A Tangled Web Ch. 03

Arlene said nothing to indicate any disbelief. However, for the rest of the ride, she stared out the window and considered how she would tackle the issue of ensuring her daughter was not misinformed. Debarking at Locust Avenue, they strolled in the comfortably cool late Spring evening to Number 639 and entered their rented duplex.

Meanwhile, the Trotters, with much the shorter walk home, were already in their cottage and preparing to retire. Ted was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, when Arthur entered to use the toilet before going to bed. "Hey, Champ," Trotter greeted him. "You all set? Dominoes put away?"

"Yeah, Pop," Arthur replied. After finishing his business, he said, "Thanks for taking me to the movie."

"You're welcome, but remember to thank GRAMPA again," Ted reminded him, as he stepped aside to let the boy wash up. Handing him a towel, he moved back to the basin and said, "I'm still not clear on why he treated us all... but it WAS very nice."

Mary floated into the room on the tail-end of the conversation. Leaning over, she kissed Arthur on his forehead as he stood near the towel rack. "It was actually his way of thanking ME for COMING, on such short notice, to SUBSTITUTE for Arlene Hart after she called off sick this morning."

Arthur saw, but paid no attention to, his mother's voluptuous figure, shrouded in a pearlescent rayon negligee and silhouetted behind her pink chiffon peignoir. He did, however, comment on her white marabou collar and cuffs. "Those feathers are really soft, Mother," he said, rubbing his nose. "They tickle when you bend down and kiss me like that. What are they called again?"

"Marabou, Arthur... they come from a stork in Africa." She pivoted and hugged Trotter at the sink, enfolding him with the fluffy cape collar. Her son neither noticed, nor cared, that her full breasts, in the flimsy pockets of her plunge-front nightgown, flattened against Ted's back. She shimmied slightly, sliding his cotton pajama top across his hard back muscles. "This was an anniversary gift from your father," she lied, unknowingly. Kissing the back of Trotter's neck, while she drug her fingertips across his smooth, freshly shaved face, she said, "He's SO romantic."

"Yuck!" Arthur rendered his verdict in no uncertain terms. "If you're going to get all MUSHY, I'm getting out of here!" He pushed past the adults and called over his shoulder, as he entered his bedroom, "Good night, Mother! Good night, Pop! Love you!"

Ted gave out a small chuckle, turned in Mary's arms and embraced her. "What's a nine-year-old know about 'romantic', Baby?" He smooched her firmly and coursed his hands over her soft, matronly, but still firm, curves. Pulling the alluring material away from her body, he asked, "Does THIS mean I'm out of the doghouse? You were kind of SORE at me in the theater."

Mary dry-scrubbed his back with her knuckles as she pulled herself closer to Trotter's torso. "I couldn't believe you were so BLATANT... with Mama right there BESIDE you!" She kissed him and pulled back. "Anyway, there's a TIME... and a PLACE." Stepping away and pulling his sleeve, she said, in a low soft voice, "I have the PLACE... do YOU have the time?"

Ted felt his cock thicken while he allowed her to drag him to their bedroom. Grinning, he kicked the door shut. Mary spun and body-slammed Ted against its walnut panels and turned the skeleton key in the lock. "That'll keep the urchin at bay, Mister Trotter," she announced, pulling him with her as she walked backward to their brass bed.

Trotter pushed his pajama bottoms down and walked out of them as Mary fell to the mattress with her arms upraised. His sprung erection waved wildly while he came in for a landing on her sumptuous chest. "You'll never keep MY 'urchin at bay' Baby," he growled, as his hands slid along her outer thighs and drug her shiny pink slinky to her belly, baring her demi-bald peach and round navel.

She cupped her hands behind Trotter's neck and hugged him tight while his tongue explored its way from her shallow dry well to her deep wet grotto. She squirmed under his teasing torture as her tension rose with the heat from the fire in her cunny. Gasping and panting, she came quicker than Ted expected. While she squirted his nose and feasting lips, he pulled her hips and tightened his seal.

When the last wave washed back from the beach, Mary sat up and pushed Trotter away. As he stood, knees bumping the mattress edge, she clutched his taut ass and said, brusquely, "It's MY turn to taste." Her mouth closed over his rigid pole as she sat on the edge of the bed and reeled him in. Fervently, she sucked his nob and pushed her face down the staff as far as she could without suffocating.

Pulling back, and off his erection, Mary swiftly raised her negligee and peignoir, as a unit, over her head. Then, scooting forward, leaning in and arching her back, she captured the throbbing cock between her tits and squeezed their mass around it. Grinning, while she inhaled and increased the pressure on the imprisoned prick, she said, "We haven't done it THIS way... for a LONG time." She bent her head and kissed the shiny velvet head at the top of her cleavage. "Do you REMEMBER our first date after you made me a woman? I certainly do."

Trotter did not know that Mary's first fuck from her father, after he discovered her silk chemise, soiled with Ted's fresh cum, was the reason their titty-fuck ten years ago was so memorable. However, he knew what she needed here, tonight.

Lunging, Trotter thrust upward and bumped his glans on her chin. Retreating he pulled his prick to the base of her canyon before returning. She yipped and tried playfully to nip his reappearing tip as he stroked. He closed his strong palms over the backs of her hands and squeezed her as she squeezed him. Nearing hyperventilation, Mary puffed while Ted chugged powerfully in her deepest groove. When he came it was a gusher. His derrick blasted past her chin and shot spunk up her nose. She laughed with delight as she watched the gray grease spout, land, and drizzle her cheeks.

When he was finished, she split her lips around his tired nozzle and drew him deep into her mouth. Her tongue, gleaning the last gobs, induced a latent spit of semen, which she gobbled as well. Popping him free, she bladed his jizz from her face with her fingers and licked them clean. Mary tipped her head back and smiled with satisfaction at Ted's happy face. "THANK you, Mr. Trotter," she said in her best imitation of her own schoolgirl's voice from a decade past. "That was SWELL!"

Trotter patted her head and answered, "It pleases me to no end that you still like my 'curds and whey', Miss Muffet." He pulled her from the bed into a nose-to-toes hug and breathed, "I'm ready for beddie. What about you?"

While Ted Trotter was pulling down the covers in the master bedroom at 46 1/2 Garvey Street, Jock McGuinness was tucking nine-year-old Cecilia into her iron single bed in the garret of their bungalow at 1024 Oak Avenue. "Goodnight, Potato Bug," he said tenderly, as he kissed his youngest daughter's cheek. "Sweet dreams."

"G'night, Papa," she said, hugging his neck. She rubbed her face on his bristles and complained gaily, "Your whiskers are SHARP! Are you turning into a fox, like Honest John?" She kissed him quickly and fell back on her bed. "I don't care if you DO. I love you, Papa!" Rolling over she closed her eyes and missed her father's sad guilty look.

As he left Cecilia's bedroom, he wished, for the umpteenth time, that he could find a way to move the family to another house. For three months, from Mother's Day until her marriage, when she moved in with Ted, he had fucked his eighteen-year-old daughter, three times a week, in that very same bed while Isabel, unknowing, and pregnant with Cecie, slept downstairs. He knew it was bad. He knew it was beyond his control. "If only we could move, I wouldn't be so haunted," he thought, yet again.

Of course, moving would not stop the fucking. Both he and Mary looked forward to whatever time they could find for that. He exclaimed to himself, as he walked down the half-flight of stairs to the main house, "God, TODAY, she was as hot as a pistol!" The mere memory made his balls itch. When he idly rubbed them through his trousers, his dick swelled, too.

Isabel was just pulling her lilac charmeuse nightgown on over her head when Jock walked into the master bedroom. He watched from the rear as she shook its down past her hips. Her elbows were akimbo while she settled her mature heavy jugs into the nightie's lace pockets. Isabel looked over her bust at her slightly bumpy tummy. She frowned at Ted's cum stains splashed across the shiny bias-cut fabric. Unaware her husband was in the room, Isabel was lucky that she thought, rather than said aloud, "I better get at those stains first thing in the morning, before they set up for good."

She was startled when Jock slipped up behind her, wrapped his big forearms across her gut and squeezed. "Hhmmmm, I LIKE it," he said throatily as he slid his arms, and Isabel's nightgown, over her abdomen. Splitting his hands, he dropped his right to her groin and raised his left under her full right breast. Grabbing her pussy and hefting her tit at the same time, he growled, "If you're wearing THAT for ME... its WORKING." He laughed and added, "If you're NOT... I don't want to KNOW!"

Isabel leaned back against his brick-hard barrel chest, covered his hands with hers, and answered, softly, "You idiot, Jock! Who would I wear this for, if not YOU?" She pushed his fingers deeper between her legs and opened her knees. "YOU'VE been my man for thirty years, HAVEN'T you?" After regularly fucking her son-in-law for ten years, and possibly even bearing his child, Isabel was an expert at implied fidelity. Once more, she silently rationalized, "and it's BECAUSE Ted keeps me young, that YOU can HAVE me whenever you like."

Jock buzzed her left ear and whispered, "THAT'S what I like to hear. Give me two shakes to get out of my duds and I'll be right with you." Releasing Isabel, he turned to the wardrobe and began undressing. With an inaudible sigh of relief, Isabel quickly got under the covers, reducing the chances that Jock might see the evidence of his cuckolding.

Jock was caught up in his own dilemma. Walking into the bedroom with a hard-on from memories of Mary, he was overcome by his wife's fancy nightie, which she seldom wore anymore. Now, after an afternoon of heavy sex and a blow-job to top it off, he was genuinely concerned that a poor performance on his part might raise questions he had successfully avoided for years. "Help me come, Jesus," he prayed irreverently, under his breath, as he slid naked between the sheets.

"Did you just say 'help me come'?" Isabel asked, with a gleam in her eye, as she curled her left leg over Jock and grabbed his fat firm penis. "You KNOW I will." Jock groaned as she slipped her fingers softly up and down his boner and cooed sweet nothings into his face. Her warm breath and hot hand made him forget about his concern as they stirred up his nuts and lit fires in his chest.

Jock gathered Isabel to him and kissed her tenderly while he slowly rubbed her curved back though her charmeuse. The fabric rode up and his broad palm covered her ample bare backside. She scooted forward and hiked her bottom under his strong fingers. Her cunny melted. Jock moved to meet her as her tugging fist guided him, below the covers, to her nest. His cock's nose rooted through the roots of her thick thatch and glided past her lubricated gate into her cunt's courtyard. She sighed and kissed her husband sweetly as he filled her.

Slowly, lovingly, as only the most practiced intimacy allows, they kissed, hugged and fucked with endless delight. Even the slowest ovens cook fully with enough time, and so it was for Jock and Isabel. Their tandem thrusts, choreographed across three decades, brought them each to their crisis. Isabel clenched Jock's prick tightly with her pussy while she clutched his back and butt with her hands. With a long wailing cry, she came. Jock hitched his hips and locked himself to her pubes. Pulling her down by her shoulders onto his stake, he shoved himself upward to his limit. His rushing seed burst from his pods and joined her flood.

"Oh, JOCK!" Isabel exclaimed, with a long satisfied exhalation, after she fully calmed from her orgasm. She would have said more, but she saw her husband's eyes were closed. His regular soft breathing was a true indicator of the soundness of his sleep. Leaving him lodged deeply in her vagina, she caressed his softening slumbering penis with gentle contractions until she, too, drifted off.