Chapter 8

Next morning, Jerry dived into a heavy breakfast of bacon and eggs and buttered toast, topped by both milk and coffee and preceded by fruit juice and vitamin pills. Besides being hungry, he was taking no chances on losing any strength.

They had gotten Debbie Carter together last night, helping her to dress and to do something about her hair and makeup, so that she looked reasonably presentable when she went home to her husband and daughter. She hadn't really wanted to leave, hut they all knew it was best, and as she kissed them both goodnight, she'd promised to return as soon as she could.

Finishing the last of his coffee, Jerry stretched his legs and said, "Mom--what about Mr. Carter and Mary? I mean, if we want to keep Debbie with us for any length of time, we're running the chance of him walking in on us some day, just like she did."

"I know," his mother answered, "and I've been thinking about that. Since Lester isn't working this weekend it's probably as good a time as any, too. I guess the best thing for me to do is to seduce him, get him to lay me, so he can't make Debbie feel guilty about her own swinging. Still, some men cling to that old double sex standard, and he might not go for his wife fucking someone else, even if he is."

"Maybe she can help work on him with you," Jerry suggested. "If she talks to him, really talks to him, she might get him all turned on. I know talking with you about screwing does it to me."

Angela snapped her fingers. "You may be right, darling. Our friend Lester could be made horny as hell, if Debbie brought it up to him, if his own wife sort of offered me to him as a new and exciting lay. It might put a lot more zip into their sex life, too. I don't think that Lester is actually a cold type; he's just in a rut, tired of the same old screwing, no matter how good it is."

Carrying his dishes to the washer, Jerry put them away and said, "They never ate each other."

"Blame the rut they're in, and all that early programming, and probably the fact that most married couples never really talk to each other, never bring their sexual secrets out into the open. Your father and I were lucky, right from the beginning, and now you'll never be hidebound by a bunch of propaganda that can only make you frustrated and unhappy."

Jerry patted his mother's sleek ass and grinned. "No way for me to be frustrated now. I've had the best, and if I never get to fuck all the rest, I'll still be happy. How are you going to do it, mom--set him up, I mean?"

She kissed his cheek and he felt the mounded pressure of her proud breasts. "I'll call Debbie and clue her in, tell her to bring him over here. Maybe you shouldn't be around, though--not at first, anyway. After we've gotten Lester going, you can join the party."

"Okay," he said, stroking her hips as she stood softly against him. "But where are you going to lay him, living room or bedroom? I want to see and hear it all."

Angela frowned. "The living room, I think. I'll feed him some brandied coffee and move him in there on the couch. If you get over in the corner behind your father's big chair, you'll be out of sight." She kissed him again, this time upon the mouth, her tongue darting and honeyed. "I'll miss you, baby. Of course, I'm excited about screwing a different man, about trying a new prick, but I'll miss you, anyhow."

"I can wait," Jerry said, and she went to the telephone to make the arrangements. He heard her whispering instructions to Debbie and listened to the small argument that seemed to be going on, but evidently the other woman soon agreed.

"Have to run and make myself very sexy," Angela said. "Don't let him see you, dear."

He felt a burgeoning of excitement as he went into the living room and took cover behind the big leather chair. From there, he could look into the kitchen and see as well as hear everything that went on. The couch was to his right, across the room, and Jerry had a clear view of that, also. Leaning back against the wall, his old robe wrapped around his body, he remembered that he hadn't gotten dressed in several days. It had been one long, terrific honeymoon with his mom, all that magnificent fucking and eating each other, spiced at the end by Debbie Carter's participation. He had the edge on his dad there; Mack didn't have another woman join in when he had married mom.

Peering around the chair, he saw his mother come back into the kitchen; she wore her slinky red dressing gown, the one that clung suggestively to every curve of her long, lithe body.

It added a tantalizing, mysterious quality to her already beautiful body, because the shimmering material couldn't quite be seen through, because the suggestions of nipples and the outlines of luscious breasts were barely guarded. As Angela moved to the counter, the gown flowed around her sleek hips, and there was just a quick, teasing flash of her long, supple legs. Luxuriously, her sun-gold hair purled down her back, a pendulum to call attention to the swinging of her shapely ass. If Lester Carter didn't raise a hard just looking at her, he didn't have any balls, and was beyond hope.

Though he'd been expecting it, Jerry jumped a little when he heard the knock on the back door. He stared as Debbie preceded her husband into the kitchen and saw her kiss his mother on the cheek as usual, even if he knew damned well that she wanted to blend hot tongue to wet tongue.

Lester was a redhead, a nice looking guy about five-ten and weighing possibly 190--plenty big enough to beat the hell out of a skinny kid for dicking his wife, and Jerry found himself wishing hard that nothing would go wrong. He and his mom and Debbie might sneak around for months, fucking whenever they got a good chance, but sooner or later, they'd get caught at it.

He had another idea then: his dad had asked him to keep his mom out of trouble, to fuck her so well she wouldn't even be interested in screwing anybody else. Yet here they were, working out a plot to bring in another man. Jerry told himself that it wasn't really the same, because the guy's wife was already part of the family screwing, and wouldn't be yelling for a divorce.

"Sure," Lester said to the offer of brandy and coffee, as the women maneuvered him onto a stool between them, "but I don't know why Debbie dragged me over here. I mean, if you and Mack are having problems, I don't know what the hell I can do to help."

Angela said, "A man's viewpoint might do some good. Here's to solving problems, then."

Jerry noticed that the man's eyes kept flitting over to Angela's tits, then hastily away, and knew that Lester must be getting a good whiff of her musky perfume. No doubt, he had eyed her lots of times before, dreaming a little about how good it would be to feel those slender legs wrapped around him while he fed his meat to the unknown juiciness of her pussy. But Lester had never gotten up enough nerve to make a pass.

Debbie sat up straighter. "While we're at it, we may as well discuss our own hangups, Les." She looked great, Jerry thought, dressed in a simple pants suit that brought out all the ample curves of her mature body, and he felt a little thrill, remembering what a crazy fuck she had turned into once she let herself go, recalling the way she had gulped at the semen he pumped into her throat.

Even though Angela's thigh was pressing against his own, the guy looked sharply at his wife. "Not here, Debbie."

"Here is the right place," she insisted, "because I think I'm going to shock the hell out of you, Les." Taking a deep breath that pushed her big tits strongly against her blouse, Debbie continued: "I haven't been happy with our sex life for a long time, and you haven't, either. Angela and I talked it over, and we decided that what you need is some variety."