Chapter 7

"So the three of you were in bed together," I said. Helen and I were sitting at the kitchen table having a second cup of coffee after Jack left for work.

"Yes," she replied, "And your Mr. Young is one of the gentlest men in bed I've ever known."

I felt a twinge of jealousy which I put down right away. So that's where he disappeared! In fact, I hadn't seen him again. Somers and I went downstairs for a drink, after he had given me back my clothes, of course. Somers had mellowed after our encounter. Later, Jack and Helen came down, and we left.

"What did Jack have to say about all this?" I asked. "I thought he was pretty square."

"He wants to please me, Bea. I think he would agree to anything as long as he wasn't left out of it." she said.

"Well, what did you do?" I asked.

"When you and Jack went upstairs, Jack started telling me jokes, dirty jokes. He knows a million of them, as you know. He went through four of them, and then Mr. Somers told a really filthy one. That man has a low opinion of women, Bea. You should have heard that story. Disgusting!" she averred.

"I did an operation head-start on him," I said. "Maybe he has a higher opinion of us now." I remembered how Somers had almost cracked me too. What happened after the filthy joke?"

"Jack told a few more of his traveling salesman ones, and then Mr. Somers said he was tired and wanted to go lie down. He said if we were very tired, he would show us a spare bed upstairs. Jack and I said fine and up we went.

"Well, we both got undressed in the bedroom Mr. Somers had pointed out to us and we were just about ready to get down to business, when in walks Mr. Young, stark naked and carrying his clothes with him.

"He said he was sorry and would be glad to turn the lights out when he left. He said he had been using the bedroom temporarily until he got married.

"I rolled over onto my elbows and told him it was all right. I didn't mind that he had come in, and I told him that Jack didn't mind, and why didn't he just stay." She giggled.

"Why you little devil," I said. "What did he say to that?"

"He looked at me, I mean at what I've got here. You know."' She pointed at her breasts. "He said I was a beautiful creature, and that Jack was lucky to have me for a wife."

"Next thing I know, his thing starts swelling, and if he had any ideas about leaving the room, he soon forgot them. He dropped his clothes on the floor and came over to the bed.

"Jack started fussing then, and I kept telling him to shush. Jack was really embarrassed. But Mr. Young started talking to him and pretty soon Jack was all for it. "Well, Mr. Young lay down on the bed first, on his back. That thing of his was just a rootin' tootin' to go. I wanted it bad too. He told me to get on top of him, which I did, and he put it in. 'Boy, ' he said, that's wide open country!! On account of the pony, you know." She glanced at me shyly.

"Next thing he told Jack to get on his knees behind me and stick his thing up my rear end. Did you ever? Jack really was hot for the idea, too, and he never has suggested anything like that at home. I couldn't believe it.

"He told Jack where to find some cream to use, and Jack went and got it. He put it all over his thing and then rammed it up me. It felt like fire at first, but then all three of us going to town like that together like that, it started to feel good with two things like that in me at once. Have you ever done that?"

"We all three came at about the same time and toppled over. Jack had had a lot to drink and went off into dreamland almost at once. I mean he went out. Talk about sawing wood!" she exclaimed.

"Mr. Young said to follow him, and he went into another bedroom where he made love to me extra special. I asked him where you were, and he said you were sleeping. I asked him if you would mind if you knew what he were doing, and he said no, you didn't have any strings on him and vice-versa."

"Was that it then?" I asked, irritated beyond compare. I was seething inside. I wanted to get into the car and drive over there and break something over his head. I looked down at the floor and began mentally counting the tiles in an effort to take my mind off the whole thing.

"That was it," she said. "What a night!"

I sat, staring at the floor and drumming my fingers on the table.

"Helen," I began. "what do you think happened to Clyde?" I got up from the table and walked slowly over to the door leading to the back yard. The pony was eating the lawn with singular dedication.

"I don't know, Bea," she responded, apparently puzzled by my question.

"I mean," I said without turning, "what do you, Helen Smallwood, personally think happened that day? You must have some notion or theory. Your mind can't be a blank."

"I'm afraid it is though, she replied. "I haven't the faintest notion where he can be."

"Suppose we forget for the moment where he might be right now," I argued. "How do you think he got out of the house?" I turned around and faced her.

"I don't know that either, Bea. There didn't seem to be any explanation. There was no way he could have possibly gotten out."

"Exactly!" I said. "There was no way he could have gotten out by himself."

"Are you suggesting someone took him out?" Helen asked. "How did they get in? There was no sign of forced entry anywhere."

I saw the realization of what I had planned for her to think spread across her face. "J-Jack?" She looked up at me in amazement. "You think Jack took Clyde? But he didn't get home until evening," she protested. Her face reddened suddenly. "Besides, for what reason would he do a sneaky thing like that?"

"I'm not sure that he did, Helen," I confessed, walking back and sitting down. She was on the verge of resentment at my accusation. It was the reaction I had expected and wanted somehow. I picked up a nail file and fussed at my fingernails.

"No? You sure seem secretly pleased at the idea if you're not," she perceived. The thought I had planted in her mind was cankering there. "Well?" she asked suddenly. "Is that all you have to say, that you're not sure?"

"I'm not sure," I repeated, looking down at my nails. "There are just some things that make me think of the possibility."

"What things?" she asked.

"Somebody that had a key would have had to let him out of the house," I stated. "I heard Jack say last night at John's that he got back early on Tuesday, not Tuesday night as we assumed."

"He probably meant he got back to the office early in the day," Helen countered. "He doesn't always come directly home after a business trip."

"Then there's that telephone number," I brought out. "The number of a man who keeps a lot of animals at his place. Why would Jack have had just that number on a slip of paper?"

"Didn't we already discuss that?" Helen reminded. "It's undoubtedly a business contact. You said that man owned a garage."

"Yes," I agreed, "But wouldn't it have been more likely Jack would carry the telephone number of the garage? The number on the slip is a home phone," I informed her.

"Oh, Bea," Helen said impatiently, "he knows dozens of those guys personally. Goes on hunting and fishing trips all the time. I even know some of the wives."

"The telephone number of a friend like that would be in some kind of address book, wouldn't it? I asked. "Jack must keep account books, too. This was a fresh piece of paper, and you said yourself you never heard him mention the name before."

She practically glared at me. "Is that where you're going this morning?" she wanted to know.

I nodded.

"Well, I'm going too," she announced, getting up out of her seat. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm going to get dressed." Her tone was short and curt.

I watched her as she trailed out of the kitchen in the robe. If we found Clyde out there, she was going to be madder than hell at Jack. Either way, she would be angry with me for some time.

I had played with my nails long enough. They hadn't really needed any manicuring. It was just a nervous habit, and I had been nervous talking to my sister. I hadn't intended mentioning the, possibility of Jack taking Clyde until I was absolutely sure, and even then if I could have arranged it with Jack, I might have kept it from her.

Was I really so upset about John with Helen that I had wanted to get even? I had always loved my sister above all others, and now I had deliberately made her uncomfortable.

I stood up and stretched. A warm, pleasureful sensation ran down through my vulva. I squeezed my breasts lightly and walked back to the bedroom to get dressed.

We were out on the highway to Fort Worth when Helen spoke to me.

"If we find Clyde out there, what shall I do?" she asked.

"About Jack?"

"Yes," she replied.

"He'll have to have an explanation," I said. "Helen," I said in all seriousness, "is there any possibility he might have come home early one day and caught you with Clyde without you seeing him?"

"We always did it downstairs," she said. "Clyde doesn't like to go up and down that staircase," she mentioned. "I suppose," she went on, "if Jack had looked in a window."

"What would he have done?" I asked. "Gone out and gotten drunk and sworn to get rid of the dog, right?"

She puckered up her mouth and nodded.

"He's just going to have to live with both you and Clyde, Helen," I insisted. "Compromise. Tell him you only play with Clyde when he's away on trips because you get so lonely for him. Tell him about all your girl friends who play with men when their husbands are away. Ask him if he'd like that better?"

"You know how he can get, Bea," Helen demurred. 'You know how it has been with that pony. I don't think it would work."

"If you would just take a stand. I know he loves you," I argued. "You said he would put up with almost anything. Put it to the test."

"He wants to be a part of it," Helen said.

"Figure out a way," I urged her.

We were silent for a long time then. We passed through Fort Worth easily. Helen knew a way to get around to the other side without running into a lot of traffic. She was still sulky to an extent. I knew finding Clyde would be a tonic to her whatever the circumstances.

We had been driving along a back road to the northwest for some time when Helen announced she had to go to the bathroom real bad. After about another mile we saw a service station up ahead on the left. It turned out to be a small rural station offering a cut rate brand of gasoline.

Helen parked the car away from the pumps so as not to give the impression we wanted gas, and we got out.

A beefy kid of about twenty-one or two came pounding out of the little station house grinning from ear to ear.

"Ma'am!" he greeted us. "Got troubles?"

"Bathroom troubles," I said. "Where's the rest room?" I looked around the back of the house for a doorway but could find none.

An older man came running out of the house. "What is it, Homer?" He asked the fat boy. "What do them ladies want? You ladies lost?" he addressed us.

"Stopped by just to use the rest rooms, Pa," he told the older man. "I'll go on down and tidy up," he said, padding off behind the house.

"That boy's a real worker," the man informed us. "Real clever with his hands. Should have been a carpenter."

"Amazing," I noted, thinking about the enormous hams I had observed at the end of each of the boy's arms.

"Are the rest rooms messy?" Helen asked him, appearing somewhat leery of having to use them at all.

"Ain't that," he told us. "Just kids get in there sometimes leaving a lot of paper laying around. Can't always watch it. Homer'll set it in order. No point in waiting here," he said. "Go on down."

We walked down and around the house and observed a path running slightly downhill leading to a wooden outdoor privy. There were two doors marked crudely with chalk designating which was for men and which for women.

"Don't pay no attention to them signs," the old man shouted after us. "One's the same as the other."

I looked at Helen and she laughed for the first time that afternoon. We both laughed.

"Do you suppose Homer is still in there?" I asked Helen when we reached the step leading to the doors.

"I don't know," she said, " but I can't wait or I'll pee in my pants. Keep an eye out, Sis," she requested, stepping up onto the platform and walking to the door marked for women After she had gone inside and closed the door, I debated whether or not to use the other side. I didn't have to go so bad as Helen, but the power of suggestion was working on me.

I decided to wait until Helen came out and use the one properly marked for my own sex. I half expected to find Homer waiting inside the other one anyway, grinning and blushing sweatily, expectantly hoping I would show a bit of pussy.

It seemed Helen was taking an awfully long time in there. Maybe she had cramps as well as a full bladder. The dear girl had a constipation problem since marrying Jack. Too few orgasms will do it to a woman, I thought.

In a moment there came a shriek from inside followed by gasping moans that seemed to die in intensity. I raced up to the door and pushing it open and saw Helen seated on the commode, her head thrown back, and her body racked with what appeared to be the throes of sexual passion.

Looking down at the round opening I could see her pussy clearly. To my amazement huge strings of jism were cascading down out of it into the pit below. What looked like an entire load came out before it ceased dripping.

"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "What's happening in here, Helen?" Looking around, I saw no one else was inside. It seemed incredible. I started shaking her. "Helen, " I insisted, "what happened?"

"Oh, Bea," she puffed, grabbing my arm for support. "Believe it or not, I just got screwed." She was trying to catch her breath. "And cripes, did it feel good. Phew!"

"But how?" I begged her. "there was no one in here."

"Hand me that paper," she requested, pointing to a small pile of cheap toilet tissues stacked on a shelf.

I handed several to her.

"Thanks, " she said, wiping what was left of the load from her cunt. She dropped the papers through the opening and stood up, pulling up her underpants. "Wait until we get back in the car," she whispered.

We walked up the slight incline together and back to the front of the station. Homer was standing there red as a beet and grinning. I noticed his sweat had soaked through his shirt in several places. He reeked of body odor.

The old man came out of the house as we got into the car. "Hope you ladies found things to your liking," he called out to us. Helen waved at him as we pulled out,

"Now tell me, I'm dying of curiosity"

"When I went in there, it looked like an ordinary outhouse," she began. "I went over to the place where you sit and pulled my pants down. I sat up over the hole and began urinating."

"Well, she said, "I had just finished peeing when the fattest, warmest thing you could imagine pushed its way up into me. I didn't know what it was at first, but it sure felt like you know what.

"I looked down through the opening and saw the thing up in me was definitely no imitation. There was a man lying on his back underneath."

"Was it Homer?" I asked.

"I couldn't see his face," she said. "I could just see that part of him that showed through the opening. It was a fat man," she added.

"Then if must have been," I concluded. "That slob. What a way to get a piece of ass!"

"I had no idea how long the thing was he had stuck in me." she continued. "When I looked down, all I could see was like a tree stump stuffed up between the lips. I had the feeling that plenty was in there, though. It was grand. It didn't seem as if he were going to get around to pushing it in and out," she continued.