could almost see the lips of her vagina -- was the jumper too daring for tonight? A forbidden thrill raced through her. Well, she'd soon know!

There was a sudden, shrill blast of a born, and the "rumm-rumm!" of a car engine being revved. Eddie was here! Early at that!

She shoved her feet into a pair of scuffed loafers and ran out of her room. "Mom!" she called, "I'm going now!"

"Aren't you going to give your mother a kiss?" Carla said from the kitchen.

"Sure," Tamera said, and hurried into the kitchen to peck her mother on the cheek. "Now, take care," she said.

"You take care, darling," Carla admonished.

"I will, and I'll be home early, like I said."

"Scat, before I change my mind," her mother said smiling.

Tamera was gone quick as a wink, her exit a slammed front door and the squeal of tires on the pavement as Eddie's car roared down the otherwise quiet residential street.

Carla West went to their own car, a beat-up old station wagon, and took the last sack of groceries into the house and began putting the groceries away. She stared morosely at the stuff she'd bought. The silence of the house oppressed her for it's emptiness. It was always thus when Tamera wasn't home with her, and with the remembrances of Arnold and his death, the house seemed to be like a tomb to her, still as death and just as vacant.

She went into her own bedroom then, wanting to take a cooling bath and wondering if it would be worth the trouble afterwards to prepare the special steak she'd bought for Tamera and herself -- before she'd known that her daughter wouldn't be home to share it. A tear welled in one eye and she blinked it away rapidly as she slipped out of her shorts and blouse, putting them in the clothes hamper on her way into the bathroom. She placed the stopper in the tub and ran water in it -- lukewarm the way she liked it on muggy summer days such as this one -- and as she waited for the water to fill up, she looked down at herself in a critically detached way, as a woman does when seeing how age has affected her.

Yet her mind still dwelt on her child. She was thinking how Tamera would one day make a good wife for a man, and that no matter how lonely and sad she felt when her daughter left, it was selfish not to allow her to be with boys her own age. When the right man came along, Carla was certain that Tamera would give herself in marital relations totally and completely, just as she herself had done with Arnold. As I may yet do again...

The thought of her own secret sexual desires made Carla blush with shame, but as she gazed down at her own naked body, she had to admit that she still had much to offer a man. I've a good shape... and if I'm lucky I'll be able to please another man with the same intensity and passion as I offered Arnold. Until then, I'll hold myself in reserve, just as if I were a virgin again...

Her flaxen blonde hair was longer than her daughter's and she experimentally let it fall down over her shoulders and curl provocatively around the ruby nipples of her cream-white breasts. God, I still look very brazen and sensual that way... then shame-faced at her thoughts, she swept her hair back up again and raised her arms over her head, stretching her breasts and loins taut, in a classic nude pose. She stood that way for a long moment, letting her eyes scan the lovely smooth flesh of her torso, having to admire in honest appraisal the flat surface of her abdomen and the tiny dimple of her navel, then the soft fluffy hair of her pubic triangle, golden and very fine. She could see the pink lips of her vagina and the tip of her clitoris peeking shyly out from the soft puffy slit of her cunt in almost childlike innocence. Pirouetting lightly, she examined the dimpled roundness of her smoothly curving buttocks and the rippling muscles in the back of her slim, tapered thighs.

Self-consciously, she wrenched her prurient thoughts away from her physical being and turned off the tap water. The tub was full now, and she stepped into it, feeling the soothing tepidness of the water banish the fetid heat of the day. She slowly sank down, relaxing, nearly contented at last as she lay with her head touching the rear lip of the porcelain. As usual in moments of relaxation, she thought about Arnold.

Arnold had been a rangy man, lean, hard-muscled and tan, alive and virile every moment Carla had known him, and the love the two had shared had had the intensity of a forest fire. She hadn't cared that he'd been an underpaid salesman, unable to afford the finest of luxuries for her, or even that they'd had to scrimp and save for some of the necessities. She was proud of him, feasting in his sensuality and his animal eyes, his hands, his mouth, his penis... Why did he have to be called up? Why did the Army have to have one of their silly little alerts and make all of the Reserves come running, and then... Carla stifled a small sob, thinking of what must have happened when the munitions explosion had taken her husband from her forever. No more Arnold, no more hands or mouth or eyes or that wonderful iron-hard, life-giving penis...

She fondly remembered the last night they'd made love, when in their innocence they'd thought it was only going to be a parting of a few days or weeks -- and even then the pain had been acute. Arnold had been naked, as she had been, and he straddled her thighs on the same bed that was now only a few feet on the other side of the door. He'd kissed her as his excitedly erect cock rubbed against her quivering, wetly aching pussy... She'd spread her legs for him, her desire building...

Carla lay in the water, shocked at her thoughts -- and yet, she couldn't help shutting her eyes and dreaming of his virile, hard penis. Holding her breath, she felt a strange series of small involuntary sensations of arousal churning through her loins as she allowed the lewd images to filter hazily through her mind.

His buttocks moved so that his penis would slide up and down in the trembling little valley of her slowly moistening cunt, and then her fingers reached out and touched it, teasing the stretched foreskin back and forth, making him groan with similar delight to the warm, pulsating sensations he was building up down between her thighs...

And it was as if Carla could feel it happening all over again. She opened her eyes and looked at her breasts and saw the nipples were turgid, jutting up from the gently floating globes of her breasts like mountain peaks on lonely Pacific atolls. A tender aching began between her legs, in spite of the revulsion she felt at what she was thinking. She moved her hand from the side of the tub, her guilt slightly assuaged by the knowledge that she was completely alone with her sinful reveries, her stomach alive with tiny fluttering shocks as exciting images poured through her body. She moved her hand because she couldn't control it and touched her breasts, the contact of her fingers intensifying the throbbing in her vagina. Her entire being quivered in the warmth of the bath water.

Arnold was once more on top of her naked body, only lower now, his breath hot in her ear, his sensuously throbbing cock just inside the warm, straining lips of her vaginal opening. She was straining harder toward him, her inner thighs and buttocks rigid as he slipped the tip of his blood-swollen penis inside her cunt, her womb dilating open wider so she could take his full length all the way, deep... deep inside her aching belly...

A wave of rising shame made Carla momentarily halt in her fantasizing, but there was no use deluding herself. She was aroused, highly aroused, and she was alone. If only Arnold was there for her to love, for she needed release badly -- desperately. It was wrong, it was sick, and yet, oh God... She continued to massage her breasts as she slowly capitulated to the physical urgency which was surging like a tidal wave of desire through her belly and loins. Only the reassuring knowledge that she was alone was left, that and the waves of her remembered embraces with Arnold that night so long ago blotted out the guilt of masturbation...

"Yes, darling... take me... take me..." Arnold's fevered whispers reverberated through the brain of the hotly writhing young woman. She could feel his nakedness upon hers once again, pressing her breasts flat and crushing the breath from her as his cock wormed forcefully up into her waiting cunt. "Milk me, darling... Ohhhhh!"

Carla arched her back, straining her hips up off the tub bottom, her stomach and the moisture-drenched curls of her pubic mound out of the water. She braced her body by pressing the soles of her feet on the sides, lifting her left leg and hooking it on the outer rim. She cupped the creamy naked globes of her breasts in her long slim fingers, kneading their hardening flesh and causing lewd whirlpools of soaring passion to seethe deep inside her belly, as her eyes drew to the now open fluted edges of her trembling cunt down between her legs. She couldn't... she mustn't...

They were moving together now, harder and faster with increasingly savage strokings and pumpings, building to an explosion of ecstasy. She felt herself grow taut, her desperately straining cunt-lips locked hotly around his lunging penis like tiny hungry lips around a lollipop.

She couldn't stand it any longer. Her right hand dropped between her wide-splayed thighs, and she squirmed her middle finger into the soft moist flesh, the generated passions so very soft, so very wonderful. She manipulated the hairline inner lips until she felt them swell with blood, and her clitoris tingled as her index finger came into searing contact with it. She gasped in total abandonment and delight as she thrashed the bath water and squeezed her breast, her hand rubbing across her sensitively aroused cunt faster and faster. Nothing existed for her in that moment except the delirious dreams of her lover, as her mind and body raced to mutual climaxes...

Arnold pumped furiously over her, his lust-hardened shaft fucking in and out demonically, and his tongue deep, deep in her mouth. Then he raised back and cried out his orgasm, the blunt cock-head of his penis raining molten jets of semen into her eagerly milking pussy, filling it in great searing spurts. She clasped his body to her, heaving her own buttocks up to meet him, not wanting to lose a drop of his precious life-giving liquid. And then... she too was cumming...

She was! Carla was there! She ground her hand in her pussy, up inside her wet, moistly pulsing channel, frothing the water around her. Her hips flailed as wave after wave of bursting release seized her like a disabled ship in a storm-tossed ocean. She stifled a cry of acute pleasure as her orgasm washed over her, making her sink back into the tub again. She lay there, not moving, her eyes tightly shut and her chest rising and falling spasmodically, as the image of her husband making love to her slowly faded away. She removed her hand from her vagina and let it drop into the water, the ever-present shame of guilt replacing her dreams...

She hung her head, ashamed. The act she'd just performed would have caused her untold anguish had she caught her daughter doing the same. What was the matter with her? Were her years of self-denial so harsh that the mere thoughts of Arnold could set her loose from sane decency? Was she so starved for sex that she had to resort to masturbation like some sex-crazed nymphomaniac? She flagellated herself for another minute with her self-abasement, and then stopped abruptly. No use torturing herself over what's already been done, she thought, can't go back and not do it now. Must be more disciplined in the future, watch my imagination and see that it doesn't run away with me as it did just now.

After another five minutes, in which she furiously scrubbed herself rosy clean, she felt better, a strange warming satisfaction overtaking her as the aftermath of her climax made her glow with overall comfort and release. She stepped out of the tub, refusing to dwell on what she'd done, only thankful that nobody had seen her, and toweled herself dry.

She walked naked into her bedroom and began searching for something light and comfortable to wear, and even considered staying nude for a moment, before the recollection of what she'd done in the tub while naked made her hastily abandon that idea. She wondered as she took out a clean pair of panties where it would lead if she continued to fondle herself into completion. In the back of her mind was the dreaded truth she didn't want to face: she wouldn't be able to deny herself much longer the needed sex she had been so long without...

CHAPTER TWO

The late afternoon traffic was thick along Main Street, as a long string of out-of-towners slowly pushed their way through in opposing streams of weary cars. Mariposa wasn't large as suburban towns went, but it was on the old "main" road between the shore and booming, metropolitan Morrison; the road was not the designated tourist route. A scenic and pleasant meander in contrast to the ferocious thru-way nearby. Most of the drivers were broiling in a stew of irritable wives and irascible children, sand pails and gritty feet, runny noses and sticky fingers, and would have given almost anything to have been on the thru-way and home that much sooner.

At one intersection, where Main met County Road, there was a large, low-framed drive-in restaurant of cedar, stone and glass. Outside was a circular parking area, with a porch extending at one point for car service. There was also a patio, with small tables and chairs and umbrellas. Tamera and Eddie, together with Nancy and Jason, were at one of these patio tables, after having spent the better part of an hour waiting for an empty space. The restaurant, Luigi's, was packed like a sardine can.

As it was, the service was still bad, but understandably so, and none of them harassed the overworked waitress even good-naturedly. They laughed and kidded, ordering hamburgers and french fries and shakes, generally having a good time.

"How about some pie?" Jason asked after the hamburgers were finished. "They've got some great lemon meringue here."

"I'd love to, but I can't." Nancy said wistfully. She patted her waistline to show the reason why. Nancy Cannon was shorted than Tamera, of Southern European heritage which showed in large flashing eyes of black crystal, ink-dark hair, and voluptuous rich-swelling breasts like melons and curving hips with softly swaying buttocks. She was wearing toreador pants accentuating her lush young figure and tight enough to be a second skin; Tamera had been a little unnerved when she'd seen Nancy get out of the car at the restaurant, for the pants were so crotch-tight that the contours of her thin young pussy-lips and mound were creased in a vertical line, obvious to all.

"Aw, go ahead, Nancy," Jason urged.

"I'll share it with you," Tamera offered.

"Yeah, this is all baby fat," Eddie said, grinning, and reached over to squeeze Nancy's shoulder. "A couple of years it'll go away and you'll miss the pie you never ate."

"I should live so long," Nancy said ruefully. "You seen my mother?" A rhetorical question; they all had, and Mrs. Cannon was built along the lines of a beach ball.

"Naw, I'm not fooling you, Nancy. Here, this was me a few years ago." Eddie took out his battered leather bill fold and opened it to a picture of a boy, the picture half obscured behind a foggy plastic window. "That was me, I swear."

The handsome, muscular boy who sat next to Tamera had not been as bad as Nancy's mother, but close. He had triple chins and was standing self-consciously holding up his pants, which were obviously let out in the seams to accommodate all of his fat.

"Hey, you were cute, Eddie," Nancy giggled, taking the photo from Tamera. "Lover boy, all right."

"Yeah, well it all sort of dropped away when I started growing."

"And how much more growing do you think Nancy needs?" Jason asked with a smirk. "She grows any more, and Sophia Loren will be replaced for God's sake. I mean, look at her jugs, man."

"Jason!" Nancy said in mock shock, and then she giggled again.

"You've got a point there," Eddie said. "Or two."

"So what did you two cats have in mind for us tonight?" Tamera asked, wanting to steer the subject away from lewdness.

"How about a motel?" Jason answered, snickering.

"That's subtle," Tamera said. "No thanks."

"A motel," Nancy said, and giggled, nudging her boyfriend in the ribs. "You've got your nerve."

Tamera wondered for a moment just how much nerve Jason had -- or needed. He was loose-limbed and relaxed in his manner, like a good-natured sloth, with a heftier chest expansion than Eddie, but without the overall coordination. He was simply pleasant and average, with an ordinary face whose only feature was small eyes set too close together that had a habit of nervously shifting around as if he were looking for somebody. Not exactly a boy you'd throw yourself at, she thought, but she was sure, from what Nancy had taught her, and from what Nancy had said in sly hints, that Nancy was "experienced" in sex. And that her teacher had been Jason -- that in the cruder terms of her high-school chums, Jason was "balling" Nancy every chance he could get -- and Tamera had her doubts that Nancy ever did anything to stop him much. Not that she'd ever asked Nancy; that would have been in bad taste!

"Well," Eddie said, "we can't stay here all night. Besides, I could use a drink. What about you, Tamera?"

"I..." the teenager hesitated.

"What's the matter?" Eddie asked, frowning. "You do drink, don't you?"

"Well... sure. Sure I do." She was bluffing, and hoped that the others wouldn't catch it. She was afraid that she might be letting herself in for more than she could handle, saying she did more than she really did, for anything over an occasional glass of wine gave her the woozies. But she didn't want to do anything which might make Eddie think less of her, not now, not when this was her chance to snare a big prize like him. He was really "in", and she couldn't afford to be childish about it...

"Good," Jason said. "I could go for a couple of beers myself on a warm night like this."

"But... where shall we go?" Nancy asked, not worried about the drinking at all. "I mean, we can't just go anywhere, you know."

"How about a movie?" Eddie suggested. "The drive-in."

"Naw," Jason said. "Who wants to see Monster from Atomic Atoll?" He waved his hand disparagingly. "Strictly for the kids."

"Well, who says we'll be watching?" Eddie said with a grin.

"I don't want to go anyway," Tamera said. "Horror movies scare me."

"Awww," Jason said in a mock pout. "Awww, is little Tammy-wammy all frightened of a little old monster? Awww..."

"Cut it out," Eddie said sharply. "Listen to me. How'd you all like to see some real movies? I mean some hot ones!"

"Hot ones?" Nancy asked, puzzled.

"Sure, sexy ones!"

"Not around here, you won't. Last one that showed a bathing suit was closed up by the police, remember?" Jason snickered. "Only ones I can think of are the ones your..." He stopped, and a wolfish smile spread across his features. "Say, speaking of that, where's your dad tonight, Eddie?"

"What I've been trying to tell you. The Old Man's at some business meeting up in the city, see, and Mom's gone to see her sister, and won't be back until tomorrow. We've got the whole house to ourselves."

"Yeah..." Jason breathed excitedly. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"What are you two talking about?" Nancy demanded.

"Look," Eddie said to both girls. "My dad's got some films he bought in Europe. They're... a little spicy, see. I mean, you know what they're doing in Denmark these days. So anyway, he got a new reel of film the other day, and I haven't seen it, but I imagine if it's like the others, it should be a kick. You game?"

"Couldn't be worse than those magazines you were showing me Wednesday night, Jason," Nancy giggled. "Sure, and free booze besides. I'm for it."

"What about you, Tamera?"

Tamera paused, not sure what she should do, irritated at her childish fears and still burning from the razzing Jason had given her about horror films.

"When your dad gets a Disney flick, we'll invite her," Jason said, laughing. "That's her speed, Eddie."

"Listen, I may be younger than you," Tamera said hotly to him, "but I'm not that much younger." She could almost bite her tongue off as the words poured out of her. She wanted to show them she was old enough, but yet -- she'd heard about these kinds of films, about the nudity and things, but certainly they couldn't show everything! Or... could they? A tingle of wicked excitement ran through her in spite of her reluctance. It would be sort of fun, and it wouldn't show anything she didn't already know about -- not first-hand of course -- or that she hadn't pictured while alone in her bed and playing with herself. Not want to? Suddenly she wanted to very much!

"Eddie, let's see your dad's film. What the heck, a little piece of celluloid can't hurt anything?"

"That's the spirit, baby," Eddie said. "C'mon, let's go!"

Eddie grinned at Tamera constantly as the four of them drove to his house in his car. His cock swelled in his pants as he thought of what might -- what could very easily -- happen that evening if he played it smart. Yeah, lewd and obscene treats were in store for this innocent little virgin sitting next to him, and once she reached the stage of being too hot to resist, he was going to turn her every way but inside out! And she was a virgin, he could sense that just as a hound can smell possum. She leaned affectionately against his broad shoulder as he drove, and nuzzled him, and never knew the lascivious thoughts going on behind his mask of gentlemanly manners.

He'd have to take it slow, he knew. Slow and easy so he wouldn't scare her. First time's the big time, he realized, having melted many a cherry in his day. The heavy car sped through the twilight toward the rendezvous with young Tamera West's destiny, but the foursome inside acted as if this was just another normal night, an evening to laugh and joke and cut up...

The house was spacious, built in a Spanish style in one of the newer, more costly tract developments. It sported white stucco, "exposed beams", and iron railings, with a wide, well-landscaped lawn around it and a rock garden to one side. It was dark, as Eddie had prophesied. Inside, down in the rumpus room, the four teenagers collected on two spacious leather couches which faced a large fireplace, which was at the moment full of cold ash. The room was rustic in decor, with hanging lanterns, rough walls and posters of Spanish bullfights and scenery. In one corner was a tufted leather-front bar, to which Eddie made a bee-line.

"All right, folks," be said heartily, "name your poison."

"You got beer?" Jason asked.

"Come to think about it, I believe we've got everything except beer. Tell you what, I'll mix up a little something I call a 'Tarantula'. I call it that because it leaves a furry taste in your mouth the morning after it bites you."

"What's in it?" Tamera asked nervously.

"Ohhhh... a little rum, and a little brandy and a little of this and that," he said, collecting bottles and glasses. "You'll like it, really. It doesn't taste like booze at all."

"I'll set up the projector," Jason said, and went to a large closet toward the stairs. The closet was actually a connecting corridor, with another door at the back which opened out into a private den that was strictly for Eddie's father. Jason rolled out a large projector on a dolly, plugged it in, and then went back into the closet for the can of film and the screen.

"Is this the one?" he called out. "Says 'Dog Instruction' the label."

"That's the baby," Eddie said. He was passing out drinks to the girls. Tamera tasted her drink, and to her surprise, found it very refreshing! It was smooth, and reminded her of lemon soda more than anything else. She took another drink before she realized what she was doing, and then another...

Eddie sat down on the couch next to Tamera and put one arm around her so that she was close to him, and he let his hand drop down so that it brushed against her breast casually -- almost accidentally. "Hey, baby," he crooned, "I really dig you, you know?" He felt Tamera jump slightly as she heard him, and he squeezed her tighter, pressing his dangling hand once more against her palpitating breast.

Tamera shivered in his embrace, and the alcohol seemed to diffuse through her system. She pressed her thighs tightly together to control a peculiar tickle which was worming its way through the soft sensitive flesh down between her thighs.

Eddie pressed his attack, feeling the tiny, bud-like nipple of her breast harden under the thinness of her brassiere. Tamera knew she was going to have to stop him soon before things got out of control; she squirmed, moving his fingers away without him noticing it, and her short skirt hiked up over her hips, exposing her thighs and the white crotch-band of her panties. She blushed furiously and tried to pull her skirt down again.

Eddie laughed. "Leave it alone, baby, you've got nice legs. Don't hide what's there, because you got nothing there I don't know about!"

That brought a shriek of laughter from Nancy and more livid redness from Tamera. The young girl felt hot, but not wanting to let Eddie and the others think she was square, she didn't move her skirt, but quickly took an extra heavy swallow of her drink. Eddie leaned across, brushing against her body tauntingly, and refilled her glass from the pitcher on the coffee table in front of them.

"Film's threaded and ready to roll, C.B.," Jason said, sitting down beside Nancy on the other couch and picking up his glass. "Camera, action!" And he took a thirsty swallow of the waiting drink.

"In a momento," Eddie said. He slid his hand from around Tamera and stood up, walking over to the bar again and reaching underneath, to a shelf along one side. "Before we begin the festival, let's make it a little better for all of us."

He brought up a tin that English cigarettes are often packed in, and brought it around to the others. "Here, each take one," he offered, opening the tin. Inside were hand-rolled cigarettes of a peculiar brownish texture. Tamera had a sinking suspicion what the odd cigarettes were.

Marijuana!

"Light up," Eddie went on to say, and pushed the tin in front of Tamera. "Go on, baby, take one," he urged.

Tamera's mind was wrought with indecision. She'd heard too many stories and lectures from adults, but she was just as afraid of looking like she was a kid. She glanced at Nancy for support and guidance, and was shocked to see that her girlfriend was already lighting one up, eyes shut, completely oblivious to Tamera's plight.

"What's the matter," Eddie growled, "aren't you game?"

"I... I never smoked one before," Tamera blurted. She instantly wished she hadn't admitted that, for now she really sounded uncool. She wished she hadn't drunk all that concoction he'd made, for she wasn't thinking clearly and felt awfully warm, and there was a weight pressing down on her forehead and eyes.

"A little grass never hurt nobody," Jason scoffed.

"Yeah, don't worry about a thing," Nancy said, exhaling.

Don't worry... She'd said the same thing to her mother only hours earlier, and here she was! Worried!

"Aw, I knew she was a baby all along," Jason sneered. "Take her home, Eddie, so we can watch the film in enjoyment." Tamera blanched under the direct punch of his contempt, and rebellious resentment welled up inside her, forcing her to take a cigarette and place it reluctantly between her lips. A child, was she! A baby!

"Let me light it for you," Eddie said solicitously. "Once you're high, you'll feel things you never felt before." He lit the cigarette, and trembling slightly, Tamera drew in her first drag. She coughed.

"Oh, for God's sake," Jason said disgustedly.

"Let her alone," Nancy said. "She'll learn. Remember how I was the first time? Tamera, hold the smoke down in your lungs. Try again, and take it slow."

The second inhalation was easier, and the naive young girl held the sour-sweet smoke down until she thought she'd burst. She exhaled, looked around with a smile of triumph, only to see that the other three were obliviously smoking their own joints. She followed suit, and by the end of her cigarette, she began to float.

"How you feeling now, baby?" Eddie asked as he switched off the lights and flicked on the projector.

"Like I'm on the moon!" Tamera had never felt better in all her life; she was happy and carefree, without a worry in the world. She felt warm and close to everyone here, and she turned her blissful eyes to the screen.

The screen, which Jason set up in front of the fireplace, showed nothing but dancing white images as the first few feet of film rolled through the projector, percipient to the actual movie.

A woman and a bedroom came into focus. The woman was a statuesque brunette, wearing a clinging black gown accentuating her body underneath. She slipped the gown slowly upwards, exposing slim, well-rounded legs, full thighs, and a pair of silken stockings which contrasted with her creamy smooth skin. Then the dress was over her head, and in nothing but her stockings, bra and panties, the woman took the dress and carefully laid it over a chair. Then she bent forward and slowly, tantalizingly, unhooked her bra -- Tamera heard a sharp intake of breath from the other couch at this point -- and the full beauty of the woman's firm, proud breasts burst free. They stood high and beautifully formed, their quivering nipples stood out on the luscious half-spheres. Almost naked now, she turned and bent over seductively and with her back to them, she drew the panties down over her curved hips and buttocks, brushing them sensuously against her smooth thighs and calves and then discarding them at her feet.

She stretched languidly and teasingly swung around to face the camera. All her delicious nudity was exposed now, from her high rounded breasts to the soft dark triangle of her cunt below. She lay back on the bed, scissoring her legs open and closed to expose the thin slit of her vagina nestling in the soft dark hair of her pussy, and she twisted her buttocks against the bed as though she were trying to bury herself in it. The camera was at her feet now, catching every detail of her sensual slow build-up into sexual arousal.

Tamera gasped with astonishment, for she had never expected anything like this! Especially to start a film! What could possibly happen next? She gulped nervously from her glass, and as she did so Eddie lit her another cigarette. Without thinking, she sucked in the drugging smoke, and she could feel herself become mentally detached, as if she were another person entirely. The heat and excitement of the room, combined with the dope and alcohol to stimulate her, and she squirmed down against the cushion, sensing the round edge of it push her dress and panties tightly up into her vaginal crevice. She rubbed herself against it, working the corner of the cushion between the moist lips of her vulva, her body rocking on it in an almost indiscernible rhythm in concert with the writhing actress before her, and she could feel a wetness spreading between her thighs.

She looked guiltily out of the corner of her eyes at Nancy and Jason to make sure that they hadn't noticed her, but they were too engrossed in what they were doing. Nancy lay back against Jason, dragging heavily on another joint, and Jason had his hands all over her body. The top button of her pants was undone with an inch or so of the zipper undone, and one hand of Jason's was inside there, clearly rummaging around between her thighs, his fingers clearly outlined against the fabric of the toreadors. His other hand was inside her blouse, and Nancy seemed unaware of either of his hands, for her mouth was hanging limply open in a strange intoxicated look as they dazedly watched the movie together.

Tamera leaned back against Eddie, careful not to break contact with the edge of the cushion which was pressed between her fevered thighs, and she found his hand waiting for her. Without thinking, she relaxed against it, making no protest when his fingers settled heavily on her left breast.

His arm feels good, she thought to herself. And it doesn't hurt anything, I guess... She looked back to the screen again, and was absorbed by the lewd perversions flickering in front of her drug-dulled eyes. She couldn't believe it!

The woman was running her hands over her body as though she were out of control, her fingertips dancing over the flat, ivory belly and coming to rest at the vee of her soft, fleece-covered vagina, and the contact of her fingers on her moistly open slit made her groan silently and rise slightly off of the bed. She straightened the legs like two beautifully carved ivory columns above the mattress. Then, with a deeper groan that Tamera could almost hear it was so real, she let them fall widely apart, showing the moistly glistening furrow between. Her fingers crawled to the soft hair-covered lips and spread them slowly apart until the wet pinkness was fully visible and the vertical mouth-like orifice up between her thighs opened hungrily. The half-moons of her firm rounded buttocks shone whitely, divided sensuously by the hot, softly spreading crevice between them, her tiny anus nestled mysterious and inviting below the swollen and gently pulsating lips of her open cunt.

Tamera found herself sympathetically bound to the woman, her own cunt tingling with anticipation as she recalled the times she had had to touch herself down between her legs to relieve the burning itch inside her child-like womb. A soft moan escaped from her lips, and once again she grabbed her drink to try and quench the fluttering heat in her belly and loins; the alcohol, mixing with the marijuana, only intensified the fire inside her. She squirmed down on the sofa and she felt Eddie's hands now groping at the straps of her jumper, unbuttoning them at the back. Before she could react, they were free and falling over the swollen slopes of her breasts; his hand slipped inside, pulling the material free from her brassiere, and she stiffened, filled with both foreboding and excitement. She tried to pull his hand away, but her own fingers moved only as far as Eddie's, and then fell back again, and she could only stare with glassy, drug-dimmed eyes at the movie and submit, thankful that in the darkness the boy's manipulations would not be seen by her girlfriend, Nancy, or Jason.

The woman on the screen, her mouth open wide in ecstasy, worked one finger... then two into the glistening moistness of her cunt hole, and at the same time stroked the throbbing bud of her clitoris with her other hand, her face tightening as she masturbated in open capitulation with her craving desires, her alabaster skin wet and shining with perspiration, her dark brown pubic hair matted to her pink fleshy vaginal lips as she strove for orgasm. Her driving fingers sunk deep up into her widely stretched opening, thrusting harder and harder, but they were not enough. Tamera could see the woman's face clenching with frustration and purpose, eyes tight, teeth gritted, every sinew and muscle in her body spasming in her longing for release...

Tamera fuzzily tried to convince herself that she still had control of herself in this situation, and that somehow she'd be able to stop the liquor and marijuana in her from overcoming her natural prudence. But her own face and body shone in a luster of sexual sweat, a trickle of which ran down between her breasts that her date was kneading and squeezing. She knew that she had to demand to go home, to shut off the movie at least, that she'd gone too far in allowing the boy to fondle her breasts -- for now he was snaking his fingers up inside her thin brassiere, and there was nothing in the way of his probing fingers except whatever mental resistance she could muster. But she couldn't seem to move away or to make her body obey the warning bells in her mind -- and she squirmed down tighter into the seat as Eddie's fingers caressed the soft underside of one whitely exposed mound, then his fingers and thumb were wickedly tweaking her already hardened nipple. Her breasts ached with swollen desire, and she felt tiny, unwanted throbs of tell-tale desire pulsing hotly in her belly and vagina, and she bit her lip to hold back any more of the lewdly forbidden sensations.

Eddie's hand came to rest on her lap now, and though she tried to fight off his caresses by raising her knees, his fingers moved insinuatingly closer to her panty-covered crotch, kneading the softness of her naked thighs and legs which were exposed by the shortness of her mini-skirt, while at the same time caressing abandonedly the now open and tremblingly free mounds of her throbbing breasts with his other hand. She sucked in her breath in ragged, fevered gasps from the crawling, insect-like contact with her lower flesh, and guiltily she glanced over to the other couch.

The lewd sight she beheld made her freeze, and the dimly lit scene of Nancy and Jason together held her in perverted fascination. She felt as if she could reach out and touch Nancy, and that if she did, that Nancy would not notice: the girl's head was rolling back and forth in a trance-like limpness, her face as contorted in the same way as the woman's on the screen. Jason's middle finger was disappearing rhythmically into the soft dark curls of her pubic hair. Nancy's legs spread slackly outwards to allow him full access to her naked young cunt. Her thin white nylon panties were stripped past her knees so that she could bend them outward. Tamera thought that what she was actually witnessing live was worse then the movie. This was her own girlfriend she was watching being... being finger-fucked by a boy. Tamera tried to blot out the obscene spectacle, but couldn't, for the lasciviousness of it caused more strange little electric tingles to run deep in her belly, and the seeping moisture in her cunt to increase. Her heart beat like a tom-tom, mesmerized as the boy on the other couch lewdly fingered the nakedly squirming pussy of the girl who was her very best friend.

God, surely they would go no further. She certainly couldn't allow Eddie to go any further with her own body. But his hotly searching hand pressed tighter and tighter against the mound of her own crotch, unable to slip lower because of her tightly clenched thighs, the pleasures he raised began to break down her will to resist, for it was so good, so wickedly good, and she turned her eyes once more to the movie while his fingers teased like tiny squirming snakes in the crevice of her skirt. She dully promised herself she would force him to stop if he tried more -- but then came the terrible realization that should she make a scene, her breasts were completely naked and would be seen by Jason and Nancy if they looked up to see what the commotion was about. There was no more she could do except squirm down helplessly against the cushion and squeeze her legs together...

Then, to her horror, Tamera saw that from out of the side of the film bounded a large German Shepherd dog. He leaped upon the bed, tongue lolling, and the woman sat up in shock, her hands still frozen in the position of her masturbation. The giant animal bared its fangs in a menacing warning for the girl not to move, his panting head just above her exposed, defenseless vagina.

Tamera tensed, and only Eddie's firm grip kept her from bolting from the couch. "My God," she whispered. "What's that dog doing there?"

Eddie grinned. "Watch and see, baby. Watch and see."

She squirmed helplessly, a blush of shame washing over her at the sudden indecent pleasure overcoming her revulsion at the presence of the beast. Eddie's hand became still bolder, and he hooked his middle finger still further into her trembling thighs, sensing her slow surrender. The woman in the movie was still horrified, moaning as the German Shepherd lowered its head and sniffed the wetness of its nose against the lips of her open cunt. Then the dog snaked out a long, pink tongue and licked wetly the full length, up from the woman's tiny puckered anus to the fluted little cuntal lips surrounding her clitoris. The animal wagged its long tail and flicked its tongue again and again up between her trembling, wide-splayed legs. She jerked beneath his lewd attack spasmodically and squirmingly raised her arms in fear and indecision.

Tamera groaned aloud, grinding her buttocks harder down into the cushion, and as she did so Eddie's hand was suddenly up under her skirt and covering the crotch-band of her desire-moistened panties. She quivered as her tender young cunt walls secreted more fluids of sexual excitement around his fingers, and in response Eddie moved his fingers in circled, precise motions which made her vaginal area pulsate with ever-increasing desire. She was almost out of control with passion now, and didn't think she could stand another moment of his maddening tease of her barely covered genitals. She was ready to spread her legs like Nancy and allow his touch to quench the fires which raged through her hotly contracting cunt, and the marijuana and alcohol boiled through her veins, stoking the furnace of her arousal.

It was too much for the young, pot-drugged virgin to take! In a last-ditch attempt to stop, she desperately gasped: "No! No, Eddie, don't touch me there! Please let me alone!"

"Why not, baby? You know you love it."

"I'm... I'm not that kind of girl, Eddie!" she whimpered.

"All girls are that kind of girl -- if they're not in diapers," the boy sneered. "And baby, from what I can feel, you're not in diapers anymore..."

"Nancy," she choked, knowing further argument with Eddie would be useless. "Nancy, please... please we have to go home!"

Eddie thought that was funny. "Are you joking? Look at your hot pussied girlfriend and tell me if she wants to leave here now."

The young teenage-girl gasped with agony as she saw what was taking place on the couch now. Jason, having brought Nancy to a whining pitch of raw nerves, had removed her panties entirely, and they lay along with her blouse and bra in a useless heap on the floor beneath her feet. Jason was straddling the girl's erotically heaving chest now, his greedily smiling face scarcely inches from her widespread cunt, and Nancy's mouth was open and her eyes were waxy nothings of drugged lust. As Tamera watched, Jason pressed the flat plane of her stomach and massaged the outer flanges of her vaginal lips with his thumbs pressing outward to expose the moist pink slit of Nancy's pussy with its firm, erect little clitoris clearly in view just above the shadowed mouth of her cunt -- just as Tamera had seen a moment before in the movie.

Beside Tamera, Eddie pressed a freshly lit brown cigarette to the young virginal girl's lips, and as she unhesitatingly drew the sweet, acrid smoke down into her lungs, the shock she had first experienced upon seeing Jason and Nancy was swept away. Her head lightened and she pulled on the joint thankfully, beginning at last to hazily enjoy the movie and the lewd seduction of her girlfriend on the couch beside her.

Eddie wormed one finger underneath the secretion band of her panties and softly grazed the moist, demanding flesh of her gently pulsating pussy, and Tamera lightened her inner cunt muscles against further invasion, only making teasing little shocks that much more acute. She held her breath for fear that some tell-tale sound would escape through her lips, while her very being trembled as he wormed his hand up under her flimsy panties... and now she felt more fingers searching in her warm pink vaginal lips and moist pubic hair, but she still couldn't pull her eyes from the couch, where Jason's head had dropped and his tongue -- like the dog's tongue -- flicked teasingly at the open little cunt before his face. Nancy jerked at the hot fleshy contact and her legs clamped tightly around the boy's head in a vice-like grip as her hips began to slowly move up and down. Soft mewls of delight rolled from her clenched lips, and she was caught in a mindless, drugged fit of uncontrollable lust, nothing mattering except the nerve-tingling licking on her pussy.

"No... no," Tamera whimpered abjectly, and she somehow managed to turn her head away, only to again see the screen, the woman, and the dog. The woman was being nuzzled by the German Shepherd, and what it wanted as it ground its snout into her salaciously open vagina was all too clear -- it wanted the woman to turn over on her stomach! And the woman, after one wild-eyed shudder of terror, obediently rolled over and knelt up, elevating her firm rounded buttocks before the great beast in humiliated surrender. She cowered helplessly before it, awaiting its lascivious attack...

Tamera's nerves were shattered, her brain whirled, and her body prickled with sexual heat. She knew deep in her mind that she had to run... run right now if she were ever going to be free of the warping influences on her mind, but she couldn't resist the insistent hand on her helplessly throbbing cunt and the twin lewdnesses of that movie and what her girlfriend Nancy was allowing that boy to do to her body. It was too much for her innocent mind to bear!

"What... what is she waiting for?" the young girl asked. "She's... she's just hunched over like that. What's the dog going to do?"

"Why?" Eddie chuckled gutturally. "Because the dog's going to fuck her."

"Wh-what?" His obscene explanation burned her soul.

"Fuck her, Tamera," Eddie repeated. "Fuck her just like Jason is going to fuck Nancy and I'm going to fuck you!"

Tamera West almost lost her mind at that moment, and a thin film of drug-inspired passion glazed over her eyes. She nearly fainted.

Something had to give!

CHAPTER THREE

Mortimore McDonald drove his Cadillac through Mariposa, pausing to consider stopping for dinner at Luigi's, and then decided not to. He'd be home soon, he figured, and could chew on some of the cold chicken Agnes had left in the refrigerator. Cold chicken -- what an apt description for his wife, Mort thought with a smirk; Agnes had shriveled up into a puckered resemblance to a plucked chicken, her skin and temperament as crusty and brittle as the drumstick waiting for him a few miles away. But at least she could cook, he sighed, and she was a born housekeeper and society woman, which were assets he needed to get ahead in business, and he tolerated her also because of their son, Eddie, and because he couldn't afford a breath of scandal which a separation or divorce would bring...

Not that Agnes would ever divorce him, he groaned, stopping for a red light. No, the only way she would part from her secure little feathered nest would be if she caught him with another woman -- which had been mighty close a couple of times.

Mort McDonald was sharply dressed in the latest style, a natty robin's-egg blue suit with an Edwardian cut to it, and a darker blue shirt set off by a wide, gold striped tie. He didn't look as if he'd spent the better part of the day and evening haggling with the other executives of Tempo Tooling and Die Company, trying to bend some of them around to his way of thinking. As Vice-President in Charge of Sales, he couldn't let the company manufacture the new gimmick that developing had come up with, seeing no market for a battery-run egg-beater. He'd fully expected to stay there all night, as the others had as well, but the squabble had been unexpectedly broken by Throckington, the owner and president, who tried the gadget and sliced his thumb. The project was shelved immediately.

Mort McDonald was not one to let such a golden opportunity pass. Not with the beady-eyed hawk of a wife always suspicious of where he was going and why. With time on his hands, he'd combed his salt-and-pepper hair and waxed his pencil-thin mustache and with the instincts of a predatory lion, went on the prowl. But oddly, the women he'd been fucking in the past didn't interest him any more -- the fun was in the chase, and he'd downed them so many times before that they'd become stale game -- and his latest conquest, Dolores, couldn't see him because she was meeting some dammed plane which left McDonald no choice but to slum round a bit, and after buying too many drinks and listening to too many sad stories from bartenders about lousy business, he'd decided to go home and call his opportunity a bust.

That's the luck, he said to himself. When you're looking for it, none of it is ever around. At least Agnes was at her sister's again -- that sister caught every disease known to mankind, and every one of them was supposedly her terminal one. He sighed, turning up the street leading to his house. Married by necessity, a bachelor by nature, he spent his leisure hours in the pursuit of new flesh, new sensations, new adventures with women, and at that moment he'd taken on just about anything willing to take down her panties, so long as she hadn't taken them down for him before.

He was surprised to see his son Eddie's car in the driveway, even more surprised to notice that while it was there, no lights were on in the house. He parked along the curb and got out, scratching his hair in puzzlement. He knew that his son was a chip off the old block and that no telling what Eddie might be up to -- but no lights? He was about to unlock the front door and go in, when he reflected what he might be doing if he was a teenager again and his parents were away... A smile of amusement crossed his lips, a look of imperturbable amusement, much like a cat after swallowing a canary and being caught with the feathers sticking out of its mouth.

McDonald walked around the side of the house to the garage entrance, unlocked it, and went in. It was pitch dark, but he knew his way from experience, and soon he was at the other side of the garage, the private door which was part closet, part entranceway to the rumpus room. He glanced around after flipping the light on, saw the projector was not there, and then he heard the whirring of its motor from the other side of the rumpus room door. He'd been right: his son was having at it with some local chick, probably fucking her toes off right at the moment.

McDonald crept to the door, listened intently for a moment more, and then slyly moved a piece of wood away from a special peephole he'd bored into the door, a large, almost face-sized hole which was covered on the other side by a mirror -- a two-way glass mirror which had cost a small fortune but had been well worth it. He could see in, and nobody could see him, and he pressed his face to the glass eagerly, anticipating what he'd see...

Great Jesus! It was better than he'd hoped! He couldn't see the film, the door being on the same wall as the fireplace and thereby hiding the screen from him -- but he already knew about the woman and the dog, and wasn't interested in viewing them again. The light from the projector glowed around the four young kids on the two couches... and McDonald's eyes bulged at the lewd

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