Chapter 4: Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

When does a good thing become an obsession? What happens when the boundaries are pushed so far back, one loses sight of the last fork in the road?

When Charlie Rich sang “Behind Closed Doors,” he must surely have had some precognitive flashes as to certain escapades later to be played out in the Richardson household!

It would be a matter of routine penmanship now, to recount the many two and three-way sexual encounters that, following the events of Chapter Three, were to become common-place between Greg, his wife and young daughter. Shelley herself was most probably the chief catalysing participant, demanding more and more liberal experimentation with her father and mother – frequently at the same time. Communal lick-fests, rated through the roof. (No pun intended)

Tracey’s sexual appetite knew no limits either and nothing got her flowing quicker these days than watching Greg taking his young daughter to the dizziest of heights, whilst she knelt center-quilt on all fours fully naked, as he penetrated her in the method favored by Corgis and German Shepherds alike. Kissing her daughter face to face, whilst her husband’s erection slid deep into Shelley’s under-age, and fully incestuous little pussy, really was helping to rack up those frequent-flyer points.

Whilst Shelley would then lie moaning and sated on the covers, clutching at her sore labia to stem the flow of her father’s procreative gel, Tracey would further tease her husband with many a party trick ... whatever it took to get herself fucked to the edge of reason and with the knowledge that her sixteen-year old daughter was watching – and hopefully taking notes.

Of late, they had been getting Shelley to dress-up in her school uniform nights for many a prolonged session. Tracey had even taken-up the hem of her daughter’s skirt – to levels of sheer indecency, simply to further enhance the visuals. Sometimes they made her wear a skimpy little bra and panties, other days no underwear at all – depending on their debauched state of mind one presumes. Shelley’s personal favorite was to have her father grab her when she walked into her bedroom, back-pack over her shoulders, and then have him play-rape her across the bed whilst she struggled and acted the helpless little teenager. Did wonders for Tracey too!

So yeah, they did it all. Not only that – they did it everywhere, including as you may recall from the last chapter – Greg fucking his sexy little girl one afternoon after picking her up from school, in the front seat of their Nissan Murano ... So hot did that prove, it became pretty much a Friday night fixture on the Richardson household’s “to-do” list!

Illicit sex though is after all, as easy to get hooked-on as any other habit-forming substance, ultimately requiring more and more of it in order to maintain the same high. When every position, point-of-entry, role-play, fantasy and three-way indulgence has been tried and mastered, true deviates such as the Richardsons are forced to confront the shocking reality that they are going to have to cross the line somewhere in order to maintain the rush!

“Admit it Tracey, you have wondered what it would be like ... right?” Greg seemed to be hanging off her answer.

“I’ve wondered all sorts of things Greg,” she answered evasively, but recognising that a more direct answer was called-for added, “Let’s be realistic ... how can we even contemplate having friends come over with the sole purpose of fucking our teenage daughter? Besides, it’d be rape Greg!”

“Well Trace,” he replied slowly, “I’d say some of the stuff we’ve been doing to Shelley the past few weeks has been pretty close to that anyway – but for the fact it was consensual – ridiculously so! Besides, you know what? I reckon she’d go along with it ... so long as we were there anyway. She’s into it as much as we are.”

Tracey was silent for a moment. The thought of seeing her little girl with other men ... forcibly or willingly was almost too hot to imagine. No wonder her hand was back in its spiritual home between her legs.

She looked across at her husband. If anything, the beginnings of a wicked smile was discernible about the lips.

The following Friday afternoon then, Tracey herself picked Shelley up at school.

“Where’s Dad?’ the girl asked, a little surprised at his absence and expecting of course the now routine lap work-out in their garage, as soon as they got home.

“Your father couldn’t make it sweetheart,” Tracey smiled at her, “He got caught up with some business acquaintance downtown. Said he’d be home in time for dinner though.”

Truth is, they had planned on Shelley getting herself just that much more wound-up and expectant, being denied her usual Friday night front-seat tango. Tracey felt something trickling down her inner thigh as she turned into their driveway, watching the auto-sensor raise the garage door slowly.

“May as well go make a start on your homework Shell,” said Tracey, giving the young girl a pat on her pert little bottom as she spoke. “Dinner will be at least a couple of hours, so you may as well use the time constructively.”

Rather enjoying momentarily the contact in that area, she smiled back at her mother.

“What do you think I should wear for dad tonight mom?”

“Something sexy sweetheart ... as always,” she giggled in spite of herself. “You know he likes short skirts Shell ... or just leave your uniform on ... whatever!”

Even as she unpacked the shopping, her mind was racing ahead of itself. Just what excitement was in store for them all tonight?

Having set the table, Shelley was helping her mother with a few last minute preparations when she heard the key in the lock of the front door.

“It’s dad,” she called out, already half-way along the hallway. She meant to give him a special welcome tonight! As the door opened though she skidded to a halt.

“Whoa there young lady,” said Greg. “This is Ian, a friend of mine from the office.”

Right then, Ian’s attention was most definitely on the vision before him. “Sixteen? Greg had mentioned his daughter to be. This, surely could not be her? Clad in an ultra-short tartan skirt with low-cut top that left little to the imagination, no way could those hot little breasts jiggling before him, belong to a sixteen-year old? Added to which, that curvy waist and rounded set of hips proclaimed a teenager of at least seventeen or eighteen ... maybe even nineteen?

“Pleased to meet you, my name’s Shelley,” said the vision ... giggling. Ian was so glad he came.

“Hello daddy,” she said, crushing herself up against her father. Ian made a mental note - he was going to have to train his own fourteen-year old daughter in matters of welcoming, when she was a few years older.

Introducing Ian to his wife, the three of them then trouped-in to the dining room. “Can you fix the drinks hun, while I serve-up?” said Tracey, retracing her steps to the kitchen.

“Can I have some wine daddy?” Shelley begged of her father.

Greg smiled to himself, she could have the whole damn bottle as far as he was concerned. Given what he had planned for her, she was going to need more than a few glasses before the night was out!

“Sure baby,” he replied, “but just take it easy, we don’t want any drunk schoolgirls around.”

Ian immediately was visualising just that. He tried dismissing the notion but without success.

The roast was a hit alright but to be honest, the wine was having as pronounced an effect on the adults as Shelley herself. More than once, Greg was seized with an overpowering urge to drag his daughter out of her chair, push her face down across the table-cloth and rape her then and there.

Ian was faring little better, especially given that Shelley was sitting right alongside him and the presence of the quite obviously sexy-as-all-hell teenager was having an effect let’s say – and not one that you could immediately see either!

Tracey was already playing out in her mind the possibilities here. She smiled at her daughter, re-filling her wine-glass as she did so.

Dinner was cleared away and dessert served, by which time the wine had done its job and everyone was feeling pretty damn good. Greg and Ian were in some deep corporate discussion.

“Come on guys,” Tracey said. “Forget business for a while. Anyone want to see a movie?” She turned to Ian, “We just got ourselves a whole new surround-sound package, it’s really cool!”

They adjourned to the lounge-room where after going through rows of dvds, decided to watch the Gone in 60 Seconds remake.

Shelley was getting restless. Having gone to all this trouble to look sexy for her father, here he was talking business with his friend and now watching a crappy movie. Sitting beside him on the lounge, with Ian away to her left and her mom in the chair almost opposite, the wine especially was making her feel decidedly needful. How then to convey her global dissatisfaction?

Freeing her hand from his (they often held hands watching television, simply as a show of closeness. They had done this since she was four or five) she laid her hand on her father’s thigh, sliding it surreptitiously inwards.

It was at this point that Angelina Jolie was seeing fit to straddle Nicolas Cage’s lap in the driving seat, with a view the camera supposes, to imminently combining their bodily fluids.

Fully inevitable therefore that the viewing audience right then, should find their minds on similar scenes of in-house arousal. Out of the corner of his eye and having no wish to stare you can well understand, Ian thought he saw his friend’s hand inching its way beneath his daughter’s skirt which he had already noted was short enough to launch a thousand erections. Tracey of course, given her viewing angle, was watching her husband’s illicit digital progress with keen interest.

Shelley could not suppress the lightest of sighs as her father’s hand encroached on her panties – the tartiest little red knickers she could find in her undies-drawer. Her fingers closed around her father’s erection both in encouragement and appreciation of his up-skirt exploratory.

Now Ian was looking! What else could you expect? Not every day one gets to see a father indecently molesting his teenage daughter just a yard or so from where you’re sitting. He didn’t even notice his own hand moving ever closer to his crotch, aware as he vaguely was, of what was going-on from a physiological viewpoint, in that particular area.

Watching as Greg began quite obviously rubbing the young girl’s pussy beneath her skirt, he was further shocked to notice Tracey slipping her hands up between her own legs as she watched the arousing tableau at the far end of the lounge. No one was paying the slightest attention to the movie let’s say.

Greg had more or less hinted earlier that his wife was inclined towards sexual “experimentation” as it were, and this had most certainly been at the back of Ian’s mind when he accepted his friend’s dinner invitation. Never in a million years though had he expected to witness incestuous behavior like this ... and the girl didn’t even seem to mind!

From Shelley’s viewpoint and thinking that the wine must be having something to do with it, sitting there in front of a complete stranger, with her father’s hands in her panties as they currently were, was making her unbelievably hot. With both hands behind her waist, she was arching her back in pleasure at his ministrations, fully aware how provocative a pose she must be striking, her breasts so graphically outlined in that tight little top, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Ian.

Equally embarrassed as he was aroused, Greg’s friend figured he was quite obviously an unnecessary pawn in the game-plan at hand and announced suddenly,

“Hey, look guys, I think I’d better be getting along.” He didn’t add “before this erection breaks free from my zipper,” but he may as well have - it was the truth!

“You wimping out Ian?” Greg replied, the hand in his daughter’s knickers not missing a beat. “The least you could do surely, is to let my wife know you enjoyed her cooking. Go over and see if she needs any help.” He nodded in Tracey’s direction.

“Greg,” she cried out, some three-quarters on the way to her destination. “That is soo crude!’

“Yeah?” he answered her, “Well we talked about being even cruder if I remember rightly! ... C’mon Trace, let Ian help out!”

Well put it this way - his friend wasn’t headed for the front door any longer.

Patting his knee, he could hardly believe his good fortune when Tracey got up from her chair, came over and settled daintily in his lap. Whatever the hell Greg was doing to his daughter was suddenly of little interest ... what he might be able to do to this very youthful-looking and attractive young wife was his sole concern. Experimentally, he kissed her neck and was rewarded by a light gasp. Already the heat from her bottom was transferring itself in latent energy to his lap and if he wasn’t mistaken, those beautiful breasts that he could see curving away to the south were begging for some communal contact. He kissed her again – just beneath the hairline. The sigh was louder!

Seeing her mother being kissed by a stranger was doing seriously worrying things to Shelley ... not that she was seriously worried you understand.

“Can I sit on you dad?” she asked, looking up at her father with a look of quizzical detachment. In answer, he simply hit the remote, closing down the dvd and sat back on the lounge. She hopped on, careful not to close up her legs by so much as a degree.

Wriggling about, simply to amplify the contact between that hot little bottom and her father’s knee, she watched as he slipped both hands now back up under her skirt where he resumed rubbing the front of her panties, feeling his daughter’s wetness and arousal.

Tracey meanwhile was permitting Ian to kiss her full-on and in so doing, his left hand had circumnavigated her hips and was now in the process of inching her dress upwards. As her panties were exposed, he took heart from the fact she was offering no resistance. Kissing her deeper, he whispered, “You are so beautiful Tracey, you really are.”