Happy New Year readers! Here is my first offering of 2009. Many have asked for sequels of several of my previous stories. One of those is in the works and will be showing up later in the year. Check my blog for information on my first published novel, Storm Killer, and my new one, Poles, releasing in May.
Harry Lynch was trimming back his shrubs on the Saturday that his safe, warm, family life came to an end. He was intent on his attack on the overgrown plants when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was his neighbor, Cal Dillon. "Hey Harry, can I borrow your lawnmower? Mine just died and Marge will kill me if I don't get the yard done before her fancy-smancy tea this afternoon."
Their Maryland neighborhood was made up of 'mini-estates' of homes on one and two acre lots. Everyone used riding mowers or garden tractors with mower attachments to keep the grass neatly trimmed.
"Sure. Take it. Just put it in your garage when you finish, I'll come over and get it later."
Cal grinned, nodded and walked into Harry's garage to get the mower. He came back out shortly and said, "Harry, your mower is leaking oil. You might want to take a quick peek at it."
Harry stopped his trimming and walked with Cal back to the mower. Sure enough a puddle of oil was under the engine.
Harry reached in his rag bag and grabbing the last one, laid on the floor and shimmied under the tractor. Using the shop rag he cleaned off the bottom of the oil pan of all of the oily grime and dead grass. Once clean enough, he tossed the used rag out on the floor and he inspected tractor's oil pan. There it was! A small drop of oil beading on one of the oil pan bolts.
He moved out from under the tractor, grabbed the correct wrench, shimmied back under the machine and tightened the bolt. He waited a minute to see if his repair was good and came out from under the tractor grinning at Cal. "Take it away neighbor. All fixed!"
Cal started the machine and drove it toward his house. Harry looked at the offending pool of oil on his immaculate garage floor and reached for a clean rag. None were left in his shop bag.
Shit, out of rags. Oh well, I'll use one from Francine's ragbag.
Francine was his wife of eighteen years. They had dated through out high school and married when Harry had entered the Army for his two year stint. Even after birth of their daughter, Kimberly, a bombshell seventeen year old with long honey blonde just like her mother's, Francine held her same hour glass shape of her youth. They were both about five feet two inches in height and weighed about one hundred and five pounds.
His wife and daughter acted more like sisters. At least in the past couple of years they seemed to. They seemed to share whispered secrets and giggled to each other when Harry was around. Harry looked at them and saw almost a mirror image of the two. His wife looked almost the same age as his daughter. Francine acted as chaperone when Kimberly went to a local dance club once or twice a month. They went on Ladies Night. Free drinks were offered to bring in a hundred or more women. Francine had laughed at my concern and said the alcohol was all but forgotten when occasionally the club offered the female clientele a couple of male strippers. I was shocked, but she just laughed and said it was all innocent fun and she would never let things get out of hand for Kimberly.
She allowed Kimberly to drink alcohol at the club but kept a strict eye on her. I wasn't for it, but Francine had said, "Harry, our little girl isn't little any more. She's a beautiful young woman. I might as well try to introduce her to the real world and try to watch over her so she doesn't do something stupid. Right now, she is exploring herself and her feelings and some times a little alcohol is a great way to loosen up when a girl feels uptight."
Harry couldn't say he was sorry he gave in to his wife. She started dressing sexier and they had hotter sex than they had ever had after she had started going to the club with Kimberly. She smiled and said that the dance club visits made her feel ten years younger and I was the beneficiary of that feeling.
He opened her rag bag and grabbed an old frayed shirt of his she had tossed. He started back to wipe up the oil when he felt something wrapped in the shirt. He opened the knotted shirt and found two pair of cum stained panties and two broken bras, one he immediately recognized that his wife had worn on her last trip to the dance club. The other looked to be a size smaller which must have been his daughter's.
He was shocked. What the hell is this? My wife and daughter go to a dance club and come home with cum stained underwear? Looking at the broken bras, it was obvious that things must have gotten very physical.
He remembered back to that last night his wife and daughter went "clubbing" as they called it. It was a week ago on Thursday night when Harry had been in San Francisco on a business trip.
Since it was three hours difference he had called home around six California time and just got their voice mail greeting. He tried again at seven, eight, nine, ten and eleven and still got the voice mail. Eleven O'clock here. That makes it two in morning at home. Where the heck are they?
He had an early meeting the next morning so he gave up at eleven and went to sleep.
He was showered and ready to go at seven the next morning and he called home. Francine immediately answered the phone.
"Honey, it's you! I tried to call you for hours last night. Where were you?" Harry asked in a very concerned voice.
"Sweetie, Kim and I went to the club for a few hours and were home by ten. I swear the phone never rang. There is nothing on the voice mail because the light isn't blinking. You know how often we get something strange happening on our phone ever since the local phone company was taken over by that national outfit."
Harry had to agree that the phone company was probably to blame for him being unable to get through to his wife the previous night. It had happened before. It fact it was getting to be far too frequent. He would have to report the problem the phone company as soon as he got a moment.
He put the phone issue out of his mind and held his meeting. He was delighted with the outcome, reported it to his boss, went to the airport, and caught his flight home. Arriving home, he was met by Francine who all but attacked him with kisses. She pulled him to the bedroom and they didn't emerge for several hours.
Now it dawned on Harry, she was giving him a guilt fuck. She was out screwing around while he tried to earn a living for them. And she obviously had involved his daughter in her foul unfaithful deeds
Holding those cum stained panties, he knew what he had to do. He had to get undeniable evidence of Francine's infidelities. He had to ensure she lost custody of Kim. While Kim would be of legal age in less than a year, right now, he needed to get Kim away from her cheating slut of a mother.
Harry called in for a personal day off from work. He left home as if he was going to work and drove to the dance club. He'd found a ticket stub in Francine's purse as she took her shower before bed last night. The stub had the street address of the club and a web site listed, hardpartygirls.com.
He found the door unlocked and entered the building. The interior reeked of sex and booze. The floor was a mess of stains. Located around the center stage were commercial grade flood lights and camera stands like those used by film professionals. It was obvious that cameras on these stands could take shots of anyplace in the club. A big banner on the wall displayed the same website name as that on the ticket stub.
A large burly man was stocking the bar with bottles of some very cheap liquor turned when he heard the door open. "Yeh fellow, whatta you want?"
Harry replied, "My wife and daughter come here sometimes on ladies night and I just wanted to see what kind of place it was."
The huge man laughed. "What kind of place? You dumb shit. If they come here on our free drinks ladies night, they're looking to get laid. Every woman in the place gets reamed at least once while we're filming on those nights. Some of them get double fucked, some spend the night giving the guys head. Some just spend their time lip locked with another woman playing with each other's pussies. We film it all."
Harry was flabbergasted. He gulped, "Have you seen my wife and daughter here? They look almost the same age and both have honey blonde hair."
The bartender didn't hesitate, "Francine and Kim? Hell yes. They do e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. I mean everything. They're a couple of our subscribed viewers' favorites. Almost every time they're here they get doubled fucked by Horse, Tiny, the Log, and Ramrod who are the four male strippers with the biggest dicks. After they are filled with those guys cum, the two of them flip around and sixty nine the love juice out of each other. It's damned hot to see a mother and daughter go at it like that. Shit, they have both fucked me and sucked me off a few times back here behind the bar. Your daughter has a vacuum cleaner for a mouth. Your wife has a great cunt. But her ass is still really tight and feels great to cum in. She seems to enjoy it but of course, I've only got an eight inch cock and can't compare to the four strippers I mentioned."
.... There is more of this story ...