Chapter 1

Helen Fredericson's auburn hair, piled high in a French twist, accentuated her creamy complexion and the shimmer of her emerald-green eyes. The stark white of a high-necked hostess gown revealed a size thirty-seven bust line that even a severe bra failed to confine and the firm curvature of size thirty-six hips; the effect was to give her five-foot-six-inch figure a regal appearance that was reinforced by her grace and composure. She busied herself straightening up evidence of company, emptying ashtrays, wiping away rings left by glasses, and smoothing wrinkled cushions.

Art Fredericson hovered over his wife, hands deep-thrust into his pockets, lips compressed, and weight shifting from one foot to the other. His gaze wandered over her body, drawn by each movement of a muscle, and he continually wetted his lips with his tongue tip. His sun-bleached hair was tousled, and it seemed natural above a face roughened by years of exposure to the weather and eyes whose blue had faded in the wind. His lean six-one frame saved him from looking short in contrast to his wife's height, and he had an aura of suppressed explosiveness about him.

Helen brushed past her husband and bent to wipe a spot from a corner of the coffee table. Art's hand came out of his pocket to caress her ass. She jerked whirled to face him, angry red spots flaming over her cheekbones.

"Art! For God's sake!"

"Sorry." Art mumbled and returned his hand to his pocket.

Helen doubted that. "After all, there's a time and a place for everything! Honestly! I think you're getting as bad as Barry."

"Sure, sure. Dirty old man."

"Don't be sarcastic. He is. I don't know why Van lets him get away with it." Vanessa Rush was the closest friend Helen had - they'd been like sister's since high school days - but Helen disapproved of Van's permissive attitude. 'Letting him look at other women the way he does!' she thought. 'And giggling and simpering when he feels her up - right out in public! Ugh! Grandma would have a word for it; she'd have called Van a "strumpet"!'

"Shit! He's only thirty-one. How can he be a dirty old man? And she lets him because it's natural and she likes it!"

"That's right. When you can't think how to get out of it, use bad language." She moved out of Art's reach and continued her work.

"At least I live in the real world. Christ, Helen, sex isn't a disease!" Art sounded quietly desperate. "Nothing dirty about it, except what you make it in your mind."

"Art Fredericson! Blame it all on me! Grandma would have said... "

"GRANDMA, HORSESHIT! Goddamned prude! I never will know how come your old man couldn't walk on water after that immaculate conception!"

"Art! How dare you!"

He grumbled and subsided. Helen finished the coffee table and turned to the last end table. Suddenly she felt Art's hand slide up the inner slope of her thigh. She clamped her knees together and struck at his arm.

"Damn it! You want Danny to see something like that?" She blazed at her husband.

"Do him good. His age, he ought to start learning."

"Oh! So I've neglected his education!"

"No! He gets the theory in those school courses! But you've sure warped it! Hell, a kid ought to know a pat on the fanny is a sign of affection!"

"Sign of affection! Just lewd, that's what! He saw enough of that between Barry and Van tonight!"

Art chuckled. "And wondered how it would be to try it on that hot- eyed kid sister of Van's! See the way he kept sizing her up?"

"Terrible! That's what I mean! And Olga actually flirted!"

"Like with a ten-year-old. That chick isn't going to break in a fifteen- year-old.'

"She's a tramp!" Helen glanced about the room to see if she'd missed any spot of disorder. "He's more mature than any of the boy's she's dated here."

"Carries himself like a man, all right. She may be overlooking an experience!"

"Oh, Art, don't always be dirty-minded!"

"Okay, okay. Come on, baby, let's go to bed. The house can wait."

"A lot you care! You don't have to face it in the morning. You just go off to work and let me worry about it."

"And you do. Twenty-four hours a day."

She stiffened. "I have to do something to take my mind off how grouchy you've gotten!"

"Who the hell wouldn't be grouchy? Takes a national holiday around here for a guy to get a piece of ass! And then its like reading the Declaration of Independence through bulletproof glass!"

"Art fredericson! You're mean and crude! Go on in, I'll be there in a minute.

She clenched her fists as she watched her husband go into the hallway. She hated these scenes and had a knot in her belly that kept getting larger as the scenes became more frequent. Her grandmother had warned her, long before she was old enough to understand.

"Selfish, flesh-loving beasts, all of them," the old lady had said often. "Even your father, dear thing.'

And while Helen's parents had fun and went places, her paternal grandmother had stuck top the dreadful task of reshaping a lustful, filthy- minded child into a civilized girl. Helen knew that's what old Mrs. Farrell had done. Hadn't she been told often enough? She'd rebelled, she remembered. She'd played with herself and spied on her father, filled with wonder at that enormous cock of his, and made up fantastic stories in her mind about relations with all the boys she knew. 'Yes', she thought 'Grandma had a real challenge. She'd been losing it, too, until that wilderness trip with the Indian guide.

"Not that he made the difference." she muttered bitterly to herself. "But what it did to Grandma."

Even Helen's mother had agreed Grandma Farrell's death - her massive stroke - had come as a direct result of Helen's pregnancy. And Helen had never lost the black worm of guilt over the fact she'd regretted those hours with Tony, the guide, only for her grandmother's death - not for the mortal sin she, herself had committed with him. That personal lust - that terrible, conscience- deadening pleasure - had burned into her the truth of what her grandmother had steadfastly maintained.

"You're your mother all over again," her grandmother had said darkly, over and over. "No shame. No moral fiber. You'll never be a Farrell."

And on the old lady's abrupt death, Helen had realized that she really loved her grandmother. She'd resolved in that moment - fully aware of the insatiable sex-hunger in her - that she would atone to her grandmother by becoming what the Victorian woman had wanted. She buried the hot-pussied self and built instead a poised, frigid shell. She'd done it well, she reminded herself now. Well enough that she'd kept Danny on the right track; well enough that she'd never let herself progress to an orgasm since that summer in the woods. Her grandmother must be proud, looking down from heaven on the granddaughter she'd given up for hopeless.

Helen hurried to the bedroom. She had time to get into her nightgown and into bed before Art finished in the bathroom. And there were moments to recall that summer. There had been a lake and a camp and Tony - he'd had a name even her father couldn't pronounce, so they'd nicknamed him tony - had gone to scout trail for the next day's move. Helen had gone for a lone hike, then turned back because of a bear. And she's heard her mother's squeal and her father's carefree, eager laugh.

"Abe! That tickles! Behave yourself!"

"Behave myself! When I can have my nooky in this setting?"

"Your language!"

"Fraud! Get my hand on that snatch and your language will make me blush!"

"Nooky!... Pussy!" Helen whispered from where she now hid in the brush. They were delightful, tingle-producing words. If she crept only a few feet further, she might - just might - get to watch them fuck.

"Wait'll I catch you!" she heard her father say happily.

There was a sound of snapping twigs and rustling underbrush. Helen's mother burst into view and stumbled. Convenient to be in the middle of a clearing, thought Helen with a shiver. And her father overtook his wife there. He pulled her to her feet and crushed her to him, his knee pressed to her pussy and his hand kneading her ass. Helen felt her own young pussy glow as she watched the willing redhead who was her mother writhe in the hot embrace was a low moan of pleasure.

"Honey! Honey! Oh, I want it so!"

They fell to the dark earth, rolling over each other and grabbing at each other. Without Helen seeing how, her mother's halter came off and lay crumpled under them. Abe pinned Ruth beneath him, his mouth gulping at her breast and his hand diving into her shorts. His wife groped at his trouser fly, fumbling at the zipper and finally pulling out his cock.

Helen writhed. She twisted her legs until her weight bore on one heel, through her pussy, and she clutched her breasts in her hands, squeezing and massaging. Watching was better than all her dreams put together, she decided. Only having the experience, herself, could be better. She gasped and held her breath. Her father was pulling her mother's shorts - and her panties, if she had any on - over her hips. Ruth had her ass off the ground and squirmed to help him, but she refused to let go of the reddening cock. Abe lifted his wife's feet as he drew off her shorts, raising her legs vertically and dropping one hand to prod at her twat. Ruth squealed and twisted, pulling herself up until she could mouth the moist cockhead that peeked out of her hand.

"Oh!" whispered Helen. "Oh, how delicious! I wonder how it really tastes?" The joints of her jaw tensed as if she's just eaten a sour pickle and her hands fumbled at the waist of her sweater, then slipped inside, up to her bra and under it to cup the hot flesh of her girlish breasts.

Abe straightened, tugging at his clothes while his wife gnawed at his prick. her hair flamed in a ray of sunlight, a gleaming halo against the background of her husband's white belly and thick, black body hair. She sat with her knees up and her feet widely parted, her pussy a shimmering, wet cleft of pink between parallel thickets of carrot-colored pubic hair. Helen groaned inwardly with envy as she compared the swollen, parted slopes with her vivid recollection of her own thin cuntlips. 'Someday!' she thought. 'Someday I'll have a pussy like that! And a cock like that to kiss!'

But she imagined she heard her grandmother's acid tone in the distance. "Dirty-minded little girl! Shameless as your mother! The Devil's own child!" Helen shook her head impatiently - the old woman was two thousand miles away, and a man named Abe Farrell was getting ready to fuck a woman named Ruth right in front of his daughter. And Ruth was sensitizing his cock with her mouth, savoring its maleness before engulfing it in her pussy.

Somehow, Helen's mother scrambled to her knees when Abe stood up to kick off his pants. And she kept his cockhead in her mouth and cradled his balls in her hand. he laughed and laid his fingers on her temples.

"God, woman! You're something else today! Have a heart!"

Ruth spit out her meaty mouthful and tilted her head back, eyes dancing as she gazed up at him. "It's you," she said. "I go wild, wanting you so much!"

He sank to his knees, his cock trapped between their bellies and her breasts spreading and flattening against his chest. He seized her asscheeks, rolling them in his fingers, pressing them together to close her crack, parting them to expose the pink pucker of her asshole. Ruth slipped her arms over his shoulders and pulled at his flesh with her fingers.

"Darling," she said softly. "Oh, Abe darling! I do love you!" She squirmed, her hips thrust forward so her belly pressed hard against his. "Especially with your prick in my belly button!"

Abe fingered the crack of her ass. His eyes closed momentarily and he blew into his wife's hair. "If it were big enough, you'd train that belly button to suck me off, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, honey!" Ruth protested laughingly.

Her husband forced his knee between her thighs and raised it, lifting her from her knees and planting his foot on the ground. Ruth twisted, raising herself until she positioned her twat above his dick. She began to lower herself, her hips undulating as her cunt settled around his cockhead. She clenched her teeth in concentration, her gaze fixed steadily on Abe's face.

"Unh... unh... " Her exclamations were low-voiced and tentative, spaced as if each were a false expectation of reaching the root of the cock she was sliding onto. And then explosively - "UNH! Ahhh!" - she flung her arms around him and began nuzzling his neck, biting and releasing and biting again. Abe squirmed, laughing, and retaliated.

Helen's eyes widened. She withdrew one hand from her breast and touched her neck and shoulders, pretending someone was giving her "love bites". She shivered deliciously.

Her mother's boob formed a bride between her straining body and her husband's, the darkened nipples prodding his chest and burying themselves in the curls of his body hair. She sat on the back of one thigh and an asscheek, her other knee hanging toward the ground, and jacked her hips violently. Abe held one palm at the small of his wife's back and massaged her ass with the other. His fingers slid along her crack and her buttocks winked. Both bodies writhed, tense and eager, and Ruth's skin began to gleam with perspiration.

Helen trembled. "Ooh! Ooh, she likes that!" she whispered, gazing wide-eyed at her father's fingers as they caressed her mother's ass. She inched forward on her heel, bearing down with her anus on the rounded, bony little foot. She winked her ass the way her mother was doing, biting her lips at the sensation and groping at her pussy with her hand. She paused, clutching herself tightly and bending forward to see better; her parents were starting to do something else.

Ruth fell back, clinging to Abe's shoulders. She stared into his face, her eyes looking strangely sleepy. Her mouth was wet and red, and her nostrils flared. She tossed her head and her hair broke free of its pins. The French twist disintegrated to a cloud of tumbling red about her shoulders.

"Darling!" Her voice was husky. "Roll me! Roll me in the dirt! Oh, God, I feel great! I feel like we're a couple of animals rutting! Please, baby!'

Abe panted. His mouth was open and working, and his fingers kneaded her flesh spasmodically. He twisted and fell backward, keeping his wife impaled on his cock and rolling with her as her hit the soft, moist earth. Ruth's legs parted widely and she gouged into the leafmold with her heels, kicking vigorously. Together they rolled across the clearing, sweet-smelling earth flying and bits of black debris clinging to their bodies. Their legs and arms tangled and they bit at each other. Their breaths whistled, its cadence punctuated by low grunts of pleasure.

Helen writhed with desire. She twisted her fist among the inflamed tissues of her pussy and bit the back of her other hand to smother the continuous whimper that welled in her throat. Oh, yes! she thought. Oh, yes! This is the way it ought to be! Naked and rolling free! It might be sinful, like Grandma says, but nothing could be more wonderful! I'm going to be like Mama... and I want to!

Abe's fingers dug into the pink and white flesh of his wife's ass, parting her cheeks and stabbing at her anus, his teeth tugging at her nipples while she thrashed beneath him. She ground the back of her head against the earth, her eyes bulging and her teeth clenched. Then she opened her mouth widely.

"Abe! Ride me, darling! Ride me for real!"

"For real?" There was a note of sudden eagerness in Abe's question.

"Ruth hesitated momentarily. "All right," she said then. "But quick, darling! Now!" She rolled abruptly onto her belly and pushed herself to her hands and knees.

As if impatient, Abe caught her at the waist and lifted until his wife stood stiff-legged, her feet widespread, her body bent at the hips and her palms flat on the ground. He edged his knees between her taut thighs and crouched, pushing the head of his cock down so that it nestled in the depression of her cunt. He pushed forward with his hips, lodging the cockhead securely in place, and grasped his wife's hips.

"Mm! Mm!" Ruth grunted. "Put it in, darling! Quick!"

Helen felt a curious churning in her belly. She writhed silently while her father pressed forward and the brutal cockhead buried itself in the dark pink flesh. "Oooh!" se moaned silently.

"Oh!... Oh!... " Ruth gasped. "Hard, Abe! HARD!"

Abe jammed his hips forward and the thick shaft plunged into her. His hairy belly bumped her ass and his fingers dug into the roundness of her hips. He hitched himself over her, his cock bending at the root, and raised his feet from the ground, hooking his insteps behind his wife's knees. She sagged for a moment, then stiffened her knees.