Chapter 11

The closet doors were both open, reflecting the two wildly fucking couples on the big bed. Before he knew what was happening to him, Mike Duckworth was wrestled to the bed by Frances Davis.

Richard, abashed at the insane behavior of his wife, leaped from the bed in horror. But when he saw her pull her dress over her head, kick off her shoes and panties, tear away her bra, and mount the foggy-headed music teacher, he grew jealous.

Before his son's and daughter-in-law's dismayed eyes, he grabbed Jeanne by the arm, dragged her back into the bedroom, threw her on the bed, and mounted her again beside his wife and the music teacher.

"How do you like this, huh?" he demanded of his wife as he shafted his long prick into the giggling girl beneath him.

"Don't worry, Jeanne," Frances explained, bumping her cunt down around Mike's fat, pink cock. "I know it's not your fault. I've been married to that sonovabitch for twenty-five years, and I know damned well he'd fuck a snake if he could find somebody to hold its head."

Now Jim and Valerie stood in the bedroom doorway, staring in disbelief at the scene before them. It was almost as though husband and wife were having a race to see who could induce an orgasm in their partners the quickest. It was obviously some sort of contest.

Valerie clung to Jim's arm with one hand, and with the other she covered her mouth. She knew it wouldn't do for Jim to see her amusement at the prospect of her in-laws' asses bobbing up and down on her bed.

"What's going on here?" Jim demanded. "Has everyone gone crazy? Mom! Dad! Stop that! You're both acting crazy!"

Frances looked over her shoulder at her son and said, "Take care of your business and we'll take care of ours." Then she turned to her husband and Jeanne. "Don't take offense at this, dear," she groaned to the girl. She raised up on Mike's bloated cock, then let her own weight thrust her down against him. "It figures," she groaned to her husband, grinding herself against the music teacher's drawn-up nuts, "that you'd wind up in bed with a peroxide blonde bar girl. You drunk, you!" She jiggled her tits in front of Mike's face and coaxed him, "Go ahead, take a mouthful, son. They haven't been attended to by a real man in years!"

Mike had been looking at Jeanne's small breasts, but he condescended to squeeze the older woman's tits until the dollar- sized nipples had been urged to full erection.

Richard stabbed his cock back and forth in Jeanne's clasping cunt almost in rhythm to his wife's self-impaling lunges on the music teacher's cock.

"Only a fag would fuck you!" he gasped to his wife.

Frances glanced down at the redheaded man beneath her. The only other time she had seen him was at Jim and Valerie's wedding. "Fag, hell!" she shouted at her husband. "I can feel his cock clear to my tonsils--which is a damn sight further than I ever felt yours!"

"You never wanted to feel mine!" Richard retorted, grabbing Jeanne's breasts in his hands and shaking them from side to side.

"Is he hurting you?" Mike asked the girl beside him.

Jeanne shook her head and twisted her face to the side to kiss him. "This is a gas, huh?" she whispered.

"Pay attention here, son," Frances said to Mike, reaching down to turn his face toward her. Then she said to her husband, "I might if you could ever keep it hard, you impotent bastard."

Valerie could see perfectly well how Mike's cock was impaling her mother-in-law's raven-haired cunt. The fat pink shaft of his prick bulged with lavender veins and when Mrs. Davis rode down on it, it buckled a little, then shot straight up into the clutching red channel.

"That's my own mother!" Jim whispered to no one.

"It's practically incest," Valerie said, unable to suppress her grin any longer. She reached over and felt the bulge in the front of her husband's bell-bottomed trousers. "You've got a hard-on," she whispered to him.

Richard grabbed Jeanne's hips and pulled her harder against his thrusting cock, even though the blonde was already humping rapidly up to meet his strokes. "It seems damn funny," he gasped to his wife between plunges into Jeanne's juicy snatch, "that I'm only ever impotent when I'm in bed with you." He gasped a little, then added, "If you ever showed any interest in sex, I'd show you how impotent I am!"

Frances groaned a little, her tits bobbing as Mike plowed his cock unexpectedly into her hot, palpitating channel. "Unnnh!" she moaned. "If you'd ever make love... like a man... instead of a jackrabbit... maybe... God, what a hot prick you've got, son!... Maybe I'd show a little interest!"

Richard stopped humping into the girl beneath him and raised himself on his hands until his wife was forced to acknowledge him by settling her weight down on Mike's pulsing cock.

"I'll kiss your ass on the bank comer at high noon," Richard told her, "if I'm not just as good in bed as I ever was."

Frances lifted herself up until Mike's fat cock slurped out of her cunt and smacked against his abdomen. She lifted her leg over him, her white thighs jiggling slightly. "Prove it!" she said to her husband, lying down between Mike and Jeanne, her thighs spread in invitation.

"By God, I will!" Richard said, slurping his cock out of Jeanne's cunt and rolling quickly on top of his wife. "How does that feel, huh?" he demanded, thrusting his cock into her cunt to the root.

Frances threw her arms around his shoulders and bumped her cunt up at him. "It feels like old home week," she sighed.

No sooner had Richard withdrawn his cock from her cunt than Jeanne jumped up from the bed and ran around to the other side. "Mike!" she said, lifting his cock to a perpendicular position. "I never knew you had such a big one!"

Jim pulled Valerie into the living room and shut tile door. "I can't watch any more of this," he said. "My own parents!"

"That's the trouble with you," Valerie said, pressing her tits against his chest. "You're almost as prudish about sex as I am."

"I'm not prudish about sex!" he retorted. "You're the prude!" He held her in his arms and looked over her shoulder at his brother, who was still lying on the couch. "At least," he added, kissing his wife on the ear, "you used to be."

"You're still hard," Valerie whispered to him, bumping her pussy against the distension at the crotch of his pants.

"What happened here today?" he asked, letting her unfasten the top button to his pants.

Valerie undid the second button and pulled his zipper down. "I'm not exactly sure," she said, fishing through the fly of his bell-bottoms for his cock. She could feel it, hot and hard, through the fabric of his jockey shorts. "Anyway," she said, pulling her hand loose to push her husband's pants down around his hips, "it's too complicated to explain." She began to unbutton his shirt, then stepped back and pulled off Richard's shirt when Jim began to undo his buttons himself. "But one thing for sure," she said as Jim stepped out of his pants and tossed his shirt over his sleeping brother's face, "a marriage has definitely taken on a new shape here today."

Jim put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him, his hands sliding down her back to cup the full cheeks of her ass.

"You mean you're ready to come back to me?" he whispered, his fingers slipping in the remnants of whipped cream that greased the cleavage of her buttocks.

"I was talking about your mother and father," she said, wiggling against his hairy chest so that she could feel the tips of her breasts begin to erect against his nipples.

"But what about us?" he protested, his cock lifting between her legs. "That's why Mom insisted that she and I come over here, Val. You and I were meant to be together. Can't you see that?"

Valerie pulled away from him and walked around to the far end of the coffee table. Unsure quite what to say, she picked up the last tomato from the green basket and bit it in two. She glanced down at Rich, absurd as he was in Jeanne's bathrobe. And she thought about the date she had almost had with Mike Duckworth. Then she looked back at her husband and finished chewing the tomato. She tossed the uneaten half back in the basket.

"I'm not so sure we were meant to be together, Jim," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, exactly," she admitted. "That's the trouble. That's why we're separated. I'm not so sure I want to stay married to a man who comes to my house to ask me to come back to him in the company of his mother."

Jim walked over to her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Then he cupped her heavy breasts in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the nipples.

"You can't say you don't like this," he said. "You can't say we weren't good in bed together. At least not in the beginning. It can be like that again, I promise."

Valerie looked up at his dark, handsome face. She was afraid to look at his eyes, because she knew how weak they could make her when he used their bright-blue persuasion in combination with that sincere baritone voice. But she did look into his eyes, and she was a little surprised at how calm she felt, even though he was rubbing her breasts and she could feel the heat of his heavy cock through the fabric of his shorts.

"Of course I like it," she told him, maintaining contact with his eyes. "But there's got to be more to it than that." She put her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest so that she could feel the hair against her cheek and hear his heart beating as she had done so many nights when they had lived together, happily or unhappily. "I don't know what," she whispered, her lips moving moistly against his chest, "but there's got to be more to it than that."