Chapter 12

Lillian sat on the couch, filled with a mixture of resolve and apprehension. At the other end of the couch, Art sat looking concerned and expectant, wondering why Lillian had brought them all together this way. Paul and Jennifer each sat in one of the living room chairs. It had all the anxiety-producing awkwardness of a chance meeting with an ex-lover, complicated a hundred-fold by their collective knowledge of their illicit liaisons.

This stage had been much harder to set than Lillian had anticipated. Her intial task had been to view the recordings - the first, of Art and Jennifer, and the second, of Paul and her. She had felt moments of disquiet and guilt about not telling Paul that their licentious acts were being recorded, just as Art’s and Lillian’s had been. But she knew she could never have convinced him to go forward had he known their every movement and sound was being recorded. No, it had been better to do it the way she’d. The result had been stunningly erotic – so much so that she had been unable to resist bringing herself to orgasm while watching and simultaneously recalling the incredible sensations of Paul’s cock driving into both of her welcoming receptacles.

Getting the recordings edited the way she wanted them had been an ordeal. She hadn’t really thought that part through, but several frustrating hours with the manual that came with the recording system had convinced her she needed professional help. But where to get it? This was hardly something she could take down to the camera store and have them do. She did some Internet research, but came away realizing she could not send these recordings off to some anonymous person without a substantial risk that they would end up on the Internet.

Finally, she hit upon the solution – the private detective she had gone to see originally. He would have some ideas – some discreet service, perhaps, that handled these things. This can’t have been the first time this had come up.

Sure enough, as he had the originally, the principal at the agency had exactly what she needed – a very discreet, reliable and expensive service that handled this sort of thing. They were licensed and bonded and had their own form of agreement under which they pledged absolute discretion. He had made the call himself and set up the meeting for her. A week later, she’d sat with the ridiculously young man in the editing room for two hours filled with cringing moments as they went through the recordings together and she told him what she wanted.

The next, problematic step had been to set up the confrontation.

She hadn’t spoken with Paul about the state of his relationship with Jennifer. She knew he hadn’t told Jennifer about the recording – or, indeed, that he knew of her betrayal. But Lillian hadn’t seen Jennifer since that day and suspected they had been avoiding each other.

Convincing Paul that the four of them should get together had been a real challenge. Finally, she had persuaded him that things needed to be brought out into the open. There had to be an adult discussion that cleared the air and led, if necessary, to a clean break. “There already has been a clean break in my mind,” Paul had responded. But Lillian had convinced him that it was better for the two of them to confront their betraying lovers together – strength in numbers and clarity and consistency of communication, she had urged.

Finally, he had relented. Lillian set it up for an evening on which she knew Art would be home Paul made the call to Jennifer.

There the four of them sat. Lillian had made them all strong drinks, which they had accepted gratefully and consumed quickly, followed by a second round. Though more relaxed, they still could not get beyond awkward pleasantries.

Lillian had carefully planned exactly what she was going to say and how she was going to let the whole thing unfold. But, in her apprehensiveness, she had put off saying it. Now, fortified by the alcohol, she steeled herself.

She took a deep breath and concentrated on controlling the expression on her face as she began.

“I wanted the four of us to talk about something,” she began.

Art and Jennifer looked at her apprehensively. Paul was staring at his feet.

“It’s not a pleasant matter but something we’ve all been aware of for some time,” she continued.

She glanced over at Art. His face had reddened and he looked deeply uncomfortable.

“A picture is worth a thousand words, they say. And if there’s anything that tells a story better than a picture it’s a moving picture.”

Art looked as though he was going to keel over. His face was beet red, with an expression of absolute trepidation.

“And so, I want to show you a moving picture,” she finished.

“Uh, Aunt Lillian ... I don’t think...” Paul began, knowing what she must have in mind.

But it was too late. Lillian had already reached over, lifted the remote, and pressed the play button.

The sounds came fractionally before the video – unmistakable sounds of lust, mewling and grunting. Then the screen brightened and the two figures came into view.

Jennifer was the first to react. Her jaw dropped and she gave a loud gasp, staring at the screen where Art was ramming his thick cock into her from behind. Oh God! she thought in horror. Oh God, no, it can’t be, it can’t be! Paul’s caught me, caught me being fucked by his uncle.

Art was seconds slower to realize what he was looking at. He couldn’t believe his eyes! It was not a true scene, it couldn’t be -- it was a nightmarish vision of his own private hell. His mouth gaped open, and his entire body grew rigid, as he stared at the two people lustfully copulating on the screen. Oh Jesus Christ, no, no, nooooooo! his mind screamed

Jennifer began to sob loudly. Art got to his feet, his mouth open, but no words emerged. He stared at Lillian, who looked stonily back at him.

“I ... we...,” he stammered.

Jennifer was now sobbing uncontrollably. Then Paul was getting up, going over to Jennifer and, to Lillian’s intense annoyance, comforting her! He had just watched her shamelessly fucking another man — his uncle — and he was comforting her! Lillian wanted to go over and slap the little bitch ... and Paul!

“I ... we, oh God, I’m sorry,” Art was saying. “I’m so sorry you saw that. I beg you ... we ... I...”

“You what?” Lillian said, mercilessly, letting the DVD play on.

“Turn it off. Please, we’re sorry. It was wrong. So wrong. I can’t ... there’s nothing I can ... no excuse I can give. It was completely wrong. Absolutely wrong.”

Art was in agony. He sank down to his knees before Lillian, a pleading look in his tear-filled eyes. Lillian, who meant the most in his life, whom he loved. Then he turned to Paul, whom he had raised, his eyes and hands raised in supplication. But Paul was attending to Jennifer, patting her, murmuring something.

Lillian waited pitilessly for the next words she had been so careful to ensure were included on the edited DVD.

“You gonna give me ... unhh! ... your hot cum? All of that cum ... nhhh! deep ... nhhh! ... deep in my pussy?”