Chapter 4

Bette awoke in the guest room a few minutes before nine the next morning, stretching languidly, the sheets cold and sweet smelling against her naked body. Sunlight slanted in through the partially drawn blinds over the window, falling across her eyes, and she raised one arm to shield out the bright light.

As she lay there, the events of the preceding evening returned vividly to her mind. She dwelled for a moment on the frenzy of passion which had been generated between her and her ex-brother-in-law, Ken, the pleasure they had taken and given in and with one another's bodies. God, but he was a fine, handsome, sensual man! Bette had almost forgotten what lovemaking, real lovemaking, could be like; and her sex-starved body and mind had reveled in the deliciously fevered flesh of her dead husband's brother. He was truly a magnificent lover, far better than David, as good or maybe even better than Hale when their relationship had been at the height of its intense delights.

And yet, here in the cold light of day, questions made themselves known in the lovely blonde woman's mind--the very questions which, in her subconscious, had caused fitful dreams in the night. What, if anything, did her coupling with Ken mean in terms of a lasting relationship? Was he merely a deprived self-celibate, such as she had been the past few months, who had lost control of his tightly-reined emotions last night and thus led him into the wild lovemaking with her? How did Ken really feel about her? How did she really feel about him? And what if Tony, her young handsome son, should find out what they had done? How would he feel about his mother and his uncle coming together in any kind of intimate relationship?

The questions spun and revolved in Bette's mind, but there were no immediate answers for any of them. She had come home, and been accepted by her son and by the brother of her dead ex-husband--those were the only facts she knew for certain. They were good facts, contented ones after the months of terrible loneliness and guilt, and she could only hope that they would last and that the questions she had just posed to herself would be resolved favorably. Now that she had tasted happiness again, the thought of returning to Chicago, of living alone in that tiny apartment there, were more frightening and depressing than ever.

Bette sighed and slipped out of the cool bed, padding naked across the bedroom, her taut, firmly rounded buttocks jiggling with unaffected sensuality as she moved, her rich, still-firm breasts swaying gently. From her suitcase she removed clean bra and panties, a pair of hip-hugger slacks and a lightweight summer shirt, dressed quickly, and combed her soft blonde hair at the vanity mirror. Then, after applying a light touch of makeup, she opened the door and went out into the hall.

The smell of frying bacon, and coffee percolating, drew her to the kitchen. When she opened the door, she saw Ken standing at the stove, humming softly to himself as he tended to bacon and eggs cooking in a pair of skillets. He turned when he heard her enter, put down the spatula he was holding, and came to her, his mouth curved in a gently, loving smile.

"Good morning, darling," he said, and kissed her, folding her into his strong arms.

She returned his kiss, pressing against him for a moment, then stepped away, smiling at him. "Good morning, Ken," she said softly.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Not too badly."

"I slept marvelously myself," he laughed. He took her hand and led her to the table, seating her in a chair before one of two place settings. "Breakfast coming right up."

Bette noticed the absence of a third place at the table. She asked, "Where's Tony this morning?"

"He left about forty-five minutes ago," Ken replied. "I don't know where he was going. He seemed kind of upset about something or other."

A small wedge of fear formed in Bette's stomach. "Oh Ken, you don't suppose

"What?

"Well, he came home right after you and I well, right after we left the living room. He he "

"Might have heard or saw something?" Ken finished for her. "No, I doubt that, Bette. You mustn't worry about that."

She moistened her soft, pink lips. "But I can't help worrying about it. What if he finds out that we we ?"

"He won't find out, not unless we tell him." He crossed to her chair, stood looking down at her tenderly. "Honey you're not sorry about last night, are you? You're not sorry we made love?"

Bette swallowed hard, her eyes meeting his. "No," she said truthfully. "No, Ken, I'm not sorry."

His smile was wide and happy. "I'm glad, darling, because I'm not in the least sorry either. It was beautiful, wonderful, perfect, and there's no use in denying it."

"No, there isn't," Bette admitted.

"Bette, I I'm in love with you. I want to marry you."

Tears suddenly welled in her lovely eyes. "Oh, oh Ken, do you really mean that?"

"Yes, I really mean it," he said, smiling down at her. "I know this isn't the time to talk about it, not yet, but I wanted you to know how I felt. Do you feel the same way about me, darling? Just a little bit?"

"Yes, I I do."

"Then you'll marry me one day soon?"

"I think so, Ken. Yes, I think so."

He pulled her to her feet, kissing her face, holding her tightly. "I'll make you happy," he whispered. "I'll make you forget all of the past, every bit of it, and there won't be any more pain for you, Bette. Only goodness and love."

She cried softly against his shoulder, and a warm, glowing feeling swept through her body. She thought: I know the answers to some of those questions now oh God, I can't believe it's really true, that they're the right answers, but I hope and pray that they are

Tony drove his Corvette at high speeds to the small lake north of Westridge, took a dirt-road cutoff once he reached there, and followed that to where it ended at a small secluded beach. It was deserted this early in the morning, a fact which the handsome teenage youth was thankful for. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, to sort out the confused feelings which churned inside him and which had kept him awake most of the night.

He parked the Corvette under some pine trees, stepped out into the warm, fresh air, and went down onto the sandy beach. He walked along it, listening to the murmur of the water as it licked at the beach in tiny waves, his hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers.

What was he going to do? he wondered for the hundredth time since last time, since what he had witnessed and what he and Debbie had done while watching his mother and his uncle. He felt guilty and ashamed, and at first he had known violent anger toward Debbie. But then, the more he thought about it, the more he concluded that she was not to blame, not really; she was a hot-blooded girl, and she had succumbed to the same carnal temptation that he had, that was all. No, Debbie and he had been weak, young and weak, and what they had done could be excused.

But what he had seen his mother and Uncle Ken doing was an altogether different story.

God, he could still scarcely believe it. His mother grinding her cunt up hotly at his uncle's huge cock, her legs wrapped all the way around his back like a couple of animals. Which one of them had started it? His mother probably sure, his mother, who was a slut underneath after all, who couldn't come home for one day without spreading her legs like she'd done the past five years down in Chicago, like she'd done even before that here in Westridge with Hale Bixby and Christ only knew how many other guys before him. He should have known better than to trust her, than to think she was repenting and that she'd really changed.

Tony tried to conjure up a burning hatred for his mother, but in spite of his thoughts, he couldn't seem to make himself loathe her the way he had done after she'd deserted he and his father, after his Dad had died in that auto crash. He kept remembering the pain and suffering that had been mirrored on her face when he'd first seen her yesterday afternoon, the beseeching way she'd looked at him, and how his heart had gone out to her and then he kept seeing her with her legs locked high up around Uncle Ken's back, pumping her open pussy up at him, urging him to fuck her harder so that she could cum

The two images were totally alien to one another, and because they were Tony couldn't hate his mother with any kind of consuming passion. He couldn't hate his uncle, either, for Ken Clark had been kind to him, gentle and kind over the years, and the sight of him lewdly driving his cock into Tony's mother's widely splayed vagina was another alien concept that confused the teenage youth. Well, his uncle was a man after all, just as Tony was, and he had been blinded probably by Bette's beauty, for she was undeniably a lovely woman Tony could remember how her naked body had looked there in the firelight, her perfectly formed hips and legs, her large, ruby-nippled breasts, the thin, wet little cuntal slit nestled beneath her softly curling triangle of blonde pubic hair

Tony shook his head violently, feeling his face flame red, and he looked guiltily around him even though the beach was still deserted. What was the matter with him, thinking about his bitch of a mother that way? It was almost as if well, as if he had been captivated and attracted by the sight of her nakedness, by the way she was fucking back at his uncle almost as if he, Tony, wanted to have been in Uncle Ken's place on the couch last night

Stop it, damn it, stop that kind of thinking! he cursed himself. Oh God, he was so confused today, so mixed up, he just didn't know what to do. One thing was certain: he couldn't stay in that house with his uncle and his mother much longer, not after last night. Suppose they decided to keep screwing one another, suppose his uncle invited her to move in there? Tony couldn't face them both day after day, knowing what he knew; he just couldn't.

But what alternative did he have? He had a little money put away, insurance from his father, that he intended to use for college in the fall. Maybe he could move out, get a little apartment of his own, find a job, and forget all about college

The prospect of living alone didn't appeal to Tony much, and he really did want to go to State in September to pursue that Engineering degree. So he couldn't move out, he couldn't get a job or an apartment and live alone and yet, he couldn't stay on there at his uncle's home. What was he going to do?

And suddenly, out of the clear blue summer sky, he had the answer.

A slow smile spread across his handsome features. Of, course! It was simple, really simple. He remembered Debbie telling him once that her father, who was a wealthy building contractor in Westridge, had promised to give her a ten thousand dollar wedding present the day she got married. Ten thousand dollars! Why, he and Debbie could both go to college on that, as well as maintain an apartment, and when he graduated with his Engineering degree, he would be automatically assured of a high-paying job anywhere in the world that he chose.

He knew that Debbie loved him, he was sure of it, and he knew that he loved her--so that made it all right about taking the money from her father to set them up in housekeeping. But would she marry him if he asked her, would she marry him right now? He thought that she would yes, he was sure of it, she loved him, she would jump at the chance to become Mrs. Tony Clark.

That's what he would do, all right, he thought with mounting excitement. He would marry Debbie and move out of his uncle's place and leave his mother and Ken to do whatever they wanted to do. He would be free of them, on his own, and that would be the best way, the only way, for him from now on

Ken was alone in his sprawling ranch-style house, working on a magazine layout for which he had been given an assignment by one of the largest of the women's slicks, when the doorbelly rang a few minutes past noon.

After he and Bette had eaten breakfast, he had told her that he had to get to work on the layout, which was due in the magazine's offices the first of the following week, and invited her to just lounge around by the pool all day. But Bette had expressed a desire to reacquaint herself with Westridge and environs, saying that she felt like taking a day's drive, and Ken had immediately offered her the loan of his new Pontiac convertible. She had thanked him profusely, kissed him warmly and passionately, and then left in the car, promising to be home in plenty of time for supper. He had told her to have fun, then had retired to his study to work on the layout.

Now he frowned as the doorbell sounded again. He didn't like to be interupted when he was working, especially when he was trying to meet a deadline. Reluctantly, he got up from his desk and went out to see who it was.

It was Debbie Mason, Tony's lovely black-haired girlfriend.

She stood in a provocative pose on the flagstone porch, wearing the same hot pants as the night before and a different blouse, smiling seductively at him. Her dark eyes traveled appreciatively over Ken's slacks-and-jersey encased body, lowering insolently to the front of his pants and lingering there on the faint outlines of his large manhood. Her gaze, Ken thought uncomfortably, contained an odd kind of knowing smirk, almost as if she knew some great and consuming secret about him. He felt his neck redden, and the same faintly flustered feeling rose in his stomach that he always seemed to get when around her.

He moistened his lips. "Hello, Debbie," he said, managing a small smile.

"Hi, Ken," she cooed in reply, her gaze caressing his face now. "Is Tony at home?"

"Why no, he isn't. I don't know where he is. Were you supposed to meet him here this afternoon?"

"Not exactly," Debbie said in her husky voice. "I just thought I'd see if he was home, 'cause it's pretty hot out now and I thought we could go swimming in your pool."

Ken swallowed into a suddenly dry throat, noticing that she carried a rolled towel under her right arm. Her smile now seemed almost obscene, again as if she knew some great secret which Ken was not privileged to know himself. "Well you're welcome to use the pool until Tony gets home, of course."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude," Debbie said. "I mean, if Mrs. Clark is here and she's swimming or something "

"No, she's not here either. She's gone for the day."

"Then you're all alone?"

Something in the tone of her voice caused his stomach to tingle momentarily, then he shook himself mentally and made his face stern. "Yes, I am, Debbie. Why?"

"Oh, no reason." She laughed softly. "Is it still okay if I use your pool?"

"Yes I guess so. You can change in the cabana."

"I know, I've been here before."

"So you have."

"Well, thanks again, Ken, I'll just go on around back."

"All right."

Ken watched his nephew's young girlfriend walk away toward the rear of the house, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the lithe, feline way she moved, the jiggling sway of her taut young buttocks, the long clean lines of her youthful legs. He swallowed heavily, moistened his lips again, then quickly shut the door. Damn, what was it about that little bitch that affected him so much? She was nothing but a tramp and yet, she had an exciting, forbidden allure that was like an aura of sexuality around her, reaching out and touching him like caressing fingers

Ken went back into his study and tried to resume work on the magazine layout. But he couldn't seem to concentrate now, and after ten futile minutes he flung the pencil he was using to the floor, scraped back his chair, and prowled into the kitchen. He opened a beer from the refrigerator, drank some of it, then walked without even thinking about it onto the porch. The rattan blinds were drawn up, and he could see the provocative, lush form of Debbie Mason swimming in the pool, her tanned young body encased in a wispy bikini that did little to hide her large breasts, her flat abdomen and the tight, hot crevice of her budding womanhood below. As Ken watched, she pulled herself out of the pool, padded to the diving board at one end. Her body glistened in the sun, and her buttocks swayed tantalizingly, causing Ken's throat to go dry once again.

Debbie climbed up on the board, poised there for a moment, and he could see the way her breasts strained at the halter top of her bikini, the furrow of her pussy revealed by the tight bottoms. God, he thought, she's got a fantastic body for such a young girl, such a beautiful body! Ken realized he was sweating, realized the direction his thoughts were taking, and he turned abruptly away from the window as Debbie dove in a graceful swan dive into the cool water of the pool.

He went back to his study and once again tried to work. But visions of the lovely teenage girl outside kept intruding on his thoughts and again he couldn't concentrate. There was a curious fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach, and Ken was fully aware what it was; beginning sexual arousal. Oh God, no, no! he thought, but he couldn't deny the truth of it; his body, reawakened by his powerful lovemaking with Bette the night before, was screaming once again for gratification; one night's sexual frenzy, with the woman he now knew he loved, was not enough to satisfy the flames which were now burning like an inferno within him once more.

But he had to control the restless urgings of his sensual flesh, he couldn't make a fool of himself with that young bitch out in the pool. He loved Bette, it was Bette he wanted and not Debbie Mason, it was Bette he wanted to hold in his arms again, Bette he wanted to slide his hot, throbbing cock into, Bette, Bette, Bette !

And yet, even with the love he now felt for the lovely blonde mother, he was drawn as if by a powerful, unseen magnet by the alluring black- haired creature whom his nephew thought to be in love with. She seemed to be reaching out to him with her lustful body, begging him telepathically to come to her, to take her in his arms as he had taken Bette in his arms the night before

A low moan of confused desire purled from Ken's throat. He tried to force himself calm, force himself to remain where he was until the feeling ebbed and passed--but then, as if with a separate will of their own, his legs were carrying him out into the kitchen again, through the kitchen to the back porch. He looked through the window, looked at the pool.

Debbie was gone; the pool was deserted.

Ken drew in a deep, tremulous breath. Had she gone home? Christ, he hoped so! He hoped so with all his heart and yet, he wanted her still to be there, he wanted to go to her, touch her Jesus, Jesus, why couldn't he control himself, why, why!

He had to make sure she was gone, that she was nowhere near, that she had grown tired of waiting for Tony and had simply departed without saying goodbye. Quickly, Ken hurried outside, walked past the pool, and stepped up to the entrance to the small dressing cabana on the opposite side. The door was slightly ajar, and he reached out and pushed it open, taking a step forward to peer inside as he did so. And then, as the sound of a shower spray hissing lightly onto the tile walls and floors of the single stall came to his ears, he froze in wide-eyed immobility at the sight suddenly presented to his eyes.

Debbie Mason, the provocative black-haired teenager, was standing almost directly in front of him, across the tile floor of the cabana, visible inside the open shower stall. Her tanned, lushly curved body was blanketed in a soapy film from the bar she held in one slim hand, rubbing herself briskly, humming softly. As Ken watched, in frozen fascination, Debbie leaned over, facing away from him, and presented her upturned, perfectly rounded ass-cheeks--the slim rippling flesh of her thighs and the softly hair-fringed slit of her young, tight pussy nestled between them--to his view.

She washed herself under the steady spray from the shower head, obviously unaware of Ken's entrance; unaware of his eyes feasting on her nakedness, his mouth open and wetly moist with the exciting sight of her nudity so close to him, so lewdly displayed as she bent over there in the stall. Her legs parted slightly as she dipped one hand between her legs, sliding the bar of soap up and down along her soft, tight crotch, the movement of her hand visible to Ken from where he stood, the creamy soap suds clinging to her soft cunt lips, her pubic hair. A tingling of delicious excitement coursed through his body, and he shivered as he stared at Debbie's voluptuousness, at the rippling muscles of her unclothed flesh. He told himself he had to turn around, walk away from there, get out before he completely lost control of himself--but he couldn't move, he could only stand rooted to the spot with the tingling growing stronger in his lower belly now, causing his cock to spasm into half-arousal in his pants, his balls to ache maddeningly with building sperm. Jesus, she was beautiful, so hot and small and beautiful!! What must the rest of her look like, her proud young tits, the flatness of her belly, the thin, sparsely growing triangle of her pubic mound, the front view of her young pussy

The lovely, naked teenager stepped under the full force of the shower spray, and Ken watched the soap film disappear, leaving her in full clean nakedness for his fevered gaze. His mouth was dry now as he saw Debbie rub vigorously at her back, at her buttocks, at the darkened nether ring of her tight little anus, and Ken stifled a low groan of frustration and shame and mounting lust, the small of his back becoming almost alive with emulation of her vigorous movements.

Then Debbie turned off the spray and took a large towel, the one she had been carrying earlier, from where it was slung over the top of the stall side. She turned as she did, the towel covering her breasts and her lower abdomen as she stood in profile to Ken's feasting gaze. His imagination ran rampant, and he found himself urging her silently to pull the towel away, to let him see her tits, her pussy, he had to see all of her nakedness!