Chapter 58: Irma Loses a Bet

It was a good thirty minutes until the others began to arrive; Irma tried to leave on four separate occasions, but she lacked the speed and agility. Her tongue worked, though, and she called Stick's father every name she could think of -- and spun three or four tales of possible gay sexual combinations (since that seemed to set Pop off), some of which were unfortunately true.

Stick collected everyone downstairs. After he and Mary made introductions, he said, "Pop was pretty pissed; I'm probably gonna end up out on the street, one way or another. Your mama didn't know anything, right? I'm not real clear on how this happened!"

Arthur Nally popped up, "I imagine that she went looking for a sore spot -- but she may have guessed. It's hard to say."

"Well, Pop DOESN'T know -- or he didn't. I don't know how this is gonna go."

"Will he hurt anyone?" Mary asked.

"I don't think so. He don't have a gun or anything. But your mama might have two black eyes..." Stick turned to the stair.

"THAT wouldn't hurt her," Arthur mumbled under his breath.

"Pop, we're all here!" Stick called, outside the door. There were a lot of white folk in the hall -- eyes were peeking around corners everywhere.

"Well, git in here, outta the hallway, then!" Pop called back. "You keep your ass on the couch!" he admonished Irma. Everybody filed in. "Git over there where I can keep an eye on ya!"

Several of the new arrivals were pleased that there weren't any guns or knives showing. Pop turned to Stick. "Awright, who's who?"

"This is Mary..."

"That's fuckin' obvious."

"And this is Ted."

"Is it Ted, or Teddy? The fat bitch keeps sayin' Teddy."

"It's Teddy, Sir," Teddy piped up.

Pop nodded. "Little fucker's got manners, at least. Next!"

"This is Mary's dad..."

Arthur nodded his head. "Arthur Nally."

"You put up with her shit regular?" Pop asked, nodding at Irma.

"Too often," Arthur replied.

"Arthur!" Irma screeched.

"Shaddap! You had your say!" Pop bellowed. "I oughta duct-tape your mouth shut!"

"And this is Teddy's mom..." Stick finished.

"Where's your daddy, Boy?" Pop asked Teddy.

"He's dead, I'm afraid," Frieda interjected. "I'm Frieda Frick."

"Frick?" Pop looked amused. Teddy colored, but Frieda held her peace, nodding.

"Awright. I'd like for this to be a man thing, but too many of ya got a right ta be here. Except for this nasty-mouthed twat," he waved at Irma, "I apologize in advance for anything too rough gets said. Okay?" Mary and Frieda nodded.

"Awright, c'mere, ya slip -- Mary, ain't it?" Pop waved her forward.

"Yes, Sir."

"We gonna start with the basics. Everybody seems ta agree you been spreadin' it for Stick -- AND for Teddy! What's up with that?" Mary flashed a look at Stick and flicked her eyes to Teddy, but Pop wasn't buying. "You're talkin' to me, now -- it's too late for snow jobs!"

"Okay. It started out more or less accidentally, but I get different things from each of them -- and I like it that way." Mary declared.

"Who else you fuckin'?"

"Nobody."

"Stick asked ya to fuck somebody else, would ya?"

Mary chewed this one over; how was it relevant? "Maybe. It depends."

"On what?"

"Circumstances. Reasons. If it made sense. If Teddy agreed..."

"Ah. So, is this Slutville, or not? Don't sound like it, quite," Pop mused. "What's Teddy got to do with it?"

"They're equals, in some ways." Mary decided that the truth was the way to go.

Pop flashed a glance at Stick. "Ain't the way I heard it."

"We figured we would start out with something you might swallow," Mary replied.

"Huh." Pop's eyes took in both young men. "Equals, huh? Why is that? What's equal about ya?"

"They're different," Mary worked to salvage things. "It's too difficult to compare them. Like apples and oranges."

"What's so different? Besides one of 'em is a white boy..."

"Really, it's kind of obvious..." Mary trailed off.

Pop eyed Teddy. "I hear you ain't got much of a dick."

"I lied," Stick said flatly.

"It's 'Show and Tell'," Pop grated. "Show me."

Teddy undid his pants. Predictably, he was shrunken to even smaller than normal. "That's not fair!" Frieda blustered. "He's scared to death!"

"There's somethin' to see?" Pop grunted. "Can ya get it up, Son? This ain't about getting' hurt..."

"I--I don't know..."

"Get ya some help, maybe..." Pop's eyes flashed around the room; significantly, they lit on Stick, too. Stick knew some test would be coming... "I guess mosta the others wouldn't be right. Mary, you done this before, right?"

"Yessir."

"You figure this is the right circumstances?"

"Yessir." Mary went to her knees before Teddy and took control of his cock.

"Mary! You stop that this instant! My God!" Irma screeched. "Arthur, say something!"

"Shut up, Irma," Arthur said tonelessly. "Mary wants to do this, I think." Mary, her mouth full, nodded. Teddy, thankfully, was showing some signs of life...

Pop watched for a bit, then frowned. "What the fuck? Back off, Girl -- lemme see this!"

Mary backed off, smiling; Teddy was in full flower. "See? THAT's what's different!"

"Damn, Son -- that's the weirdest dick I ever saw!" Pop exclaimed. "It be different from Stick's -- that's for sure..." He sighed. "I hate to do this to ya, Boy, but we need to move on. Tuck it back in..." Turning to Stick, he asked, "So, you're fuckin' her, right?"

"Yep." Stick's face was calm.

"Okay, prove it. I wanna see it. Tip her up over there on the couch and give her a nut."

"Pop!"

"Ya been doin' it or ya ain't -- and if ya have, it ain't no big deal! You okay with that, Red?" Pop addressed Mary.

"Uh huh. C'mon, Stick, your Dad's right -- it's not like we haven't done it before..." Mary grabbed Stick by the wrist.

"Okay," Stick grunted. "Get your panties off. Dunno how I'm gonna get going, either, at this rate..." Too bad he couldn't use Teddy... But he started coming up right away, no problem, in Mary's hands.

"This is an outrage!" Irma protested. "Disgusting! I can't watch this! It's horrible!"

"Look away, then. Y'all okay?" Pop asked the couple setting up beside Mary's mother.

"Um, yeah..." Mary was slouched back with her dress up and her legs spread; Stick was looking for the proper stance, adjusting his knees wider and narrower. Mary started rubbing Stick's glans against her slot, intent on her work.

"Uh, if y'all don't want to see this..." Pop offered to Arthur and Frieda. "The fat bitch, there, says she ain't, so I figure it's important to her -- but y'all do as ya please..."

"Fuck you!" Irma hissed -- but she was watching her daughter absorb Stick's length.

"You'll never go back to dogs, Bitch!" Pop replied. He shifted his attention to Arthur and Frieda.

Arthur murmured, "If she's fine, I'm fine." Mary nodded confirmation.

"I don't understand how this is relevant..." Frieda murmured -- but her eyes were glued to the juncture of the black boy and the white girl. Stick was clearly just as excited to be in there...

"That fat racist cunt on the couch doesn't like it," Pop replied. "That'd be reason number one. Second, she said that she never saw them fucking -- an' she implied that somethin' else was goin' on, instead. We're clearin' up whether Stick is queer or not, for one thing."

"Oh..." Frieda couldn't tear her eyes away -- which was a general situation that included Irma.

Pussy was pussy; Stick found that he COULD get it going, and once he did, it wasn't too bad. Mary started dry, but she was lubing up... She leaned up to kiss him. "Just get it -- don't let them bother you. I'm not..."

Pop turned to Teddy. "I guess that brings us back to you. You queer, Boy?"

Teddy fidgeted. "Not totally, Sir," he finally got out. "I like that."

"Meanin' Mary?"

"Uh huh. Stick usually goes first -- it opens her up. Otherwise, it's real hard to get in."

"You an' Stick asshole buddies?" Pop asked.

Teddy paused a long time. "It's not like that. Ma, cover your ears. You see, Stick likes to get his dick wet. That doesn't make him queer. If I lined up on you for a blowjob with a couple of girls, you'd probably pick me as best, if you were blindfolded -- and a lot of that is because I know what feels good. Believe it or not, we tried it."

"You didn't answer my question."

Another long pause. "Stick's been in me. He's been in Mary, too. An ass is an ass, I guess."

Stick stopped dead. "Dammit, Pop! I can't finish what I'm doin' if I have ta worry 'bout you kicking the shit out of me!"

Pop turned his attention on Stick, but he pointed a finger at Teddy. "You taken a dick up your ass, Boy?"

Teddy shook his head no, and Stick, who could see neither of them, verbalized it, "No. Not my thing." Mary, watching Pop over Sticks shoulder, added her head shake to Teddy's.

"You suck a dick?" Pop challenged.

All three of them froze. But all three of them decided that they were safe in a lie. Teddy shook his head. A moment later, Stick said, "No, Pop." Mary added her agreement.

"Go back to fuckin'," Pop grunted. "I think all three of ya jus' lied to me -- but that's sorta impressive."

Teddy piped up, "You've seen me. I'm not going to be in an ass."

"Boy, you don' know what I seen. But I'll buy it that you ain't tried it," Pop replied.

Teddy shrugged. "It's just not Stick's thing..."

"What's YOUR thing, Boy?"

"Ma..."

"Whatever it takes, Dear."

"Okay. I like to fuck. I like to be sucked. I like to make other people happy, so I like to suck. I kind of like being fucked," Teddy went down the list.

"So what does Stick do for you, Boy?"

Teddy was ready. "He lets me make him happy. There's some more to it; he protects me and Mary. He makes the tough decisions. He shares."

Pop sighed. "You still told me more'n you should have."

Arthur piped up. "There's a range, here. It's called bisexual. It's not gay, and it's not straight -- it's more just... open. But it IS a range. I've talked to all three of them about it, and Teddy is well over the hump toward being homosexual -- but he isn't, quite. He's very submissive, and in a lot of ways almost female -- sorry, Ma'am." He nodded at Frieda, who said nothing. "Stick is the opposite; he's mostly into females, and completely into -- as Teddy says -- getting his dick wet. He won't do anything that endangers his position as top dog in the relationship -- but he'll fuck anyone that offers, within limits."

Stick had stopped again. "Shit, Mary, I can't do this while they talk about me!"

Mary sighed. "I can't, either. Let's just wait like this."

"Why don't you two just stop that disgusting, unnatural act?" Irma ranted. "I can't believe..."

"SHUT UP!" came from at LEAST three sources.

"Boy, you can stop worryin' when you answer just ONE question so I'll believe it!" Pop rasped. "If ya don't, your ass is outta here, so you need to think about it REAL HARD!" He paused, then posed the question again, "Now, Boy, DO YOU SUCK DICK?"

Stick locked eyes with Mary. Several seconds went by. Finally, he murmured, "One dick. Teddy's. Because he deserves it."

Mary followed this up with, "And that's MY fault -- because I browbeat him that he was just taking from Teddy and not giving him anything in the relationship!"

Pop sat there, looking at Teddy, who had tears running down his face. "This is fucked up."

"If I had known it would come to this, I'd never have allowed it," Teddy husked.

Stick turned around. "Pop, this ain't about queer or straight. It's about me, and him and her. That's all. Jus' me and him and her."

Pop looked at Teddy. "That the way it is? Nobody else?" Teddy nodded. Pop turned to Stick, "Boy, take yo' friends up to you mama's and my room. Don't fuck the place up, but take care of business. The rest of us got adult shit to talk about." He sat looking at Teddy while Stick unplugged himself from Mary, helped her up, and collected Teddy, tucking him between himself and Mary as he led them out.

When they were gone, he repeated himself, "This is fucked up." Irma opened her mouth, and he grated, "Shut up! You ain't brought nothin' positive to the table yet!" He rubbed his face and turned to Arthur, "You seem to know shit -- what happened?"

Arthur shrugged. "Blind luck. I picked up on it early and got most of the answers. None of them is out doing anything or anybody else. Stick isn't gay, and hasn't done anything gay with anyone else. Teddy was in early experimentation; Mary probably stopped him from coming out confused. Mary -- Mary's happy..." he flicked his eyes at Irma, "generally."

"I'll get back to ya," Pop grunted. He turned to Frieda, "What's your take on this?"

"I was totally blind until yesterday," Frieda replied, "but I don't have a problem with it. I don't have a problem with either of them."

"Well I do!" Irma piped up. "I think it's a crime against nature! It's sick, that's what it is! All this wild sex... Musical chairs... It's godawful!"

Pop rubbed his face again and, ignoring Irma's ongoing tirade, turned to Arthur. "What's your name again?"

"Arthur."

"Arthur, this dizzy bitch has spent the past hour or so sounding like the queen of the white supremacists! She's insulted me about two million times in my own home, an' I wanna kick her big fuckin' white ass right up between her fuckin' ears! Being you be her husband an' all, I'm wonderin' if you want to take responsibility for the bitch..."

Arthur sat there for a moment, looking at Pop Williams. Then he looked at Irma, who sat with her arms crossed, glaring at him. Then he turned back to Pop, "Ordinarily, I'd feel some obligation to support her sorry ass -- but she came here to make trouble and to ruin my daughter's life, so I figure she can get what's coming to her."

Pop sat back. "You ain't wearin' a pointy white hood today? Or you jus' too chicken to mix it up wit' me?"

Arthur took off his eyeglasses and gazed down at them. "If you feel you need to fight me, that's fine -- but I'd prefer that you save your energy for Irma; she's well padded. I don't know where this crap she's spouting came from, but I don't agree with any of it, and, frankly, I think you have a real fine boy!"

"Arthur, you fucking traitor! I want a divorce! I'm going to take you for every nickel you ever made!" Irma screeched.

"Jeezus!" Pop leaned up and slapped Irma right across the mouth, then sat back watching Arthur, who made no move. Frieda flinched, and Pop spared her a glance. "I'm real sorry you had ta see that." He turned back to Arthur. "But?"

"But nothing," Arthur replied, shaking his head. "Stick had it right -- it's about the relationship. The three of them are growing something non-standard in the way of a relationship. Now, I have no problem with that. Frieda, here, has said the same. It's up to you and Irma -- and I'm prepared to fight Irma."

"Well, I'M prepared to KICK IRMA'S FAT ASS!" Pop roared, getting up in her face.

"Do what you like! I won't have MY daughter turning out a half- dozen half-breed babies and a bunch of God knows what for a couple of queers!" Irma spat.

"Long as they be sharin' your daughter's pussy, they ain't queer!" Pop replied, his eyes slits. "What you got against black dick, anyway, bitch? You miss out when you was younger?"

"You blacks and your big egos, trying to paper over your natural inferiority! You expect me to buy into the black sexual superman myth? Bullshit!" Irma screeched.

"Big talk, bitch! You up for a wager?"

Irma's eyes narrowed. "What kind of wager?"

"I bet I got two inches of cock on your old man, there. If I'm wrong, I'll make Stick stay away from Mary. But if I'm right, I'm gonna poke it in every one of your skanky holes and blow a wad -- an' you'll suck it up an' run your little brown, kinky-haired grandchildren around the block in their stroller, all proud-like -- right with the white ones!"

Irma's mind raced. She had no real concept of what 'normal' was for a cock; she'd had two, and the other one was longer than Arthur's. Still, she'd seen two more today, and Stick's, while longer than Arthur's, wasn't anything ridiculous.

Pop, meanwhile, shifted his gaze to the others. Arthur put back on his eyeglasses; Frieda just sat there, petrified. Pop eyed her. "This is outta hand. If you don't wanta be here, you can go inta the next room, or somethin'. We got to fix this."

"Will it be fixed?" Frieda asked, fearful for her son, rather than herself. "The gay parts..."

Pop waved it off. "Special case. Don' want it getting' out in the 'hood, but..." He nodded at Irma. "Problem is THERE!" He turned to Arthur. "Okay, this is different. That's your pussy -- you got a say..."

"It's MY pussy!" Irma insisted. "Only I get a say!"

Pop's expression reflected sadness. "She like that alla time?"

"Some. For a while, now." Arthur's reply was toneless. "This is the worst, by quite a distance." He looked at his wife. "I'm out of it -- let her make her own decisions."

Irma grinned in triumph. "Okay, Superman -- two inches, huh? I don't think Arthur is average -- do you?"

Pop just eyed her. "Three."

"Three! Three inches? So the bet is that you're three inches longer than he is?" Pop nodded, warily. "Done!" Irma cackled.

Pop turned to Frieda. "In the next room, in Rose's sewing cabinet, there will be a cloth measuring tape in the left-hand drawer. Would y'all get it for us?" Frieda, wide-eyed, nodded, and bustled off to collect the tape. Pop turned to Arthur. "I didn't ask you if you wanted to do this."

"I see where it's going."

"You packing any surprises?"

"No."

"Then she's fucked."

"Yeah, sure! Whip it out, Superman! Show me the Black Master's super snake!" She turned to Arthur, "Pay attention, Dear -- no doubt it'll be longer than yours, anyway. I spent two years helping you keep your job by fucking that bastard Chase, before he moved on -- I've seen better than you before!"

Arthur looked shocked. Pop shook his head. "Man, that sucks! I already seen more of YOUR home life than I wanna!" Frieda bustled back in with the cloth tape. "Okay, you're a witness, right?" Pop addressed her.

"Yesssss." Frieda had no idea how things had come to this -- but she couldn't leave. Somehow, at some point, this black man had stopped being the enemy and started championing both their sons against the hatred and vituperation Mary's mother was putting out. Things were... weird... but she felt compelled to see them play themselves out...

"You good with that, Bitch?" Pop prompted. "Maybe you want the kids to see you go down?"

"She'll do to witness you eating crow, Superman! Let's go! I've got things to do!" Irma snarled.

"Go ahead, Man," Pop directed. Arthur stood and deliberately unzipped his trousers, then lowered them to the floor. He looked first at Irma, then Frieda, then shucked out of his boxers. Pop took a look and grunted, "You suck, there, White Supremacist Bitch? Mebbe you wanna fluff him a bit before the measurement?" Arthur was only half-hard.

"It's probably enough to handle the handicap already!" Irma countered. "Come on, stop talking and start embarrassing yourself!"

Pop argued, "I'm serious! You're gonna want to get everything you can! You got five minutes once Miz Frick here says time starts -- but I get equal time!"

"Five?" Irma looked disgusted. "Too long -- two!"

Pop shrugged. "Two it is. Miz Frick, you clear on the bet?"

"I think so. Your... equipment is to be at least three inches longer than Mr. Nally's. Mrs. Nally has two minutes to get the maximum erection possible from each of you."

"That it, bitch?"

"Fine. Christ, Arthur, you could make SOME showing!" Irma bitched.

"Ya got two minutes to help him..." Pop pointed out.

"Stop talking and get it out!" Irma ranted. "I need to take my daughter home!"

"Fine." Pop unzipped and dropped his baggy blue jeans.

Stick, Teddy, and Mary weren't up to 'taking care of business' when they entered Stick's parent's bedroom. The previous half hour or so had been extremely stressful for them all; Teddy was openly crying and Mary was on the verge of tears. Stick couldn't seem to lift his various burdens THAT far -- release seemed to be denied him. "I dunno WHAT the fuck Pop's gonna do now!"

"What do you figure they're up to?" Teddy asked fearfully.

"I figure they're arguing over who is going to try to stop us and who isn't -- and how," Mary guessed.

"Yeh," Stick agreed. "I'm thinkin' it's two against two. Mary's Mama an' my Pop against Teddy's Mama and Mary's Pop. Don't look good." He looked at Teddy. "Mebbe I can crash at your place. Dunno WHAT the fuck we gonna do 'bout Mary..."

"Let's not buy trouble, Hon. My Poppa might carry things..." Mary hoped.

"Ma isn't exactly committed -- and she isn't exactly gutsy," Teddy sighed. "In the meantime, what are we gonna do?"

"I'm tempted to have one last blast -- but I don't think I'm up for it," Stick sighed.

"Me either," Mary agreed. Teddy nodded his head. The three cuddled up on the bed for several minutes, trying to get control of their emotions. Finally, Teddy stopped openly crying and Mary stopped shaking. Stick grunted, "I can't believe it's takin' this long... Somebody plannin' to move outta town, or somethin'?" He hopped up. "I'm gonna try to get a look; y'all wait here..."

"Omigod!" Frieda exclaimed. Pop Williams organ as revealed was a good two inches longer than Arthur's, completely flaccid!

Irma looked back and forth. Experience told her that Arthur had a bit more in him, but that much? She began to know real fear. "Come on, Arthur -- DO something!"

"Uh uh," Pop admonished. "Ain't up to him. It's up to YOU! Best you get him hard..."

Irma looked to him for clearance and Pop stood back, allowing her to get up off the couch. Irma ponderously got up and moved over in front of Arthur, kneeling before him and hissing, "You're embarrassing me!"

Arthur shrugged. "You're the one that got yourself into this."

Pop looked over at Frieda. "You gotta watch, Miz Frick?"

"Do I have a watch, or do I have TO watch?" Frieda asked.

"Both."

"Yes." She positioned herself to Arthur's left (Irma's right), where Pop's monster organ was also in her field of view, looked at her watch, and announced, "You may start."

Irma, with obvious reluctance, took up Arthur's cock and started jacking it. Pop murmured, "Keep an eye out, Miz Frick. I get equal time -- and whatever he gets!"

Irma looked up, scowling. "You mean I have to do this to you?"

"Yeh." Pop grinned.

"EWWWW!!!" Irma dropped her hands.

"You lose this bet, Bitch, an' that'll be fuckin' NOTHIN' to what happens!" Pop grated. Irma thought about it, eyed Pop's snake, and started jacking again.

Arthur got hard against his will; even given the situation, any attention was better than none. Irma watched with satisfaction as his cock stiffened and the glans puffed out, filled with blood. Pop, watching, grunted, "Nothin' wrong with that. You be a picky bitch, ain't ya?"

"Shut up," Irma rasped. "This is MY time!" She directed a venomous look at Arthur, who she was certain was holding back -- and which had a negative effect on him; he subsided a bit under the glare. "Dammit, Arthur!"

"You aren't exactly making this a pleasant experience!" Arthur retorted.

Frieda watched, fascinated. Both men present exceeded Hubby's capabilities by a significant margin; Mr. Williams was absolutely HUGE! Twenty-four hours before, Frieda could not have even envisioned this scene. A few minutes ago, she was scared to death, both for herself and for her son. Now, she was floating beyond all that, running on apparently unneeded adrenaline -- and succumbing to the fascination with male sex organs first experienced earlier in the day.

Irma shut up and concentrated on Arthur's cock, managing to bring it to something resembling its potential. Pop, watching Frieda, recognized fascination and cleared his throat. Frieda looked up, blushed, checked her watch, and announced, "Time!"

"How long was it really?" Pop asked.

"Almost three minutes." Frieda looked away, embarrassed.

Irma glared. Pop grunted, "Don' give her any shit -- you needed it! Git a measurement!" He grinned. "Best keep him fluffed up, there!"

Frieda fumbled with the tape. "Top side," Pop recommended. "Bottom is longer, 'cause of the curve, but then you get inta arguments 'bout where the cock ends and the balls start..."

With shaking hands, Frieda placed the metal tab of the tape against Arthur's pubic bone and rolled it out. "Ummm, six inches, right at."

Pop peered over the top. "Decent. Take a look, Bitch. Satisfied?"

Irma rolled her eyes. "It's all I'm gonna get, I guess." She directed another withering glance at Arthur.

"Ain't his fault," Pop grunted. "That's 'bout normal. An' you ain't helped him much. Git your big ass over here -- it's my turn!" Arthur made to pull up his pants, but Pop waved him off. "Leave it -- she might want to go for best two outta three..."

Irma turned, but squinched up her face. "I'm not touching that!"

"Fuck you ain't, you dizzy bitch!" Pop growled. "You made the rules -- now you'll live by 'em!"

Irma glared up at him. "You can't make me!"

SMACK!! Pop lambasted Irma across the face, then grabbed a handful of her hair. "You in serious shit, here, an' you ain't got no friends! Git your shit together, Bitch!" Pop got right down in Irma's face. Standing back up, he flicked a glance at Arthur, who was frowning slightly, but said nothing.

Irma turned watery eyes on Arthur. "He hit me!"

Arthur's face went totally blank. "Did it knock any sense into you?"

"What?"

"How many times do I have to say this? You entered this man's home and insulted him, his family, and his race! I disagree with ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING you have said on this matter, and you haven't given me any reason to support you! I'm not interceding! Be happy I'm not helping him!"

"But you're my husband!"

"And you want a divorce! Frankly, I think that's a pretty good idea! In any case, you made a wager, here, in front of witnesses. You need to follow through!"

Irma looked around; this wasn't the way things were supposed to be! Arthur was SUPPOSED to cave and do as he was told -- support her! Instead, he was just standing there with that iron-hard look on his face that he'd been displaying off and on for several days, now. Things were NOT as they should be! Now, this ugly black bastard was using her hair to turn her face away from her husband's, tilting her face up to his...

"About time you got started, ain't it?" Pop growled. He drew back his hand. Actually, slapping the bitch around was starting to get him stiff, anyway -- some kind of reaction, probably...

Irma continued to look stubborn... and found herself riding out the second slap! "OW!"

"Git started! Do what ya said you would do!"

"Oh, all right! All right!" Irma took up Pop's heavy club of a cock. It felt different than Arthur's, both because of its size and the fact that it was currently dead weight.

"You jus' gonna look at it?" Pop grunted. Irma grimaced and started jacking the thing. Only the very tip exposed itself beyond the foreskin; she pulled it back until the head was exposed and let it retract. Pop thought it was a piss-poor effort, but he didn't need much... "Might as well start the time..."

Frieda nodded. She'd flinched at both slaps; now Arthur gently drew her away to whisper in her ear, "I know this looks awful -- but you can't imagine how much she needs this dose of reality. She's been just awful for some time -- and there was that other thing... Very embarrassing. That she would tell me such a thing in front of witnesses... Remember what we're trying to accomplish, here -- it's for the kids..."

Frieda nodded again, watching Irma pretend to work. She heard Arthur, and agreed with him, but the primary sensation she felt was his warm breath in her ear. Weirdly, she was tremendously excited; her nipples were rock hard, and she was wet between the legs -- something probably improper for someone who was witnessing what was from some standpoints an assault, and, if things continued as they were, was starting to look like the warmup for a rape...

Stick, creeping through the kitchen, nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the slaps. He froze for half a minute before creeping forward to peek around the door. 'What the fuck?' Mary's Pop was standing there with his shit down around his ankles, whispering in Teddy's Mama's ear -- and both were watching... Mary's Mama jacking off Pop? Something really strange was goin' down...

"C'mon, Bitch, you're cheatin'," Pop grunted. "Git it movin'!" Irma was deliberately taking her time to keep the friction down from her pseudo-hand job. It wasn't helping that much, because he was growing, anyway, but she was cheating -- and everyone knew it! "I'm gonna slap your ass again!"