textfiles/sex/EROTICA/R/retire.txt

                                 Retirement
                         Copyright (c) 1995 by Jafar


Summary: mind control, incest, ff
An entrepreneur retires and moves in with his daughter's family. Using
a corporation he helped set up, he begins having her friends
mind-trained and having flagrant sex with them. Then he sets his eyes
on her ...

See No Evil:
If any of this might offend you, simply stop reading now. If you are
under the legal age for your state, or there is any other reason you
should not be reading this, you must stop reading now.

Legalese:
All actors and actresses are over the age of consent, regardless of the
ages of the characters they play. Proof of age is on file. This is an
act of fiction. Any similarity of any character, event or place to any
person or personage, living or dead, event or place, is purely
coincidental.  This is all fantasy -- do not try any of this at home.
This story is not meant to condone or encourage any of the practices
described herein, especially not unsafe sex. Use a condom -- real life
*does* have consequences.

Comments:
I am interested in any comments on this story. Please post them to
alt.sex stories.d.

Archiving:
You are welcome to discretely repost or archive this, just do not
change it or claim credit for it.

Have fun!

************************************************************************

Grant was transferring the contents of the desk drawer, contents that
had resided in the same place for ten years, to a cardboard box, when
the intercomm buzzed.

"Mr Blaine?"

Grant pressed the button to speak. "Yes, Rebecca."

"Mr Blaine, I know this is your last day, but Mr Lockhead, the Omega
Corporation representative, is here to speak with you. Anyone else I
would turn away, but you usually --"

"Yes, very good, Rebecca. Of course I'll speak to Mr Lockhead. Send him
in."

A moment later, the office door opened, and a tall, dark-haired man in
an Armani stepped in. "Mr Blaine! I hope they gave you a properly grand
retirement ceremony!"

Grant grinned. "Douglass! Yes, of course they did. Shut the door and
come in. How is the research going?"

Douglass shut the door and walked over to the chair in front of Grant's
desk, sitting before he began speaking. "Well, sir, the detectives have
been on surveillance for three months now. They feel that is a
sufficient length of time to become familiar with the situation. The
reports that you've been receiving each week --"

"Yes, yes, I know," Grant said, waving his hands impatiently. " We've
been through the reports, I've picked out the ladies. What I want to
know is, are the treatments finished?"

Douglass smiled proudly. "Yes, sir. Everything is in place."

"Excellent. Excellent. I've always been able to count on you,
Douglass."

"Thank you, sir."

"A good man, a good man."

Douglass stood and smoothed his suit. "Sir, I -- we at the corporation,
well, sir, we hate to see a man like you retire."

"Well, thank you, Douglass. I like to think I touch a few lives." He
thought a second, then chuckled, "Well, I mean in the regular way."

Douglass laughed lightly too. "Ah, good one, sir. Not the treatments,
but the regular way. Ha. Sir, we are all going to miss you."

"Thank you again, Douglass, but I want to get out in the world a little
bit, enjoy it before I have to leave it. It's time to move on. And I've
been separated from my family far too long."

"Well, sir, we at the corporation wanted to see you off with a gift."

"Douglass, I'm touched."

A little hesitantly, Douglass stepped forward and pressed the button on
the intercom. "Miss Wilson, step in here, honey."

"Excuse me?! Mr Blaine, are you there?"

Douglass prompted Mr Blaine with a nod. "It's all right, Rebecca,"
Grant told her. "Please do come in for just a moment."

A moment later, twenty-four-year-old Rebecca Wilson stepped into
Grant's office, with her ever-ready pad and pencil. Even dressed in a
business outfit -- a white blouse, a brown tweed skirt, her long dark
hair pinned up in a bun -- she was quite attractive.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, however. "Mr Blaine, I admire you,
and I realize that today is your last day. But I resent being called
'honey' and I wish you would implore Mr Lockhead to correct his
chauvinist attitude." She stood stiffly, awaiting the chastizement.

"Mr Lockhead, of course we no longer refer to administrative assistants
as 'honey'."

"I understand, sir. There is no excuse for my behavior. Please forgive
me, Miss Wilson."

"We work fully as hard as 'company representatives' like you, Mr
Lockhead, and we like to be appreciated as professionals. Yes, I
forgive you, but be more considerate in the future, if you will."

"Of course, miss. Now please strip."

Rebecca's eyes grew wide and she sputtered slightly. "Excuse me?!"

"Strip. Undress. Lose the clothes. Honey."

"Mr Blaine!" she complained shrilly as her hands moved up to unbind her
hair.

"Douglass!" Grant said slowly, grinning appreciatively. "You did her!"

"What do you mean, 'did me'?!" She demanded as her hands reached down
to unbutton her blouse. Her wrist lightly brushed one breast as she did
so and sent a thrill up her spine. "Oh!"

"Yes, sir!" Douglass beamed. "We wanted to get you something special,
and I knew you had been admiring Miss Wilson here."

"Douglass!" Grant said, grinning widely.

"Where is my bra?!" Rebecca asked as she dropped her blouse to the
floor, shocked at the undergarment's absence.

"Beautiful titties, Becky. I mean, I'd imagined them, but I never knew
they were quite this lovely. Douglass, you could not have gotten me a
better gift."

"Titties?" Rebecca asked, her voice wavering, unsure. Her hands,
however, were quite sure. They moved to cup them and present them
towards Grant. "Baby mounds, sir ... pillow titties. Oh, please come
suck them, sir. Oh lord, why am I saying this?! Mr Blaine, please don't
come suckle me. Please don't come fondle my breasts! Please
don't squeeze my boobs! Please, I've got to stop this! I am a
professional!  And my titties are ... are only ... for squeezing and
sucking ... by my supervisor." She smiled, happy to have worked out
that little bit of logic. "Oh, Mr Blaine, come suck my nipples!"

"He will, Tittie Toots. But finish stripping."

Rebecca looked down and saw that her skirt was still on. She unfastened
the button, and as she lowered it over her hips, she started gasping.

Douglass beamed. "We gave her clitty a hair trigger, sir."

"Douglass! You've outdone yourself."

"Oh! Yes! Yes! Yeeessss!!" Her skirt dropped to the floor as she
clasped herself, revealing she had also come to work pantiless today.
If she were in any condition to do so, she would have been shocked at
the brazenness. Instead, she was still in the throes of the biggest
fucking orgasm of her life.

Finally, it dulled to a diffuse tingling. Rebecca saw her own juices
running down her thighs, and she stood up straight again and covered
herself as best she could with her hands. "Ohgod, what's going on?
What have you done to me?!"

"Just fixed you up to be Mr Blaine's retirement gift. You should be
proud, baby doll. Now tell Mr Blaine what you want him to do to you."

"To do to me?!" Her eyes widened. "I don't -- I can't -- I -- do you
mean like ... like ... like I want him to take that goddam huge pecker
of his and jam it into my soft, wet, mewling cunnie? Oh fuck, what am I
saying?!"

Douglass smiled. "That's a girl."

"Like ... I want him to come lick my clittie until it screams, and to
push his fingertips up my tight fucking asshole until I beg him to
bring me, to make me cum until I'm some senseless bitch whore cunt?"

"She's wonderful, Douglass."

"How do you feel about being called 'honey'?" Douglass asked her, still
a little resentful.

"Call me a slut! Just come fuck me! Now!" Her right hand was kneading
her own breast, while her left hand was rubbing circles over her lower
abdomen, afraid to venture lower lest it set off another set of
fireworks.

"That's my barbie doll," Douglass complimented her response.

Suddenly, Rebecca froze. "Please! Mr Blaine! Grant! I --" She turned to
Douglass. "Mr Lockhead! Please! Don't make me do this! I can't ...."

"Nobody's making you do anything, honey," Douglass informed her.

"Please! I can't do this. I am a college graduate! A professional
administrative assistant! I can't do this! It's not proper! This is
something a *bimbo* would do!"

"Don't give yourself airs, bitch," Douglass told her. "You're not good
enough to be a bimbo. You're just a slut little cunnie."

"Please!"

"Come on."

"Please!"

Douglass just looked at her.

"A ... slut ... little ... cunnie ..."

"And ..."

She spun around to face Grant. "And I need your pecker in my slimy
little cunt-hole! Please, Mr Blaine." She sank to her knees and crawled
to him, then leered up at him as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped
his zipper. "I'll make it feel gooooooood for you, baby. I've wanted
you.  Sooooo bad. Ever since I brought my tight little bitch ass
traipsing in here. I've wanted to tease you, to make you hard for me.
Did I make you hard, baby?"

"Never as hard as right now, cunnie."

"Ooooohhhh!" she grinned. "Baby! I'm so soft for you. And wet -- lord,
I think I'm almost pissing all over my legs. That's what it feels like,
lover. Let me suck your prick. Let me suck the juice up out of it!
Please!" She nuzzled her face in his crotch.

"Tell him how long you've been waiting for this."

"Oh, Mr Blaine! You know that I sat in that office out there diddling
myself just thinking about you, don't you? Do you have any idea how
many times a day I would look at you and soil my panties?  Ooohh,
sometimes I would have to bring a dozen pairs to work, just so I'd have
dry ones to wear after you talked to me and made my cunnie drool! I
want to make you feel that good! That hot! Oooohhh, baby!" She had
managed to free his cock from his underpants, and she started licking
the head now. "Let me make you feel goooooood!"

"Happy retirement, sir. The corporation and I are at your disposal
whenever you need us." He started walking toward the door when Grant
called him back.

"Douglass, come here. She's fixed for two, isn't she?"

"Sir, this is your retirement. She's fixed for anything you want."

"Then come take her backside while I poke her pussy."

"Really, sir?"

"Of course, Douglass! You're one of -- no, you are *the* best person I
have in my employ. Come take her ass! It's the least I can do." He 
pulled a jar of vaseline out of one of the boxes and handed it to 
Douglass.

Douglass grinned. "Thank you, sir! It will be good to ream the little
tightass some manners. 'Chauvinist', indeed!"

Douglass stripped, then took one of Rebecca's ass cheeks in each hand
and guided the submissive girl until her pussy was positioned right in
front of Grant's cock.

"Shall we do her simultaneously, Douglass?"

Douglass grinned.

Then Becky came. And came again. And again. And again and again and
again ...

                       *************************


Davy Phillips stood with his mother by the airport terminal window as
they watched the plane land. It had been a while since he had been up
in the air himself -- not since that time ten years ago when his whole
family had flown to Boston to see Grandpa Blaine. That was the
Christmas when Grandpa and his mother had gotten into such a big fight,
and they hadn't seen him since.

Now he was coming to live with them. Davy had helped his mother clear
out the sewing room and install a bed in there so that Grandpa would be
comfortable.

The plane taxied around and approached the terminal.

Davy wasn't sure how this was all going to work out. He had barely seen
his grandfather as he grew up. And all he could remember was the
yelling when mom would fight with him. When they flew up for Grandma's
funeral -- Davy was eight at the time -- Mom even slapped Grandpa. Davy
had been playing in the other room when he heard it, then the silence
that followed it. Then Mom came in, took him by the hand up the stairs,
and they packed and left.

Now that Grandpa was retiring, they were all supposed to live together
without any yelling? Davy looked at his mother. She was stiff, tense.
Then he looked back out the window. He gave it six months, tops, before
Grandpa walked out. And Davy didn't really care one way or the other
about Grandpa coming to live with them -- he didn't really know him
well enough to like him or hate him -- but it just seemed such a waste
to change the house and their lives when Grandpa would be going away
again in just a few months.

The passengers were beginning to unboard into the terminal, and Davy
and his mother watched for her father. He was one of the first off,
having ridden in first class.

Daphne Blaine-Phillips walked up and stood eye to eye with her father.
"Daddy," she said quietly.

"Daphne. How have you been?"

She nodded her head. "Good, Daddy. And you? How do you like
retirement?"

Grant smiled for a moment, then nodded. "It's ... good. Different.
It'll take some getting used to. No more rising early in the morning.
No more million dollar deals. It's ... different."

"You'll get used to it. You just have to find other interests."

"Aren't you right. And is this young buck here my grandson? Good lord,
last I saw you, you came up just past my waist. And what a build! You
play football, boy?"

"Soccer, Grandpa. At the college."

"Well, give me a hug, boy. You're already making the Blaine line
proud." The two hugged. "I'll bet you have a flock of young fillies
following you around."

Davy smiled. "I only wish, Grandpa."

"You will, you will, boy. You're a Blaine."

"Daddy, leave him alone. That caveman-and-jane stuff went out a
generation ago. And good riddance."

"I was just teasing him, Daffy."

"Don't, Daddy."

Grant made a face. "It doesn't mean anything. It's just my way of
saying I love you."

"I do *not* like that name, Daddy."

"Okay." Grant nodded, his voice strained. "I'll be living under your
roof, I'll call you however you want to be called. If you want to be
called the 'Royal Queen of England', I'll call you that. Anything for
peace, right?"

"Uhm --" Davy interrupted. "It looks like the bags are starting to come
out over there. We may want to wander over and get them."

Father and daughter stared at one another a moment before Daphne
responded. "Yes, let's."

They located Grant's bags, and Davy carried them as they walked to the
car. Grandpa was asking him what he was majoring in -- Business Admin
-- and where he planned to work after he graduated -- he wasn't sure
yet.

"Don't pressure him, Daddy."

"Honey, I'm just curious. I mean, what's the boy going to do without
some type of plan, just lay around the house a couple of years? If you
don't have a plan, Davy, you haven't got focus. And that's what the
whole nation lacks right now. Everybody's sitting around whining, 'Tell
us what to do.' They need a leader, a Blaine, to come around and inform
them what --"

"Well, Dad, you've just got a solution for all the ills that ail us,
don't you?"

"I can't help it, it's true. You need goals in order to make something
of yourself."

"Dad, I'm not going to let you push him like you pushed me."

"I never pushed you to anything, Daphne! You wouldn't let me. If I said
go, you came to a halt. If I said --"

"Dad! You're pushing me right now!"

"Listen to her, boy! She's crazy. Crazy that she might do something
that someone suggested she do. You know the reason she got herself
knocked up at seventeen, don't you? She was trying to spite me!"

Daphne gasped. "Daddy!! For gods sakes!"

"She even --" Grant froze a moment, then sighed slowly. "You're right,
Daphne.  I am a bossy sonofabitch. And I can't do that anymore, can I?
Not while I'll be living under your roof. I apologize. And David, I
apologize to you too. I shouldn't be maligning your mother or ruining
all of our afternoon."

Daphne opened and then shut her mouth twice, unable to come up with
anything to say.  Finally, "Are you my father? Or did we grab the wrong
passenger by mistake?"

Grant grinned and started walking again. "It's the new me, Daphne. We
both have to change if we're going to be living together. But I'm going
to have to change the most." He chuckled. "I'm going to have to
transform from a reptile back into a human."

"I -- I don't know what to say, Daddy."

"Uhm ..." This was Davy. Father and daughter turned around to see him
about six paces behind them. "The car's back here, guys."

"Say that you can recognize your own car, Daffy."

Daphne smiled and echoed him, "You can recognize your own car, Daffy."

She opened the trunk and they deposited the luggage there. Then Davy
drove the three of them home to start a new life together.

                       *************************


The four women sat in Daphne's living room, supposedly planning
events for the PTA fundraiser, but other, more interesting, topics kept
coming up.

Caroline, a gorgeous redhead, was sitting back on the couch, wearing a
pink bikini top and a wraparound skirt. She got a naughty look in her
eye and asked, "So now that you've had two weeks, how is this 'Dr
Lizardo', as Amy likes to call him?"

Daphne sighed. "Well, I suppose he's trying, but he's still the same
old Daddy."

"Always will be, if you ask me," Amy responded. "That dried old goat is
so stubborn that he could win a game of blinks against the devil."

"He is trying, though," Daphne said.

"Honey, you're deluded. I've known the man since you and I played with
dolls in your playroom. He'll never change. He doesn't want to. He
thinks he's perfect just like he is. He's just trying a new approach to
bullying you.  That's all."

Daphne sighed. "I don't know, Amy. I think he *is* trying to do better.
But he does seem to still boss everyone just as much as he ever did.
Maybe more politely, but still just as much."

"How is Clark taking it?" Sarah Milsford asked. She was a
schoolteacher, with a pretty, straight nose and brown hair that reached
down to her waist.

Amy guffawed loudly. "Oh, hubby will do anything his little daisy might
ask him to do. Won't he, Daphne?"

Daphne blushed. "Clark and I discussed Daddy coming to live with us
for a long time."

"... and he said he'd do anything his little daisy wanted, right?"

Daphne tried to suppress a smile, but it burst forth anyways.
"Yes, that's exactly what he said, Amy."

"Of course. And that's why he's going to be useless when you have it
out with the old man."

"You don't think there's any way for us to live together, then, Amy?"

"Sure, if you throw away who you are and become his personal robot.
Short of that, no. He is a dominating old geezer that wants to control
everyone and everything."

A bleak silence hovered for a few moments, then Sarah, the
schoolteacher, stood and said she had to be going. Amy started packing
her things up as well, needing to meet her husband before dinner.

Caroline stood and fluffed the pillows on the couch. "I've got the
whole afternoon free, I'm afraid. You and I could keep on working if
you want, Daphne. In fact ..." she grinned mischieviously "... if you
want to, we could lay around your pool and get an early start on our
tans at the same time."

"Sure, I think I could use a little fresh air and sunlight right now."

"Great!" She unwrapped her skirt to reveal a pink bikini bottom to
match the bra. "I'll get us two lemonades out of the refridgerator
while you change. Meet you out there."

It was a very warm spring day, one of the days that previews summer's
coming, so Caroline filled the lemonade glasses with a lot of ice, then
headed outside. Davy was already there, sunning himself in one of the
lawn chairs.

"Hello, Mrs McLure."

"Hi, Davy. How's the water?"

"Probably warm. I haven't been in it yet, though."

"Well, I think I'm going to wade in for a few minutes."

Davy admired her figure as she walked to the steps, then down into the
water. She was almost his mom's age and married, but, boy, was she a
looker. The sun made her red hair glisten with highlights.

"She's a beaut, isn't she son?"

Davy jumped, startled. "Grandpa! Uhm, what do you mean?"

"The red-headed tart. Of course you were looking at her. Something
would be wrong with you if you didn't. Besides, why do you think she's
wearing that hot pink scrap of cloth? She wants men to look at her."

"Mrs McLure? But she's married."

"Sure, but the guy isn't man enough to keep her. If he was, she
wouldn't be traipsing around like that, advertising for some man that
*could* keep her happy."

Davy shifted uncomfortably. "I ... I don't know, grandpa. That seems
kind of ... extreme."

"Trust me, boy. We're both Blaines, and if there's one thing Blaines
know how to do, it's handle women."

David shook his head slightly, watching the pretty woman float about on
her back while she waited for his mother to join her.

Grant clasped David's shoulder from behind. "You just keep an eye on
that pretty redhead -- just observe her real closely for a while --
you'll see. Underneath, she's a hot little snatch." Then he walked
around to the steps of the pool. "How's the water, little filly?"

Caroline had been floating on her back, relaxing, but she leaned
forward to stand up. "Oh, Mr Blaine. It's fine -- feels wonderful,
actually."

"That's great, honey," he said as he waded in. "But don't call me 'Mr
Blaine' -- you'll have me feeling elderly. Please, it's 'Grant.'"

"Okay, Grant. I'm Caroline."

"Hello, Caroline. So, do you come here often?"

"The pool?" She smiled naughtily. "Every chance I get. I'm afraid I'm
addicted to the sunshine. Given my 'drothers, I'd spend more time
basking in the sun than a lizard." She giggled.

"I've always liked swimming, too. When I was in younger, I even
competed at the college swim meets."

"Really?" She raised one eyebrow. "A winner in sports *and* finance,
Grant.  I don't think you'll find a shortage of women interested in
you."

"Ahhh, but none a pretty as thee."

"Charming too." She cocked her head. "But I'm married."

"That's no problem. Anyway, I was noticing your swimming technique a
minute ago. If your ego isn't too fragile, I could give you a couple
small pointers. If you'd be interested, that is."

She looked at him a moment before answering. "Sure. Alright."

Grant waded over to her. "Okay, turn around this way." He ran his hand
over her right hip, cupping the cheek. "This bikini is made out of a
really nice fabric."

"Uhh, thanks," she said, gently pushing his hand away from her
buttocks.

"Right. Back to swimming lessons. Okay, I'm going to place one forearm
across the front of your thighs here, and the other forearm across your
abdomen here. Then you lean forward into the water. Good, like that.
Now, I'll hold you in place this way while you demonstrate how you
normally swim."

Caroline lowered her face into the water and began paddling with her
arms. Grant pulled her midsection up several inches, looked at Davy to
make sure he was watching, then stuck his tongue out and went through
exaggerated motions as though he were going to lick her ass.

Caroline stopped paddling and stood up. "How was that?"

"*Pretty* good. But did you notice all the wasted movement in your arm
motions? That will tire you out in no time, wasting all your energy in
splashing. Here, let me show you." He turned her until he stood behind
her, then raised her left arm with his left. "Now, when you are pulling
back with this arm, you should feel the muscles contract here." He
placed his right hand over her left breast to indicate the location.
"Go ahead and pull your arm back while focusing on the muscles in this
area." She hesitantly move her arm and Grant cupped the breast. "Feel
that?" he breathed.

"Uhm, yes," she said, giggling nervously, using her right hand to pull
his away from her breast. "I think ... I think I've got it, Mr Blaine."

"Good! Splendid! Now one more exercise. Give me your wedding ring."

"My ring?" She asked, cocking her head and twisting the ring around her
finger.

"Yes, your ring."

"Uhmmm ..." She pulled the ring off and handed it over. "Here you go."

Grant took it and tossed it towards the deep end of the pool. "This
exercise teaches submersive techniques -- it's hard to paddle your way
to the bottom of the pool -- as well as techniques of cooperation."

"Submersive ...."

"Come, Caroline." He led her along the ledge of the pool to the deep
end. "Now your job is to get the ring. But the water here is deeper
than you are tall, so you're going to have to paddle hard."

"But --"

"Now, I'm willing to help you," he whispered. "Every time you give
Grant's little soldier a few tugs, I'll give you a little push from up
here to help you get a little lower."

"Grant's litte ...."

"You know what I'm talking about, Caroline."

She just stared at him a moment, shocked, then repulsed. "Yes," she
sighed finally.  "Yes, I do."

"Good. Then let's play 'retrieve the ring.'"

"But --"

"It's the only way you are going to retrieve the ring. And what would
your husband say if you came home without it?"

Blushing crimson, Caroline pushed her hand into Grant's swimtrunks and
began fondling him. After a moment, she started to withdraw her hand,
but Grant said, "The first time costs extra." Her hand went back into
the trunks and began rubbing him again.

"Enough?" she whispered flatly after a few moments.

"That'll do," he smiled. "Okay, go down head first, and I'll push a
little from up here."

Caroline's head disappeared beneath the surface, and as her legs rose
up, Grant put his hand between them at the crotch and began squeezing,
not pushing her down at all. Caroline paddled strenuously, but couldn't
get deep enough to retrieve the ring. Finally, she broke the surface,
panting.

"I can't do it. I just can't do it," she panted, catching her breath.
"Please, Mr Blaine. Please get my ring for me. I just can't."

"'Mister'?"

"Please, Grant. Do me this favor." She smiled shyly. "I'll let you rub
me a little more. I know you like that."

"Rub you?"

"Yeah," she smiled, taking his hand and putting it against her crotch.

"You're a pretty horny woman, Miss Caroline."

She shook her head. "I don't know ... what ... it is about you. I'm not
usually like this. I mean, I have *never* been unfaithful."

"You say this with my hand between you legs."

"Ohgod, I know. I don't know what's happening to me this afternoon."

"You'll let me put my finger up your hole?"

She looked at him. "In return for getting my ring?" She swallowed. He
just stared at her intently. "Yes," she whispered.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'll let you stick your finger up my pussy hole, Grant."

Grant's fingers deftly moved the thin strip of material out of the way,
then two of them slid up inside her. She started breathing heavily
again, and not at all from her dive a few moments ago.

"You're such a red-headed slut."

"Please don't. Don't call me names."

"Okay, Caroline. Then you can do it. Tell me that you're my little
cunt, and I'll dive for your ring."

"Please, Grant. Just rub me a little more instead."

Grant continued to manipulate his fingers in her pussy. It was several
moments before she realized he was content to continue doing that and
did not intend to dive until she told him what he wanted to hear.

"I'm your little cunt," she whispered. "Your own slutty horny
cunt-in-heat. Okay? Please get my ring now."

"As you wish." Grant bent double at the waist, his head disappearing
and his feet rising straight up. Then the feet sank as he did, he
kicked a couple times, then he reappeared with the ring.

"My ring!" she said quietly, clapping her hands. She threw her arms
around his neck and kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth,
bewildering her at her own wantonness. "Thank you." She held her hand
out.

"Not yet. A trade."

"A what?"

"A trade. Give me your bikini bottoms, and I'll give you the ring I
just worked so hard at retrieving."

"My what?! C'mon," she said, moving her hand lightly over his crotch.
"Just cop a few more feels off me, okay? Give me my ring, please?"

Grant just floated there, smiling, as she fondled him.

"Don't I turn you on?" she whispered, smiling and drawing her shoulders
back.

Grant just continued smiling.

"Bastard!" She untied the strings on each hip and handed him the small
piece of pink cloth. "Now give me my ring!"

Grant held up the ring, but when Caroline reached for it, he shook his
head. He reached beneath the water and placed the ring just inside her
cunt lips.

After a moment, she retrieved the ring and put it back on her
finger. Then she licked her lips.  "Thank you for getting my ring,"
she said finally.

Grant nodded.

"When are you going to give me back my bikini?"

Grant smiled and began swimming away, her bikini tucked safely away in
his briefs.

"Grant! Please!" she called after him.

"Please what?" Daphne asked from the patio table by the pool, where she
was setting down the papers they were to work on.

"Oh, nothing," she said, glaring at him while he laughed. She made her
way along the side of the pool to the shallow point nearest the table,
careful to keep her pelvis well below the water and, hopefully, hidden.

"Come on out and we'll get started," Daphne told her.

"No, the water just feels so good today that I'd like to float here a
few more minutes. I can do just as good a job from here."

"Suit yourself." She sat down, put on her glasses and pulled out two
papers.

Grant swam over behind Caroline. "So what are you two young ladies
working so hard on?"

"It's plans for a fundraiser, Daddy."

"Don't tell me. A bake-off, right? Listen to an old financial pro. Put
a little more imagination into it and give the public what they want.
Why, a kissing booth with this red-headed lovely right here would earn
you more than any bake-off."

"Daddy!" She looked at Caroline, who was fidgetting quite a bit.
"Caroline, I apologize. I -- are you okay?"

"Yes!" she almost shrieked, still fidgeting. "I mean, yes, I'm fine."

"Caroline, this isn't going to work out. Daddy, we appreciate your
advice, but we would like to work this out on our own. Caroline, come
sit up here so that my father does not feel the constant need to
interrupt us."

"Daphne ... I can't."

"Caroline, don't be silly. Come on and let's get to work."

"Please, Daphne. I can't ...."

Daphne stood, concerned. "Caroline, are you okay? Is something wrong?"

The redhead muttered something.

"What?"

"Your father has my bikini bottoms," she said a little louder, her face
cast down.

Daphne stood, frozen.

After several moments, Caroline looked up at her. "I said, your father
has --"

"I heard what you said! I don't believe this!"

"Believe it, Daffy-Bear!" Grant said, reaching into his briefs with his
left hand. He pulled out the hot-pink cloth and threw it to Daphne's
feet.

"Good lord! I do not believe this! What the *hell* are --!!!" She caught
herself and took several deep breaths. "Caroline," she said in a
threatening voice, "Get out here, away from my father, now!"

Caroline looked down again. "I can't," she muttered.

"Why is that?!"

"Daphne, your --" she looked down again and shuddered.

"Caroline!"

"Daphne, you father has his finger up my asshole! I tried to stop him!
But he was just so insistent! He's got the damn thing in up to the
second knuckle now, and --"

"Caroline! Stop it! Daddy! How could you?!"

"Daphne," Grant spoke up, "We're two consenting adults. And your
red-headed friend here is such a hot little piece of ass, that -- well,
here, I'll show you." With that, he began walking toward the steps of
the pool, steering Caroline in front of him, directing her by moving
his finger around in her ass in the direction he wanted her to go.

"Grant! Please!" Caroline squealed as he pushed her up the steps,
exposing her pelvis from the water. "Her son is still there!"

"Ohgod!" Daphne muttered and spun around. "David! In the house now!"

The boy simply sat there, staring as Mrs McLure's bare ass rose up out
of the water, his grandfather's hand behind it.

"David!" she called, marching up to him. "In the house! Now!"

David got his feet to moving, his mother pushing his back from behind.
Grandpa had Mrs McLure all the way out of the water now and was
bringing her around the corner of the pool, still steering her with his
finger up her anus.

"Davy," he called as the boy walked by, wide-eyed. "She's a real
red-head."

"I see, Grandpa. I see."

"Daddy, I--!!!" Daphne clenched her fists and continued pushing her son
towards the house.

                       *************************


An hour later, Grant and Caroline wandered into the house.

Daphne was sitting at the kitchen table, drumming her fingers on
it loudly. "Get out," she ordered them calmly.

"Daphne, I am so sorry," Caroline said, crimson-faced. "I don't know
what in the world came --"

"I don't care. Get out of my house. Do not come back. Ever."

Caroline looked pleadingly at her, but Daphne continued staring at the
table. Finally, Caroline took her purse and left.

"Daffy-Bear --"

"Do not call me that."

"Sweetie-Dear --"

"My name is Daphne, father." She looked up from the table to meet his
eyes. "This is my house. *My* house. While you are living in my house,
there are rules that you will follow. Remember that little saying,
Daddy? It's still true now that our roles are reversed. What happened
today will never happen again.  Not ever. Understood?"

"As you wish, dear."

"My son was --" her voice started to raise, and she caught herself. "I
am too angry to talk about this," she said after a moment. "Do not
mistake, however. We *will* talk about it. Long and hard. And about the
rules around here." She paused, breathing heavily with anger. "Now, I
do not want to see your face for several hours, Daddy."

"As you wish, dear. I'll be in my room."

Grant trekked back to his room and shut the door. He had insisted on
having a second phone line installed after he arrived and was grateful
of that now, as he picked up the receiver and dialed.

"Hello, dear. I need to speak with Mr Lockhead, please. Of course you
may. I'm Mr Blaine. I'm sure that -- yes, thank you very much.

"Douglass! Fine, fine! No, really, everything is fine. I just wanted to
call and tell you that I've finally made up my mind about that last
subject. Yes, you figured right, then. I *am* going to want to plug
that one. Yes, as soon as you could get on it.

"Thank you, Douglass. I can always count on you."

                       *************************


The next morning, after David had left for school -- Daphne was going
to need to talk with him about what happened yesterday -- the doorbell
rang. Daphne checked out the window, and saw a brown van -- probably a
package delivery.

"Yes?" she asked as she opened the door.

"Mrs Blaine?"

"Yes --" She felt an aerosol mist cover her face, and she backed away
from the door.

"Easy, Mrs Blaine," the man stepped into the house, shut the front
door, and tried to calm her.

"What?! What was --?!"

"Easy. It was just something to help make you a little more compliant."

"But--"

"Is anyone else in the house, Mrs Blaine?"

"I can answer that," Grant said from the bottom of the stairs. "I'm the
only other one."

The man stood to attention. "Mr Blaine."

"Daddy," Daphne said, trying to wipe her face, "Who is this man? What
was I sprayed with?"

"Easy, Daffy. He's just a man trying to do his job. Now keep your mouth
shut while he does what he has to." He turned to look at the man and
nodded. "Hello, Bradford. Think you can have her back by nine?"

"That seems reasonable, sir."

"Good, then get back to work. I don't want to keep you."

"Yes, sir."

                       *************************


It was nine-thirty, and David was sitting at the kitchen table, holding
a novel in his hands, but not making much progress reading it. Grandpa
had said that his mother had gone out shopping with a friend, but it
wasn't like her to stay out this late.

His father had called from work, concerned, and David was angry at him.
He understood that his father frequently had to work extra hours, but
this was David's mother and Clark's wife that was missing. His father
should have cancelled work and come home, as far as David was
concerned. He was spending even more hours at the office than usual,
anyway.

He heard the key in the front door and sprang up.

"Momma!" he said as she stepped in the door. "Where were you?!" he
asked as he hugged her.

"Honey, sshh. It's okay. I was just out doing a little shopping."

"But you're never out this late. None of the stores in town are even
open past nine o'clock."

"Time just got away from us, David. It's okay. Really. I just have this
splitting headache."

"Here," he said, leading her to the kitchen table, "I'll get you some
aspirin."

"That's a dear."

"No trouble shopping?" Grant asked.

"No, daddy. I got some good buys."

"That's good. About yesterday and that red-head, honey --"

Daphne held up her hand. "Daddy, please. I'm not up to it. This
headache feels like it's about to split my head apart."

"Here you go, Mom," Davy said, handing her two aspirin and a glass of
tea.

"Thanks, dear." She put them on her tongue and took a drink. "You're a
lifesaver."

"So where'd you go shopping, mom?"

"Oh, all over town, Davy. But I don't feel up to talking about it now.
I want to go take a hot bath, then crawl into bed and sleep off this
headache."

David nodded. "Sure, mom. You go on up and I'll lock up. Have a good
night."

"Thanks, dear," she said, walking carefully towards the stairs, trying
not to jar herself too much.

"I'll get the door, Davy," Grant offered. "You go on to bed. You have
classes tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Grandpa. I'll take you up on that. I've been sitting here,
worried about Mom all night until I'm exhausted myself."

Grant waited for David to go upstairs, then locked the front door.
He stopped by the refridgerator to get a beer, then lifted the
telephone receiver and dialed a number.

"Hi. Yes, this is Grant. Okay. I understand. Okay, I just wanted to
make sure there were no problems. She was running late. All right, I
understand that happens. That's acceptable." He hung up the phone.

Grant turned the lights off and headed upstairs. Stopping by Davy's
door, her could hear the steady breathing of sleep -- the boy wasn't
exaggerating when he said he was exhausted. He walked up the hall to
the bathroom, opened the door, and stepped in.

Daphne had been laying in the hot bathwater, soaking with her eyes
shut, when she heard the door open and her eyes flew open. "Daddy!" she
gasped, snatching desperately for a towel. She managed to get it off
the hook and cover herself, still in the bathtub, soaking the towel.

"Daddy! Get out of here!"

Grant chuckled and shut the door. "Honey, we have to talk."

"Daddy, no! Get out of here!"

He took a drink from the beercan and sat down on the toilet lid.
"Daffy-Bear, I feel just awful about upsetting you yesterday."

"Daddy, we will talk about it tomorrow. Now, please leave!"

"You don't understand, Sugar. I'm overwrought. I feel so bad about --"

"Daddy, everything is fine. Okay? Is that what you want me to say?
Goddam you! Don't think I don't know what you're doing. This is another
power struggle. You want to get your way on this, you want me to just
say everything is fine, so you wait until you've got me in a position
of disadvantage, then --"

"Daffy-Bear, I would never try to put you in a position of disad --"

"Daddy, when I'm sitting naked in the tub, trying to cover myself with
a soaked bathtowel while you're sitting there smirking, that has me in
a position of disadvantage! And don't think I don't realize you
intended all this."

Grant laughed. "I guess you know me pretty well, honey."

"Yes, Daddy, I do."

"So, how about it? Forgive me?"

"Daddy, just leave! We will go over all this tomorrow."

"No," Grant said, pushing. "I have you in a 'position of disadvantage'
now, and I'm not leaving until you say you forgive me."

"Daddy!"

Grant leaned back and took another drink of beer.

"I forgive you, Daddy. Happy now?!"

"Delighted, sweetie." He stood. "Just delighted. Can I get you another
towel. That one looks positively saturated."

Daphne rolled her eyes and sighed. "Please, just leave. And lock the
door behind you since I apparently forgot."

"Of course, dear," he said smiling, locked the door, and left.

Daphne pushed the soaked towel toward the bottom of the bathtub. "Must
be this freaking headache," she muttered. "I always lock the door. And
if I didn't before, you can bet I will verify it all the time now, you
old bastard." She settled back down into the hot water. "Stinking old
bastard, barging in here like that."

                       *************************


Sarah looked up from the posterboard that she was trying to turn into a
sign for the fundraiser, and studied Daphne across the table. They were
in Daphne's kitchen, and Sarah was concerned that her friend was so
quiet today.

"Caroline said to tell you again that she is sorry."

"Well, she can stuff it," Daphne said, without looking up from her own
sign.

"What happened between you two anyway? Caroline won't talk about it."

"We just had a difference of opinion. A *big* difference of opinion."

"Well," Sarah sighed, "You both seem to be tearing yourselves up over
it."

Daphne tossed her magic marker to the middle of the table and leaned
back. "It's not really that that has me so worked up."

"I'm biting. What is it, then?"

"Well, it's just ... Daddy just seems to be bullying everyone around
and still getting his way despite anything I say. And, dammit, this is
my house.  He needs to be behave himself. David's still living here,
impressionable, and Daddy's having a hyperactive mid-life crisis!"

"Boy, he really does have you worked up."

"He's impossible!"

At that moment, they heard a key unlock the front door. Then Grant
stepped in with a pretty blonde college girl.

"Daffy! Good afternoon! I see your pretty brunette schoolteacher is
here with you. Hi, pretty brunette schoolteacher."

"Daddy," Daphne sighed, "What are you doing?"

"This," he said, putting his arm over the blonde girl's shoulder, "Is
Trish. She's a cheerleader at David's college, and she's the prettiest
girl in the whole school."

"Grant," she said, giggling and nudging him with her shoulder.

"Daddy! For godsakes! This girl is a third your age!"

"Daffy-Bear, you just have to realize that your father is not only a
parent, he is also a man."

"Puh-lease!" Sarah put her opinion in.

"Don't scoff at me, pretty miss schoolteacher," Grant smiled. "You've
never had the Blaine charm sprung on you."

"And I can go my whole life without it, I assure you. Patricia, why
don't you run along and stop teasing the old man."

"Don't you try to --" the blonde girl began, but Grant cut her off.

"I've really touched a nerve," Grant said to Sarah.

"It's just silly to see ... something ... like this," Sarah said,
waving her arm at Grant and Patricia.

"You're just jealous because you're too repressed to get a man, Miss
Milsford."

"Young lady, you may be --"

"Ladies! Ladies!" Grant bellowed. "Easy, gals. Don't get into a
catfight over me. Miss Milsford, you'll get your turn later. And Trish,
honey, you'll get to watch. But for now, if you two ladies," he nodded
toward the table Daphne and Sarah were sitting at, "Will excuse us.
Trish and I are going to go play a little." He put his arm around the
giggling girl and led her up the stairs.

"Bastard!" Sarah spat out.

"Do you see how he gets to you?"

"I see, alright. Geez, he's a mean old bastard!"

"And you don't even have to live with him."

"How do you stand it, Daphne?"

"I'm figuring that out now," she said, picking up the marker and
starting to work on her sign again.

Sarah just stared at her a few moments, then resumed working on her
sign as well.

"Grant! Oh, what are you doing?!" came the high pitch voice from
upstairs. "Grant!"

"Bastard!" Sarah muttered.

"Yep," Daphne agreed, still working on her sign.

After a couple minutes, a rhythmic thumping began upstairs.

"Daphne, you do *not* need to put up with this," Sarah said, looking up
from her posterboard.

"What else can I do?"

"You do *not* have to suffer being treated this way. You are an adult.
So is he. If he doesn't follow your rules, he needs to just start
looking for another place to live."

"Oh, Grant, oh! Damn, that feels goooooood!"

"You wouldn't put up with David doing this in your house, would you?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Then why do you put up with it from him?"

"Oh, yes, *yes*, *YES*!!! Fuck! Yeeeeessssss!"

"I don't ... know ... I couldn't just ...."

"Daphne, you are not ... this isn't ..." Sarah stopped to get a hold of
her anger.

"Oh, not again! Oh! Fuck! Graaaaaaant!"

"Daphne, the consequences of his actions are his fault and his fault
alone. If he wears out his welcome, well, that was just something he
should have thought of!"

"Oh ... oh ... yes, Graaaaant ... yes ...."

"Daphne, he is a slimy old lech. Forgive me, I know he's your father,
but he really is."

"I know, I know. But I just can't bring myself to --"

"Oh, sweetjesus, not again! Oh! *Oh!! *OOOOOHHHHHH*!!!!!"

"You know, this is an insult right here," Sarah said. "Every time that
little tramp squeals, it's an insult to the two of us sitting here."

"I know, Sarah," Daphne sighed.

"And you just keep on taking it." Sarah clucked her tongue, grabbed the
magic marker, and started taking her agression out on the sign.

Daphne didn't know what to do. Sarah was right, but Daphne just
couldn't bring herself to take action. She took a carrot from the bowl
on the table and stuck the tip in her mouth. As she pondered over what
was happening, what Sarah had just said, she ran her tongue around the
tip of the carrot without biting it. Actually, she had never kept
carrots in the house until she started craving them a few days ago. But
she always took her time eating them, spending quite a bit of time just
slowly running her tongue around and around the end.

"Oh, god, I feel like a woman ...," came a voice from the bottom of the
stairs.

Daphne and Sarah looked over to see Patricia standing there, leaning on
the bannister, dressed in a white nightgown, her breasts clearly
visible through the sheer top.

"That's my nightgown!" Daphne told her.

"Well, I needed *something* to wear. Although I suppose I could take it
off now for you if you really want."

"No," Daphne told her, her lips pursed. "Just keep the damn thing on."

"You tramp!" Sarah called her.

"Yeah, right. He said to send you up next, although I really don't see
what he sees in your drab little self."

"Send ... me ... up ...," Sarah sputtered.

Patricia walked to the kitchen and opened the refridgerator door.
"Yeah, he said he wanted to do you next," she said, taking the orange
juice carton out.

"To ... do ... me! ... That ... bastARD!"

"Yeah, but, boy, can he fuck. You heard a couple quiet spells there in
the middle. Damn if I didn't pass out it felt so good!"

"This is enough ...," Daphne said quietly.

"He has this thing he does with his tongue, you know," Patricia
continued telling Sarah, causing the schoolteacher to cover her ears
with her hands.

"This just can't go on ...," Daphne muttered.

"And he has this one way of rubbing your clit at the same time that he
fingers you butthole that --"

"You let him touch your anus?!" Sarah asked the cheerleader, taking her
hands from her ears, astonished.

"Well, I normally wouldn't. I mean, I don't do things like that. But he
was doing something else at the time, licking me somewhere, and before
I knew it, he had been fingering my butthole for several seconds, and
it just felt so, oh man!, so good that I couldn't get the words out to
tell him to stop. You know? So he kept on going. And that was one of
those times that I just passed out, it felt so good."

"I need to take a stand sometime," Daphne said a little louder. "Sarah,
you're right, you know that?"

"Yeah," Sarah said distractedly, sliding her chair back and standing up.

"I mean, you're right. He doesn't own this house. And he certainly
doesn't own me or my family. For David's sake this can't continue going
-- Sarah, where are you going?"

Sarah stood at the doorway to the kitchen. "I was just ... uhm ... I
just need to ...." She shut her mouth and shrugged her shoulders.

"Sarah!" Daphne gasped. "You're not -- you are! You're going to go up
to him! Just like he told you to!! Sarah! Where are your ... how could
you?!"

"Oh, I'm not listening to him! I'm --" Sarah said, then opened and shut
her mouth twice without saying anything. "Daphne, I'm not listening to
him. I just want to go up and see the sonofabitch that would have
enough gall to even suggest something like this. That's all," she said,
backing up towards the stairs. "I just want to see what such a
sonofabitch looks like."

"Sarah ...."

"I'm just going to look," she said, backing up the stairs.

"I give her two minutes before she cums," Patricia offered, sitting
down in the vacated chair with her glass of orange juice.

"But how could she?! How could she just ...."

"He just has this way about him." She drank several gulps of juice.

"Don't! Don't you dare!" they heard Sarah's voice from upstairs.

"Ignore that," Patricia advised Daphne. "She's just playing hard to
get. Won't last, though. But she may try to go as long as she can
without crying out. It would be a matter of pride for her." She took
another long drought of orange juice.

"Ohsweetfuckingjesus!!!!!!"

Patricia smiled. "But, then again, she may not have much choice. Like I
said, he has a way about him." She finished drinking the glass of
orange juice, then set the empty glass by the sink. "Well, I'd better
get back up there. He said I could watch." She giggled and headed up
the stairs.

Daphne stuck the carrot back in her mouth and began running her tongue
[END]

Brian C. Ladd, Curator, Mindnumbing Archive
MNA is *not* affiliated with the University of North Carolina; it is a
personal project which the University will neither acknowledge nor condone.



From ddail@efn.org Sun Oct 22 22:30:38 1995
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From: ladd@cs.unc.edu (Brian C. Ladd)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MNA: Retirement (mf ff mc in pd) 02/03
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Date: 20 Oct 1995 08:11:56 -0400
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=============================================================================
                        Mindnumbing Archive Repost
=============================================================================

WARNING
    The following is eroitc in nature. If you are under the legal age of
    consent in your local jurisdiction, stop reading now. If you are
    easily offended, please stop reading now.
GNINRAW

The curator of the MNA most likely did NOT write the story which
follows. Authors, when known, are acknowledged in the body of the
file. Assemble the various parts of related messages, removing everything
outside the [BEGIN] [END] markers and you'll have the "complete"
story. See the MNA Index posted to alt.sex.stories.d for chapter counts and
synopses.

If you have similar materials, please repost them, too.

Comments, encouragement, and additional material for the archive gratefully
received; flames, repost requests, and e-mail requests rapidly dispatched
to the void.

If you're an author in the MNA and you do not want your story reposted:
Contact me at ladd@cs.unc.edu and I will remove your story from the
reposting list. If you're an author of an Unknown story and you want to
take credit for it, contact me as well, please.

[BEGIN]
around and around it. How? How could this all be happening? Sarah was
so decisive just a few minutes ago, and now listen to her.

"Oh, FUCK! Not there! Please, stop, no! Oh ... OH ... OH, YES, OH YES
RIGHT THERE ... AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

"What happened to you, Sarah?" Daphne whispered out loud. "You were
just here, getting ready to help me. But now you're up there with him,
sucking his cock or something."

"No!" Sarah cried out from upstairs. "Don't stop! No, please don't
stop!"

Daphne slowly stood, her carrot in her mouth, and eased over to the
staircase, then up the stairs.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," Sarah was repeating with a rhythm from
the room at the top of the stairs.

"Here, tramp, suck my nipples while he plugs you," Patricia ordered her.

"Get lost, bitch. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck."

Daphne swallowed hard, then moved into the doorway to see what was
happening.

Sarah was on the desk, her ankles up by her ears, her pelvis tilted
forward to allow Grant's prick pumping access to her asshole.

Patricia and Grant saw her first. "Oh, look at that," Patricia said
with a smile, pointing at Daphne.

Sarah wrenched her upper body around to see, but Grant held her lower
body pinned with his hands and cock.

Sarah's eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened and shut a couple times
before anything would come out. "I ... I ... Daphne, please ... I just
don't know why I ...."

Daphne just stood, shaking her head, then began backing away, down the
hall, toward her room, to lock the door and try to sort through all
these things that were happening.

"What was that carrot dangling out of her mouth?" Patricia asked the
other two.

                       *************************


It was ten o'clock in the evening.

Daphne was in the bathtub, her carrot in her mouth, her tongue slowly
running around and around it as she reflected on what had happened
today, on where everything was going.

The doorknob turned, and Grant stepped in.

Daphne pulled the carrot out of her mouth gave a tired sigh without
bothering to cover herself. "Oh, Daddy, not again."

"Daffy," Grant said with a leer, "What pretty red nipples you have."

Daphne half-heartedly brought one forearm across her chest to cover her
breasts, without bothering to cover her pussy. "Oh, Daddy (sigh) you're
not supposed to be looking."

"I know, Daffy-Bear, but they're just so ... so ... are you cold or
something, honey?"

"Daddy, how could you? How could you do those things to those women
today. One was my best friend, Daddy! And you just ...."

"Now I really cannot understand this. Here you are, griping at me,
chastizing me, when you're the one that's been collecting slutty
friends. I mean, no proper lady would do the things they've done. You
picked them as friends, not me. But you yell at me when they show their
true colors."

"Daddy, they were never like this before!"

Grant grinned slyly. "Guess it's the old Blaine charm."

"Daddy!"

"Turn your back around here and hand me the soap," Grant said as he
kneeled by the bathtub.

"What are you going to do, Daddy?"

"I'm just going to soap your back. That's all." She still looked at him
suspiciously. "You seem to be upset, and a backrub always puts the mind
at ease."

She handed him the bar of soap, and he began running it over her
shoulders and back.

"Mmmmmmmm ...."

"Feel good?"

"Mmmmm-hmmmmm. I guess so."

"You guess so? Well, if it's not helping, I'll quit."

"No. No, you can keep doing it."

Daphne shut her eyes as Grant began splashing water to wash the soap
away. Then he began repeating the process.

"I just don't understand it. Sarah has never acted anything at all like
that. She always seemed so ... shy."

"Some people aren't always what they appear to be," he said as he moved
his lathering motions from her back to her sides.

"But Sarah?! She is the most reserved person I've ever known."

Grant lightly, accidently brushed the bottom her right breast, then
watched for a reaction, but Daphne did not open her eyes. "She didn't
fool me, Daffy Bear. I saw her for what she was."

"Mmmmmmmmm. And what is that, Daddy?"

"A highly repressed, stalled individual. When someone gets like that,
they --" As he spoke, her slowly moved his hands to cup his daughter's
breasts.

"Daddy!" she squealed, splashing around in the water as she pulled his
hands off her breasts. "Daddy, not my titties! No! You -- you shouldn't
even be in here." She covered her breasts with one forearm and her
crotch with the other hand. "You should leave, Daddy. You shouldn't be
in here."

"Easy, honey, easy. Sssshhhhh. It's okay. Just sit back down, and
I'll --"

"No, you need to leave now, Daddy."

"But didn't the backrub feel good and help to --"

"Daddy, please! Just leave now."

"Okay, honey, anything for you. Just tell me you're my little
Daffy-Bear before I go."

"Daddy!" she whined.

"Come on."

"Okay, Daddy, I'm your little Daffy-Bear. Happy?"

Grant smiled. "That's my girl. I'll see you tomorrow, then." And he
opened the door and left.

Daphne settled back in the water and put the carrot back in her mouth.
How? How could her friends behave like that? Letting her father just
have his way with them, acting like they've never acted before?

On impulse, she pushed the carrot into her mouth, curious how far back
it would go before she gagged. Quite far, actually. She pulled it out
and tried it again. Yes, quite far.

But how could her friends behave like that, letting Daddy touch them in
places and get them to do things that just ... weren't ....

Maybe there really was something to "the Blaine charm.


                       *************************


Amy was tired as she unlocked the door to her house at the end of the
day. She enjoyed being a real estate agent, no doubt about that, but
some days were just frustrating. It seemed all the houses she had taken
her clients to today -- some of which she thought they'd be delighted
with -- were picked apart and turned down entirely.

"Hey, honey," her husband called to her from the living room. He had
his calculator and books spread out on the kitchen table, apparently
working on the bills.

"Hi, Allen," she said, hanging her coat up.

"How was your day?"

"It ... was. That's about the best I can say for it."

"I'll tell you what. Change into something more comfortable, and I'll
take you out to dinner."

Amy paused a moment, then smiled. "That sounds good. Give me just a few
minutes, and I'll be ready, kind sir."

She had travelled halfway back the hall when the doorbell rang. "Could
you get that?" she called out to Allen.

"No problem." Allen shut his books and answered the door. A man he had
never seen stood there. Probably trying to unload his quota of
religious pamphlets, Allen thought.

"You must be Mr Keith," the man said.

"Yes ...," Allen answered, cocking his head, "And you're ...."

"My name is Grant," the man said, extending his hand for Allen to
shake. "Grant Blaine. Your wife and my daughter are good friends."

"You're Daphne's father?"

"That I am."

"Well, come in. How may I help you?"

"Actually, you and your wife can join me for dinner. I've moved into
town, staying with my daughter, and I'm trying to get back into the
hang of socializing."

"Well, that sounds like a very neighborly offer."

"It is, it is. Please, join me. I've even brought my old company's limo
for us to ride in."

"A limo?!" Allen whistled. "Well, I don't see how we can turn down an
offer like that. As a matter of fact, Amy and I were just talking about
going out. We'd be delighted to join you."

"Who is it, dear?" Amy asked as she came back down the hall. "Oh! It's
you?!"

"Amy," Allen said, apparently not picking up on the tone of her voice,
"Mr Blaine here just offered to take us out to dinner. In his limo, no
less."

"Well, I'm sorry, Grant, but we --"

"Honey," Allen interrupted, "I just told him we would join him."

Amy clicked her teeth together. "Can I see you in the kitchen a moment,
dear?"

"Excuse us, Grant."

"No problem, Alan. I guess some men still have to answer to their
wives."

"What is it?" Allen asked, his voice a little irked, when they were in
the kitchen.

"Allen, you don't know this man. You really wouldn't like him. Let's
not go."

"Amy, I've already committed us. Besides, he seems fine to me."

Amy sighed. "You *really* don't know this man, Allen. Please just take
my word for it -- going out with him would be a mistake."

"Why? What could he possibly do?"

"He could ... I ... look, Allen, I grew up with his daughter. We played
together at her house all the time. He tried --"

"He didn't try to ... molest either of you or anything?!"

"Oh, no! No, nothing at all like that. But he tried to dominate her
every chance he could. And lately, since he's been here, there's been
trouble between several of Daphne's friends and her."

"And you think that somehow he's responsible? That he's been fomenting
trouble?" Allen winced. "That sounds like it's stretching things a
little, don't you think?"

"Allen, if you insist on going with him, I'll come along. But please
don't. If we go out with him, we're going to regret it."

"Honey, I did already agree."

Amy stared at him a moment, then clucked her tongue. "Very well, then.
Fine.  We'll go."

"Are you sure, dear? It *will* be fun. He brought a limousine and
everything."

"Yes," she said, pursing her lips and shaking her head, "We'll go."

"Great!" Both reentered the living room. "Just give me a minute to get
changed, Grant, and we'll head out."

"Great! Splendid!"

Allen walked back up the hall, and Grant wandered over to a bookcase
and began glancing at the backs of the books. "I'm a little surprised
you two are joining me, Amy."

"It wasn't my choice, believe me," she said, crossing her arms and
tapping her foot.

"Oh, I knew that all right. You've had this love-hate thing about me
since you were a little girl." Amy sputtered, but Grant ignored it.
"What surprises me is the balls Allen is showing. I figured that any
husband you would marry would be some gutless wimp that surrendered his
testicles to you long before he even said, 'I do.'"

"You son of a *bitch*!"

"Hey, if I'm wrong, just prove it to me. Show me tonight what a docile
little wife you are, and I'll eat my words."

"You snide shit! You love to wallow in the mud, so you think everyone
else does also!"

Grant spread his hands. "Just prove me wrong. That's all I'm asking you
to do tonight. Just show me what a tame little homemaker you can be."

"You are all ugly inside, but other people aren't like you. Not at all."

"Please, just prove that to me," Grant said, grinning. "Just show me
that what you say is true."

She stared at him. "I don't think you would believe it if you saw it.
You only believe what you want to."

"Don't we all? You included, honey. Now go change. We're going to
Lambert's, and your attire is entirely unsuitable."

"My attire?!"

"You may call that a business outfit, dear, but the patrons at
Lambert's would call it a slut-suit -- that is, if they used language
like that. No, you would be an embarassment to both you husband and
myself."

"You can go to hell, mister," she said, putting her fists on her hips.

"Oh, and about that language, Amy. Please, show just a little restraint
tonight."

Amy jutted her jaw out. "I have had just about all of you that --"

"Ready!" Allen said, reappearing, slightly out of breath from hurrying.

"Splendid, Allen! Lambert's is acceptable?"

Allen whistled. "You were able to get reservations for Lambert's? How
long have you been planning this?"

Grant grinned, pleased with the effect on Allen. "Only since this
morning, actually. I ... know ... the correct people."

"Lambert's," Allen said, grinning and shaking his head.

"Uhm ... one thing, Allen."

"Yes?"

"Your wife's suit. Uhm ... I don't think they permit ladies without
dresses into Lambert's. Or at least I think it would cause quite a
...  how can I say it? It would be a faux pas."

"Uhm ...," Allen drawled, turning to his wife. "I think he's probably
right, dear."

Amy clenched her jaw. "So -- you want me to go change?" she said, her
voice tense.

"It would probably make a better impression, sweetheart."

"A better impression." She pursed her lips. "Okay, so be it. I will go
change into a dress for you." She moved back up the hall stiffly.

"She seems a little miffed," Grant commented.

"Ah, she just doesn't like anyone telling her how to dress. That's all.
She'll get over it before we even get out to the limo.

"She's a very lucky woman, Allen. You are an extremely understanding
man."

"Well, thank you. I hope she appreciates it as much as you do."

"I hope so too. I mean, not many men would go to such lengths to
accomodate their little ladies."

Allen raised his hands quickly. "Oh, don't let her hear you call her
that!" he whispered conspiratorilly.

"Yessir, *much* more understanding than most men would be."

"Well, I have a wonderful wife -- it's worth working hard to keep her."

"Just make sure you don't over-pamper her."

"I don't think I'll have to worry about that."

"That's the problem. Most men don't realize it's happening until it's
already done."

"What's that?"

"Women, Allen, should be ... given certain constraints within which to
work. It has to do with the father-daughter relationship. It's the same
with a dog or a child, too. If you just let her run wild, she won't
respect you, and she won't even feel good about herself."

"Ooohhh, I think Amy feels plenty good about herself."

"No, actually, that's one of the first signs, Allen. In fact, that's
why I even mentioned this at all. When a woman overcompensates with
a -- I don't want to use the phrase 'overbearing ego', but that's
generally what I mean -- it's a sign of a fragile self-image. She feels
insecure. The bastion in her life -- her father or her husband,
depending on her situation -- has not taken the time to present her
with the limits she needs to work within. She feels he does not love
her enough to take the time out to look after her. And so she tries to
infringe upon him, as a -- well, as a cry for help."

"So you think that Amy's crying out for help? I don't know -- that
reasoning is a bit strained."

"Just think about it, Allen. Examine your situation objectively. If
there's any truth to what I said, I'm sure you'll see it. If not, then
you can be even more confident about your marriage."

"Okay ... I'll keep it in mind."

"You do that!" Grant said, clapping his hand on Allen's shoulder. "Now,
as one friend to another, I happen to know a little about the stock
market. I have a tip or two I might be willing to share with a friend
that offered me a beer."

"One beer coming up," Allen grinned.

Several minutes later, Amy walked out wearing an expensive white gown.
"Do you gentlemen think you can call *this* 'acceptable'?" she asked
dryly.

"Amy!" Grant said, raising his beer can in salute to her, "You look
pretty as a toy doll!"

"Oh, God, you two aren't drinking?! Allen?"

"It's just one beer, babydoll," Allen told her. "And Mr Blaine has been
letting me in on a few secrets of the stocks."

"Oh, wonderful. Are you two ready? Or shall I sit and wait with held
breath until the two of you are done?"

"Actually," Grant said, "We *are* in the middle of something. If you
think you *could* wait just a minute or two."

Amy sighed angrilly. "Allen?"

"We really are in the middle of something, dear. Would you mind? For
just a minute?"

"Sure! Fine!" She sat down on the couch and put her hands in her lap.
"I'll just sit here and wait 'patiently' on you two men."

"Really, honey, it'll be just a minute."

"And I said I'd wait. So get to it!"

Allen looked back at Grant, who gave him an I-told-you-so look and then
continued with a discussion about a high-tech company he thought would
do well soon.

Allen fidgetted until Grant finally finished, then he clapped his hands
and stood, looking at Amy. "Well, what do we think? About time for that
dinner?"

"Oh," she said, blinking. "It is just *so* hard to contain this
excitement."

"Right ...." Allen said, clapping his hands together. "I'll just go get
our coats."

"Is that the best you could do?" Grant asked as Allen walked back to
the closet.

Amy just glared at him.

"Okay, okay, it *is* acceptable, I guess. But you *did* go a bit heavy
on the makeup, didn't you? This *is* an upper class restaurant, not a
red light district."

"Mister ...," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Here you go, Amy," Allen said, reappearing and holding her coat up to
help her put it on.

"Oh," Grant said.

"What?" Allen asked.

"That's her best coat?"

"Ye ... es."

"Tell you what, Allen. A beautiful woman shows off her husband's sexual
prowess, and her clothes show off his financial success. We'll stop
on the way to the restaurant and pick her up a coat that's a little
more appropriate to your status."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Grant," Allen answered him.
"We'll stick by what we have."

Grant bowed his head. "That did come out a bit overly-well-to-do,
didn't it, Allen? I apologize. I ... You're a friend of mine now, and I
just like to do right by my friends. I really did not mean for that to
come out as an insult."

"No offense taken, Grant. I appreciate the offer, but Amy and I will
stand by what we have."

"Settled, then. Now let's be on our way."

The three stepped onto the porch while Allen locked the door, then they
headed for the limousine. A chauffeur appeared and opened the doors.
Grant spoke with him a moment, then joined the other two in the cabin.

"No, no," he said, grinning. "Amy, you sit on the seat on that side.
Allen and I will sit on this side."

Amy looked at Allen, who shrugged, so she complied.

"You see, that's the female seat, while this is the male seat," Grant
said, getting three glasses out of a compartment and popping a
champagne bottle.

"I don't understand," Allen said.

The chauffeur started the engine, and Amy's seat began vibrating.

"Since it vibrates, obviously that's the female seat!" Grant guffawed,
handing out glasses of champagne. Allen gave one polite chuckle, saw
the look Amy gave him, and bowed his head.

"None for me," Amy said, without even looking at Grant.

"Oh, come on, pwiddy liddle thing," Grant told her.

"No."

"Well, Allen *has* to join me. This is two hundred dollar champagne,
and there is no way I am letting it go to waste."

"Okay, just one glass," Allen accepted.

Grant began talking about stock tips again, and before Allen knew it,
he was on his second refill.

Amy had been just staring out the window, occassionally looking at the
two men in disgust, when the limo came to a stop. "Well ... if you two
boys are up to it, I think we have arrived."

The chauffeur came around to open the doors, and the three stepped out.

Allen realized they were not standing in front of Lambert's, but in
front of an expensive clothing store instead. "Hey, this isn't the
restaurant!" he said just a little too loudly.

"Please, Allen," Grant said. "I know what you said earlier, but let me
buy you a gift. Please, just this one. Your wife's coat looks ... fine.
But we want something stunning for her to appear in at Lambert's."

"Oh ... no ... Grant, I couldn't."

"Honey," Amy said with an edge to her voice, "If Mr Blaine wants to buy
me an expensive coat, then by all means, let us oblige him," and she
walked into the store. Grant followed, then a bewildered Allen.

Amy simply walked up to the first clerk she saw. "Your most expensive
coat -- I wish to see it." The clerk showed her a selection of three
coats, leading up to the most expensive one, which Amy carried with her
back to a dressing room.

"I -- I can't let you --" Allen said, still blanched after hearing the
price ranges.

"Allen, please. I insist. Tell you what. You go back out to the
limosine, and we'll be out soon to surprise you."

"I --"

"Allen, go."

"Okay. Okay. And no more champagne for me until I get something on my
stomach. I'm not feeling so good," he muttered as he wandered out to
the vehicle.

Amy came out and informed a delighted clerk that she would take the
coat, then began looking at the available shoes.

"I like the heels fairly high," Grant said, wandering up behind Amy.

"Too damn bad."

"Still playing hard to get," he said, running his hand along her
buttocks.

"Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Ass." Amy said, biting off the end of each
word.

"Toots, with that coat and anything else you get, you are bought and
paid for."

She turned to look him in the eye. "You could never buy me. Now get
your hand off my ass unless you want to lose it."

"What a tiger!" Grant said, not moving his hand. "What was all that
earlier about Mrs Domesticity? Hmmm?"

She slapped his hand away. "Miss?" she called to the clerk. "If you
have any jewelry on the premises, I would like to see your most
expensive."

The clerk smiled and wrung her hands together.

Amy had picked out a necklace and two bracelets, and was looking at
shoes again when the clerk came up and opened a white box to reveal a
black negligee.

"If you really want to keep the Mister's attentions and affections,
these are wonderful items," she told Amy.

Amy pursed her lips. "Let me see your most expensive lingerie, then."

"Uhm, this is our finest lingerie, ma'am. You ... seem to have
excellent taste and have only wished to see our best and --"

"Okay, okay. Let me try it on. Send the 'Mister' to the dressing room
doors."

"Yes, ma'am," she said, smiling and wringing her hands again.

Amy looked at the girl's hands. "You work off commission, don't you?"

"Ma'am?"

"Never mind."

Amy tried the lingerie on in the dressing room. "Oh, Grant?" she
called.

"Yes?" she heard his voice from outside.

"Remember what you said about being bought and paid for?"

"Yes."

She stepped outside, dressed in the black negligee, spun around twice,
and wiggled her ass. "This," she said in a husky voice, "Is what you
will *never* be able to pay for."

"I have a friend that could fix that problem, you know."

"And what problem is that?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"That left boob sagging lower than the right one. A little snip snip
with the knife, and you could look as normal as any other woman."

"You shit!" she said, her lower lip trembling despite herself.

"Oh, don't cry. I mean, it's noticeable, certainly, but it's not
particularly hideous. It doesn't turn my stomach to look at it, anyway."

"You fucking shit!" She spun around and moved back into the dressing
room.

It was ten minutes before she came out, her eyes still red.

"Hey, Amy, I'm really sorry. Really, you're boobs aren't all that bad."

"Shut the hell up," she said emotionlessly.

"And look on the bright side. Allen seems like such a nice guy that he
would never make a big deal about them."

Amy felt him looking at her, but gave no response. The shitheel.

"And will this do it for you today?" the clerk asked, still wringing
her hands.

"Yes," Grant grinned, "Quite."

"Very good, sir." She began totalling the items and making a bill.

Amy, meanwhile, wandered back out the the vehicle, feeling numb. She
guessed that she had asked for it, rubbing his nose in it like that.
And she was sure there was nothing wrong with her breasts. But that
didn't keep what he had done from hurting.

The chauffeur opened the door, and she stepped inside.

"So? Did you get him to buy you a coat? An expensive one?"

"I don't feel like talking about it," she said flatly.

Allen clucked his tongue. "I guess you did, then. Something I couldn't
afford to get you, I guess."

"Allen, stop. I just did it you make him pay for showing off all night.
There, now, please, I don't feel like talking any more about it."

Allen looked at her through squinted eyes. "You know, he may be right.
You really don't have any limitations set on you."

She looked at him tiredly. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

She looked back out the window. Fine, then. Let him act that way.

"Whoo-eee!" Grant said, getting into the car as the chauffeur loaded
the boxes into the trunk. "That is one hot little filly you've got
there, Allen. Everyone in the store has the same opinion. I tell you,
she was trying on and showing off some hot lingerie numbers!"

Allen jerked his head to look at his wife. She refused to return his
look.

"She has one sexy little body! I guess she shows off your sexual
prowess just fine, my man. Just remember what I said earlier about
limits."

"Yeah, limits," Allen grumbled.

"I don't feel like going anymore," Amy said, not looking at the men,
but staring out the window instead. "Take me home now."

"Amy, you are really --!" Allen bit off his words, getting a hold on
his anger. "No. No, I am not taking you back home. You have acted like
a spoiled little brat tonight. Amy, you were modelling lingerie?!"

"Allen," she turned to look at him. "You don't understand. It was --"

"I don't care, Amy. I don't even care." He turned his head to look out
his window a moment, then turned back to look at her. "You are coming
tonight, and you will behave. Enough said."

"Allen!"

"Enough said!" he growled.

Amy glared at him a moment, then at Grant, then looked sullenly out the
window.

Grant tapped on the window to signal the chauffeur, and the vehicle
began moving again. They rode for about fifteen minutes in silence
until they arrived. The chauffeur came around and helped them all out.

Inside the restaurant, the front waiter recognized Grant immediately
and escorted them back to a private, reserved area, where another
couple was already seated.

"Allen, Amy, I want you to meet Douglass Lockhead and his beautiful
wife Ginger. They work for one of my previous affiliate corporations.
Douglass, Ginger, these are the Keiths. Amy here played with my
daughter when they were both children, and Allen, though I've just met
him, seems like one of my oldest friends."

"Glad to meet you," Allen said, extending his hand to Douglass.

"Likewise," Douglass said, shaking hands. "I think I've heard you speak
of Amy," he said, extending his hand towards her.

"Hi," Amy said dully, ignoring Douglass's hand.

"If you gentlemen will excuse us ladies, I think we need to powder our
noses," Ginger spoke up and led Amy by the hand to the powder room up
the hall.

"So what is it?" she asked Amy once they had entered.

"What's what?" Amy asked tiredly.

"You're upset over something."

"Gee, does it really show?"

"Don't be sarcastic. We ladies have to deal with our emotions.
Otherwise, they'll just get away from us and make us into ugly
bitches."

Amy stared at the woman for a moment. "We had a fight. That's all."

"It's hard for us women to understand men sometimes," she said, opening
her purse and removing a makeup case.

"And sometimes they're just assholes."

"I guess it can seem that way," she said and giggled. "By the way, I
know someone that could fix that."

"Fix what?"

"Your nose, silly," Ginger giggled. "I mean, I know everyone around
here is much to polite to comment on it being crooked, but I think you
would feel better if you had it fixed. How did you break it, dear? In a
fight with some boy when you were a child?"

"Excuse me, but my nose has never been broken," she said icily.

"Oh." She dusted a little more powder on her nose. "I'm sorry. I didn't
know." She put the compact back in her purse. "But if you ever do want
to get it fixed properly, I know a wonderful surgeon."

Amy walked out of the powder room then, and Ginger followed her back to
the table.

Douglass stood and took Amy's hand. "It's a tradition at Lambert's to
dance before the dinner."

"I really don't feel like dancing just now."

"Oh, come. A beautiful woman like you wouldn't deprive a hard-working
soul like me a simple dance, would you?" He smiled. "Please?"

"I ... I really just don't feel like --"

"Come," he said, pulling her out away from the table. Amy finally
relented and put her hands on his shoulders.

They danced like that a few moments, then Douglass pulled her closer.
"A pretty face like yours shouldn't frown so much."

"I've just had a very rotten day. That's all."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really, no."

Douglass's hands wandered over Amy's back as they danced, and twice
wandered to her buttocks, but he moved them back up before she could
say anything. The third time he tried that she pulled away from him.
"Well, I think that's enough," she said and walked back to the table.

Ginger was sitting on Allen's lap when Amy reached the table.  "Oh,
Amy!" she said, "You've got such a yummy husband!"

"I think you mean 'scummy', dahling."

"What's the matter, 'honey'?" Allen asked. "Afraid someone might be
interested in me while you're out there copping feels while you dance?"

Amy made a face and pulled her chair out to sit down.

"Hey!" Grant barked out. "Did your husband give you permission to sit?"

"I don't *need* my husband's permission to sit." She started to seat
herself, but stopped. "I don't need to take any of this. Allen, I'm
going home now. Are you going to get me there, or do I need to call a
taxi?"

"Amy," he said, then kissed the blonde Ginger on the lips, "You are not
going anywhere. You've been without limits for far too long. That's my
fault, really. But for your own sake, I'm going to have to begin
asserting them now."

"Allen, you can go to hell."

"Amy, step back from the table," Grant told her.

"You are a bizarre bunch of people."

"Step back from the table."

"Allen!"

"Do as he says, dear."

"Allen!"

"Amy, step back from the table. I won't tell you again."

"Allen, make him stop!"

"She *is* a stubborn one," Ginger said, rubbing her hand around on
Allen's chest.

"Allen, please! Make him stop! Let's go home!" she whined.

"Amy ...." Grant threatened.

Amy stepped back from the table.

"Douglass," Grant said.

Douglass stepped behind Amy and began unzipping her dress.

"Stop that!" she wriggled.

"Amy, be still," Allen told her.

"But Allen! He's --"

"Be still!"

Amy stood still, while Douglass unzipped her dress all the way and
eased it down the front off her shoulders.

"Allen! He's going to expose my slip!"

Douglass groped her ass through the dress, and Amy wriggled again,
accidentally letting the dress slip to her waist.

"Allen! Make them stop now!"

"Amy, hush."

"Douglass, finish the job."

Douglass pushed the dress down past Amy's waist, leaving her standing
there in her white silk slip and panties.

"Look at her nipples through the slip," Ginger remarked. "Oh, you can
tell she is really liking this!"

She knew that the blonde was right. Why?! Why was she so thrilled by
all of this? She had never been turned on by anything like this before!

"Aaalllleeeenn!" she wailed, writhing. "Make them stop!"

"Honey, we're just setting some limits for you to respect."

"But, Allen ...."

"Take off your slip, little girl," Grant ordered.

"Allen! Please! Make them stop this!"

"Do it, Amy."

"But, Allen --"

"Do it."

She couldn't do this, she thought as her hands reached for the edges of
the slip. What was wrong with Allen? How could he be acting this way?!
She pulled the slip up over her breasts and heard someone give a wolf
whistle. Ooooohhh, why? Why were her nipples so hard?! What was
happening to her?! She pulled the slip the rest of the way over her
head and stood there in just her panties.

"Allen," she said, trying to focus past the thrill in her stomach at
standing naked in front of this group of people, "Allen, this has to
stop."

"You're right, dear."

"I'm right?!"

"Yes. You need to stop whining every time someone gives you an
instruction and just obey."

"Allen!"

"It's for your own good, honey."

"Allen!"

"Take off the panties, cunt," Grant instructed her.

"Allen!!! I'm your wife!!"

"Please," Allen said gently, "Take off your panties, cunt."

"Allen, baby," she said, hooking her thumbs into the elastic waistband.
She turned around and stuck her ass out. "We are mature, adult people."
She shook her ass slowly from side to side, easing the panties down
over her buttocks. "We can't be doing things like this!!!"

"Look at her panties," Ginger said, pointing. "You can see from here
that they're soaking wet."

Amy let the panties fall down her legs to the floor, then stepped out
of them. She slowly turned around, holding her hands in front of her
pussy.

"Hands out to the sides," Grant said.

Amy watched Allen as her arms rose up, parallel to the ground. She
watched the blonde tramp on his lap take his hand and cup her breast
with it.

"Legs apart," she heard Grant say.

She slid her legs wide apart, watching as Douglass's wife eased herself
down to Allen's lap and unzipped his trousers.

"Douglass."

"Yes, sir."

"Oooooooooaaaaaaaannnnnnnngggggggghhhhhhh," a moan forced its way
through Amy's mouth as she felt Douglass flick her clitoris. "Make ...
make him stop!" she begged, holding her position, legs wide apart, arms
held away from her sides. "Ooooowwwiieeee! Make him stop!"

"Now that's a dignified little slut," Grant said. "Why are you doing
this? Why are you listening to us?"

"I doooon't knoooow!" she whined, wriggling, but still holding her
position as Douglass lightly fingered her clit.

"You've always lusted after me, Amy. Ever since you were a little
girl."

"No!" she gasped. "That's not true."

"I would never let you act out your fantasies with me, though. And I
almost regret it now. You have turned out to be such a ... frigid
bitch. And it's all my fault."

"No! I never -- oooooahnnnnggghh" she moaned as Douglass fingered her
just a little faster. "Nooooooo! I never ... unnnngggh ... I never ...
ooohhhhannngh ... I never fantastized about yooooouuuuu!!!!"

"Admit it, Amy."

"No, I -- no -- oooooooaaaaaaannnnnngggghhhhh! No, I -- Ohmygod, fuck
me, Grant. Fuck me now! Come stick your big fucking cock up my cunt!!!
Come fuck me now! Now!!!"

"Amy, how dignified you're being?!"

"Oh, pleeeeaaaase! Come fuck me! Pleeeeease! I'll suck it! Yeah, I'll
take it in my mouth and suck it soooooo good for you! If you'll just
come fuck me!! Please!"

"Show me how well you can suck on Douglass."

"Pleeeeeaaaaase," she whined as she sank to her knees and unzipped
Douglass. "I'll do it! I'll do it for you!!" she said, looking at Grant
and nodding. "I'll give Douglass head. I'll take his whole goddam prick
in my throat. But you come fuck me while I do! Please!!" She wrapped
her lips around Douglass's erection, trying to maintain eye contact
with Grant as she did so, then shook her ass enticingly at Grant.

She brought her mouth off Douglass's cock with a popping sound "See?"
she said, smiling nastily. "I did it! I did it for you! Come fuck me,
please, Grant!" And she lowered her head back onto Douglass's erection.

Grant unzipped his pants and let them drop, then walked up and placed a
hand on Amy's buttocks. She squealed happily past the cock in her
mouth. Douglass handed him a jar of petroleum jelly, and he greased up 
his pecker.

Grant rubbed his cock up and down her ass cheeks, and she made cooing
sounds despite the fact that her mouth was full.

"Hold her head, Douglass."

Douglass obeyed.

"Don't worry, Douglass, she's programmed not to bite."

"I know, sir," he smiled.

Grant placed his prick at Amy's anus, and she stiffened, but Douglass
held her head at his cock. Grant pushed his cock up her asshole.

"Mmmmmmpphhhhgggllmmmmphph!!!" she moaned, muffled by Douglass's
erection. Why?! Why was she cumming?! How could she? This was dirty,
filthy, anal sex with a slimy sonofabitch bastard!

Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! she writhed.

Her clenching anal muscles caused Grant to cum. "Shame," he remarked.
"Guess I didn't last too long that time. But then too, the little
prick-tease has been showing off, trying to get me hard all evening."
He pulled out of her ass, and her butt sank down to the ground.
"Oooohh," she sighed as Douglass let her pull her mouth from his cock.
"Oh, Daddy made Amy cum!"

Douglass jerked himself a few times, then ejaculated over Amy's face
and hair. She caught it all and turned around to face Grant, smiling
nastilly.

"You did good, little slut."

"Mmmmmmmm, Amy happy, Grant-Daddy."

"That's my girl. Now, when Ginger gets done with your husband, she's
going to give you her dildo. You know what to do with it, don't you?"

"Mmmmm, yes, Daddy."

"That's my girl."


                       *************************


It was ten thirty in the evening, and Daphne was lying in bed, trying
to read, but finding herself unable to concentrate. Davy was in bed --
he had a long day tomorrow, preparing for finals. Daddy was still out,
probably screwing someone -- probably one of her friends, she thought
bleakly.

She couldn't seem to put her finger on exactly what was bothering her
tonight, but she felt terribly bleak.

Perhaps some milk would help, she thought. She laid her book on her
nightstand and walked over to the closet. She automatically ignored her
bedroom shoes -- they seemed to be wearing corns on her feet lately --
and put on her red high-heeled shoes instead. Then she took a carrot
out of the bowl she had on the nightstand and headed for the kitchen.

As she passed Davy's room, she glanced in at him sleeping. Her boy was
growing up. Thank God he wasn't turning out like Daddy, she thought as
she stuck the tip of the carrot in her mouth and ran her tongue around
it.

She walked down the stairs, but stopped in the living room. She found
herself picking up the phone and dialing her husband's number at work.

"Hello?" a voice asked after several rings.

"Clark."

"Daphne? Are you all right? Nothing's wrong is it?"

"No, nothing's wrong. It's just -- yes, there is something wrong,
Clark. You're not here."

"I'm sorry, dear. I told you, I'd need to work late tonight."

"But you're always working late anymore."

"It won't be for much longer, Daphne. This new account is just taking
so many extra hours. But I should be wrapping up the initial phase
soon, and then we'll have more time to spend together."

"Do you promise, Clark?"

"I promise."

"Because I'm missing you. I'm -- I don't know. Things are strange. I'm
lonely without you. Please come home."

"I will. I promise. As soon as I get this project at a maintenance
level. We'll take a vacation -- just you and me. How does that sound?"

"Right now that sounds like heaven, Clark! Soon. Let's do it very
soon!"

"You've got it, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Clark. Thanks. When do you think you'll be getting home
tonight?"

"In a few hours. I'll just nap on the couch again so I don't wake you."

"You won't wake me. Please come to bed when you get home. I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart. And you're sweet, but I'll probably just
sleep on the couch. I won't want to disturb your sleep."

"Okay," she said, her voice disappointed. She began to rub her lower
lip with the carrot.

"Okay. I'll be home in a few hours, then, and we'll start making plans
for that vacation soon. Good night."

"Good night."

Clark hung up, and Daphne stood with the receiver at her ear for
several seconds, then also hung up.

She wandered back up to her bedroom. She didn't feel like a glass of
milk anymore.

                       *************************


"Hurry up, lad," Grant called to Davy upstairs.

"Daddy, I still don't like this. He has his finals tomorrow."

"It's just one final, Daffy. He exempted himself out of the others with
those fantastic grades of his. A true Blaine, he is."

"That doesn't change the fact that he has a final tomorrow."

"He's studied for two weeks. Any more studying tonight won't help.
He'll ace it. Trust me. I just want to reward him for the classes he
got A's in and promise him a present when he aces the one he *does*
have to take."

"Ready, Grandpa," David said, coming down the stairs two at a time.

"Great! We'll see you later tonight, Daffy." He winked at her.  "Now,
you be a good girl and don't do anything naughty while we're gone."

"Don't worry about me. Just don't *you* get *him* into trouble, Daddy."

"Yes, ma'am," Grant grinned, leading David out the door.

Daphne watched them drive off, then sat down to watch some television.
Lately, she was having difficulty keeping her attention focussed
enough for reading. Watching TV was something she could do mindlessly.
In fact, she soon drifted off to sleep on the sofa, until she was
awakened by the doorbell.

Shaking her head to clear the sleep out of it, she walked over to
answer the door.

Amy smiled at her. "Hi!" she said, stepping inside with two full paper
bags.  "I've been shopping, and you just wait until you see what I
bought! Come on, let's go up to the bedroom, and I'll try them on for
you."

Daphne fixed them two colas while Amy went up to begin changing. "I
brought you up a soda," she called into the master bedroom's adjacent
bathroom as she sat on the bed.

"Good. I'll be right out," Amy called back.

Daphne became more depressed as she drank from her soda. Amy seemed to
have her life all together. She, on the other hand, hadn't even slept
with her husband in weeks.

"How do you like it?" Amy asked, stepping out. She had on a sheer,
powder blue nightie and similar panties. "What do you think?" she
asked, spinning around.

"You look ... you look ... wonderful." She brought her hands up to
cover her face.

"Daphne, what's wrong?" Amy asked, stepping up to her and setting a
hand on her shoulder.

"I don't ... I don't know, Amy. My life just seems ... I just don't
know."

"Easy, easy," she soothed, sitting down beside Daphne and pulling her
head to her breast. "It's okay. Everything is going to be just fine."

"But I -- it's just so hard to --"

"Huussshhh." She rocked Daphne's cheek back and forth across her
breast. "Hush, baby. It's all going to work out fine."

"Do you think?"

"Yes, yes, now hush."

Daphne wrapped her arms around her friend and let herself be held for a
while. Maybe everything would work out. Maybe she was just in the dark
before dawn. Maybe.

She was starting to actually feel better when she suddenly became aware
how erect Amy's nipples were -- they were poking out through the sheer
material better than a quarter inch. "Uhm," Daphne said, pulling
herself away. "Thank you. I *do* feel better."

"That's my baby," Amy said, brushing a strand of hair back out of
Daphne's face. Daphne glanced down and could see Amy's nipples poking
out the sheer fabric of the nightie.

"Hey, I got you a gift!" Amy said.

"Really?"

"Here," she said, pushing the other paper bag to Daphne.

Daphne opened it up and pulled out another blue nightie. "This -- this
is the same as yours."

"Yeah, I thought you'd look good in it. You can be my little pet," she
chuckled.

"I don't ...."

"Oh, go try it on. Or you'll hurt my feelings."

"I ... uhm ...."

"Go on!"

"O-okay." She took the bag with her to the bathroom.

"How's the old *fart* doing?" Amy asked from the bedroom.

Daphne sighed. "Daddy is getting worse. He's more arrogant than ever. I
-- hey, there's no panties with this nightie."

"I know. I didn't think you'd need them." Daphne looked up to see Amy
standing in the bathroom doorway, the door pushed open. "We *are* old
friends, after all. Wow, do you look cute in that nightie!"

"Thank ... thank you."

Amy could see Daphne's pussy clearly through the fabric. "Hey, you
forgot your high heels."

"Oh, you're right." Daphne bent over to put them on, but immediately
felt Amy's gaze on her ass. She looked over her shoulder, and, sure
enough, her friend was staring at her behind.

Amy realized she was caught and moved her gaze to meet Daphne's eyes,
then grinned. "You have a cute butt, girlfriend! I can see why you get
your way with men all the time."

Daphne blushed bright red and sat on the toilet seat to finish putting
her shoes on.

Amy led her back to the bedroom and goosed her on the rear. "Yessir, a
bitchin' little ass."

"Uhm, Amy, I --"

"You just sit down on the bed there and relax. I know you're feeling
depressed, and Amy is going to take good care of her little Daffy."

"Amy --"

"Ssshhh." She walked around behind Daphne, then began massaging her
shoulders. "Doesn't this feel good?"

"Yes, but --"

"No buts. You just relax. Tonight is your night."

The massage did feel good. Daphne shut her eyes and felt the tension
start to release out of her shoulders. Amy removed her hands from
Daphne's shoulders for a moment, but then put them back and continued
the massage.

"Mmmmmm, you're right. That *does* feel good."

"I knew it would. I know just how to make you feel good."

"You sure do. In fact --" Daphne opened her eyes and looked around to
speak to her friend, but gasped. "Amy! Where's your nightie?! You --
you're naked!"

"Just my boobs. I still have my panties on. See?"

"You can't -- this isn't --"

Amy shut her up with a kiss.

Daphne broke away and jumped up, snatching a carrot from the bowl on
the nightstand and sticking it into her mouth. She stood there
stiffly, her eyes wide. After a moment, she pulled the carrot back
out.  "This isn't -- we can't --"

"Easy, darling. I'm going easy with you, aren't I? Why, I didn't even
stick my tongue in your mouth just now."

Daphne's eyes grew wider, then she stuck the carrot back in her mouth
and began running her tongue around it furiously.

"There, there," Amy said, walking around to her.  "Everything's going
to be all right. Just leave everything up to Amy-dear."

She put her hands on Daphne's shoulders, and Daphne allowed herself to
be pushed back down to sit on the bed.

"Now you just lean back," Amy said, pushing Daphne into a reclining
position. "There, comfy?"

Daphne just stared at her, tonguing her carrot.

"Now, I'm going to take this," Amy said, pulling the carrot out of
Daphne's mouth.

"Wait--"

"And I'm going to show you something much better to do with it."

"But--"

"Hush. Lie still. Now slide this leg over here. And, there," she said,
running the carrot along the insides of Daphne's thighs. "I'm glad
you're pantiless. You have a pretty little pussy."

"Amy, please!"

"Mmmmmm, and this will feel real good." She ran the tip of the carrot
up Daphne's gash.

"Oh!"

"Yeah, Amy will take care of her little Daffy."

"Oh!"

"And then ...." She slowly pushed the carrot into Daphne's cunt.

"Ah ... oh ... ah ...."

"And out again."

"Ohsweetgeez ... fuck ... oh! ...."

"And in ...."

"Aaaaahhhh! OH! AAAAHHHHH!!!!!" Daphne squeezed her legs together and
began crying out in orgasm.

"Wow!" Amy said when Daphne subsided a little. "That was quick. How
long have you been without?"

"I ... uhm ... there's been a lot of work at Clark's office," she said,
her whole body blushing red again.

Amy pulled the carrot out of Daphne's pussy and stuck the glistening
end into her own mouth. "Mmmmm, you've got sweet juices. Want to taste?"

Daphne openend her mouth. Amy touched Daphne's tongue with the tip of
the carrot, and Daphne wrapped her lips around the vegetable and sucked.

Amy smiled and pulled it out of her mouth.

"I love you," Daphne sighed.

"And I love my little Daffy-Bear. Now you need to use those lips for
something more productive than a carrot tip," she said, spreading her
knees apart.

                       *************************


"So what restaurant are we going to tonight, Grandpa?"

"Chez Milsford."

"I haven't heard of that one."

Grant signalled to make a left hand turn. "It isn't a restaurant. A
friend is preparing dinner for us tonight."

"Milsford? Miss Milsford is cooking us dinner?"

"Bingo."

"But, Grandpa, why would she do that? I mean, she's Mom's friend, not
ours."

"Davy, do you remember when I got Caroline out of her bikini that day?"

David shook his head enthusiastically. "Boy, do I."

"A lot of women just want a man to tell them what to do. They need that
to make them happy, and that's all it takes to make them happy -- the
opportunity to serve their man."

"But how, Grandpa? I mean, I gotten to necking a few times, but I
always strike out when I push it much farther. You just seem to ... I
don't know. It just seems so easy for you."

"That's because I have a sixth sense about these ladies, Davy. I can
tell which ones are ripe and ready to bloom. I'll teach you some day.
Anyway, this Caroline was just so ripe she was ready to fall off the
vine. I just satisfied her by giving her a few orders, and she was
delighted to obey."

"You're really something, Grandpa."

Grant raised his chin and puffed his chest out. "Well, thank you,
Grandson. You make me proud too."

They drove a few more minutes, then pulled into Sarah Milsford's
driveway. Grant led David to the front door, then opened it with a key.

"Hi, honey, I'm home!" he called.

"Where'd you get the key, Grandpa?"

"I asked pretty miss schoolteacher for it, of course."

"And she gave you one?"

Grant just held the key up for David to see.

"Grant, no. This is absurd," Sarah said, coming out of the kitchen
with a spatula in hand and wearing a beautiful black evening dress.

"How's my little tart?" Grand asked loudly, wrapped his arms around her
and kissed her.

"Phltt! Stop that!" she said, pulling back. "This is all just out of
the question. You will need to take David and leave! I won't put up
with this."

"But, dear, you've already prepared a sumptuous feast for us."

Sarah looked down at the spatula in her hand, then back up at Grant.
"Well, it will just have to go to waste. I will not put up with this."

"Has Caroline arrived yet?"

"Yes, and I think it's disgusting. You just talked about cooking
dinner. That's all."

"Caroline!" Grant called. "Get that pretty little ass of yours out
here!"

"I won't stand for it," Sarah said.

"Oh, Grant, I'm here!" Caroline said, throwing her arms up and
pirouetting as she entered the room.

David swallowed hard. Caroline McLure had on a thin, black silk teddy.
It wasn't transparent, but it clung to her figure so close that David's
breath was taken away by the way her erect nipples poked the garment
out.

"Davy ... hi!"

David swallowed hard again. "Uhm, hi, Miss McLure."

"Oh, call me Caroline," she breathed.

"Hi ... hi, Caroline."

[END]

Brian C. Ladd, Curator, Mindnumbing Archive
MNA is *not* affiliated with the University of North Carolina; it is a
personal project which the University will neither acknowledge nor condone.



From ddail@efn.org Sun Oct 22 22:31:08 1995
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From: ladd@cs.unc.edu (Brian C. Ladd)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MNA: Retirement (mf ff mc in pd) 03/03
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Date: 20 Oct 1995 08:12:02 -0400
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=============================================================================
                        Mindnumbing Archive Repost
=============================================================================

WARNING
    The following is eroitc in nature. If you are under the legal age of
    consent in your local jurisdiction, stop reading now. If you are
    easily offended, please stop reading now.
GNINRAW

The curator of the MNA most likely did NOT write the story which
follows. Authors, when known, are acknowledged in the body of the
file. Assemble the various parts of related messages, removing everything
outside the [BEGIN] [END] markers and you'll have the "complete"
story. See the MNA Index posted to alt.sex.stories.d for chapter counts and
synopses.

If you have similar materials, please repost them, too.

Comments, encouragement, and additional material for the archive gratefully
received; flames, repost requests, and e-mail requests rapidly dispatched
to the void.

If you're an author in the MNA and you do not want your story reposted:
Contact me at ladd@cs.unc.edu and I will remove your story from the
reposting list. If you're an author of an Unknown story and you want to
take credit for it, contact me as well, please.

[BEGIN]
"Caroline's your date tonight, David. Sort of my way of saying how
proud I am of your schoolwork."

"My ... my date?"

"Mmmmm-hmmmm," Caroline said sweetly, nodding her head.

"Sarah, go run me a bath."

"Grant," she growled, "I said I was not going to put up with --"

"And I said to run me a bath! Now!"

Sarah glared at him a moment, then skulked to the back of the house.

"David, have a seat," Grant said, indicating the sofa. David sat down,
still staring at Caroline. Grant sat beside him. "Dance for us,
Caroline."

Caroline smiled, then began undulating her body, spinning slowly,
shaking her ass for them.

"Fine piece of meat, wouldn't you say, David?"

"She is pretty, Grandpa."

"Tell her to take the strap off of one shoulder."

"Hungh?"

"These women aren't happy unless they are following our orders. Make
the lady happy, give her a command."

"Uhm, could you ... would you please ... remove one strap, Miss
McLure?"

"Davy," she sighed, pulling one strap off her shoulder and partway down
her arm without breaking her dancing rhythm, "Anything."

"Wooowww ...."

"That was good, David. But you need to use a little more force. Make it
a command, not a plea."

"I'm sorry, Grandpa."

"It's all right. It was your first time. But other ladies want to be
really dominated. They're feisty and will put up a brief fight. You need
to be strong enough to handle them or they'll be frustrated and get
bitchy."

"Have to be strong," David repeated to himself.

"That's right. Now try it with the other strap."

"Caroline! Take the strap off the other arm. Now."

"Oooooh, Davy. Of course." She lowered the strap, then the only thing
holding the teddy up was her breasts.

"Better, better," Grant commented.

"Caroline, slowly, slowly pull the top of the teddy down."

Grant nudged David with his elbow. "Good job. You learn quickly."

Caroline stopped dancing and smiled sweetly. She gripped the teddy at
her navel and very slowly pulled it down. First one hard little nipple
popped into view, then the other.

David heard a gasp and turned his head to see Sarah standing at the end
of the hall, frowning angrilly.

"You!" Grant said, pointing to her as he stood. "Back to the bathroom
now."

"But --!" she started, her fists balled up in anger.

"Go! We are going to give Davy a few minutes of privacy to practice
what he's learned.

"With Mrs McLure?!" David asked, his stomach ready to burst with
excitement.

"Enjoy, Davy," Grant said, "And remember to call her a whore when
you're done with her. It will make her feel loved." Then he followed
Sarah back up the hall.

"I guess I'm yours for the evening," Caroline said, pinching her
nipples. "Oh, Davy, you don't know how hard I've longed for you."

"For me?!"

"Mmmmmm, yeah. Haven't you ever noticed how I prance and strut around
to tease you? But I never thought this would happen. I never had the
courage to ... to ask you to take me. And you never seemed interested
enough."

"Interested?! Caroline, I've had fantasies about you for years!"

"Really?! Oh, that makes me so hot!! Make me do something, Davy,
something nasty! Just give me an order!"

"Turn around and bend over."

"Oooooooh, I am so hot for you," she said as she complied and looked
back over her shoulder at him.

"Now, slowly slide the teddy down off your butt."

She ran her tongue around her lips as she followed his order. "Don't
you want to see my red pussy?" she asked innocently when she was done.
"It surely wants to see you ...."

"Show me ..." David swallowed. "Show me your red pussy."

Caroline grinned nastily, stood, and turned around, tugging gently on
her pubic hair.  "See?  Real red hair."

"You have such ... such a pretty pussy, Caroline." His eyes were glued
there.

"Oh, thank you!" she giggled. "Make me do something. Make me shove my
fingers up my cunt."

"Shove ... your fingers up your cunt, Caroline."

"Oh, very well," she sighed. "I'd rather it be your enourmous prick,
but these will have to do ...." She lightly fingered her clit, then
inserted three fingers into herself. Soon, she began moaning. "Oh,
please, let me cum. I am getting so horny, Davy."

"Get on your knees and crawl over here, Caroline."

Caroline looked up and slowly focussed her eyes, then grinned. "Oh,
yeah!" She sank to her hands and knees and crawled toward David,
maintaining eye contact.

David was breathing deeply. "Now stand up." When she had, he reached up
with both hands and cupped her tits, then began kneading them.

"Oh, yeah ...," she sighed.

David slowly lowered his hands down to her waist, then behind her to
cup her buttocks. He pulled her pelvis forward and leaned over to kiss
her cunt.

"Oh, Master, yes, do me," Caroline sighed.

"'Master'?"

"Oh, Davy, just fuck me! Just fuck me now! You've got me so hot I can't
take it anymore. I've gotta cum!"

"Then cum," he said and leaned in to lick her clitoris.

"Oooohhhh!!!"

David licked her clit again.

"Ahgahd! Oh!!!"

He her felt her hands on the back of his head, pulling his face into
her groin.

"Aaaghhh! I'm cuuuummmmmiing!!!"

Her hips began bucking back and forth, mashing and rubbing David's face
in her soaking pussy.

David managed to keep his tongue up her slit most of the time, drinking
the juices that gushed out of her. Finally, she calmed down, sinking to
the floor in exhaustion.

"Oh, fuck!" she said. "Davy, that was the best goddam lay of my life!"

David remembered what his grandfather had told him. "You are one nasty
fucking whore, Caroline."

"Oh! Baby! I am. Just for you, I'll be anything. But you haven't gotten
off yet! Let me suck you off. Let me drink from you like you drank from
me!" She reached up in Davy's lap and unzipped him, then pulled his
pants down. His prick sprang up tall at her. "Ooooohhhh ... that looks
scrumptious!" She wrapped her lips around it and ran her tongue about
the hood.

"Oh, fuck!" Davy gasped, his ass rising up off the pillow.

"Mmmmmm," Caroline moaned as her head began bobbing up and down.

Within moments, David was gasping and bucking as he spurted semen into
Caroline's mouth. As finished the orgasm and sank back into the pillows
of the sofa, Caroline opened her mouth to show him his cum all over her
tongue. She shut her mouth and swallowed, smiling, then opened her
mouth again to show it was all gone.

"Any time you want to stick it in me, I'll spread my legs for you,
baby," she offered.

David just smiled. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his
attention, and he looked over at the hall to see Grandpa and Sarah walk
out and stand. "That sounded like a good one," Grant said.

David stared at Sarah. Instead of her evening gown, she was now wearing
a man's long sleeve shirt, her cunt just visible below the tails. Her
hair was slightly mussed, and suddenly David knew what was meant by the
expression "that just-fucked look."

"Grant, the boy is staring at me!" she whined as she fidgetted.

"As is his right. Now go get dinner on the table."

Sarah ground her teeth, but headed off towards the kitchen.

David stood and walked over to his grandfather. "You ... and her ...
you two just ...."

"Of course! I'm a Blaine, aren't I?"

"But she was so ... hostile to you earlier."

"That filly just has a little more spirit than girls like Caroline,
that's all.  It takes a real man to tame her. But you show trememdous
promise, lad.  Soon, you'll be riding her, too."

"Miss Milsford?!"

"You saw how Caroline reacted, didn't you?"

David looked over at the redhead, laying on the sofa, stroking her cunt
slowly. "Could ... could I try a little tonight, Grandpa?"

Grant threw his arm about the boy's shoulder and playfully shook him.
"That's my boy! A true Blaine! You go right ahead!"

"Sarah, get out here now!" David barked.

"What the hell?!" Sarah demanded, emerging from the kitchen.

"Get over here."

"Now, see here!" she said as she approached him.

"Take off the shirt."

"David Blaine! You behave yourself!"

"I told you to take off the shirt, woman."

"David! No!" But her hands moved up and began unbuttoning the top
buttons.

"That's my girl."

"David! Stop it!"

"Sway your hips around as you do it."

"David!" But she did as she was told. After a moment, she had all the
buttons unfastened.

"Let the shirt fall to the floor," he whispered.

"David! You behave yourself!" she insisted as she pushed the shirt back
off her shoulders and let it drop. "Now see what you've done?! You're
my best friend's son, and you've got me standing here naked in front of
you! David, stop staring at my pussy!!"

David stepped towards her hand put his hands on her hips.

Her eyes grew wide. "David! Don't do this! You behave yourself!" She
looked down and saw his prick stiff at attention for her. "David!" she
screeched. "You behave yourself!"

He touched the tip of his cock against her slit.

"Dooooooon't."

He moved his hips slightly side to side to gently rub his cockhead
against her outer lips.

"Oh, please dooooon't ...." She shut her eyes and leaned her head back.
"Oh, please don't tease me."

"Tell me what you want."

"Oh, you nasty boy. I want you to stop."

"Very well." He started to take a step back.

Her eyes sprung open. "No! No, don't. Do it, please, David. Do me. Poke
me. Pleeeeaaase?"

David smiled widely. "Okay. Here I go, and here you cum!" He pushed
forward into her snatch.

"Oh, fuck, not agaaaiiinn!!!!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and
began wriggling her hips, gasping and groaning loudly.

David found himself cumming too, the gyrations of her hips just too
much for him.

Grant slapped David lightly on the back when both David's and Sarah's
orgasms had subsided. "Good job!"

Sarah pulled off David's prick and harumphed. "You two are assholes.
Do you know that?" Then she stormed off, still naked, into the kitchen
to finish getting dinner on the table.

                       *************************


It was later that same night, about ten thirty, and Daphne was soaking
in the bathtub, humming softly to herself, when she heard the doorknob
turn, and Grant stepped in.

"Daddy," she said, smiling and not bothering to cover herself at all,
"Not even you can ruin my mood this evening."

"Really? And what in the world could have put you in such a wonderful
mood?"

"Oh, nothing much. I'm just feeling happy tonight."

"Well, I'm glad for you, Daffy. You've been moping around the house
much to much lately. It's about time you cheered up. Now stand up and
hand me the soap."

"Oh, Daddy," she said as she did so, "What are you going to do with the
soap?"

Grant leered at his daughter's naked body as she stood before him in
the bathtub. "Baby, I'm just going to massage parts of you, like the
other night. You remember how good that felt, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," she admitted, casting her eyes down and blushing, "It
felt wonderful."

"Good," he said, rubbing the bar of soap around on her breasts. "Tell
me about whatever it was that cheered you up so much."

"Oh, nothing ...."

"It looks like Amy left a note downstairs," he said as he kneaded and
pulled on her tits.

"Daddy! You didn't read it or anything?!"

"No, Daffy-Bear. Of course not. I'd never read your mail without your
permission."

"Oh, good ..." she sighed. "Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome, Daffy-Bear."

"Daddy, I think you've got those parts as clean as they'll get," she
said finally.

Grant supported her breasts from underneath and studied them. "I
believe you're right, Daffy. These are some gleaming-nice titties."

Daphne giggled as Grant dipped a sponge and rinsed the soap off them.

Then he sank to his knees and began soaping her pussy. "What did you
two girls do tonight?"

"Oh, nothing, Daddy."

"I guess you probably ate potato chips and gossiped about boys."

"Oh, something like that."

Grant continued to rub the soap around her labia and clit.

"Daddy," she said finally, "You're not going to get any response there.
I've just cum too many times tonight." When she realized what she had
said, she clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh-ho! So you were naughty tonight, Daffy?!"

"No, Daddy. And you need to leave now."

"You were naughty! Admit it!"

"No, and you shouldn't be running your hands all over my cunt anyway,
Daddy. Now, please leave."

Grant smiled tolerantly. "As you wish." He leaned forward and
whispered, "It's a very soft, pretty pussy, Daffy-Bear."

"Daddy!"

"I'm going. I'm going."

She waited until he had left, then sat back in the bathwater and rinsed
the soap off her cunt.

                       *************************


Daphne was wearing shorts, sandals, a white blouse, and a wide-brimmed
hat, working in the garden, when David pulled into the driveway the
next day. "How did it go?" she asked enthusiastically, walking over to
him.

"Aced it, Mom. You're going to be proud of me -- I'm going to be on the
Dean's list this quarter."

She waited until he got out of the car. "Oh, honey," she hugged him,
"That's wonderful. Come on, let's go tell your grandfather. I think he
wanted to take you out to a special dinner to celebrate."

"Daddy!" she called as they entered the house. "Daddy, David aced the
final!"

Grant came down the stairs two at a time. "Excellent, my boy!
Excellent!" He took David's hand and pumped it. "I knew you could do
it!

"We're going to have to celebrate! But sit on the couch a moment, son,
I need to check something quickly. Daphne, were you just out in the
garden?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. I saw some ants out there yesterday, honey. I want you
to strip now, and I'll check you for ants."

"Daddy," she said laughing, "Get real."

"Daffy bear, they were those red ants. They'll give you a nasty bite.
Now take off that blouse. I want to check and make sure you didn't
bring any in on your body."

"Daddy," she said, her smile fading, "Get serious. They're just ants."

"Red ants, Daffy-Bear, the meanest kind. Now take off you blouse."

"Daddy, no way."

"Daffy, take off the blouse or I'll take you over my knee."

"Daddy ...." She lowered her voice. "Daddy, David's in the room. I'm
not a little girl any more. Do not try to humiliate me in front of my
son."

"Daffy, remove your blouse."

"Daddy, I --"

"Do it."

"Daddy ...," she whined.

"Do it, Daffy-Bear."

She stared at him several seconds. "David," she called behind her, "Go
upstairs, please."

"No, he stays. I may need him to help me check."

"Daddy, I'm his mother," she whined, fidgetting. "I can't let him see
me without my clothes!"

Grant just stared at her.

Slowly, she brought her hands up and began unbuttoning the blouse. She
looked over her shoulder at David, pleading with her eyes.

"Perhaps I'd better leave," he offered, standing up.

"No, David. You don't want your mother welting up from ant bites. You
stay here. I may need you."

Daphne slowly finished and shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and
let it drop to the floor, crossing her forearms over the front of her
bra.

"Daffy, lower your arms. I need to check."

She complied and glanced over at her son, who had moved around in front
of her.

David met his mothers eyes, then cast his eyes down. Not only was her
face cherry red, he noticed, her whole chest above her bra was, as
well. And he was ashamed to admit it, but he was getting an erection --
from his own mother!

Grant was running his hands all over her abdomen, looking closely for
ants.

"You need to remove your bra now, Daffy."

"Daddy ... just look under the straps!"

"Babydoll, they might try to hide in the cups. You don't want that. An
itchy, swollen tittie-nipple would be miserable."

"Daddy!"

He just stared at her, so she reached up and slowly pulled the bras
straps off her shoulders, reached behind and unclasped the bra. She
tried to cover herself as much as she could with her forearms as she
slipped it off each arm and let it drop to the floor.

"Daffy, the point of all this is to make sure there are no ants. Now
lower your arms."

She slowly did so, unable to raise her gaze to meet her son's.

"Okay, David. You take that tit and I'll take this one. Check it
thoroughly."

Daphne gasped and glanced at Davy. Surely he wouldn't!

"Uhm, this one," he said, bobbing his head around, "This one looks
clear, Grandpa."

"Oh, come on, boy. Check it thoroughly. Lift it up and check underneath
it. Wouldn't want her getting bit!"

David bent his knees and tried to look at the bottom of the breast
without touching his mother. "Uhm, really, this one looks clear,
Grandpa."

"As you wish," he sighed.

"Okay, Daffy, take off the shorts."

"Daddy!"

"Daffy, a pussy bite would be worse than a tittie bite."

"Daddy, David would have to leave!"

"I'll ... I'll go."

"David, sit down now! On the sofa. Daffy, he has to stay here in case I
need him to squash ants. Now remove your shorts."

She shut her eyes and sighed. She began to reach up and remove the hat,
but Grant stopped her. "No, leave the hat on, and the sandles too. They
look sexy. Just take off the shorts like I told you."

Daphne swallowed and unbuttoned the waist, then unzipped the zipper.
Slowly, shaking slightly, she slid them down to the floor and stepped
out of them.

Grant admired his daughter, standing there in her sandles, panties and
hat. She was a beautiful creature.

"Daffy!" Grant said in a whisper, but more than loud enough for David
to hear. "Why are your panties so wet?!"

David jerked his head, startled. He couldn't see since he was sitting
behind her, but that just couldn't be true. His mother must have just
been sweating, that's all.

"Daddy ... I ... you ... oh, Daddy ... let me just ... I don't want to
... Daddy, my son is here!"

"Daffy, we're just checking for ants. Now take off the panties."

David saw the back of his mother's chest rise and fall as she took a
deep breath and sighed. Then she bent over and slowly eased the
underwear over her ass and down her legs. David couldn't help himself,
he found his eyes drawn toward his mother's behind. It was a *very*
pretty ass! But he shouldn't be looking at her, admiring her that way!
She was his mother, for goodness sakes!

Grant began running his hands over her hips and around her buttocks.
"Davy, want to check her butt for me?"

"N-no, Grandpa."

"Okay, more work for me, though."

Daphne felt her father's hands roam around her lower body. She knew her
son was sitting behind her, staring at her. She refused to look that
way. This was so humiliating! She steeled herself for when her father
ran his hands over her clitoris. She needed to hold herself perfectly
still, not to react at all. Her own son was watching, and she had to
hold on to some dignity.

When Grant did it, she sucked in air, gasping anyway. Despite steeling
herself, the sensations were just too strong. She knew he heard her,
her own son, as she ... as she .... Oh, how humiliating.

"Well, you seem to be clear to me, Daffy." She immediately bent over to
retrieve her underwear, but Grant stopped her. "Daffy, there aren't any
ants, but, honey, you're stiff as a board. You are *so* tense."

"Daddy!" She rolled her eyes. "Daddy, just let me get dressed."

Grant held her up by her upper arm. "Is it David? Does it make you
nervous that he's in the same room with you when you're in your
birthday suit?"

"Daddy! He's my son! And we shouldn't have done this in the first
place. There were never any ants on me!"

"Daffy, if it makes you so uncomfortable to be nude in front of your
son -- well, that's a problem. And we should fix it."

"Daddy ...," she whined.

Grant took her shoulders and forced her around to face her son.

"Daddy!" she squealed.

Grant held her by her shoulders. "David, stay. You just sit there, boy.
We need you to help your mother work through this problem she has. You
*do* want to help, don't you? You don't want your mother to become
any more emotionally sick, do you?"

"I -- I --"

"Stay there. Now, Daffy, are you trying to tell me that in all these
years, your son has never accidentally walked into the bathroom when
you were in there? Or into the bedroom when you were changing? Never?"

"Daddy ...."

"Come on, tell me."

"Yes, Daddy," she said, shrugging. "Of course there have been
accidents."

"Oh!" he laughed. "Is that what you call them? 'Accidents'?"

"Daddy, can I get dressed now?" she asked, fidgetting.

"In a minute, honey. I want you to get over this hangup. It's not good
for you to have emotional blocks.

"Now look at him. Look him in the eye."

Daphne swallowed and slowly looked up at David, meeting his gaze.

"Now look at him. He's your son. Ages ago, before anyone had any
clothes, this would be the only way he would *ever* see you."

"You -- you're right," she whispered.

"And you used to see him nude, when he was a baby."

"Yes -- yes, I guess you're right, Daddy."

"Now, tell me. The walls aren't crashing down, are they? Disaster isn't
*really* striking is it? Is this really *so* awful?"

"No ... no, it's not really *so* awful."

"Good, good. In fact it feels sort of good to be without the hindrance
of clothing, doesn't it."

"No, Daddy," she said, smiling, "I don't think I'd go that far. You're
right, there's nothing wrong with something ... happening every now and
then. The sky won't fall in if he accidentally catches a glimpse of me.
But, no, I definitely feel more comfortable in clothes."

"Perhaps we need to work on that just a little more, then."

"Later, Daddy. Later."

"No, no," he said, stopping her as she bent over to pick up her
clothes. "First I want you to prove to yourself that you are really
over this. Wait just a couple minutes before you get dressed again. And
pay some respect to your son. He just aced his final! Go get us both a
beer, Daffy!"

Daphne smiled at David. "We *are* proud of you. Three beers coming up!"
She walked off into the kitchen, wearing only her sandles and hat.

David swallowed hard when she left.

"Thanks for your help, son. She'll be better for this."

"Grandpa!" David said, shaking his head, his eyes wide, "Grandpa, she
may be rambling or something, but there have never been any 'accidents'
as she calls them. Grandpa, she has always been frightfully careful
never to even let me see her in bra and panties."

"Really? That uptight?"

"And now! Grandpa, what did you do to get her to do that?! I mean, she
just stripped right down, right here. I --"

"Easy, easy, don't get hysterical. Do you remember what I said last
night, about a lot of women just needing a man to give her directions?"

David, eyes still wide, nodded.

"David, your mother is like that."

"No ... no ...," he said, shaking his head. "You don't know her. She'd
never ...."

"She just did, boy. She just did. She is hungering for some direction
that her husband isn't showing her."

"But --"

"Three cold beers!" she announced, walking in with three glasses,
seemingly unconcerned about her nakedness. She handed each man a glass,
then sat down, crossed her legs and took a long drink of hers.

"About the celebration tonight," Grant said after he took a drink of
his, "I would actually recommend we order in tonight. There is a steak
house that fixes excellent sirloins, and I know the manager. I'm sure
he would be happy to have one of his boys run an order over here."

David couldn't take his eyes off his mother. She had always been so
careful, never to let anything accidentally show. And now here she was!
Naked, drinking a beer with him and his grandfather! What had come over
her?! Was Grandpa ... could Grandpa actually be right about women?!

Daphne finished taking another drink of her beer. "David," she said,
not looking at him, "Quite staring at me. I'm trying to work through
this hangup I have. I don't need you making it harder on me."

David quickly snatched his gaze back from her body, casting his eyes
down. "I'm," he swallowed, "I'm sorry, Mom. I just ... you're just
acting so ...."

She looked over at him and he glanced up to meet her eyes until she
stared so hard that he looked back down. "David, I'm your mother. That
definitely doesn't mean I'm a virgin. Do you follow the logic here?"
She waited for him to look up and nod. "Now, maybe you have a few
hangups of your own that *you* need to work through, young man."

"I'm ... I'm sorry, Mom."

"Weeellll," Grant interrupted, "That conversation sure took a strange
turn. If I can pull you two back to my original topic, shall we order
in tonight?"

"Sounds fine to me," Daphne said, taking another drink of beer.

David just grunted.

"In that case, Daphne, you go get dressed in you very best outfit. We
have to celebrate a fine piece of work that this young man has done.
And I'll place the order. Sirloins and potatoes all around?"

"Mmmmm," Daphne said, standing up and taking one last drink of beer
before setting the glass down on the coffee table, "That sounds
excellent. Let me go fix myself up for our man of honor tonight." She
tousled David's hair as she walked by, drawing a surprised look from
him -- he had thought she was angry with him.

Grant still sat, leaning back in the sofa, and took another drink from
his beer. "Don't worry about it, Davy. Do you remember what I said
about some fillies having a little more spirit, trying to play the game
and go through the motions of bucking you off."

"Y-yeah."

"Your mom's just trying to show a little spirit. That's not bad at all,
actually. It makes it even more enjoyable when they finally submit."

David turned to look at his grandfather. "Submit? I don't know,
Grandpa. I don't think I know anything anymore."

"Don't worry, lad. It'll come to you. It'll all come in its own time."

"If you say so."

"And now," he took a final drink of beer, "I need to go call that order
in."

When his grandfather left the room, David reached into his pants and
tried to reposition his cock back down. He had gotten so hard when his
mother began to strip that he had been afraid he'd cum. He sure didn't
want her to see him all erect and hard. No telling how angry she'd get!

A few minutes later, Grant came back in, sat down and took his beer
glass back. "It's on its way -- should be here in about forty-five
minutes."

David nodded at him, still distracted, trying to puzzle together
everything that was happening.

"You know your mom is really proud of you."

"Yeah ... I know ...."

"Did you notice how nice she fixed up for you?"

David's eyes focussed, and he looked over at Grant. "Hungh?"

"Didn't you notice she had already put on her makeup? She doesn't
usually do that when she works in the garden does she?"

"No -- no she doesn't. She did, didn't she. I was so excited over
the final that I didn't even notice."

"Yes, she did. It's only natural, though. You're an important man in her
life, so she naturally wants to look her prettiest for you."

"Prettiest? For me?"

"You're a fine looking young man, David."

"Grandpa! That's ... that's weird!"

Grant grinned and took another drink. "I'll bet she comes down those
stairs dressed up as fine as you've ever seen her. Just for you,
David."

David was shaking his head. "Grandpa, this is all just bizarre."

"David, David, David. I keep telling you. Most women put on a spirited
front, pretend to be all rational and reserved, but they just want to
be ridden. They want a man strong enough to bend them to his will and
ride them for all they're worth. Keep your eyes open. You'll see. And
I'll point out the ones that are really like that, okay? You ask me
about a lady before you try to tame her, and I'll tell you if she's a
likely prospect." He took another drink of beer and chuckled. "From
what I've seen of your Mom this afternoon, she craves being ridden so
hard right now that she's willing to do things she would never have
thought herself doing."

David took a drink of beer. "You can say that again."

A few minutes later, Daphne came downstairs, her hair done up, her
makeup fixed even more beautifully than before. She was wearing the
powder blue nightie that Amy had given her, no panties, and high heel
shoes. David choked on his beer before she even reached the bottom of
the steps and spun around to model. "Well, what do you two men think?"

"Mom! You're still ... Mom, I can see you nipples! And your ... where
are your panties?!"

"Oh, Davy, you noticed! Do you like?!"

"Mom!"

"David, we were just talking about hangups, and Daddy is right. I
shouldn't be so uptight. There will be no horsing around or touching,
now! But I really should be a little more relaxed with my attitudes.
So, did Daddy call the dinner in?"

"Yes, honey, I did. Should be here in about a half hour." He looked
over to see David staring at his mother. "Daffy, I think the beer is
hitting our man of honor here a little hard. Why don't you go fix him a
glass of milk?"

"Sure!"

She left for the kitchen, and Grant walked over to a cabinet and opened
the drawer. "You're just going to have to get used to it, Davy. Once a
woman that's been this hungry for so long finds what she's after, she
stays with it. I think you'll be seeing a lot of new attitudes in your
mother from now on."

David was just shaking his head.

Grant pulled a tape out of the cabinet, put it in the VCR and turned on
the television.

"What are we going to watch?"

"A movie that's perfect for tonight's celebration. But we'll wait for
your mother to get back." He moved his glass of beer to the nightstand
beside the chair and ottoman, then sat.

"Here you go, sweetie," Daphne said, coming back into the den. "Here's
your milk."

"Thanks, mom."

She stood, watching him while he took a long drink. Grandpa was right,
maybe this beer *was* hitting him hard.

"I warmed it up between my breasts, honey."

"Hungh?!"

She grabbed her breasts from underneath and held them up. "I held the
milk between my breasts until it got warm for you, dear."

"Momma! What is *with* you?!"

"What do you mean?" She smiled vacantly a moment, then looked down at
herself and cocked her head to the side. Why was she cupping her
breasts up? At her son?!  This was not like her! "I ...." She had put
on that transparent nightie!  Where were her panties?! She remembered
choosing not to wear any. But why?!  What was she doing?!

She spun around towards Grant. "Daddy! What have you done to me?!"

"Why, what do you mean, Daffy-Bear?"

"Daddy! This is not like me! I would *never* do these things!!! What
have you done to me?!"

"It's okay, Daffy-Bear. I just made you a little more pliable. That's
all." He turned to look at a gape-mouthed David. "She always was such a
stuck up tart. But years with her husband have changed that. She's much
more open to new things now."

"Daddy!!!" she cried out. "I don't *want* to be more pliable!!!"

"Honey, hush. Sit on the sofa. We're going to watch a tape."

"Daddy!! Whatever you've done to me, stop it!! I don't want to be like
this! I don't *want* to run around naked!!"

"Daffy, sit. We'll discuss it later, after the tape."

"But --"

"Sit."

Daphne walked around and sat on the couch.

"David, shut your mouth, you look retarded like that. Go sit on the
couch too, beside your mother, and we'll start that tape."

David, distracted stood, walked over to the couch and sat on the
opposite side as Daphne.

"Here we go," Grant said, pressing PLAY, "One big happy family."

There was a flash of a scene on the tape, in which David could have
sworn he saw Patricia Sill, the cheerleader, rolling around on a bed,
naked. Then the scene changed to his mother, sitting on her bed,
talking to someone.

"Ohgod, no!" Daphne gasped.

"Daphne, hush."

  She leaned back in the bed, still talking to someone. A female voice
  answered from the bathroom. A few moments later, Amy Keith walked out
  of the bathroom wearing a nightie similar to the one Daphne had on
  now, only with panties.

"No!"

"Quiet, Daphne."

  Daphne told Mrs Keith that she looked wonderful, then started crying.
  Mrs Keith put her arm over her shoulder and started soothing her.
  Eventually, she pulled Daphne's face to her breast and began rubbing
  it there so that she looked like she was trying to feed Daphne from
  her nipple.

"Mom?!"

"Daddy! Stop the tape! David, stop looking!"

"Daphne," Grant soothed, reaching over to set his hand on her knee.
"What you're doing is a beautiful thing! Don't be ashamed of it!"

"Stop iiiiiit!" she cried out.

  Mrs Keith soothed Daphne for a few minutes, then told her she had a
  gift for her.

"Mom! That's the same nightie you're wearing now! Mrs Keith got it for
you?!"

"Davy, please stop watching! Don't watch your mother do these things!!"

David turned his head to look at her. "What things, mom?"

"Oh, just stop watching!" she said, wringing her hands.

David ignored her and returned his view to the television.

  Daphne took the outfit with her to the bathroom to change into. She
  put on the top, then squealed about there being no panites.

David couldn't help staring.  His mother just had such a fine ass. And
the nipples on her breasts -- they seemed to be always sticking out so
far and so hard.

"Come on, you guys! Let's not watch this!"

Grant chuckled without looking away from the screen. "I guess you
*could* put us on a live show right now, Daffy."

"Daddy!"

"I didn't think so."

  Daphne squealed when Mrs Keith groped at her ass, but didn't seem too
  pissed off. Mrs Keith managed to get her sitting down on the bed and
  began massaging her shoulders. After a moment, Mrs Keith removed the
  top of her nightie, but Daphne didn't seem to notice.

"Momma," David gasped quietly, staring at the screen, "You're sitting
around naked with her!"

  After a few moments, Daphne turned around and realized Mrs Keith had
  her bare breasts showing. She gasped and jumped, but Mrs Keith
  grabbed her behind her head and drew her in for a kiss.

"Momma!!!"

"Davy, just stop watching! Now! Please!"

  Daphne finally pulled back, grabbed a carrot and stuck it in her
  mouth. She and Mrs Keith had words, then she went back to running her
  tongue around the carrot.

David was afraid he was going to cum again. What she was doing with
that carrot was just too obvious. He hated himself for the thought, but
oh! if that were only his prick she were licking!

  Mrs Keith managed to get Daphne to lie back down on the bed, pulled
  the carrot out of her mouth, and began pumping it in and out of her
  pussy.

"Mom!!! I don't believe what you are *doing* with her!!!"

  Within moments, Daphne was writhing, moaning, cumming in an enourmous
  orgasm.

"Fuck! Mom!"

"Fine!" she said, disgusted. "Let's watch it and embarass me, then! You
guys are shits, you know that? Real sonafabitch shits."

  Mrs Keith pulled the carrot out and stuck it in her mouth, licking
  off the juices. Then she put it in Daphne's mouth, who also sucked
  juices off it. Then Mrs Keith leaned back and spread her legs.
  Daphne, enticed, moved forward to kiss her pussy.

"You fucking bastards! You go right ahead, then! Watch this -- this --
this crap that is supposed to be private. Daddy, how the hell did you
even tape this?!"

"Daffy-Bear, I set this all up. I knew about it, talked with Amy
about it, and taped it.  Smile, you've gotten pretty high ratings from
all the people I've shown this tape to."

"Oooooooh!!!" she growled, hands clenched into fists. "Well you can
watch this by yourselves!" she said, starting to stand.

"Sit," Grant told her, not looking away from the TV screen.

"Daddy, you can--"

"Sit."

Slowly, Daphne sat back down. David looked over at her. Wow! He had
never known he had such a wild woman for a mother. Her body was *so*
pretty. He stared at her tits through the nightie.

Daphne knew her son was ogling her, but refused to acknowledge that.

Grant caught David's eye and motioned for him to put his arm around his
mother.

Slowly, David eased his right arm over his mother's shoulders.

That sonafabitch! Daphne thought. She bit fiercely on her lip, sitting
there with her father and son, nearly naked, kicking her leg angrilly.

David eased his hand down, trying to cup her breast from the side.

Daphne turned and jerked his arm away from her. "You stop that!! Don't
you even get ideas like that!"

"Oh, come on, Daffy," David said soothingly.

"Don't you *dare* call me 'Daffy', young man!!! You are still my son,
and you will listen to me!!!"

"You stop it! You stop it! You're nothing more than a lesbian cunt! And
you can't order me around!"

"David, you little prick!!!"

"Hey! HEY!! *HEY*!!!" Grant bellowed, standing. "I can see I'm going to
have to step in here!" Daphne and David both glared at him, their lips
clenched in anger. "David, you cut off the VCR." David followed orders.
"Happy now, Daphne?"

She looked over at the side of the room and refused to say anything.

"I said, 'Are you happy now?'"

Daphne glared back over at her father. "Okay, yes, it's better than
with that damn tape running."

"Good. David and I have done you a favor. Now you're going to do us a
favor in return. Take off the nightie, but leave the shoes on."

"Daddy--"

"Do not try me, Daphne! I have had more than enough from you for the
night!"

She glared at him for several moments, then figured that she was naked
for all practical purposes anyway, so she removed the nightie.

"Now rub yourself."

"What?!!!"

"Rub yourself."

"You want me to ... in front of you two?"

"Do it, Daphne," Grant whispered loudly, "Rub yourself in front of your
son and father."

Daphne resented the thrill that raced through her body, hated that
tingling. She glared at him.

He glared back.

Slowly, her hand moved to her pussy. She dragged the palm of her hand
over the whole area, involuntarilly gasping and shivering. Still, she
glared at the father that was making her do this and at the son that
was ogling her while she did it.

She lightly ran her fingertips in circles over her clitoris, quivering
every few moments.

Damn them, their mouths sagging laxly as they stared at her cunt.

She gently pushed a finger up into herself and tensed.

"You fucking whore ...," David whispered.

Damn him. She pushed a second finger in.

The doorbell rang, startling her, and she jumped, pulling her hand away
from her cunt. She started to reach for her nightie -- not that it
would do any good -- when Grant commanded her to stay put. As Grant
answered the door, she looked at her son, who met her gaze. She was
despising him right now. He wouldn't even yield the stare to her, and
she was the one that finally looked down.

"I think you know David -- he's a fellow college student of yours --
and this is my lovely daughter Daphne."

Daphne was startled that Grant had brought the delivery boy in -- she
thought he would pay him at the door. She tried to sit up, to cover
herself, except Grant pushed her shoulder back down and told her to
stay put.

The delivery boy stared, unable to shut his mouth. Mrs Blaine-Philips
was sitting naked on the couch in front of him, her pelvis pushed
forward to the edge of the pillow, her thighs glistening.

"I seem to be slightly short of cash, son," Grant said. "I can cover
the cost of the food, but I don't have enough left for a tip. Tell you
what, why don't you cop a feel or two instead."

The boy jerked his head up to look at Grant, who nodded at him.

Slowly, shaking, he move to sit beside her and cupped the older woman's
breasts.

Daphne was repulsed until his hands actually made contact with her
tits. Then that unwanted thrill zapped through her.

He squeezed and pumped her breats a few times, then his hands slowly,
so slowly, began sliding down her chest and abdomen. Daphne looked at
him in disgust. Spittle was even gathering at the corners of his mouth.
And yet, that charge kept rippling through her as his hands moves
lower, lower, tantalizingly lower.

Finally, she couldn't stand waiting any longer. She grabbed his hands
with hers and pushed them down to her cunt, then gasped as her back
stiffened.

"Ohgod!" the boy gasped, squeezing roughly.

Daphne shrieked and clamped her legs together on his hands, then began
writhing. The boy began gasping, too, and a few moments later, a stain
appeared on his pants.

Daphne was still writhing in ecstasy, and the boy literally could not
pull his hands back out from between her thighs. He looked to Grant,
but Grant only shrugged.

Finally, Daphne subsided and released her hold on his hands.

"Well, I think that's a more than sufficient tip, lad," Grant said,
putting his arm across the delivery boy's shoulders and ushering him to
the door.

"You're nothing more than a fucking cunt," David told her.

She didn't care. She was too drained by that orgasm to get worked up
over anything.

David unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, walked over toward his
mother, and began pumping. A few moments later, he was ejaculating,
spurting cum all over her hair, the side of her face, and her shoulder.

"Fell better now?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"You are such a nasty bitch!" he said, smiling.

Grant called them to the kitchen, and they went, Daphne not bothering
with clothes. David stared at her breasts, the way they swayed as she
ate her steak. She knew he was doing that, but ignored it.

After dinner, she gathered the plates and began washing the dishes
while the two men went in to watch some more of her on tape. They
really shouldn't be doing that, she thought. But, somehow, she just
couldn't get worked up over it now.

She was almost done when David came back into the kitchen, walked up to
her and began groping her ass.

"David, don't."

"Get real, Mom. You let Billy Jackson fucking feel you up until you
cum to where he can't even get his hand out from between your thighs,
you're cumming so hard. And now you don't want me to paw your ass? Get
real."

She turned off the water and turned around. "Davy, I'm your mother.
Stop this."

"Mmmmm, I like this view better," he said, commenting on her facing
him. He reached down and unsnapped his pants and pulled down his fly.

"Davy, don't." She held her hands in front of her naked body and backed
up as he pulled his pants off. "Don't, son."

His prick stood up, tall and hard. He pointed it toward her and
followed her until she backed up into a corner.

"No ... don't -- don't put that big old thing in me. Davy, it's so
big." She swallowed and repeated hoarsely, "Ohgod, it's so fucking big.
And haaarrrd ...."

"I want you to put it in yourself, Mom."

"Daaavvvyy, nooooo ...," she whined.

"I'm just going to stand here. I want you to put it into your own cunt,
Mom."

"Nooooo, please," she said, reaching down and taking it into her hands,
shivering as she ran them lightly over its hot surface. "Oh, no, don't
put this big prick in your mother, it's too hard to resist, baby, oh,
please ...." She shut her eyes and pushed her pelvis up to it, then
eased forward, inserting the cock in her cunt.

"Oh, Davy, I ... oh, Davy, I ... ohgod, I'm cumming!!!"

Her arms moved up and wrapped tightly around his shoulders and neck,
and she pressed her mouth up to his, her tongue pushing into his mouth.
Moments later, she was bucking wildly.

"Geez, Mom. Do you get off when your own panties rub your cunt?" She
was still writhing, so didn't bother answering. "Grandpa said Caroline
had a hair trigger, but you cum at the drop of a hat, you whore."

"Ohgod oh fucking ... oh ... aaaaahhhhhh ...."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Ah, fuck, ah fuck, ah fuck, ah fuck ...."

David waited for her orgasm to finish. Dazedly, she pulled off his
still-hard cock and sank to the floor, breathing hard.

"Oh, Davy," she sighed, lightly tracing her middle finger up his calves
and thighs. Finally, she looked up at the erection, ready to burst
above her. "Oh, you haven't gotten off! Let Mama fix that!"

Grant finally wandered in, knowing full well what was taking so long.
He stood in the door way and watched.

"Mmmmmmm," David sighed. "A little more tongue action, Mom."

Moments later, he squirted into her mouth, and she did the same
peek-a-boo trick as Caroline had to show that she swallowed it.

"I think we should move this party to the bedroom, folks," Grant
suggested.

                       *************************


Clark Blaine pulled into his driveway at eight-thirty in the morning,
exhausted. This was the most hours of overtime he had put in yet. But
it was worth it, he told himself as he walked to the front door,
unlocked it and entered his house.

He dragged himself up the stairs. Skip the shower bit, he thought -- he
was one tired puppy.

He walked into his bedroom and saw his naked wife sandwiched between
her father and her son.

"I ... I ... I ...."

Grant woke first. "Clark, welcome home!"

"I ...."

"Honey!" Daphne gasped, yanking the covers up to cover her body. "I --"

"Dad!!!"

"Shit!" Clark muttered tiredly. He looked at Daphne, then at Grant,
then at David, then back to Daphne. Cupping his crotch, he moved toward
the bathroom. "I gotta go jerk off!" he muttered.

David and Daphne both looked to Grant.

"He's been 'done,'" he informed them.

"'Done,' Daddy? What do you mean, 'done'?"

"He's been treated -- fixed. Just like you, Daffy-Bear."

"You had me 'done', Daddy? What do you mean, 'done'?"

Grant leaned forward to look at David. "You know what I've been saying
about women needing their man to tell them what to do?"

"Yes, Grandpa."

"Weeeellll ... that's the way things ought to be."

"You had me 'done', Daddy?"

"Hush, Daffy-Bear, I'm trying to talk to my grandson. Well, David,
women's lib and several other things put bad ideas into women's heads.
So a corporation of mine began to research a solution. A few years ago,
they perfected it. It's a treatment that instills certain concepts into
the subject's mind."

"Instills concepts, Grandpa?"

"Think of it as a training session, David, where they learn what you
tell them to learn and can't refuse."

"Wow."

"You had me 'done', Daddy?"

"Yes, Daffy-Bear, you have such a hot fucking little ass that I
couldn't resist poking it."

Daphne giggled, remembering that he literally *did* poke her hot little
ass last night. Or was it early this morning? Never mind.

"So you treated Mom? And Caroline and Sarah?"

"Weren't they fun? And I also had your dad treated, too. Otherwise it
would be hard poking your Mom."

"Wow ...."

"Now that I've retired, you'll eventually be inheriting my empire,
including the magic corporation. Think you can handle it, Grandson?"

"Grandpa! Yes! I can think of a list of bitchin little fillies that
need to be treated right off the top of my head!"

Grant smiled. "That's my lad!"

"Don't forget your old Mama!" Daphne said, nudging her son.

"Oh, Mom. Get on your knees and suck Grandpa's cock. I want to try out
your asshole!"

"Oh, Davy, I love you," she said, wiggling her ass as she moved to
comply.


                       *************************


                                  Fin
[END]