Chapter 12: Twenty Years History

It’s been nigh on twenty years now since I got The Power, and things have been interesting, in a carnal sense. Not too much so otherwise, but I had learned much as a kid. I never really wanted to make the world a better place, just my little corner of it.

Mom is now in her fifties and looks like she’s in her early forties. She’s put on about five pounds, but they’re all in her tits and ass, making her abundant curves even curvier. Nowadays her red hair comes from Clairol, but when I once commented on it, she laughed and said that after thirty it’s all maintenance anyway. She sold the old house, and with the equity bought all new furniture, including two king size beds, and an empress-sized one for herself. Then, since she was no longer making a monthly mortgage payment, she splurged and bought herself her first new car. A small Japanese convertible; she made (and still makes!) heads turn wherever she went.

Sue and I moved out of the house after we graduated from college, to go our own ways. Still, I live in the Atlanta area, so every couple of weeks, Mom comes over to visit or I go back home to spend the night or weekend incestuously humping. Mom is randier than ever. Nowadays, of course, when she’s out on a date and it comes time for that old ‘Your place or mine?’ question, she can easily say ‘Mine!’

Mom paid off her ‘debt’ to me by the time I graduated from high school. I tried to drag it out by keeping her from performing all three fucks in every room, but I miscounted. Mom didn’t; she showed me later a little diary she had kept, with entries like “9/12 - O - Living Room” and “11/15 - A - Kitchen”. I really enjoyed it when she wore that French Maid outfit. She had a flirty black satin micro skirt and a low-cut black top, with very long fishnet stockings and four-inch black stiletto heels. Whenever she wore it, sans panties of course, I always had to bend her over to take her in the ass!

Sue’s life turned out a little different! If, as the saying goes, everybody gets their fifteen minutes of fame, Sue certainly got hers, and all by the time she turned nineteen! My sister became Miss November!

It all started when she turned eighteen, a few weeks before she was to start attending Georgia State to get a degree in teaching. Her two best friends were going to school at UCLA, so they went out a few weeks early, planning to hit the California beaches. And as corny as it sounds, Sue was discovered lying around in her bikini. Mind you, Mom and I didn’t learn about it until it was a done deal.

Sue had left with a promise to call and tell us where she was staying and a phone number. I was away when she called, but when I got home, Mom mentioned she had called and left a phone number, but no address. Curious, I took the slip of paper from my mother’s fingers and picked up the phone. I punched in the number, only to get a response, “Playboy Mansion, can we help you?”

“Oops, sorry wrong number,” I said, and hung up. (If I had been really thinking, I would have used The Power to get Hef on the phone, and then I would have been set for life!) Figuring I had screwed up a digit, I redialed carefully, my eyes shifting back and forth between Mom’s note and the phone.

You can imagine my surprise when I got another “Playboy Mansion, can we help you?” What was going on??

“Excuse me, is Sue Harron there?” I asked quizzically.

The operator on the other end said, “Please hold,” and a few seconds later came back on the line with, “I’m sorry. There’s no one here with that name.” I read off the number that Mom had written down, and she confirmed that I had called the number correctly, so I excused myself and hung up. Whatever Sue was up to, I couldn’t figure, and without a phone number tracking her down would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Mom and I were out of luck until Sue called us back with the correct number.

She did call us back that weekend. I was standing in the kitchen, fixing myself a sandwich, when the phone rang, so I answered with a simple, “Hello.”

“Paul!” she squealed ecstatically. “What’s up bro?”

“Not much. Hey, before we get sidetracked, what’s your phone number?” Sue gave me the same number as was on the scrap of paper on the counter. “Sue, that can’t be right. That’s the phone number for the Playboy Mansion,” I protested.

“Uh, huh, that’s where I’m staying.”

Mom had wandered in to get a turn at the phone, and she got a real worried look on her face as I exclaimed, “What?”

“What’s wrong, Paul? What’s the matter? Let me speak to her,” she demanded.

I was trying to listen to two incomprehensible conversations at once, as Mom demanded to know what Sue was up to and Sue attempted to explain. Yelling at the phone, “Just hold on,” I turned to Mom and said, “Run upstairs and get on the other phone.” {Go!}Then to Sue, I told her, “Mom’s going upstairs, wait a minute and tell us again.”

Mom looked startled and took off, running into the foyer and up the stairs. Fifteen seconds later I heard a click as Mom picked up her bedroom phone, followed by, “What happened, honey?”

It took about fifteen minutes for Sue to get it all out, between trying to answer both Mom’s and my questions. It seems as if the first day she and her friends had hit the beach, they got hit upon by a fellow in his twenties, who wanted to take their pictures. Figuring him for a harmless dweeb, they agreed and allowed him to snap a few poses of them. Before he left, he handed them a business card and got a phone number for the motel they were staying at. It wasn’t until after he had left that they had read the card and found that it had the Playboy Bunny logo on it. They were even more surprised when he called a couple of days later and asked for Sue. By the time of her first call, Sue had been photographed for real, in the all-together, and had moved into a room in the Mansion. Now at her second call, she had been selected as the centerfold for a few months’ hence.

The reason we couldn’t reach her was simple, she wasn’t using her real name. She didn’t want everyone back home to know what she was up to, so she used her full first name and her mother’s last name. The reason she couldn’t be called earlier was that she was listed as Suzanna Jones, not Sue Harron. It turned out that this was unnecessary since nobody connected the well-stacked centerfold with the equally well-stacked freshman.

Astonishing was the least we could say. I sat silent and slack-mouthed at the thought of my sister baring all for Playboy, while Mom repeatedly asked if she really wanted to do this.

“Yes, Mom, I really do. And there’s something else; I won’t be coming back to go to school right away,” she announced.

This was getting to be a bit too much. Both Mom and I demanded to know why not. Sue explained that Playboy had offered her a modeling contract separate from the Playmate deal, for lingerie shoots and such. In addition, some lingerie and swimsuit catalogs hired Playboy models as well. For instance, almost half of Frederick’s of Hollywood’s models were Playmates at one time. Sue wanted to try it out.

Short of using The Power to kill the idea, I had no way to tell her no. Besides, once I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to. After all, just how many guys can say they’ve fucked a Playmate of the Month, even if they can’t say it to anybody else? I decided to mind my own business, although I promised to have her autograph the copy I was going to buy.

Mom was considerably more nervous and demanded to see Sue face to face. When I suggested that she fly out, they both jumped at the idea. Sue asked Mom to bring out some baby and kid photos and such for the brief bio they do on the girls, and Mom agreed, albeit reluctantly.

As it turned out, things went swimmingly. Hefner personally greeted Mom at the entrance to the Mansion and showed her around the place. I wasn’t surprised when I heard this - even though he’s had scads of Playmates in his bed, they all seem to come away happy and convinced he’s a class act. When they did the Playmate Profile bio, Sue and Mom were sitting next to each other on a couch trading stories.

On a more personal note, in the video bio she responded to a question as to who her biggest hero was. Without batting an eye or hesitating, she said, “My brother, Paul.” She continued with the story of what had happened with Jackie Malloy, and how her crippled brother had taken out a much larger guy with two punches, to protect her. She finished with a comment about how any man she married would have to be as heroic as me! What nonsense.

Sue’s appearance in the magazine caused quite a stir, for a rather strange reason. In many ways, it was a classic centerfold shot. She was standing in a doorway, hands above her head holding the door frame, dressed in an open cup ‘Merry Widow”, with black stockings and high heels. However, she was Playboy’s first shaved centerfold. To read the Letters to the Editor, this ranked up there with the first full frontal nude, the first tattooed nude, and the first body-pierced nude. Rather controversial, if silly.

She didn’t win Playmate of the Year - that was a more conventional girl (36C-23-35, 5’6”, blonde and blue-eyed). Still, Playboy only uses professional models for about half its Playmates; Sue was in the amateur grouping, the traditional ‘girl next door.’ She considered it a real honor. She stayed out on the West Coast for most of the school year, modeling and building up a sizeable bank account, before coming back the following summer with a deep tan and no tan lines, to start school a year late. Summers and vacations usually found her flying back for modeling assignments. You could say that Sue’s tits paid her way through college!

Midway through her senior year, Sue ran into a fellow on campus who managed to meet her criteria for heroic. She literally ran into him - they were both walking across campus, not watching where they were going and talking to their individual friends when they barreled into each other. Sue went flying, only to be helped up again by the person who had knocked her down. He was a Marine captain, about five years older than her, on a temporary assignment at the school’s NROTC detachment. He promptly apologized by inviting her to dinner, and they promptly fell head over heels again, this time in love with each other.

They were married a couple of years later and Sue eagerly fell into the role of camp follower, merrily traipsing after him every few years whenever he got transferred, teaching elementary grades in base schools. She’s happily monogamous and they’ve got four kids now, two sets of twins, boys and girls. They run in his family. He really is heroic, with several combat medals from a military service notorious for being stingy with medals and is now a colonel (brigadier general designate). They’re stationed at a base near Palermo, Italy.

I once used The Power to quiz him without him remembering, and he gleefully responded that Sue is the hottest piece of ass he’s ever had. “She knows tricks that a Bangkok hooker doesn’t know!” he exclaimed. “She first fucked me on our third date, and later told me she had waited simply because she was on the rag for the first two. I mean, like whenever we go out, she never wears underwear. Ever! And she always wants me to screw her, pussy, ass, mouth, whatever. A night doesn’t go by without us getting it on. Christ, she gave me blowjobs the nights before the kids were born!”

I didn’t tell him, but all I could think was that Mom and I had trained her well.

As for me...

I graduated from high school on schedule and enrolled at the University of Georgia. I continued living at home, since with both Mom and Sue eagerly servicing my dick, I had very little reason to chase broads on campus. Not that I didn’t screw them ragged, too. If I met a pretty coed, I would simply use The Power to make them take me back to their dorm for a good fucking. They always thought it was their idea, and eagerly drained my balls of cum in pleasant nooners.

I majored in History and renewed my acquaintance with Professor Blackhawk. He was ecstatic that I had entered his field, especially after I told him that he had been a big influence on me. He invited me over to his house for dinner, where he and Mrs. Professor told me that Jenny had gone to school back in Denver. I told them to send her my best wishes, and they asked what I was going to do after graduation. I shrugged and replied that I hadn’t really thought about it, but that I really liked the college atmosphere. They told me to consider grad school and getting my Ph.D.

I did consider it, and the concept had quite a bit of appeal to me. The financial independence The Power gave me meant that I wouldn’t have to get a job or pay off school loans. So why not? I enjoyed it, and I doubted it would be too terribly much more challenging than what I was doing already. Besides, Georgia is a big school - there were simply tons of honeys roaming the campus! The Professor greased my way through the admissions process, and I became his protégé.

Shortly after I started grad school, I moved out of Mom’s house. Sue was spending most of her time away from it now, in the company of her Marine, and it was simply time to fly the coop. Mom cried, of course, but she got over it quickly when I pointed out how she could bring her own boyfriends over now, so it went fairly well.

For myself, I bought five acres about half an hour from the school, and then built a house. Specifically, I had a house built for me; I really don’t know which end of a hammer is the business end. It’s a large T-shaped split level. The ground floor has a sizeable family room, laundry and utility, and garage (read junk room). Then it’s up a half-flight of stairs to the main guest portion, living room, dining room, kitchen, and den. Another half-flight takes you back over the family room portion, where four good sized bedrooms, two on each side of the hall, and two full baths splitting the bedrooms and with adjoining doors, then up the last stairs to the master suite. This is where I sleep, above the living room, et al, and has a monstrously large bedroom/sitting room arrangement, along with just about the largest bath imaginable. Dual sinks and vanities, three seat shower and whirlpool, even a bidet, everything a Lothario could ask for. Very plush indeed.

Shortly after I moved in, I learned what millions of other homeowners have learned over the years. Those beautiful Home and Garden looks, don’t last. I needed to keep things up, to clean the house, vacuum, wash clothes, cook - keep house! Mom had spoiled me all those years. After another few weeks, I also learned, like everybody else, that I don’t like to do these things. The difference was that I could hire people to do them for me.

A little thought (very little, it came to me as I was eating lunch one day in a Hooters), that not only should I hire a woman to take care of things, but I should hire one to take care of me as well. My waitress was a pretty brunette, medium tall and with a nice build, and looked like she would do nicely. I used The Power to arrange a date, and the date ended up in bed, where she performed quite adequately. That girl gave a hell of a hummer!