"Julianne Marie! You disgusting pervert!"
I froze with shock as my Mother's harsh whisper hissed angrily into my ear. My breath caught in my throat and I swear my heart stopped- my only fear, my greatest fear, realized! Frantic explanations jumbled through my head as I felt her hot breath on me, felt her fingers twining into my hair and tighten, tugging my scalp.
"You filthy animal!" she snarled, her voice low and angry, ripe with venom, her lips pressed at my ear, and my shame overwhelmed my terror. I was on my hands and knees behind the reclining chair, immobilized by fear, unable to turn my head, unable to move my legs or arms. Unable to pull my pants pack up. Unable to pull my fingers from between my legs, where they were buried in my wet pussy.
"You disgusting little pervert!" she continued, pulling my hair tighter in her fist. "Look at yourself, you filthy slut! With your pants down, fingering yourself!" I felt her other hand grab at my wrist, pulling it from between my legs. "You're disgusting! Watching your parents have sex? Fingering yourself while you watch?" She held my hand in front of my face, and my scent, my arousal, assaulted my senses. I was aware of the wetness on my fingers, and closed my eyes in shame, then felt her rubbing my fingers on my face and panic overwhelmed me, and I sobbed.
"I'm sorry!" I blubbered in a hoarse whisper so my father wouldn't hear, "I swear, I didn't mean it!"
"A liar, too!" she added, her voice getting a little louder. Her head was against mine, her chin at the back of my neck, her breath hot on my cheek as she scolded. "You didn't mean to be hiding behind a chair watching us as we fuck?" She shook my head and I gasped, and she forced my fingers into my mouth; against my will I tasted my own excitement. "How long?" she asked. "How long have you been perving on us?" She shoved my fingers harder into my mouth, making me gag, then wiped my drool and juices on my face, mingling them with my tears. "And don't you dare lie to me again!" Her words hissed and my fear rose; any louder and my father, on the other side of the room, would hear. She turned my head to face her, and in the instant I saw her fierce and foreign expression the events of the last months ran through my head.
It had begun accidentally. After returning home from college I had sensed a change in them; they had spent my senior year alone, my younger brother away at his first year. We spent the summer together as a family, but there had been a restlessness in my parents, bubbling below the surface. When my brother returned to school in the fall it was just the three of us, and the bubbling became more evident.
One night I had gone out with friends for the night, but it had ended early as my friend and her boyfriend got into an argument; I returned home. It was early September, and warm, and the windows were still open; as I approached the front door I heard cries, a woman's voice, shouting out oh fuck, oh fuck, and I recognized it as my mother. The cries increased as I slipped around the back of the house. At the den window I saw them, and my mother's cries increased in volume and intensity.
And beyond my reasoning, I watched my father fuck my mother in the ass. She screamed at him, urged him, goaded him. He responded with fierceness and she took him, crying out in abandon, and I realized what I had sensed. They had become used to being alone again, as they had been before having children; they were enjoying themselves, lost in lust for each other.
And I watched, so help me. I watched in mortified fascination, covering my eyes and peeking through my fingers as if watching hyenas tear up a gazelle carcass.
"Two or three months now," I managed to squeak out, for it was true. Because the following week I let them know I was going out for the night, but all night with my friends the thought of them doing the dirty was present, until I excused myself early and drifted home, and watched them finish, watched my Dad shoot his cum in Mom's face, watched her lapping it up. And after that I spent fewer nights with my friends; just pretended to go out, and returned for the whole show. The next week I fingered myself watching them, cumming when Mom did as Dad fucked her. Then I started hiding in my room, pretending to go out and sneaking back in, waiting for them to start, hiding behind doors, chairs. During the week I would sneakily move furniture to give me a better line of vision; I could see him pushing inside her, hear the sounds of them fucking, smell them. It was shameful and embarrassing and electric, and I masturbated over and over, biting my cheek to keep from crying out as they did things with each other I had never dreamed. The memory shook me, and I dropped my eyes.
"Please," I begged my mother, "don't tell Dad."
"Don't tell me what?" came a voice from above me, and I looked up to see my father looking down at me from over the back of the recliner, and I gasped in shock and closed my eyes, unable to look at him. "I guess you were right, Leann," Dad said.
"Fucking pervert, she is," Mom answered, out loud now. It sounded worse spoken openly, and I cringed. She pulled my hair, tugging my head up to stare into my Dad's face. There was a look on him, the look I had been seeing on his face when I watched him with my Mom, and it scared me a little. I stared at him, trembling with fear, and half heard my mother muttering, "dirty fucking pervert," over and over.
"She's been naughty, Leann," Dad said, and leered at my Mom.
"Yeah," Mom snarled, her face next to mine again, "a bad girl. A naughty, perverted slut." I felt my hair pulled, and cried out. "She was fingering her pussy, you know. Playing with herself!"
My head was pulled backwards and I had to look to the side to see my Dad, then wished I hadn't. He was leering at me. I thought I would die of shame.
"Bring her over here," he said, and his head disappeared. My mother pulled me by my hair, and I half-stumbled, half walked, crouched over with my pants bunched at my knees. I tried to keep my balance, tried to cover myself. I felt my wetness cooling on the inside of my thighs. Then Mom stopped and pulled my head up.
Dad was sitting naked in the middle of the couch. His face had that look again, but with something more, something angry and evil. And his cock was angry, too, angry and red and hard, jutting up from between his thighs, thick and red. I gasped. My Dad's cock.
"Give her to me," he said, looking over my shoulder at my Mom. "She needs to be punished."
"For being a dirty pervert!" Mom finished, and pushed me towards him. I fell across his thighs, my head almost touching the floor. I tried to squirm off but felt a hand on my back, holding me in place. "Do it, Carl. Punish the slutty perv!"
I nearly screamed when I felt the first blow, but managed only another gasping breath. I cried out on the second, and tears filled my eyes on the third. No, no, no, I pleaded silently, but no words came out, only sharp cries and whimpers, and then sobs, uncontrollable sobs; then, finally, screams as my ass turned white hot. Still the blows came, striking the swollen inflamed flesh, the sounds resounding through my screams, peppered with Mom's taunts.
"Give it to her good! Teach her a lesson! The dirty cunt! Filthy pervert! Give it to her, Carl, give it to her!"
Each time my Mom urged, Dad hit me harder, and the pain swelled and blossomed and exploded in me, snot was running from my nose, and I was struggling for breath, gulping air between sobs, wriggling until my body gave up and hung over his knees limply, taking the blows. I was exhausted, and sobbing, and soon they fell more slowly, and weaker, and still I took it, endured it; my body was a never-ending explosion of pain and humiliation.
I felt myself shoved to the floor. I don't know if I passed out, or what. But I came to, curled in a fetal position, and the searing pain in my ass reminded me of my ordeal. I heard grunts, and opened my eyes. I saw Dad's feet, and my eyes trailed up, drawn by the grunted words of my Mom.
"Yeah, fuck my ass, Carl, fuck it with your hard cock; give me your hot cum in my ass!"
Mom was backwards on the couch, above me, her legs wide and her ass stuck out, and Dad was pumping his cock into her back door like there was no tomorrow. I'd seen it so many times, from my hiding places, and now, here it was, right in front of me, big as life. Dad's hard cock. Mom's asshole. I could see her pussy, too, open and wet, getting slapped by Dad's balls as he pummeled her. I was mesmerized, and the pain emanating from my ass cheeks changed shape and structure, became something else, something hot and hungry.
"Fuck," Dad grunted, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He was chanting as he stroked in. And Mom answered with grunts of her own. Then another sound, a foreign yet familiar one.
"Fuck her," it said urgently, almost a whisper. I felt a rawness in my throat from my cries. "Fuck her tight asshole," it urged, a little louder, and I recognized my own voice. "Fuck your cock in her ass, fill her ass with cum!" I scrambled to my knees and looked at them; Dad was looking down at me as I knelt at his feet, and Mom had her head turned back to see me.
"You like that, slut?" she asked. "You fucking like that, you perv?"
I looked at her, and saw on her face my own desire made flesh, living and staring back at me. I pulled closer to her thigh, lifting my aching ass cheeks off my feet, and watched my Dad's cock, inches away, slipping in and out of her clutching starfish, open and stretched around his shaft. I heard the flesh sliding in, felt the heat of his exertion, saw his fingers gripping her hips, pressing into her flesh. And her ass, taking his cock, wanting his cock. And below that, the parted shaved lips of her cunt, the wetness dripping from her. I could smell her excitement.
"Do it," she snarled. "You know you want to." I looked at her, and felt the shame, and the unstoppable desire. "Slut," she hissed.
I hooked my pinkie under my thumb and jammed three fingers into her sopping hole, pushing in as far as they would go. My head was swimming in emotional turbulence as my fingers pushed Mom's slick walls apart and her juices spilled out. She groaned out loud as I penetrated her, and I felt her tunnel clutch at me. I held my fingers deep, feeling Dad's cock pumping in and out of her anus, pushing against my knuckles. The heat inside her was intoxicating, and my hand trembled. I was panting.
"Fuck my cunt," Mom gasped, anger and need obvious in her tone. "Fuck it, you filthy slut!" Her words hurt and enraged and elated me, and I did as she commanded, pumping my arm, fucking her horny hole, feeling her wetness echoed between my own legs. My other hand went there and I rubbed my aching clit. My arousal climbed, and peaked, and I rubbed harder, fucked her harder, and her cries escalated, interspersed with Dad's grunts. My senses and desires overwhelmed me and my climax smashed through my body like an exploding bomb; I heard screaming, felt my raw throat, felt juices coating both hands, my nostrils filled with the smell of pussy and flesh. Dad pulled my wrist, and I watched my hand slip from Mom's hole. I saw her cunt gape open as he pushed my hand to my face. Fingers smeared her juices across my lips and nose and cheeks, and I opened and sucked my hand clean as Dad's grunts escalated.
I saw his cock drive deep inside, hold still. I watched his legs twitch, the muscles clench. He was filling her, cumming in her ass. Still sucking my fingers, my other hand rubbed my clit again, reviving the receding orgasm, bringing it back to life, harder and stronger. Liquid coated my fingers as they pressed inside me, pooling in my palm. I switched hands, sucked my own juices. The hand that had been in my mouth reached behind my Dad, fondling his ball sack as it emptied its load in Mom's ass.
He pulled away from me suddenly, and I watched his cock emerge from Mom's anal channel, leaving it exposed and open. I felt his hands on my head, heard Mom's voice.
"Suck it out, you disgusting slut," and Dad pushed my head closer as a bulb of white liquid formed at the twitching knot of swollen flesh. Compulsion made my tongue slip out, my mouth open; I was powerless, wanting not to, trying to resist, and failing. My mouth pressed against her ass and my tongue slipped inside her, immediately coated with Dad's hot cream. It filled my mouth, and I swooned. "That's it, whore. Suck his cum from my ass." Not the angry disgust of earlier; her voice was softer, stern but encouraging. "You filthy whore. You disgusting slut. Lick my ass clean." Dad stroked my hair as I did as I was told, eager to obey, and eager to enjoy, shamed for my desire and submission both. His cum filled my mouth, salty and bitter and dirty from her ass, and I swallowed, and licked and sucked. "Yeah, you like that; fucking slut likes eating cum from my ass." Her words had lost all of the angry edge, and now a hint of tenderness sweetened them, and I felt proud, and worthy.
"Good girl, Julianne," Dad said, stroking my hair. A warm tingle swept through me at his kind words, as I finished my cleaning and took a last lick at Mom's asshole. I pulled back and looked up at him, eager for approval, and seeing it in his eyes. Mom turned around and sat on the couch and took my face in her hands. I looked at her. No anger now; just love and something else. Something seductive.
"Oh, Julianne," she said in a low voice, and leaned in to kiss me, her tongue slipping into my mouth, meeting mine, dancing and stroking. She pulled back staring into my face. "Oh, baby," she cooed. Her eyes narrowed and she held my face, controlling me. Her word hung heavily with love and desire. "We are going to have so much fun."
And my heart swelled with pride.