The Hunger

I instinctively sensed he was masturbating to some variation of the tale I'd told him...feeling that same crushing shame I'd initially felt after I'd come. I said yes, and tried to edge away from that crumbling black hole.

His sister came home from school for Christmas break...nothing was said, she didn't notice any tension, though our daughter was not what you'd call an empath. It was a week or so after my daughter had gone back to school...sitting at the breakfast table when David spoke directly to us, his eyes staring down into a bowl of soggy cornflakes: "I want to see it?"

"What..."Carol answered blithely...a second for her face to fall as it registered like a slap.

"I want to watch you," he repeated flatly.

"Dave..."

My son looked up and his eyes were calm: "Look, I saw it and you told me about it and I can't stop thinking about it...I can't get my head past it."

"David, stop," Carol whispered.

He shook his head. "I can't stop thinking about it...fantasizing about..."

"David don't say...please just stop..."

He looked squarely at his Mother as her words sputtered out: "I fantasize about it every minute of the day. I need to see it...you can't...you cannot leave me like this....Please."

I looked at him and saw the flush in his skin and I remembered how I was in those days after my first visit to Chet's apartment--the nascent consuming hunger flickering to life, even as I couldn't comprehend it.

"...No," Carol answered, shaking her head as if dazed.

"Please," David repeated, standing up slowly. "I try not to...I don't want to think about it. I can't..."

He stepped back and then slinked from the kitchen.

Carol stared at the empty chair.

"You told him too much."

"I told him the truth."

She placed her palms flat on the table: "He...he can get some girlfriend to..."

"You know that's not an answer."

"Fuck the answer. I don't care about the answer. This is our punishment. It is."

I flashed back to my son standing by the lake those few weeks ago...had I seen it there...some shift in him...I didn't know. I did know what he was feeling...not exactly, not in the particulars...just the cognition of having that dark seed with oneself...the hunger flickering, even if unrecognized by your conscious mind.

"He'll look in...bad places."

"What, you think we should...what, I'm supposed to put on a fucking show for me own son?"

There was no answer to give...was there some sick thrill within me.

"And what about if he wants to..."

"What?"

"You know what?" she seethed, her eyes barbed tines that tore into me. She didn't have to say it, but her eyes said it all: "...his father's son..."

She stood and strode down to our son's room and finding the door locked pounded her small fist against the wood until he opened it. I came up close....not sure if she was about to pummel him with her fist too.

"You've got to forget it."

I couldn't see him, but his words were muted: "I can't ma. I tried...I tried..."

Carol turned to me, her mouth working silently.

"You want to..."

"...Watch you....I'm sorry, I know I should've not said anything and just..."

She pivoted those blazing eyes at me again.

"What about you, what do you think?"

I spread my hands in a helpless gesture.

"Maybe we can get someone for you to talk to about it" she went on finally, rubbing at her temples as if seized by a piercing migrane.

"You think I need a psychiatrist? You think I'm crazy, that I'm nuts!"

"No...this has just been too much...you should have never had to..."

"I just want to see it."

"Just take a couple days and..."

"It won't change."

"Just please think about what you're asking. I don't think you want to do this. ...I can't do this!"

"I'm sorry."

"Just please..." she pleaded and strode down to our room closing the door with a slam that shook the house.

"It's okay," I said David and followed after his mother.

I gingerly stepped into our room. I lay down alongside her on the bed after a while.

"My god this is such a disaster," she muttered.

"Yeah."

"I guess I shouldn't ask you if he'll get it out...if he can forget it."

"No."

"No, that's it?"

"No, he will not forget it. I know what he's feeling...I felt it after that first time seeing you...you know."

She clamped her eyes shut and was suddenly wracked with frustrated sobs.

"He'll fuck up every relationship he's in." I went on. "He'll have girl's running for the hills if he mentions it....I know I would have done it like that too."

"...Unless he meets a loose skank like me?" she said almost inaudibly.

"Don't say that."

"No more talk, please," she said and rolled away from me. I left her there after a half hour or so to check on David. She didn't come out of the room till the next morning.

It was early the next morning, David and I eating oatmeal in silence when my wife came down the hall. She looked tired, but she'd showered and changed. She'd put on the lite touch of make-up she usually wore. We both looked up at her.

"Mom, I'm sorry I asked that," David said unprompted.

Carol bent and kissed his head. She turned to me and offered a shrug of resignation.

"Are you both sure about this?" she whispered. "If you want to change your minds, do it now."

"You'll do it?" David muttered in shocked awe. I put my hands on the table and didn't move.

"We'll call Jack Caufield, I guess," she said hollowly.

"Him?" was all I could say, frankly stunned how fast she'd acceded to it...more stunned by the choice.

My wife didn't answer, simply turning her focus to our boy: "David, we're going on a drive, probably today or tomorrow. Not far, but we'll be staying overnight so pack a small bag."

He tried for a nod but barely moved his head.

"Go do it now, okay? I need to talk to your father."

After my son left us, I looked up at my wife for a long while.

"Are you sure about Jack? He's such a..."

"Our son wants to watch me get fucked, right?" Carol cut me short with an ice edged tone. "Then I guess he'll watch me get fucked."

"...Okay."

"And if the other...you know. If David has that..."

"It'll be okay," I answered.

"...Will it?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We checked into a Holiday Inn that afternoon, a Thursday...it was about ten miles from where Jack Caufield worked...almost an hour drive from our house.

The three of us milled about the room. I'd called Jack at work and asked him if he was interested in seeing us...we'd spoken exactly once since the day our son had barged in to see Jack and his friend being entertained. He'd jumped at the offer as he always did...he asked boldly if I wanted him to line up a friend for us. I said no; Carol was sitting across the table from me as I spoke, the phone on speaker.

"Tell him," she mouthed.

"Jack, I gotta warn you about something." Carol nodded and averted her eyes; his "warn me about what" coming loud over the connection.

I reminded him of David walking in on us the last time we were together, as if he needed reminding--even after Carol had shrieked our son's name as he bolted from the room, Jack had held his grip on her hips and finished with a brutal flurry of thrusts. I forced the words out hard and fast: "Look, my son...he's going to...he's going to be there with us. He wants to..."

...a stupendous silence...

"He wants to fucking watch too?" Jack's voice boomed incredulously over the phone. "He wants to watch his Mother and me?"

"...Yes." Another punishing pause...my wife and I both watching the I-phone as if it were alive.

"He's eighteen, right? Fucking has to be."

"...Yes."

"...Let him watch then, what the fuck do I care," Jack Caufield crowed, the sound of his palm slapping down on his desk registering in our ears.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're David, right?" Jack said as he strode into the hotel room. He looked at Carol from head to toe, then to me. That smug look I'd always gotten.

"So, you're lookin' to watch some action, huh?" he went on, focusing on our son once more. "You are, right?"

David backed into the wall but managed a nod.

"Sorry about that with you waltzing in on us last time," he said, taking off his suitcoat and draping it across the room's only chair. "No hard feelings or nothing."

He undid his tie and tossed it over the coat, sitting to unlace his polished wingtips.

"She was always a looker," he went on, slipping off his socks.

Carol, always nervous before any encounter we'd ever had was tight as a steel spring. She rocked on her tiny bare feet, hands clasped...fingers kneading.

"Everybody seems pretty wrought up, so I think it's best if we just get right to it," Jack said casually as he got back to his feet. "Now I don't know how much you parent's told you of our particulars, but I usually tell your Dad to strip her down for me."

He came over to my wife and carefully took hold of her upper arm, firmly pulling her towards our son.

"...So, how 'bout this time you doing the honors....Get her clothes off for me."

"...It's okay, David," she whispered, taking the last two steps up to him. "...It's alright."

He looked at me and I nodded. His hands shook as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of her blouse...Carol straightened herself...he did another two...halted...I heard the sharp breathing that usually marked my wife's letting go. Her cheeks flushed suddenly with animal arousal...I could see she was flustered by it.

"I can't," David said and pulled his hands back.

"Then your Dad'll have to do the job," Jack chortled, putting a hand on her shoulder to shove her over to me.

My wife shook his paw off...she looked at my son.

"You're gonna do it David," she spoke with soothing command. "...C'mon."

She took his hand and brought it back to her chest. His hands still trembled...he gulped and undid the rest of the buttons.

"Take it off me," she said gently.

He shook as he draped it off her shoulders. She turned her back to him then and faced Jack with hard eyes. "Now undo the bra."

My son gingerly unhooked it...slipping the straps off her shoulders.

"Now my skirt."

He was calmer now...he unzipped the skirt and let it fall about her ankles. She waited there, and then with no more prompting he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs. Carol waited a long moment; she turned to David and frankly presented her nakedness to him. My wife had turned forty-two that August and still looked wonderful. She'd gained maybe ten pounds over the years, but was fit and more curvaceous, especially in the hips. Her dark hair had picked up a few strands of gray...the dark pubic triangle was still curly and dense. Her breasts, always lewdly heavy, had lowered a bit with wages of time and two children. They were still firm and lively, her nipples rigidly spiked.

She reached out and took his hand and brought it to her right breast. He hesitated for a mere instant and then squeezed it very softly. She brought his other hand up to the left breast and closed her eyes as he caressed it in turn. My wife pulled close, hugged her nude body tightly to his. She put her mouth to his ear whispered something inaudible...and he nodded. She lifted on her toes and kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

"Okay," she said as she spun to face Jack.

Jack stripped down deliberately, his large cock springing upward. I looked at my son and saw he was focused on it. He stroked it for affect...of all the men we'd had he was the largest, probably just short of eight inches, thick around as my wife's wrist.

"Hot fuckin' set of cupcakes, huh, kid," he said stepping right in to suck her nipples hard, tugging at them with his teeth. He looked at me and bent her head back to grind a kiss down onto her lips. That same visceral jealousy rose in me whenever someone else kissed my wife.

"Start on your knees like always," he ordered, pressing her down onto the worn hotel room carpet. He shuttled to angle them so David had a perfect view of his mother taking the penis in her mouth.

"You know your Mom's been sucking my cock for over twenty years," he mused over the damp slurp of Carol's roiling mouth. "I watched her suck lots of cock too. Always a fucking blast man."

He sank his cock deep then, watching intently as my son listened to the retching gags.

"She even sucked me off once when she was pregnant with you," he clucked. "...Right, princess?"

He pulled her off then and twisted her face up to our son. "Go on, tell him!"

"I did," she wheezed, nodding at the memory of it. She closed her eyes...a wan smile: "...I did everything."

"True fucking statement there, kid," Jack Caulfield cut in. "She did just about everything. And me and your old man watched her do it."

"What exquisite whore she is," he went on, stroking her cheek. "...We better start fucking now, baby, 'cause I ain't going to last long with junior gawking at us."

Carol started to rise but Jack put a palm on her head.

"On the floor," he said. "...On your fucking back!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The room was rife with that musky odor of sweat and semen. I looked down at my wife...she'd rolled to her side and was facing away from us, the familiar galvanic quaking in her thigh muscles that always tacked after a particularly hard orgasm. Caufield stood before the mirrored closet door and worked his necktie into a precise Windsor.

I glanced down at my son...he'd slid into the chair. He stared numbly at my wife's nude figure.

My mind slipped backwards in time to that long ago night in Chet's apartment--him and his brother getting dressed as my girl lay used on the floor...that same briny odor; a mingled sheen of their sweat and her own.

Chet had stepped in front of me, nodding.

"You know you want to," he'd said. "...I'm lookin' at you and I know it."

I'd shaken me head, forming the word "no" on my lips...no sound. When he'd finally climbed off her he'd told me in a taunt to "go ahead and eat her now"....To "taste that juicy cunt".

"Go 'head, do it," he said now. "...I whispered in her ear that you were going to do it. That you couldn't wait to lap it up."

Carol took her hands from her face in that instant...meeting my gaze...then the smallest of nods.

"Go ahead," Chet whispered, offering a mild shove that staggered me forward.

My fiancé nodded again and slowly parted her legs. Her thighs were tacky with semen...the labial folds oozing whitish rivulets of two men's sperm.

She nodded again and I slowly lowered myself onto my knees, her skin was damp and smooth. I bent down and put my mouth to her vulva...ran my tongue through their seed. My heart hammered with excitement. I tongued deeper...felt her gasp...tasted it, tongued deeper and deeper, suctioning on her vagina. And then that was all there was for me...my mouth, her silken slit. Her hips bucked up against me and I knew she was aroused by it.

"Sick," Chet's brother muttered.

"Shush!" Chet sounded, his words strangely sympathetic: "...He has to do it, man."

"Hey, you want me to show him the way," Jack Caulfield's hushed voice broke into the reverie of my thoughts. "I'll rub his face in it."

I looked at him standing there, suit jacket draped over his shoulder. That I-just-fucked-your-wife smirk on his lips.

"...No."

"He wants to, I can tell," he went on, opening the door...pausing. "I can read that boy like a book...just like I've always read you."

The door snapped closed.

I looked at David and knew he couldn't do it on his own.

"Carol..."

"Yes," she said tremulously.

"...You know he wants to." I said and came over to put a steadying hand on his shoulder. I wanted to add "he has to".

After a moment my wife gingerly rolled onto her back and cocked her head up to see her son. I leaned in to him and whispered simply that it was "okay".

"It's okay David...I want you to," she said.

He stood up and moved to her...starting to lower himself.

"Take your clothes off first, baby."

David looked to me and again I nodded.

He awkwardly undressed, towering over his supine Mom...hesitating as he slid the briefs down. His cock was ramrod straight, like mine, maybe a bit bigger. Engorged-- the mushroomed head broad and purpled.

Carol nodded and smiled reassuringly. "It's nice," she said parted her legs wider. I saw the spilled seed oozing from within and thought of how many times I'd done this.

"You can do whatever you want, baby," she said. I knew she was registering the choice...fuck me if you want...or the other...

My son lowered himself, hesitating for an instant before sliding his mouth up the inside of her thigh. She gasped when his tongue found her...she met my gaze as he hunkered into her, her head lolling, her throat seeming to swell as he licked into her depths.

I knew the maddening hunger...

...Knew it could not ever be sated.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Epilogue:

Three days had passed since we drove to our house in a stifled silence. I'd watched my son bring my wife to a shattering climax as he licked a strange man's semen from her vagina...how she bucked, her hips thrashing into him, finally managing to push him off her.

Just the ragged breathing then...Carol's dark eyes unfocused, David in a crouch his forehead to the carpet as he were praying to the devil.

"Lay on the bed," she spoke finally, reaching down to muss his hair. "...Go 'head."

He stood and as if aware of his nakedness, turned to shield his erection from our view.

"Help me up," she went on, reaching her hand to me. On rubbery legs I pulled her to her feet.

"You take your clothes off now," she told me softly, keeping hold of my hand as she edged up to the bed, watching our son dutifully climb onto the mattress.

"Lay on your back," she said.

He looked frozen, but finally complied...drawing the sheet to shroud his penis.

Carol tugged the sheet right off him.

"We're all getting fucked today," she said, and started working her way onto the bed, sidling herself up until she rubbed her pelvis to his. "...I told you to get nude," she repeated to me.

I stripped completely and saw David look to my own hard cock.

Carol hitched up and using her hand guided his pole into her mossy depths.

Our son stiffened...my wife sighed and lent her head back.

"Give me a lot, baby," she cooed. "...Your Dad's gonna show you how much he likes it too."

Three days gone by.

We'd each fucked her during that long afternoon, David going again, rampant like a young bull...and yes, we'd each shown the other our taste for that most forbidden of acts.

Three days of the most awkward silences followed...the door ajar, unhinged... none of us knew where it would ultimately lead.

It was Monday morning and it was snowing hard. Carol, a grade school teacher, was cancelled, as were classes for David...I didn't get a snow day.

We'd assiduously avoided discussing our next step.

I was dressed, my winter jacket on. Carol was at the sink in her robe. David had been staring at her back when I walked into the kitchen...hearing my footfalls he quickly looked down at his glass of orange juice.

"I know we haven't talked about anything since...since we got back."

Carol turned to me...my son looked up.

"I think..."

I walked over to my wife and touched the cinched knot that belted her fleece robe. She put her hands on mine and then pulled them back. I slowly undid the belt...parted the robe...slipped it of her shoulders and deftly folded it over my arm. My wife was wearing her old flannel pajamas...to me those threadbare pj's were a zillion times hotter than the raciest French lingerie.

"...I think it's best if you do the rest of the strippin' personally," I said as I turned to my son.

David swallowed hard and stood. The front of his sweat pants was clearly tented. He was ready to attack.