1 comments/ 213660 views/ 11 favorites The Interruption By: quinn rogan They were both unsteady on their feet as Steve unlocked the door. They turned to wave to Neil and Susan, in the departing car, then, as they crossed the threshold, Steve groped for Joanne's breast. She stopped as he gripped the full, firm flesh over the peasant blouse, and gave it a hard squeeze. Her hand snaked down and felt the outline of his hard cock, beneath the rough denim of his jeans. "Oh," she laughed. "So there is something else to life but football, then! A whole fucking hour you spent at the bar, talking fucking football!" "Well," he replied, his fingers tracing the outline of her hard nipple. "There's only so much barn dancing one man can take – and, anyway, you weren't lonely, were you?" "Oh, no," Joanne breathed, her wide, generous mouth now nuzzling his neck, her hand now fully cupped round her husband's turgid erection. That was one of the things he loved about his new wife, Steve thought. She was independent, gregarious – not clinging, like Kathy had been. And – she was much more 'upfront' about sex... His heart beat faster at the memory of how Joanne had casually discarded her top, on their recent Mediterranean holiday, to display her gorgeous tits. He had always wanted Kathy to do that, but she wouldn't even wear a bikini on the beach. He had seen men watching Kathy’s slim, dark figure, admiring her 'racing-snake' bum, in her one-piece bathing-suit, and he had tried to persuade her to ‘go topless’, to show off her small firm tits, with their amazingly long, stiff nipples, but it had been 'no way' – and, of course, he couldn't tell her that it would excite him, thinking about the men on the beach wanting to get their hands, their mouths, on his wife's tits. But Joanne was different. Joanne enjoyed the attention. She had sat on the towel, that first morning, and asked Steve to put her sun block on. Kneeling behind her, he had massaged the cream into her back, then, when he had reached round to the front, Joanne had raised her arms behind her head, pulling her tits up, making them stand out... Steve had oiled her stomach, first, then, when his hands had reached the underside of her breasts, she had breathed – "Give my tits a good seeing-to, Steve – we don't want them burning, do we?" And his oiled hands had slid over her nipples, to find them standing out like pieces of chalk. Over her shoulder, he could see many eyes fixed on her – most of them men, but quite a few women, as well, and his cock had throbbed, and his hands blatantly squeezed and fondled her naked tits. He had had an almost permanent hard-on, throughout the entire holiday. Joanne had a superb body for her age – of course, she had always worked out in the gym, and done her line dancing. And she had no qualms about being the centre of attention – her singing career had got her used to that. And – most excitingly – she expected men to become aroused at the sight of her tits, and basked in it. After a day or two, she would whisper to Steve – "Whoops – there's another stiffy over there, lover – think he'd like to slide it between my boobs?" And Steve would turn, to see a furtive husband, desperately trying to hide his erection from his disapproving wife, and his mouth would dry as he thought of the guy dreaming of fucking Joanne's tits as he slid a length up his unresponsive wife in the hotel bedroom that night... He pushed her back against the wall, standing back and surveying her, in her brightly-coloured peasant blouse and skirt. "Aha, my proud beauty," he announced, striking a pose. "You won't look so haughty when that blouse is up round your neck, and the skirt circling your waist..." She cowered, in mock terror. "Oh, master," she quavered. "What are you going to do to me? I'm only an innocent serving-girl..." Her arm crossed, protectively, over her breasts, and her hand flattened against her groin. Her eyes were large, and full of simulated fear. Steve felt the blood flow hotly into his penis. "Upstairs for you, my girl – into the master bedroom, and await my pleasure," he called, and she scuttled away, still protecting her body, ascending the stairs in quick, hurried steps. His inhibitions loosened by the drink he had consumed, Steve roared after her, quickly assuming the role of the dominant master. When he entered the bedroom, Joanne was backed up against the wardrobe, still clutching her body, protectively, her head downcast, eyes looking up at him, fearfully. "Oh, please, sir," she quavered. "I know naught of things between man and woman – I am an innocent servant-girl." Steve's acting ability did not match his new wife's, though, and he could think of nothing to do, or say, but to stride forward, and envelop her in his arms. To his surprise, he could actually feel her shaking, as though she was really frightened. Unresisting, she let him propel her towards the bed, and they collapsed on it, together, Steve's mouth closing, urgently, over hers, his hand pushing up between her thighs. With a thrill, he felt the wetness seeping through her thin panties. Then she groaned, and clamped her thighs round his wrist, trapping his hand against her soaking pussy, humping it against her fingers. Her breathing quickened, becoming harsher, and she thrust herself onto his probing hand. "Oh, oh, oh..." she moaned, then, suddenly, Steve felt her stiffen, and she rocked wildly against his rigid fingers, throwing her head back, in a violent, raging orgasm. Steve lay, clutching her, his fingers now under the thin strip of cotton stretched across her sex, delving deep into the soaking, twitching flesh beneath. Slowly, the tightness of her body relaxed, and she slid back on the bed, letting out great, shuddering breaths. Her skirt was bunched up round her waist, her strong dancer's legs played apart, Steve's hand still at their apex, two fingers plunged inside her soaking twat. Joanne opened her eyes and smiled, shakily, uncertainly, up at him. "Oh, you hit a fucking big trigger there, boy," she murmured. "Fucking hell – can't remember when I last came so quick." Steve flexed his fingers inside her, and she jerked as if an electric current had gone through her. "Whoah – steady, boy – I think we're in multiple orgasm territory, right now – but give me a chance to get my breath back!" Her hand slid down to join his. Steve thought she was going to pull him out of her, but she simply laid her fingers across the back of his hand, and stroked it, gently, idly. "What trigger?" he asked, quietly, and immediately felt her vaginal muscles tighten round his fingers. "It's the 'servant' thing," she breathed. "You know – master/servant – the 'big house' – droit de seigneur – that sort of thing. It just – turns me on – always has done." "Ah," said Steve, a little nonplussed. He was more than nonplussed – he was surprised. He thought he didn't know a woman more self-confident, more independent, than Joanne, and he just couldn't see her in the role of – well, what, exactly? She laughed, shakily, and squeezed his hand. "Surprised, eh?" she whispered. "Difficult to see me as a – victim? There's a lot about me you don't know – yet." Steve felt his cock rise, again – he hadn't even realised his erection had subsided as Joanne had thrashed about in her sudden climax – and he flexed his fingers in her, experimentally. She sighed with pleasure, and pressed down on his hand again. "When I was – well, pretty young, I had a holiday with my great-grandma's younger sister. She had a little cottage at the seaside, in Norfolk somewhere, and I was sent there for the summer because my folks couldn't get away, because of the shop. I wasn't looking forward to it. Auntie Mary was pretty old – well over eighty – and I thought it would be really boring." "But – it turned out to be not bad – not bad at all. We actually got on very well together. Auntie Mary had all her marbles – and she was quite happy for me to go off, exploring the place on my own, and didn't make a fuss about where I had been, or who I was with. I met a few people my own age, in fact, and – well, that's another story. But, in the evenings, Auntie Mary liked a drop of whisky, and she would get talkative, and tell me about her life." "It was interesting – all about the war, and her two husbands, and her schooldays. She wasn't shy about sex, and she told me all about her sex life with her husbands – and a few other men she had fucked. I was amazed – I thought, like most people, that my generation 'invented' sex, and I definitely didn't think that old people like Auntie Mary had 'slept around' when they were young." "Then, one night, near the end of my stay with her, I asked her how, and when, she had lost her virginity, and she told me she had gone into domestic service when she had left school, and, on her third night in the 'big house', she had been sent to serve the port to the gentlemen, after dinner, and the master had ordered her to strip off her uniform!" "Well, you didn't argue with the master in those days, so Mary had to strip - totally naked - and serve the drinks, like that. She was completely innocent, and utterly terrified. There were five men in the room, all terribly upper-class, in their dinner jackets, and, as she served the drinks, they reached from their leather armchairs and touched her – feeling her breasts and her bottom, and running their hands up her legs – right up to her cunt! And she had to stand still, while they did it." "Then the master laid her down on the rug, in front of the fire, and took her virginity, and the others took turns until they had all had her. Of course, she found out, after, that all the young servant girls were expected to allow the master and his guests to fuck them – but, in any case, apart from the first time, Mary discovered that she actually enjoyed it, but only with the upper classes. She said there was something about their posh voices, and their air of authority, that really turned her on, and got her really wet between her legs." "She said there was wholesale fucking 'below stairs', between the male and female servants, but she was there three years and she never allowed one of the other servants in her knickers, although she was fucked almost daily by one or other of the master, or his sons, of his guests. At first, she worried about getting pregnant, but it turned out she couldn't conceive – she never did have kids, even after she was married." "Did her husband know about all that?" asked Steve. "No," laughed Joanne. "She even convinced him she was a virgin, but – she never enjoyed sex with him. She just couldn't get excited about sex, unless it was with a dominant man with an upper-class accent. That was why she had all those 'extra-marital' shags, throughout both her marriages – she just couldn't resist a man who 'talked posh' and treated her like dirt." "Good job she never met Oliver Stirling, then," laughed Steve. Oliver Stirling was the local ‘Lord of the Manor’ – recently widowed, he had re-emerged into village society lately and, although he was regularly screwing the hoity-toity manageress of the exclusive hotel just outside the village, he had taken a keen interest in chatting to Joanne at the barn dance, that evening. In fact, Steve recalled, he had had a dance with her, while Steve had been deep in his football conversation at the bar. He noticed that Joanne had gone quiet. "Are you all right, love?" he asked. He slid his fingers cuntwards again – he still hadn't got his rocks off, yet. Joanne gasped again as he felt her wetness. Steve felt his cock stir, again. "So – that memory turned you on, did it?" he said. It was time to get her 'going' again, he thought, so he could have a really good fuck before getting off to sleep. "Oh, yeah," Joanne murmured. "Imagine being her – being stripped naked by all those masterful upper-class men, then laid down and serially fucked." "Yeah," muttered Steve, trying to catch the mood. "Well, I think Oliver Stirling would do that to you, given half a chance – would he do?" He felt Joanne's pussy tighten around his fingers, and she murmured – "Yeah, I think so." But her tone was less casual than her words, and Steve felt a sudden tingle of - what? Excitement? Curiosity? "You had a couple of dances with him tonight, didn't you?" he said, apparently casually. "Mmmmmmm," replied Joanne, wriggling a little, her hand snaking round his cock, slipping down to cup his tightening testicles. "Did you – get close?" "Close enough..." "For what?" "Oh, close enough that I could tell he was enjoying it." Her voice was low, breathy, with a touch of something else – triumph? "You mean – he was...?" asked her husband, hesitantly. "Oh, yeah," answered Joanne. "He had a hard-on." "You felt it?" "Yeah – like you do, when you're dancing – sort of close." Steve took this in. His mouth was drying, his cock really stiff, his insides slowly turning over. He felt there was something else here... "Did he – try anything?" he asked. "No – not really," answered Joanne. "He sort of – pushed against me, you know – just in case I hadn't noticed." "Ah," said Steve. "Was that all?" "Well – he did a bit of pulling, too. You know – pulling me towards him." "What – with his hand round your waist?" "Yeah – most of the time." "What about the rest of the time?" "Well, a couple of times, he sort of dropped his hand a bit, then pulled..." "You mean – to your bum?" "Yeah." "Just one hand?" "Yeah – well, maybe once or twice, he had both hands down there, having a bit of a grind." "Oh," said Steve. He tried to remember when he had seen them dancing together. He visualised Stirling's hands cupping Joanne's round, jutting bottom, pulling her in against his erection... "And what did you do?" "What do you mean – what did I do?" "Well – what did you do?" "Well – I didn't pull away, if that's what you mean." "So you – pressed back against him? You rubbed yourself against him – against his hard-on?" "I guess so – a couple of times. You were at the bar – talking fucking football!" "Yeah," agreed Steve. Jesus – she had rubbed her cunt against him! Steve's heart was thumping – was it anger, jealousy, or plain excitement? "So I was. Do you like Oliver's posh accent? Is he masterful enough for you" "Ooohhh, yeah," replied Joanne, her voice catching, a little, with excitement. "So – did anything else happen?" Steve’s voice was cracking with suppressed tension – which Joanne was quick to recognise. She squeezed his throbbing cock, and leaned her head back to look at him, in the half-light of the darkened bedroom. A secret smile played around her lips. Steve realised she was still fairly drunk – and very, very turned on... "What do you think?" she asked. "And why do you want to know, anyway?" By now, he knew why he wanted to know. The thought excited him – it excited the hell out of him. It was the same as watching the guys on the beach get hard when she flashed her tits at them – when he though about Joanne grinding her wet cunt against Stirling's hard cock, it nearly made him come …… She was holding his cock in her hand – she knew – she was teasing him... "Just tell me," he groaned, and her hand gripped his shaft, tightly. "We were in a corner – we weren't really dancing, at all – just moving – against each other. His hands were round my bum, squeezing my cheeks – I could feel the outline of his cock, right up the length of my belly. His mouth was beside my ear, and he said – 'I need some air. Come outside with me.' And he let me go, and walked towards the door, assuming I would follow." "I did think about it, Steve. I looked over at the bar, and you were deep in your football conversation. Then I looked at Oliver. He turned and jerked his head, and I walked over to him. We didn't speak. There were people going in and out all the time, so I didn't feel conspicuous. He turned to the right, outside the door, and he led me into that dark little copse." "As soon as we were out of the light, I felt his hand on my butt. As I walked, it was sliding between my cheeks, touching the tops of my thighs. I could still feel the hardness of his cock when we had been dancing, and I was soaking... Then he suddenly stopped, behind me, and pushed his hands through my arms and onto my breasts." "He just grabbed them, Steve – he took hold of my tits, and squeezed them. I could feel his cock again, pressing against my ass, this time. He pulled my blouse up and, when he felt my bra, he said – 'Get that out of the way', and stood back. I just – did it, Steve. I unclipped it, and slid it off, through my armholes, and stuffed it in my pocket. Then I just stood in front of him – and waited." "What he did he do?" muttered Steve. His hands were now mauling his wife's breasts, his mind tortured – illuminated – with a vision of her standing meekly in front of Stirling, her breasts unfettered beneath her brightly-coloured peasant blouse. "He lifted the bottom of my blouse – up to my shoulders – and looked... Then he put his hands on them – on my tits – he put his hands on my naked tits and gave them a good feel, Steve. He liked my nipples – he kept trapping them between his fingers and thumbs, and pulling them, and rolling them round." Her hands were now on her husband's, educating his fingers to repeat the treatment, moaning as her hard nipples were manipulated, almost to the point of pain. "Yeah, Steve," she gasped. "Like that – harder." She was writhing, now, her voice trailing away …… "And then he started feeling for my cunt, Steve. He pushed his hand under the waistband of my skirt, then inside my panties. His fingers trailed through my bush, and I – I opened my legs a bit, and his finger slid inside me. It was like a knife through butter, Steve – I was so wet – and then... then I heard Frances ..." "Frances?" exclaimed Steve. Frances was his wife’s daughter, by her first marriage – a teenage version of Joanne. Although she was now his stepdaughter, relations between Steve and the girl had always been – well, difficult. She seemed to think he was some sort of sexual deviant – largely, Steve supposed, because he was screwing her mother. He had certainly given her no cause to complain about his treatment of her, although, Steve thought, most men would give her developing body a second, and a third, glance ...... "I was sure it was her," said Joanne. " I heard a scream, or a shriek – I couldn't make out whether it was a laugh, or a frightened cry – but I immediately thought – 'Frances!' and I jumped back – away from Oliver. He had heard it, too, so I didn't imagine it." "So – what did you do?" asked Steve, realising, as he spoke, that he hoped the answer would be that Stirling had slipped his hand into Jolene's panties again …… Steve's cock was like a steel rod... "Well," replied Joanne, "we both stood around, listening, but we didn't hear anything else, and, suddenly, I realised that – well, I had been pretty far gone and – well, anything might have happened. I'd got my senses back, so I just took off, back to the barn, before he could say anything." "Was that when you – joined us, at the bar, and asked if I'd seen Frances?" Joanne nodded, and Steve wondered what he'd have done if he'd known that, not five minutes before, she’d been in the woods with Oliver Stirling’s fingers up her crack ... His own fingers were still inside Joanne's cunt, now, though, and he began to move them... "How wet were you?" he breathed. "When Stirling had his finger up you... Were you as wet as this?" "Oh, yesssss," she muttered. "I think I was wetter – my cunt was soaking." "Were you going to let him...?" But his question was never finished. The front door slammed, loudly, and they both froze. There was a few seconds' silence, then they heard footsteps ascending the stairs, unsteadily, stopping every few seconds, then carrying on. The Interruption As you sit in your office chair perusing your monitor, face so intent, I find myself smiling wickedly. I know that you're not working, so there's no guilt associated with my desire to interrupt you. I approach quietly, stopping behind you, wondering if you sense my presence. Leaning down, I gently blow across you ear, and see you smile even as you pretend not to notice. Bringing my hands to your shoulders, I lean in closer and bury my nose in your neck, burrowing and giggling, before covering you in kisses from ear to shoulder. I wonder if you think that I'm just playing as my caresses become more direct, flicking my tongue over the back of your neck, nibbling and sucking lightly as I move up to your ear. Reaching the lobe, I take it into my mouth and suck gently, before pulling back slightly to whisper. "Doing anything you can't take a break from?" You turn to me, smiling, and shake your head no, so I stroke my tongue from your ear to your mouth, stroking first your top lip, then the bottom one, pulling away when you try to capture my mouth for a kiss. I know exactly what I want, and it's not open for negotiation. My smile is secretive as I look into your beautiful eyes. "You just sit back and relax..." Backing away slightly, I turn your chair to face me, leaning in to kiss you softly. My hands are at the top button of your shirt, working their way down, pushing your shirt open as they go; my lips following close behind them. I drop to my knees, pushing your legs open and sliding between them as I continue kissing and nibbling to your waistband. Pausing, I look up at you mischievously, glancing at the bulge in your pants before returning my eyes to yours. "What have we here?" My hands move to the button of your jeans as I lean in and kiss you deeply, tongue stroking yours as I lower your zipper. I'm eager to release you, to explore you, to hear the wonderful sounds that you make as I pleasure you, and I lower my head and nip your belly playfully in my impatience. I want free access to you, so I sit back on my heels and pull the waist of your jeans and boxers down, grinning as I struggle with them. Taking pity on me, you lift your hips and I pull them down and off, discarding them on the floor. "Mmm, much better..." My eyes are fixed on your semi-erect staff, and I lick my lips slowly as I lean in to kiss and nibble the top of your thigh, gradually moving nearer, my hair brushing against you. My hands are resting on the outsides of your thighs, and as you move your hands from the armrests of your chair toward my head, I reach up and press them back down. I'm in the mood to take my time and pleasure you, so I want you to sit back and enjoy. As my ministrations bring me to your now full erection, I lower my head, circling underneath, rubbing my nose across your scrotum. Extending my tongue, I stroke it over first one testicle then the other, hands alongside your hips as I burrow into you. Gently, I take first one testicle then the other into my mouth, sucking and caressing each one with my flattened tongue. I know how you love having your balls worshipped, and I endeavor to do so fully. Once I'm satisfied that I've completed my task, I pause to smile up at you, enjoying the fact that you're watching my every move, having apparently forgotten whatever it was that you were doing. There is something mesmerizing about being in this position, kneeling before you of my own accord, fully concentrating on bringing you pleasure, and I find myself lost in my task. Wrapping one hand around your shaft, the other cupping and kneading your balls, I press my stiffened tongue to the underside of the base of your cock, holding it this way and that as I lick it thoroughly, meticulously careful not to miss a single spot as I moisten it with my saliva. Movements slow and reverent, I flatten my tongue and bathe the shaft again before moving to the head. By this point my breathing has quickened, my body strongly reacting to my service to you, but I refuse to accelerate my pace to accommodate myself; this is about you, and I know that I want to pleasure you fully before my orgasm enters the picture. Licking my lips as I look into your eyes, one hand wrapped around your shaft, I lean forward and swirl my tongue over your swollen head, curling my tongue beneath the ridge then working my way to the slit. Teasing it with the tip of my tongue, my lips roll over my teeth before closing over the head and sinking gradually to engulf as much as I can comfortably take. I love the sensation of being filled with you, and the thought of the ease with which you could gag me sends a shudder of anticipation through me. If I complete my task properly, you'll lose your grasp on your iron control and do just that, maybe even fisting your hands in my hair as you do so, and the thought of that happening urges me on as I become more insistent, tongue laving you as I tighten my lips and apply suction before pulling my head back until just the head remains in the warm wet cavern of my mouth. By this point I'm sucking strongly and there's an audible slurp as I release the suction and swirl my tongue over the head again. "Mmm... yummy!" I murmur before returning to my task, repeating the same motions more and more rapidly, sounds of pleasure escaping around your shaft as I become more adamant, more absorbed in wringing the gasps and groans from you that I so love to hear. I can feel it building within you, in the tension of your thighs, the little jerks and thrusts that you probably don't even realize you're doing, and I slow ever so slightly to prolong your pleasure, regardless of the fact that as I do so you grunt at me in annoyance. It amuses me how absorbed you can become in your desire to orgasm, although we both know that if I draw it out it will be that much more intense when the event occurs. And then it happens, the moment I've been anticipating. Burying your hands in my hair you pull me onto you fully and writhe in your chair, having lost patience with my teasing. There is nothing more erotic than your surrender to my ministrations and I struggle not to gag as you thrust more fully into my mouth, into my throat, before your body goes rigid and you spend yourself with a long, low growl. The tingling of my scalp as you release my hair only adds to the edge of gratification that I bask in as you wind down, breathing steadying, head dropped back to rest on the back of your chair. Rising a bit unsteadily, I lean forward to kiss you before turning your chair back to face your monitor and kissing the top of you head. "Back to work! Just remember that you and I have an appointment when you're done." The Interruption "That's Frances," murmured Joanne. "She doesn't sound right." Steve cursed, inside. "Oh, she's maybe had a little too much to drink – she'll be OK." "No, Steve," said Joanne. "It might be – the other thing. She's been with Eddie, and Jacko. I'll have to check ...... make sure she's all right." She slipped out of his embrace, pulling on a short nightdress. "Don't be long," groaned Steve. She grinned, and leant down to give his erection a squeeze. "I won't," she replied. "You just keep this warm for me." She slipped out of the room, and Steve leaned over and picked up the whisky bottle from the bedside table... Joanne was conscious, as she slipped along the landing, that she was still half-drunk – and very fired up, sexually. But she had to make sure her daughter was all right, before she could attend to her own needs. Jacko's recent drug escapades made her very wary of Frances associating with him, but the girl was 18, now, and she couldn't keep her locked up... As she knocked softly on Frances' door, and entered, her daughter was pulling down her jeans, with some difficulty. As she got them halfway down her thighs, she staggered, and sat down on the side of the bed. "Are you all right, love?" asked Joanne. Frances looked up at her, a curious look in her eyes. At first, Joanne thought she looked a bit 'spaced-out', and her heart sank, then she realised Frances was taking in her mother's state of undress. Too late, Joanne realised that the nightdress she had dragged on afforded her little cover. It was not only transparent, but also very short. It didn't even cover her hips. Of course, she had no embarrassment about her daughter seeing her body, but she was still a little reserved about pushing her sex life with Steve into her daughter's face. Frances sneered at her, nodding at Joanne's ineffectual nightdress, as she dragged her jeans off. "Interrupted something, did I?" she accused. "Was 'big boy' giving you one?" "Now, Frances," remonstrated her mother, but Frances laughed, bitterly. "How many does that make it, tonight, then?" she said. "Let's see – there was Oliver Stirling, in the woods..." Joanne froze. "That was you, then," she whispered, aghast. "Oh, sure," flung out the girl, "but don't mind me..." "But how...?" her mother stammered. "Me and Eddie and Jacko were just settling down – having a bit of a smoke, if you must know, when we heard Stirling's voice. Well, the boys reckoned he'd come out with that stuck-up tart from the hotel – for a bit of nooky – so we stood up, for a look. And sure enough, there he was, with some tart, her tits hanging out, and his hand up her knickers, and she was moaning and groaning …… Only it wasn't snooty Caroline, was it? It was good old Joanne, getting a fucking good fingering..." "Oh, Frances," said Joanne. "I'm sorry – it – well, it was just one of these things. I maybe drank a bit too much. I'm not really sure how it started, but – nothing else happened..." "Oh, didn't it?" retorted her daughter. "Well, maybe not to you. You took off like a scalded fucking cat, didn't you? And left me with those two..." She took a deep shuddering breath, and dropped her hot, angry eyes. "What happened, love?" Joanne had to ask, her heart thumping. "It was Jacko," her daughter replied. "Watching – it turned him on – it excited him. He said – things – about you – your tits, and things, then he said – 'Let's have a look at your tits, Frances!' I told him to fuck off, but he was really pushy and he grabbed at me. I pushed him away and told Eddie to sort him out, but then Eddie said – 'Go on, Frances – let's have a look – come on – we're your mates. Mates are supposed to share!' I told him to fuck off, too, but then Jacko grabbed my arms and – and..." Frances took a shuddering breath, and shook her head, unable to speak. "What did he do?" asked Joanne. Her mouth was dry, remembering a journey in the back of a van with a country and western group when she was nineteen. There had been seven in the group, and just Joanne and her friend, Annie – and no escape... "Jacko – held my arms, and Eddie – touched me. He put his hands on me and – and squeezed – and Jacko said – 'Pull her fucking shirt up, you dick.' And Eddie lifted my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. Then Jacko undid my bra, and they both started touching me – feeling my tits, and squeezing them. It ended up with Eddie holding my arms, and Jacko was all over me, with his hands, and his mouth – then he pulled open the front of my jeans and pushed his hand between my legs, on my panties ......" "And what happened then, love?" Joanne was almost scared to ask, but Frances sniffed and said - "Eddie told Jacko that was enough, and made him stop. In fact, they had a fight, and I thought I'd better get out of it..." "Whass all this, then?" Steve suddenly appeared, lurching against the doorjamb, the whisky bottle in his hand and a lascivious grin on his face. "Who was feeling your tits?" "Jacko – and Eddie!" replied Frances, defiantly, and without hesitation. "Why – jealous, are you?" "Too fucking right," said Steve, pushing himself round the doorjamb. "I've fancied a feel of your tits for a while, now..." Joanne whirled round. "Steve!" she cried, then screamed at him, when she saw him. He was totally naked, his thick cock, half-tumescent, rising above his heavy, hairy balls. "You get out of here – right now!" yelled Joanne, jumping up from the bed. But, as she rose, Steve pushed her back down and she fell back, her nightdress round her waist, legs in the air. Steve's cock jerked upright a little more, and he laughed, drunkenly. "Aha," he said. "Ready – and waiting!" He sat down heavily, between mother and daughter, his left hand holding Joanne down on her back as it groped between her parted thighs, his fingers twined round her thick bush of pubic hair, their tips pushing between her still moist vaginal lips. Then he turned his head to look at Frances. His cock was fully hard, now, and she was staring at it, jutting up from between his thighs. "Jesus," she breathed. "It is a big 'un, isn't it?" Steve looked at her again, taking in the expression on her face. The customary look of disdain she normally wore when speaking to him was absent, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. His eyes slid down her body, taking in her bare thighs, and the indentation of her vaginal cleft showing clearly through her tight flower-patterned panties. His cock throbbed …… Reaching across, he took hold of Frances’ slim wrist. "Here," he said. "Would you like to feel it?" "No!" screeched Joanne, thrashing round, trying to get up, but Steve held her down, easily, and Frances allowed her hand to be drawn over Steve's knees, then, of her own volition, closed her fingers round his throbbing organ. “Nice,” she breathed, closing her eyes, and sliding her hand slowly up the length of the rigid shaft. Steve released her hand, and felt the inside of her taut, firm thigh. He felt her fingers stroking his cock, and his testicles tensed in anticipation. Lovingly, he slid his hand up the smooth skin of the inside of his stepdaughter's thigh. As his fingers touched the crotch of her panties, he felt a telltale dampness. Pressing the tips of his fingers against it, he felt the material give as it was pushed into her moist cleft. He pulled at the material, and inserted two fingers under it. He felt her pussy lips, slippery and warm, then pushed his fingers inside her channel, instinctively feeling for her g-spot. As he found it, Frances’ body jerked, as if in a spasm ...... Joanne had struggled up into a sitting position, now, watching, horrified, as Steve expertly manipulated her daughter’s inexperienced pussy, making the girl gasp and cry out, ecstatically. "Steve – you bastard – cut it out!" sobbed Joanne. "She's only a kid!" Steve’s only response was to move his hand away from Joanne’s crotch, to slide it up under Frances' t-shirt, and it was Frances, herself, who replied, angrily. "I'm no kid, Mum – I'm 18, now. And I'm no virgin, either – I've been shagging Eddie – and Jacko – for over a year, now – and one or two guys, at college." "But – tonight – you said ......" stammered Joanne. "Yeah," sneered her daughter. "I've been fucking them both, but neither one knows about the other, and Eddie reckoned Jacko was muscling in on his territory when he started feeling me up. That's why they had a fight..." Her voice trailed away as Steve pulled her t-shirt over her head, and Frances raised her arms to assist its passage. She reached up behind her back, and unclipped her bra, and slid it down her arms. "What d'you think then, Steve?" She smiled at him, her hands cupping her round, firm breasts. "They’re not as big as Mum's, but they’re not so floppy, either." Steve grinned at her, and moved his fingers a little inside her vagina. Frances closed her hands round her naked breasts, squeezing them hard, making her slim pink nipples stand out. Steve pushed her gently backwards. She fell back, willingly, on to the duvet cover, and sighed with pleasure as Steve bent over her. His right hand cupped her left breast, while his mouth descended on her right nipple. With his other hand, Steve pulled the girl’s panties down. She raised her hips and, using both hands, slid them off her legs and feet. Frances' hand slid down over her stomach, through her sparse blonde pubic bush, and located her clitoris. Drawing her knees up, her short, but shapely, legs spread apart, her fingers teased her moist lips, while her thumb rubbed her hard button. Joanne was on her feet, now, a welter of mixed emotions. Through her outrage, and – yes – disappointment, there was a curious sense of arousal. Her daughter, spread wide as she was, now, fingering her erect clitoris, reminded her so much of herself at that age – a healthy sexual animal, always ready to sample a new, big cock. Joanne knew that, had the positions been reversed, she would have acted like Frances – taking the initiative. And, after all, Frances was 'family' – it wasn't really as if Steve was 'straying' – and, he had such an appetite for fucking, Joanne knew he would be able to keep them both happy, until Frances moved on to pastures new... Joanne reached out a hand and slid it round her husband's long, thick cock. She was tempted to drop her head and close her lips round it, but resisted and instead, guided it between her daughter’s open, waiting thighs. Steve felt Joanne’s hand close round his excited shaft and, with a thrill of triumph, realised that she had bowed to the inevitable – that she was acquiescing in his fucking her daughter’s hot teenage body. He quickly shifted his position, so that he was crouching over the excited, moaning girl, and luxuriated in the sensation of his wife steering the bulbous head of his rock-hard penis into the girl’s tight soaking entrance. He held it there for as long as he could, savouring the feel of her taut young muscles gripping the ultra-sensitive spot just below his corona, then braced his hips and plunged downwards. Frances' gasp was followed by a series of ecstatic moans as her stepfather's thick cock slid up her tight channel, and her thighs locked, vicelike, round his waist as he started to ride her ...... Joanne got to her feet, unsteadily, her eyes hot as she watched Frances writhing in pleasure, her breasts flattened against Steve’s chest, her thighs clamped round him, pulling his thrusting cock into her wide-open pussy. She licked the ends of her fingers as she watched, then rubbed them into her hardening nipples. Then one hand slid down to caress her moist, leaking slit. She saw the first throes of orgasm begin to assail her daughter – saw her fingers tighten and whiten on Steve’s back – saw her young body tense, then erupt into a shaking, screaming spasm, then another, and another ...... Joanne could see that Steve had not climaxed, himself, and another thrill coursed through her as Frances’ spasmodic jerking grew weaker, and her breathing re-commenced, in deep shuddering gasps. Frances’ hands slid away from her stepfather’s back, and her ankles unlocked their grip round his waist, her legs falling back on to the duvet, parted in total surrender. Joanne walked forward, pulling her nightdress over her head. She placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder, letting her sumptuous naked breasts nestle against his broad back. Her other hand slid between his muscular thighs, cupping his heavy testicles momentarily, then reaching forward to close round his blood-engorged penis, as it slid out of Frances’ satiated cunt, still coated with her juices ...... Joanne eased her husband away from the recumbent form of her daughter, until he was lying on his back, beside her. His penis jutted upwards, and Joanne straddled his waist, lowering her aroused pussy on to him, glorying in the sensation as it slid easily upwards, into her, filling her up... His hands rose to clutch her breasts, pulling her thick nipples, and Joanne raised her hips, then slid back down on him again. She glanced downwards, to the side. Frances’ eyes were open – alive and curious – as she watched her mother glide up and down on Steve’s thick prick, her hand already straying between her thighs as the excitement mounted again. Her other hand slid sideways on the duvet cover, and her mother reached down and took it as their shared lover began to push his hips upwards... (Please feel free to send email comment. I reply to all emails with a return address.)