Naked Pt. 03

"I'm so sorry, dear," he said.

"It's not your fault. Just what a girl has to go through, I guess."

"I just didn't expect—"

"I know. No one did. I don't see why it should be such a big deal that I was still a virgin at twenty-one."

"You're so beautiful and sweet and wonderful."

"Thank you, but I wanted to save myself for someone special."

Cliff was deeply moved. "I can't tell you honored I am."

But now practical considerations came to the forefront.

"I think," he went on, "we'd better get cleaned up."

He got up from the bed and helped her to her feet. She was a little unsteady, so he held onto her tightly as they made their way to the bathroom. He had her sit down on the toilet (the lid was down), found a washcloth, soaked it in warm water, and cleaned up the mix of blood and fluids (both his and hers) that was leaking out of her vagina. Then he mopped up his own member. Dumping the washcloth in the hamper, he led her back to the bed for some post-coital cuddling.

But the unexpected session, occurring while the other members of the household were blithely unaware of what was going on, caused him to revive even sooner than usual.

Deirdre stared at his growing member with excitement, but also alarm.

"My God," she whispered. "You—you want to do it again?"

"I guess I do."

"I do too . . . But Cliff, dear, I'm pretty sore down there. I'm not sure I can take it right away. Could we do something else?"

That was a loaded question! Cliff was lying on his back, Deirdre draped on her side next to him, and he was giving her bottom some further squeezes. Without thinking he placed a finger in the general direction of her anus and said:

"How about if I go in back here?"

It took her a few seconds to figure out his meaning. Her jaw dropped and a look of horror came over her face.

"Is that what you want to do?" she exclaimed.

"I was hoping you might be willing to try."

"Oh, Cliff, it doesn't sound so nice. Won't it hurt?"

"It probably will. But lube will help." And he reached over to the nightstand and took hold of a little tube of hand lotion. "This will work."

She gazed at the tube as if it was some kind of magic potion. But then another thought shot through her mind.

"Do you—do that to my mom?" she gasped.

"Yes."

"And to Aunt Margery?"

"Yes."

"And they . . . like it?"

"They seem to. Your mom had a fair amount of practice from before."

"You mean . . . my dad?"

"Yes."

"Goodness." She digested all this information like someone learning for the first time that the earth was round. "Well, okay," she said with grave doubts.

"I'll try to be gentle," he said.

And at once he began applying the lube to her bottom. She giggled as he did so, actually emitting a girlish squeal when he inserted his fingers into that delicate orifice. She expected him to ask her to get on her hands and knees, but he said it was better if she lay down flat on her stomach. As he draped his body over hers, she felt a strange sort of comfort, even though the weight of him was pressing her down a bit. But when he tried to insert the tip of his cock into her anus, she writhed and cried out, "Ow-ow-ow! That really hurts!"

"Dear, you mustn't tense up," he said, massaging her bottom to encourage her to relax those muscles.

Somehow her brain sent the proper message to her bottom, and she went boneless. This allowed him to slip in several inches—but the sensation caused her to tighten her sphincter instinctively, so that he had to urge her once again to relax. She managed it, and so he forged in about two-thirds of the way—which he felt was quite enough.

As he wrapped his arms around her chest and seized her breasts, nestling his head next to her own, she felt even more helpless than during her initial session of vaginal sex. But again, there was a strange comfort in that—and she accepted his increasingly powerful thrusts with unthinking fortitude that brought home to her the inescapable fact that the male penetration of the female is a law of nature that can't be negated and overturned. In fact, even though this procedure was technically "unnatural," she never felt more feminine than at that moment, receiving a man's passion with a sort of unconscious grace and dignity even as his pounding reached frenetic proportions.

And when he exploded with his second orgasm, clutching her breasts even more tightly with one hand while fondling her sex with the other, she flooded his fingers with the fluid of her own second climax. Both of them lay writhing and quivering and moaning and gasping as they exhausted their passion, remaining fused in body and soul until at last Cliff pulled out and rolled off of her.

They were unable to speak for several minutes. Then, as he looked over at her, noticing that both of their bodies were covered with sweat, he said, "Did that hurt?"

"Yes," she admitted frankly. "But—I didn't mind."

"Maybe you'll get used to it."

"Maybe."

"Deirdre," he said, his expression serious, even severe, "I'm going to have to tell your mother what we've done."

"Why?"

"She deserves to know. I can't conceal this from her."

She was too tired to argue. "Okay. I hope she doesn't get mad at me."

"I don't think she will."

And he got up from the bed, first to clean himself up, then to have a little talk with Fanny.

He found her in the garden, on her knees digging a hole for a new plant with a trowel. He had deigned to put on some boxer briefs, since the back yard wasn't entirely concealed from neighbors and he didn't care to expose himself in front of strangers.

"Working hard?" he said.

She didn't trouble to reply, just giving him a wry smile.

Cliff didn't know how to approach the subject at hand; so he decided just to spill the beans.

"I just deflowered your daughter," he said evenly.

Fanny stopped her digging in mid-stride, holding the trowel in the air as her eyes widened. She expelled a few heavy breaths as her chest rose and fell. Then she resumed digging—but Cliff sensed that her thrusts into the ground were a bit more vehement than before.

"This just happened?" she said.

"Yes."

"What brought that on?"

"She seemed to want it."

Fanny finally exploded with anger. "It's no wonder, with you parading around naked all the time! What else is going to go through an impressionable young woman's mind?"

"She was a virgin."

Fanny nearly choked. "Are you sure?"

"There can hardly be any doubt of it."

Her face screwed up in incomprehension. "My daughter a virgin?"

"It's been known to happen, even at her advanced age."

A few more thrusts into the ground, and then Fanny tossed the trowel away and got up stiffly to her feet. "I'd better go talk to her."

"Don't be hard on her."

"I just want to see what's going on."

And with a venomous look at her lover (who was now, she realized, the lover of both her sister and her daughter), she strode into the house.

Fanny found Deirdre sitting pensively on the bed where the dramatic event had happened. She had managed to tidy herself up and get dressed, but otherwise she just peered down at the bedsheet where she had lain—and been laid—only minutes before. Fanny could smell the heavy scent of sex in the room.

Deirdre looked up when her mother entered the room and sat down on one corner of the bed. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, dear." After a pause: "So . . . you and Cliff?" She frowned and thought to herself: Didn't I just have a conversation like this a while back?

"Yeah," was all Deirdre could say. "I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, it's okay. May I ask why?"

Deirdre shrugged. "I just felt like it."

"But why with Cliff? I thought you didn't even like him."

"I didn't at first. But he kind of grows on you. Now I think he's rather cute."

"Cute, eh?"

"He's really not a bad sort."

"I never said he was."

There was an awkward silence. Then Fanny said: "You were really a virgin?"

"Jesus, Mom!" Deirdre exploded. "You make it sound as if I had smallpox! Why is it so amazing that, at the age of twenty-one, I hadn't let a guy stuff his dick into my cunt?"

"Please, Deirdre, watch your language."

"Oh, to hell with my language! I just wanted to do it, okay?" She suddenly choked up. "I think Cliff's a sweetheart."

Fanny scowled in disbelief. "You—you love him?"

"Maybe not yet—but I might someday."

"I don't know what's gotten into you—and Margery too, for that matter. Both of you seem to have fallen for this guy. Is it just because he struts around nude everywhere?"

"Oh, please, Mom! I'm not that superficial."

"Well, I guess it's a little more seemly for you to be carrying on with him than my sister. At her age!"

"What about you? You're older than her."

"Yes, but Cliff's just an amusement with me."

"And that's not superficial?"

"Oh, I'm not saying that it isn't. Maybe it's just a way of sticking it to your father for running off with that bimbo who was barely older than you."

"Jeez, Mom, now you sound like you're engaging in some kind of revenge sex."

"I don't know what it is." Fanny tried to steer the conversation back to the main point. "So—it was okay? You know, your first time and all that. Did it hurt?"

"Of course it hurt. I knew it would. Maybe it hurt a little more than I expected. I guess I broke down and cried a little bit—but that wasn't just from the pain. It was more the whole business of being—you know, poked."

"You bled?"

"You really want all the gory details? Yes, I bled. But not much."

"No, it's never very much."

"Of course," Deirdre went on casually, "the back way took a little more effort."

Fanny thought she would fall off the bed. "The back way?"

"Yeah, sure. You know—here." And she pointed to her bottom.

"He did that to you?" Fanny spluttered. "Oh, I'm going to wring his neck!"

And she got up with the apparent intent of doing just that.

"Mom, please!" Deirdre pleaded. "I didn't want to at first, but he talked me into it. He said he does it to you and Aunt Margery all the time."

"Not all the time—just sometimes."

"Whatever. But—it wasn't so bad. I might get used to it."

"Oh, so you intend to keep on sleeping with him?"

"Well, I was hoping to. You're not saying this should be just a one-night stand, are you?" She giggled nervously. "Or is that a one-morning stand?"

"Don't be flippant. Anyway, back to rear entry: I really do want to kick his butt for doing that to you. It's—it's way too advanced for a virgin."

"Technically, I wasn't a virgin when he did it to me. He'd already entered me the normal way a few minutes earlier."

"I don't care about that. He had no business—"

"Mom, just let it go. It's over and done with, okay?"

Fanny sighed heavily. "All right. So I guess you want to . . . take your turn with him?"

"I'd like to," Deirdre said in a small voice.

"Well, there's three of us and one of him. I suppose we could each have him twice a week. How about that?"

"Sounds good."

"The seventh day he can rest in peace." Fanny couldn't shake the idea that she'd had this conversation not long before. "He's not Superman."

"Isn't he?"

"I don't know. Maybe he is. If he wants one of us that seventh night, that's his business."