6 comments/ 75798 views/ 8 favorites Things to Be Thankful For By: adam applebiter [Author's note. This story follows on from In Camera, Sins of The Father, A Lady's Companion, Summer of Love & Summa Cum Laude. The following preface is to bring new readers up to date.] Preface Meg, our protagonist, has a very pretty daughter, Helen, who developed a sexually adventurous streak while reading economics at Harvard. Helen first explored lesbian sex with her room mate, B, before going on to become first a web cam girl then an escort. As an escort, Helen met the father of one of her closest college friends, Eric. Eric's father had particularly kinky tastes but little affection for his son. To help Eric with his oppressive father, Helen took compromising pictures that Eric later used to blackmail his father into more reasonable behavior. When his father died suddenly, leaving him a multi-million dollar fortune, Eric set out on a life of scandalous excess with his two favourite girls – Helen and B. Helen, back in her freshman year, had seduced her father, Parry, (having discovered he was one of her web cam sex customers) and enlisted him to help launder her income from escorting. Parry carried on their affair throughout her college years and between home visits, got a running commentary (augmented by hidden camera footage) on his daughter's prostitution work. During her gap year, B, an art history major, inadvertently got a job as a personal sex slave to a wealthy woman whose husband was frequently away on business. She entertained her mistress with stories of her exhibitionist games with Helen and tales of public nudity and even public masturbation. B believes the female body (hers in particular) should be as visible in life as in art and spends most of her time challenging taboos and flaunting herself. During the summer before her final year, Helen set about seducing her mother and started a clandestine lesbian relationship with her. Parry knew all about it but feigned ignorance. During the girls' final year at Harvard, Eric arranged for them to become members of his fraternity house and paid them to fuck as many of their fraternity brothers as possible, considerably adding to Helen's illicit earnings. After Graduation, Eric embarked on a career as a photographic artist. Wanting notoriety more than fame, he specialized in graphically sexual macro images of the girls. The scandal his first exhibition caused alienated B's family but Helen's parents were more understanding. Eric, B and Helen now live openly as a threesome with Eric calling the girls his courtesans. Helen is still working as an escort in Manhattan, with Eric's support. Both B and Eric know that Helen has incestuous relationships with both her parents but Meg is oblivious to Parry's sexual relationship with their daughter. * * * * * Thanksgiving I bought a bigger turkey than usual this year. Helen is bringing her boyfriend and her girlfriend home for Thanksgiving. I think I'm comfortable with my daughter's odd relationship now, but I do wish she were coming home on her own. You see, Helen and I… well, we're a little closer than Mother and daughter… since the summer before last… our summer of love. Parry doesn't have a clue of course. I don't know what I'd do if he found out… Helen's still very much 'Daddy's little girl'. They'll be here soon. Parry's gone to the airport to collect them. If you'll excuse me a moment, I have to get this turkey in the oven. * * * * * "Hi, Mom!" Helen burst through the door like a tornado. "Darling." My reply was muffled by a ballistic hug. "Welcome home." "Hello again Meg." B took Helen's place, hugging me every bit a fervently as my daughter. It was a shock to see her in slacks, though they really weren't slack and her disdain for underwear was apparent from the front and back. I felt a tightening in my abdomen I hadn't felt since the last time Helen and I … "Eric. It's good to see you again." I saw no reason to leave the handsome young man out of the hugathon. He hugs really well: Strong arms, manly scent, just a hint of firmness in the trousers. Without feeling at all guilty about it, I envied my daughter just a little. Eric really is a hunk. Not that I'm in any way dissatisfied with my husband. Parry is a wonderful man and I love him absolutely, but a woman my age likes to know she can still stir a young man's loins occasionally. "Something smells good." Eric didn't let go. "That'll be the turkey." "I think it's the cook." He whispered, loud enough so that only everyone heard him. "Sweetheart," Parry said to Helen as he came into the kitchen too. "If your pet starts humping Meg's leg, he'll be spending Thanksgiving in the yard." "Daddy, don't be mean. He's only flirting. Eric flirts all the time." "Eric." I gently pushed him away. "Would you like to help Parry take the bags up to your room?" "Sure. Lead on Parry." Eric smiled warmly and turned to my husband. "I'll help too!" Helen volunteered, leaving B and I alone. "Thanks for letting me come." B said. "I usually go home for Thanksgiving but my parents…" She looked suddenly very sad. "Helen told me." I didn't want her to have to explain how her family had reacted to the media coverage of Eric's exhibition. "A reporter called here too." B's family hadn't known anything about the nature of the exhibition until a local reporter, hired by a New York magazine to get the back story, blithely told them how their daughter's vagina was the talk of Manhattan. "The local paper did a full page article on me." B's nipples were flat now. Clearly, this wasn't easy for her to cope with. "B, I can't pretend it was easy to cope with – people here are still giving me odd looks – but your family will get over it. In the mean time, we're your family too, so cheer up." I hugged her again. B is as fragrant as she is beautiful and I found myself having impure thoughts about her as I did the motherly thing. "Thanks Meg." B didn't pull away, but she turned her head slightly and kissed me. I wasn't ready for it and I guess I froze. Her lips were warm against mine for just a moment but when she stopped, she looked like a frightened child. "Sorry." She managed. "Don't be sorry, Darling. It's just a kiss." But I moved free of her and turned back to the counter to prep vegetables. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and I hoped it didn't show. "Meg." B's hand rested on the small of my back as she moved close again. "I… I know Helen and you…" She must have felt me tense. "And I thought you might enjoy some variety." I twisted around and Kissed B. I wasn't sure I wanted to take her up on her offer, but it was tantalizing. "Thank you, B, that's sweet of you… We'll see." I could feel the heat of her body against me and suspected it was just a matter of time before I gave in. It's funny, but before Helen seduced me, I never thought of another woman as a potential partner, but once you start thinking of one woman as attractive, it opens your mind to the possibility of others – and I defy anyone to not find B attractive. The 'wife' part of my brain wondered how Parry would react to several days of B's overt sexiness. "Now if you really want to make yourself popular, grab that other apron and get chopping." "Aye aye, Captain." B threw me a mock salute and a mocking smile. * * * * * "Ooh! One hot mama!" Helen poked her head around my bedroom door just as I was changing for dinner. She has an unerring ability to catch me half naked. This time, I had a bra around my waist, cups at the back, while I fastened it: Not exactly a classical state of dishabille. The door clicked behind her and she came straight to me, kissing me with ravenous enthusiasm and mauling one bare breast as she pressed me between the wardrobe door and her own body. "Helen! I'm trying to get ready for dinner." I protested, but there was no sincerity in it. I think my handful of Helen's buttock gave her the biggest clue. "But I missed you, Mom." She stopped tweaking my nipple and slid her hand, flat on my belly, down the front of my trousers to feel my crotch. "Ooh! Panties! How unusual." "Only you could say that and mean it." These days, Helen shares B's aversion to wearing underwear. "Why did you tell B about us?" I'd wanted to get Helen on her own since B's bombshell in the kitchen. "Eric too, Mom. And I told them because I trust them and love them and don't want to have secrets from them. Eric loved the pictures I took of you." Her fingers were pinching my labia together through the silk of my underwear – yes, I do wear silk even when it's not a special occasion: More so since Helen turned me on to shaving my pubic hair. Silk feels so good and, these days, I never know when Parry's going to get all caveman and ravish me on the first available piece of furniture. "You showed them to Eric?" I felt my face getting warm. It was a dumb question. Of course she did! Helen thinks boundaries are for pushing. "Well? You saw pics – and video – of him with B and me. It was only fair to share." Helen pulled her hand out of my pants and glanced at her fingers, shiny with moisture. "And this says you're ok with that. Don't be mad, Mom. Eric wants to photograph you properly." She put her hand back. This time she slipped inside the waistband of my panties too. I sighed as her fingertips brushed the hood of my clitoris. "Or is this nectar for the Honey B?" I said nothing, but I must have looked guilty. "Hah! B will be thrilled when I tell her." Helen looked triumphant. "Helen… Please don't…" "Mom, relax. B wants you and clearly you want B. I'm going to make sure you two have a chance too. It shouldn't be difficult to keep Eric and Daddy out of your way." She released me and sucked on her fingers lewdly. "Does the turkey need basting?" The connection between my slick crotch and dinner did not escape me. "I think it's about due to come out of the oven… You don't mind if I get dressed now, do you?" I twisted my bra round the right way and slipped my arms through the straps, settling it in place. Helen sat on the bed and watched with evident pleasure as I unfastened my trousers and pushed them down my legs, stepping out of them. She wolf-whistled softly when I turned and bent down to retrieve them. "That's quite a wet patch, Mom." She was looking at my gusset from behind and silk really does show any moisture. "And whose fault is that?" I dropped my slacks into the laundry hamper and slipped off my panties, intending to deposit them in the same place. "Don't waste them!" Helen was off the bed in an instant, taking the moist scrap of silk from my hand. She sat back down and sniffed at them, holding eye contact with me as she did so. Then she parted her legs, hitched up the hem of her mini dress and pressed my underwear to her crotch. As I watched, she pushed the fabric in a little at a time until the panties disappeared entirely. "Now you won't be the only woman at dinner who's wearing underwear." Helen grinned and closed her legs, watching me eagerly as I dressed for dinner. I had considered dressing in something a little sexy, but who was I kidding? With my daughter and B in the room, I just wasn't going to compete for male attention. I went with simple elegance and a twist of Momness: So no cleavage, just a hint of leg above the knee and my pearls. * * * * * Dinner was uneventful despite B's change of outfit. She came to the table in a dress so sheer it could only have been intended for wear over a swimsuit or some suitably posh undies, neither of which B had on – naturally. Parry got to sit opposite her and got caught peeking at her tits several times. When B caught him, she just smiled sweetly – I don't exaggerate if I say that innocent smile would not look out of place on a nun. The couple of times I caught my husband being distracted by B, I smiled too. There really was no point in getting mad at him, given the level of temptation on offer. I didn't feel threatened by his interest in a much younger body than mine. In hindsight, I think Helen's assertion that she was going to get B and I together probably helped: I sat there thinking, "Yes, Parry, she's lovely, and I can have her and you, my darling husband… can't." Childish, I know. Over dessert – I make a very good apple pie, if I do say so myself – Helen decided to tell us about the surprise they'd sprung on Eric the week before. "It started way back when B and I went to Boston to celebrate Eric's graduation…" Helen began. * * * * * Eric and the girls had been comparing unfulfilled fantasies. The important one on Eric's list was to have a virgin. He'd never got the chance in high school and never found one in college. "We figured there was no way we were going to find him a cherry because he's too shallow to go with a girl who isn't hot enough to have had ample offers to relieve her of that troublesome bit of flesh… and he's too big anyway – he'd scare an innocent girl into a convent. But after the exhibition opened, we got a flood of emails from females volunteering as models. We kept the ones that included pictures, but politely declined most of the offers, especially the ones offering to pay Eric to photograph them: He doesn't need the money. Anyway, one caught B's eye. This girl, Kelsey, was claiming to be a virgin – virgo intacta as she put it – and she was really cute. We – B and me, not Eric – we arranged to meet her for coffee, curious about how a sexy little thing like her had held on to her hymen so long. Turns out, she held on to it just a bit too long in school and her boyfriend found his fun elsewhere – specifically, between the thighs of our girl's best friend. So she didn't get the prom night she'd hoped for and left school with a downer on men. She'd had a couple of girlfriends since, but never let then get penetrative. Any of this sound familiar? Daddy?" "Lisa Scannell?" Parry remembered Helen's one and only date with his receptionist: The naïve, hymen-toting daughter of a local pastor. "Exactly. But unlike Lisa, Kelsey isn't rebelling against an overbearing father. She was just holding out for something special: someone who'd really be worth giving it up to. And because she worked in Greenwich Village, just around the corner from L'origine Du Monde, she'd come to see the exhibition and decided the 'something special' she'd been saving herself for might just be Eric's camera. So we invited her to dinner a fortnight ago and introduced her to Big-boy over there…" Helen nodded at Eric as she paused to sip her wine. "Who was delighted at the prospect of just photographing her 'something special'. All the way through dinner, he wouldn't shut up about what he wanted to do with her – photographically, but when dinner was over and he wanted to take some test shots, needless to say, Kelsey got shy." "Which was quite understandable." Eric interjected. "Until B stripped first and persuaded her to just take her clothes off. This girl was really not comfortable in her skin. In the end, we got her to stay with us for a few days until she was used to being naked around people. She stayed bare-assed for nearly a week and Eric eased her into modelling by periodically asking her to bend over or part her legs or let him watch her shower – anything to get her used to having her body looked at. By the end of the week, he'd got her holding herself open to show him what we all wanted to see. It was camera time." "I got some great shots of her." Eric offered. "There's a couple in my portfolio, Parry. I'll show you later if you're interested." "But the story doesn't end there. Kelsey had seen a lot of Eric during that desensitising week and while we girls thought Moby – that's Eric's penis – We thought Moby would scare her off, she was deciding that his 'something special' was the 'something special' she'd been waiting for. So Eric, who - for the record - cottoned on last, took her out to Antigua for a couple of days and made a woman of her." "And I got some more good material for my next exhibition." Eric said. "And that's how Eric finally got a cherry." Helen finished her story. "And Kelsey got her prom night." B pointed out. "I wish I had a first time that memorable. My first boy was so excited he shoved three times before he got it right, squirted up me immediately then got grossed out by the blood on his dick and threw up all the beer he'd had to steady his nerves. Ruined a really lovely prom dress." "Oh dear." I was genuinely sympathetic at that. "But it does make it unanimous – all three of us saved ourselves for Prom Night." "Mom! You never told me that!" Helen had told me the morning after her senior prom that she'd lost her virginity and we'd had a real heart-to-heart talk about it, but I hadn't said anything about my own post-prom experience. "You never asked… But I probably wouldn't have told you anyway." Back then I was still trying to be just Mom and Helen was still my little girl. But we were talking about it now because it was impossible to keep off the subject of sex around three such overtly sexual young people. "Was it Daddy?" "Of course!" I could feel the heat returning to my face. I know I wasn't Parry's first but he was mine – my only lover until Helen seduced me. He's still the only man I've ever had and the only man I want, but I was acutely aware that I was sexually naïve compared to everyone else at this table. "Don't be embarrassed, Mom." Helen was on her feet and round behind me in an instant, bending to press her cheek to mine as she hugged my shoulders. "It's so sweet that you found your ideal man on your first try. Daddy must be really hot stuff." "Ssh!" I patted her clasped hands. "Parry'll get a big head." "Parry won't get a big head." Parry sprang to his own defence. "Because Parry still counts his lucky stars every day that you said yes when I invited you to the senior prom." I could see he meant it: so could everybody else. It could have brought the mood of the evening right back down from its frivolous heights but my darling husband wouldn't let it. "Besides, I'm in the presence of greatness. There's nothing like a well-endowed multimillionaire with two hot girlfriends to make the rest of us mere mortals feel humble." Parry grinned and the levity returned in a flood of laughter. "Parry." B leant across and buzzed him as he turned to face her. "That's for being so gallant to your wife." She turned and smiled across at me. I felt that stirring again. "And Daddy." Helen snatched his attention away from B. "Don't let Eric's money humble you. We're only interested in his dick." There was the sound of ice breaking as we all laughed. "Parry, ever seen the movie 'On Golden Pond'?" Eric asked. "A few times." My husband has all Jane Fonda's movies. If he were ever going to be unfaithful, it would be with her. I pretend not to know he also has her exercise videos in the den. "And the line you're thinking of is 'I'd be delighted to have you abuse my daughter under my own roof. Would you like the room where I first violated her mother?'" "Actually, I was thinking a little earlier in that scene. The 'all three of you' bit." Eric waited while Parry rewound the tape from his video recollection. "I know you were, Son, and I'm guessing Helen told you about my fondness for Fonda movies. But I'm not senile and you don't have to ask." "Eric." I said. "Helen wouldn't have brought you home if she'd thought for a moment we were going to have an issue with the three of you being together. You must have noticed you put all the bags in the same room. Right now it just means there's an extra pair of hands to help with the dishes." Things to Be Thankful For * * * * * The kids took that most unsubtle hint and cleared the table while Parry and I adjourned to the family room. He hugged me as soon as we were alone. "Thank you, Meg." Parry nuzzled my ear. "That was a wonderful dinner." I could feel his arousal pressing against my abdomen. "Darling? Is that for me?… Or have you been looking down B's dress?" I knew exactly where he'd been looking. "Both." He admitted the transgression of voyeurism. "Just wait until I get you alone." He nuzzled my ear some more before moving down to my neck. "Coffee anyone? – Ooh!" B bounced into the room and caught us in each other's arms. She didn't apologise and she didn't back out and leave us to it. Instead, she stood in the doorway and watched us. "Coffee?" she asked when her presence halted proceedings and Parry straightened up. "Thank you. We'd love some." I answered for us both, not wanting to let go of Parry just yet. He would have a hard time hiding his arousal right now and B doesn't need any encouragement to tempt him. As soon as B left, I eased out of his embrace. "Better sit down Darling." I touched the front of his trousers lightly to indicate why. "Save it for later." And I was every bit as aroused as my husband, but with us girls it isn't so obvious. I resolved that 'later' Parry would have absolutely no reason to think about anyone but me. "Mom, Daddy, we brought you a tape of our fifteen minutes of fame." Helen came in with a videocassette in her hand, followed by B with a tray full of coffee. Helen popped the tape into the machine and parked herself in the nearest armchair. As soon as B had poured coffee for each of us, she joined our daughter, sitting on Helen's lap and snuggling up. I should tell you we have no shortage of furniture so the girls didn't need to double up: I assume it was more of B's forthrightness – 'You know we're lovers so lets not bother pretending otherwise'. Parry and I both watched silently as B and Helen kissed. Not a full on tongue to tonsil kiss, but rather more than a buzz. I noticed Helen's hand first, but Parry wasn't far behind me. Our little girl was rolling one of B's nipples between finger and thumb and it was responding. She noticed our stares and just reached for the nipples' twin. "Parry," Eric arrived last. "Do you know the Chinese pictogram for trouble?" He took the other sofa and didn't wait for an answer. "Two women under one roof. Everyone thinks I live like a sultan, with hot and cold running courtesans, but you're my witness – I'm the one sitting alone." Eric contrived to look hard done to. "Beast!" Helen had rolled from under B and launched herself at Eric with a cushion in one hand, swiping at him. B was just behind her. Between them, they pinned him down and beat and tickled him until he cried pax. Personally, I couldn't take my eyes off B's bottom. Her minimal dress had no hope of covering her during a pillow fight. After her pass at me in the kitchen, I found my mouth watering at the sight of her soft lips pressed between her slender thighs. Safe in the knowledge that everyone else's attention was on the fight; I touched the front of Parry's trousers, measuring his hardness with finger and thumb. He was like iron. Maybe not everyone's attention was on the fight after all. Two years ago, I wouldn't have believed I'd be ok with my husband getting so conspicuously aroused by a much younger woman, but now it actually turned me on seeing the hunger in his expression as he looked between B's legs. I knew that he would be wonderful at bedtime – energised, like last summer, When Helen spent so much time naked or nearly so. He'd said then that Helen naked was like a 3D memory of me, our first summer, which was very gallant of Parry, because I was never as beautiful as Helen. The fight ended with Eric's unconditional surrender and kisses all round for the youngsters. I let go of Parry before anyone noticed and paid attention to my coffee. When the three of them had settled together on the sofa, Helen made a long arm to retrieve the remote control from the arm of her previous chair and pressed play. We watched The Review in silence. I for one was impressed at B's defence of nudity in art. I know she's a very bright young woman and this is her subject, but all the same… "B, you should write a book." I made no attempt to hide how impressed I was by B's poise under pressure. "I said that too!" Helen chimed in. "But if you think that's impressive, you should see her letter in the New York Times." "They printed an article by one of Andrea Dworkin's crowd, haranguing us. The editor kindly printed my reposte on the letters page." B explained. She disentangled herself from Eric's arm and went to fetch her press clipping. "Would you bring my portfolio too?" Eric asked her as she left. "I'd like to show Parry some of the new stuff." "Ok." B skipped out of the room. "A reporter from The Times wanted to do another interview as a follow-up to the Dworkinians' attack, but B said she was fed up with the media capitalizing on her notoriety and that she'd only agree to an interview if they included one of my pictures – uncensored." Eric explained the back-story in B's absence. "There you go." B returned at a little less than a run, with a large leather portfolio case and a laminated newspaper cutting, which she handed to me before rejoining Eric and Helen. I passed the portfolio to Parry to hold while I read the letter. Dear Sirs, I find it interesting that a newspaper in this city, above all others, would act as a soapbox for extremists. I refer to your recent article by Ms Chatwin, which was little more than a personal attack on me. Had Ms Chatwin's vitriol been poured on me in a less public manner, I would have simply walked away, leaving her to her opinions. However, since you provided such a public platform for her remarks, I feel compelled to speak in my own defence. Ms Chatwin is clearly proud of her association with the late Ms Dworkin but a few minutes on the Internet makes it apparent that many feminists believe that Dworkin's revivalist pulpit thumper variety of extreme feminism was counter-productive. Her oft-quoted anti-masculine comments only gave men an excuse to sneer at any real message she may have had. Ms Chatwin, in the fine tradition of her mentor, demonised me as a gender traitor and a pawn of the porn industry. Am I to assume that the freedom she believes all women are entitled to is only the freedom to agree with her? What about my freedom of self-expression, guaranteed by our constitution and the international declaration of human rights? Are my rights as a citizen and as a human being to be curtailed because Ms Chatwin disapproves? I am not, as Ms Chatwin so cleverly described me, a pawn of the porn industry. I am a summa cum laude Harvard graduate, an art historian, and an emancipated woman. My work with Mr Kruppa is as much my expression of my own femininity as it is his view of the nature of woman. I note that a recent survey claimed that 60% of women in the US own and regularly use a vibrator. I respectfully suggest that if anyone is being objectified, it is men, who are reduced to a plastic phallus by the majority of women, albeit a phallus with none of the periodic failings of the real thing. By comparison to that, I am most certainly not objectified by the images of me. If I were to allow the opinion of Ms Chatwin to censor my actions, where would it end? Burkhas for all women? New York has already had a too bitter taste of that brand of extremism and I do not believe this city has any more appetite for militancy. Yours, Miss B Kennedy "It's a bit harsh, comparing her to a terrorist." I passed the clipping to Parry. "Mom, you didn't read what that woman wrote about B… and me. And she thinks Eric's a rapist." Helen was quick to her girlfriend's defence. "I'd show you, but Helen burned the newspaper." B said. "It was too vile to keep." Helen was clearly getting emotional – angry not upset. "But Eric's plotting our revenge." "Revenge?" I glanced from my daughter to Eric. "If they want to make me their devil, I'll play along. I'm planning as whole series of pictures on the subject of female subjugation." Eric sat back and smiled wickedly. "I think I just found some of them." Parry was leafing through Eric's portfolio. He handed it to me open on two images of B. One showed her spread-eagled on an iron bedstead, tied there by wrists and ankles and surrounded by half a dozen leering old men who looked like vagrants, all masturbating. B's expression was either lust or terror – hard to tell, but the striped, stained mattress she lay on had a conspicuous darker stain under her flanks, as if she'd wet herself. It was the first time I'd really found one of Eric's pictures disturbing. Despite it's graphic pornography, it was almost completely unsexy. I said as much. "That's the idea." Eric moved off his sofa to kneel in front of me and explain. "I wanted to parody all the things I was being accused of to show that that is so not what my work is about. I'm not enthralling, abusing and humiliating women to create masturbatory fantasies for dirty old men." "And these men…?" "From the streets of Greenwich Village. I paid them a hundred bucks apiece and any money made from prints of this will go to the local homeless shelter. I'm not into exploiting anyone." "And yes," B added. "I did have to wet the mattress. Eric won't fake anything like that. It wasn't the most fun I've ever had in a roomful of men, but it really makes a point. "It's horrible." I couldn't think of anything more to say about it. "It's called The Dark Dreams of Andrea D." Eric said and then pointed to the second picture. "And that one's called Imancipation." Imancipation was one of his trademark ultra close-up images of B's vagina. This time, her labia were distended around a mirror polished ball nestled inside her. The ball appeared to be a couple of inches in diameter and attached, by a few inches of solid looking silver chain, to a broad ring, split and hinged open. It was a miniature version of a medieval ball and chain with the shackle open and hanging down between her spread thighs, for the most part obscuring her anus. "They're great for pelvic floor exercises." Helen had moved around behind Parry and I and was leaning over the sofa back to see the portfolio too. "They?" "Eric had two of them made. One each for B and me, as symbols of our subjugation to him." "Which is why they don't lock." Eric pointed out. "We had a solemn ceremony in front of a few friends. Helen and I swore to love, honour and obey Eric and he swore never to hold us to our promise." B had joined Eric on her knees in front of us and I felt her hand on my knee under the large album. I glanced up at her touch and she held my gaze, smiling that oh-so-innocent smile. But I was sitting there looking at larger than life close-ups of her vagina and my own was churning as I thought about B's proposition. "Pardon?" I'd missed what Helen was saying. "I said they're made of solid silver." Helen repeated for my benefit. I think Parry had asked about the ball because she turned towards him as she continued to explain. "About a pound of the stuff in each. That's why they're good for the pelvic muscles. Walking around holding that kind of weight in…" "I can imagine." Parry knew a bit about pelvic floor muscles because I had worked hard to keep mine in trim after having a baby. * * * * * "Meg?" Parry and I had gone up to bed early, leaving the kids to their own devices. "Hmm?" I asked around my toothbrush. "Did you ever expect you'd spend thanksgiving looking at pictures of our daughter getting laid?" I rinsed and spat. "No Dear. Never. But Eric's pictures are beautiful and I'm learning to appreciate his work for it's aesthetic value. It helps not to think about who it is in the pictures." I lied. I always thought about who it was in the pictures. I craved that sweet flesh of my daughters' and now I was thinking the same way about B too. "Where did we go wrong?" Parry asked with a wry smile, cuddling me from behind and making eye contact in the mirror before nuzzling my neck. I could feel his erection against the small of my back. "Nowhere. Helen's happy and that's almost all that matters." I moved one of his hands from my tummy up to my breast, feeling him squeeze it gently. "Almost?" "Our daughter's choices haven't just made her happy. You enjoy looking at those pictures too. Admit it." "I can hardly deny it, can I?" No he couldn't: Not when I was holding his erection. "Poor Parry. You spend all evening sneaking peeks at B's perfect body and all you get is this dried up old carcass." "Dried up eh? We'll see about that." Parry got all manly, picking me up and carrying me through to the bed. I squealed as he dropped me on the bedspread and flung my legs high as he hauled my panties off. He tossed them aside, caught my ankles in his firm grip and spread my raised legs as wide as they'd go. "Dried up?" He repeated, looking closely at my slick and sticky pussy. "Looks like someone else enjoyed this evening." He let go of my ankles and plunged forward, burying his face in my musky crotch and making me writhe under his tongue's intrusive caresses. I was glad he hadn't teased me about liking looking at girls. My blushes might have given the game away. "Oh God! That feels good." I moaned as his tongue swirled around my clitoral hood. I waited for his fingers to join the party. I didn't have to wait long. Parry's fingers dipped into me as his tongue tormented my clit, pumping in and out of my vagina as he licked me closer and closer to climax. I knew what was coming next. One slick finger withdrew from my dripping vulva and slipped down between my buttocks, probing for my bottom. Since Helen seduced me, I've been much more open with Parry about what turns me on. Parry and I talk much more about what we want and one thing he really does want is anal sex. While I'm not ready – may never be ready – to submit to that, Helen's influence and her caresses have made me realize there are things I will submit to. Parry's finger, circling my sphincter and almost certainly about to push its way into me, is one of those things. True to form, Parry's probing finger found its way in and I gasped at the intrusion. But it does turn him on so much and he started sucking on my swollen clit even harder, making me scream and clasp handfuls of bed linen as I climaxed, my throbbing pussy leaking pungent, slick juices that flowed around that intrusive finger, lubricating it still more. As the spasms of my orgasm subsided, Parry's tongue lapped up the spilled juice and, as his finger popped out, I waited for the frankly perverse touch of his tongue around my contracting anus. My breasts ached to be caressed and, exhausted though I was after my orgasm, I yearned for the feel of my husband inside me, the rough caress of his hands on my breasts as he made love to me… "I'm fed up of listening to you two!" Helen pushed open our bedroom door. Parry rolled off me in surprise, leaving me lying there, legs wide, brazenly aroused. Helen wasn't wearing anything either, but that didn't really help alleviate the shock of being interrupted. She came to the foot of the bed, looking at my swollen, aroused labia and wet thighs, then at her father's bobbing erection. She absently stroked her own labia. "It's too frustrating for words. Mom, its time Daddy knew the truth." "Darling, I…" "Daddy, Last summer while you were doing 18 holes, I was doing two. Those two there." Helen pointed between my still spread legs then sat on the foot of the bed and reached over to stroke my lips. I was paralysed with shock. Why was she doing this? I waited for Parry to explode. The explosion never came. Helen moistened her fingers between my labia then licked them daintily before carrying on. Parry looked stunned too. He just watched her, open-mouthed. Helen continued. "Mmm. Daddy, I've decided I want you too. One big happy family." I still waited in vain for Parry to explode. What was our daughter doing? But Parry not only failed to explode, I could see the look of lust on his face as he watched our daughter lick my juices off her fingers. I wanted to shout at her to get out. I felt betrayed, but the cataclysm that should have followed hard on the heels of her revelation hadn't happened and I was faced with the possibility that it wasn't going to. Possibility became probability became certainty as Parry moved first, reaching for one of Helen's firm breasts, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb, his free hand pumping his erection. Helen moved away momentarily to get up, knelt between my legs and leant forward to kiss me, presenting her flanks for Parry's inspection. At the first touch of her lips against mine, the paralysis of shock dissipated and my lips parted as I moaned against her mouth. I vaguely felt movement on the bed as Parry got up, then Helen gasped and smiled as her father buried his erection in her pussy. "Mom, Daddy's fucking me." She whispered, grinning like the cat that got the cream. What could I say to that? Nothing. Instead, I pulled her face back down to mine, kissing her with all the pent up passion the evening had produced. I didn't even care that I wasn't getting screwed. Empty though my own vagina felt, this was better. I'd wanted Helen in my arms since she got home – and rather longer, truth to tell – now I had my wish and I didn't have to hide my love for her anymore. I wondered at how quickly Parry had succumbed to the taboo temptation and it occurred to me that, although he never said as much, he may have entertained fantasies about Helen for quite some time. He did say she reminded him of me, when I was young, so perhaps… It was strangely exciting to hear all those low grunts and moans Parry makes during sex and to not be on the receiving end. I couldn't see his face but I knew that he'd have the same expression he has whenever he's about to come in me. I pulled my mouth away from Helen's to tell her "He's about to come." Just in time as Parry groaned and the bed shook with his final few thrusts. Helen's hands clenched like talons on my breasts as she arched her back and squealed in ecstasy, coming just as Parry did. I reached for and tweaked her nipples, twisting hard as I know she enjoys a little pain with her climaxes and I've often seen her do this to herself. In turn, Parry slumped sideways onto the bed and Helen slumped forward onto me, purring contentedly. "One big happy family." She murmured, nuzzling my hair. Parry pulled himself up to the same level as us and looked deep into my eyes, searching for some reaction to what had just happened. "Meg?…" "One big, happy family." I echoed, holding his gaze. I smiled at my beloved man, knowing that what could so easily have torn us apart was even now binding us closer together than we'd ever been. I reached up to tousle his hair then drew him close enough to kiss, tasting my own juices, still pungent and sticky on his lips. I was too bemused by the overwhelming perversity of the situation to care that my daughter had gate crashed my eagerly anticipated time with my husband. I'd barely even realized that when she offered a solution. "Mom?" "Yes Darling?" "Think of a number." Helen had played this game before. The first time, it was think of a number between 68 and 70. "69." I dutifully replied, realizing what she had in mind. Last summer, Helen pestered me until I gave her the opportunity to lick me clean after sex with Parry. In hindsight, I should have known she wouldn't settle for incest-once-removed forever. Whatever, it appeared to be my turn to clean her. As she moved around and straddled me, I wondered which view Parry would choose: Me licking Helen or Helen licking me? Things to Be Thankful For Why did I ever wonder that? In hindsight it's obvious he'd be all eyes for Helen: She's younger, much more attractive, forbidden fruit is always sweeter and what I was doing to her was, by any reckoning, the most perverted option. Anyway, for whatever reason, Parry was transfixed by the sight of my tongue between Helen's labia with his semen making my face all sticky. I made eye contact for a few moments and smiled at him but I'm not sure he could tell. Helen was working hard at the other end of the bed, trying to rekindle the orgasm I'd been deprived of by her interruption – not that I'm complaining. When she re-ignited that fire inside me, I just had to stop licking her. I pressed my head back against the pillows and arched my back as my daughter conducted my climax as if my body was an orchestra, juxtaposing the sensations emanating from her tongue on my clitoris with those she was producing with her fingers deep inside me and the gentle, harp-like plucking of my labia. I wailed an incoherent mezzo-soprano aria of ecstatic release and – not for the first time with Helen – gushed copiously. When I opened my eyes, Helen's flanks still framed my view of Parry, who was grinning lecherously and clearly thinking impure thoughts involving Helen's bottom, which was so perfectly presented for his delectation. "Did you enjoy that?" I asked him. "Not as much as you did, Darling." He bent down to kiss my cummy mouth, his hair brushing against Helen's flanks as he squeezed his head past her. "Mmm. But did it turn you on to see me behaving like a wanton lesbian slut?" "Hey!" Helen interjected. "Who are you calling a wanton lesbian slut?" "Nobody." "Because I behave like this all the time. Mom, I guarantee Daddy enjoyed it. Hard cocks don't lie and Daddy's is looking pretty hard right now." Helen eased her leg over my head and swivelled round so all three of us were face to face. As soon as her flanks were out of the way I saw what she meant. Parry's penis was definitely ready for action again. "Actually Darling, I think my husband was more interested in what you were showing him. Parry?" I made sure I didn't sound at all disapproving. I know Parry has wanted to try anal sex for a long time and Helen has been so candid about her love life that we both know she doesn't share my objections to it. "Sorry Daddy." Helen looked genuinely apologetic. "No douching and no lube. I guess you're just gonna have to wait until tomorrow to fuck me in the ass. Mom? Want to carry on where I interrupted?" "No Darling. I'm exhausted. I'll just watch you two." "Don't I get any say in this?" Parry asked, stroking himself slowly. "What?" Helen laughed. "What a ridiculous idea. Shush. This is girl talk. Mom, we could share it." Helen made her mouth almost circular and poked her tongue into her cheek a couple of times to unnecessarily illustrate her suggestion. "Ok Darling, we'll share." I know my husband likes blowjobs, though I'm not that fond of them, and I was willing to bet Helen was good at them. "See Daddy? Just leave it all to us girls." Helen got off the bed and moved round to Parry's side so he was sandwiched between us. He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. He was grinning from ear to ear as I shuffled down to the bed to where Helen was ready to begin. We worked either side of Parry's penis in unison for a few minutes, licking and nibbling up and down his length, not paying too much attention to his glans until we'd teased him to bursting point. Following Helen's lead, I found myself sucking one of his testicles for the first time: It had never occurred to me to do that before but Parry seemed to enjoy it. He seemed to be enjoying everything we did, despite the fact we were only teasing him and he must be desperate to come. Already he'd lasted well past the longest I'd ever sucked him, but Helen kept the pace really slow. Suddenly, Helen stopped, got off her knees and went over to my dresser. She dragged it away from the wall on one side. "Daddy, is that a better view?" She asked. "A bit more, Sweetheart." Helen moved the dresser until Parry nodded then came back to bed, kneeling on the edge of it and, this time, taking her father's penis right into her mouth. A couple of firm sucks then she relinquished it to me. "Do you like looking at my ass while we suck your cock, Daddy?" "Yes Sweetheart." He husked as my mouth closed over his glans in place of Helen's. "We're going to have so much fun together, Daddy." Helen returned her attention to Parry's penis, massaging his shaft with her lips as I sucked hard on his tip. When I moved to make way for her, it was because the sound of Parry's breathing said he was close to climax and I'd already tasted more than enough sperm for one night – it's really not nice. Helen clearly doesn't agree. She took over immediately, deeply swallowing as much as she could of Parry's erection while I returned my attention to his tightening balls. He grunted, jerked his hips clear of the bed and ejaculated into Helen's mouth. My wayward, wanton daughter swallowed once and sucked enthusiastically as second and third salvos found their mark. When Parry collapsed back on the pillows, all passion spent, Helen was still sucking on him, eliciting moans of pleasure as she gently teased his hypersensitive flesh. When she'd finished and released his softening penis, she sat up, leant over his legs and kissed me. I trust I returned her kiss with as much passion as she showed me. Parry watched and caught his breath. Helen eased back a fraction, breaking the seal of our lips. "Happy Thanksgiving Mom." She kissed me again, briefly then hurled herself bodily on top of Parry and kissing him with just as much enthusiasm. "Happy Thanksgiving." I replied, unheard. "Happy Thanksgiving, Daddy." Another kiss. "Am I still Daddy's little girl?" "You'll always be my little girl, Sweetheart. Happy Thanksgiving." Parry pecked the end of Helen's nose. "Meg?" He raised an arm to me and drew me down by his side for another kiss. "What are we going to do with this girl of ours?" "I don't know, Parry. Where did we go wrong?" "Ahem!" Helen coughed theatrically. "Yes Sweetheart?" Parry hadn't used that tone with her since he used to help her with school assignments. "To answer your question, Daddy: What are you going to do with me? Anything you like. And I mean anything. And Mom? You didn't go wrong anywhere… except maybe you should have spent more time teaching me to cook." There was a little more teasing, a lot more cuddling then there was sleep. * * * * * I woke up alone with Parry, which wasn't an unfamiliar situation, but on this occasion… Well, I'd still expected Helen to be there. I listened to the quiet house: No sound coming from our bathroom, so she wasn't in there. After a few moments, I heard movement downstairs… and giggling. I surmised at least B and Helen were up and about. Well, a few minutes quiet time with Parry was probably a good idea. Last night's revelations must have come as something of a shock to the poor dear and last night's antics were certainly a surprise… to both of us. I reached over his hip and found, just as I expected, an early morning erection. Curling one hand around it, I used my other arm to prop myself up and whisper his name in his ear until he started to wake up. "Morning." He rolled onto his back and opened bleary eyes, blinking a few times before focusing on me. "Good morning, Darling." I still had hold of his penis. A little squeeze drew his attention to that detail. "I was dreaming." He murmured, still sounding sleepy. "About our little girl?" "I… think so. Last night… did she?" I nodded. "And did I…?" Again a nod and a smile. "Maybe I wasn't dreaming then." "Maybe you're still dreaming." I suggested. "Are you desperate to feel my dick in your ass?" "No!" "Then I'm awake. In my dream, you were begging me to…" "You're mixing me up with Helen." "Its an easy mistake to make." "Blarney! And you're not even a bit Irish." "No such thing. I've told you she reminds me of you when we were newlyweds." "Except she's slimmer, prettier, totally uninhibited…" "But I was besotted back then and my memories are idealised. Don't spoil them for me." "Parry?" "Mmm?" "How long have you been fantasizing about Helen?" It was a leading question. "I never did. Last Summer when she was wandering around in the all together, I'd look at her and fantasize about you back in our salad days." "Truth?" "Darling, you were the one who succumbed to our daughter's charms." He turned towards me, dislodging my grip and propping himself up to look me in the eye. "And on that subject, let me just say that watching you and her together was incredible." His hand found its way between my legs. "Better save it for Helen." I pushed his hand away gently. "I need a wash and you're on a promise today." I was acutely aware that I must be as musky as a polecat after last night. I really wanted a shower. "And you're ok with that?" "Parry, if you're going to have an affair, I prefer to think it's because you're getting something from her that you can't get here. That's easier to accept than the attraction of young flesh." I had wondered over the last couple of years: Was Parry having an affair at work? "Meg, she's our daughter. We both loved her since before she was born. Loving her in one more way doesn't alter how we feel about each other. Does it?" I thought about that. I'd been having sex with Helen for quite a while and it hadn't changed the fact I love Parry to bits. If anything, my broadened horizons made me – if not love Parry more – want Parry more. Thinking about Helen has been very effective foreplay for me for quite a while and my dear husband has definitely reaped the benefits of that. "No. No it doesn't… Oh Parry." I snuggled up, burying my head against his chest. "I'm sorry I kept it from you." And I meant it. "Ssh. No apologies. As Helen said, we're one big happy family. Shall we go and see what's for breakfast?" "Showers first." I needed one and I could smell sex on Parry's skin now. "Together?" "Together." Washing each other was something we hadn't done for years and this was the first time it hadn't led to frenetic sex. But Parry did get out of the shower with an even more resilient erection than he'd got in with. He hung a towel on it to demonstrate his manliness and made me giggle like a loved-up teenager. That felt good. Parry put on a T-shirt and jogging pants that did nothing to hide his arousal. I settled for my robe and we went downstairs together. * * * * * "Morning Mom." Helen had heard us coming down the stairs and met us at the kitchen door, butt-naked, draping her arms around my neck and buzzing me firmly. Her mouth tasted of orange juice. "Morning Daddy." She moved to Parry and kissed him too. "Good morning." I don't think she heard me. Parry was monopolizing her attention at that moment. "Hiya Meg. I hear you three had a good night." B came into view, proffering a glass of OJ. She was as bare as Helen and somehow I wasn't surprised that Helen had told her all about last night. "Thanks B." I took the glass. I must have let my gaze linger on her barer bits because Helen noticed. "Mom, I told B it was cool. I couldn't expect her to wear more than me and I've taken a vow of nudity until Daddy keeps his promise." Helen had turned away from Parry but her hand was squeezed past the waistband of his pants, massaging his erection. "What promise?" Parry asked. "Your promise to fuck me in the ass." She said in a sweet tone at odds with her language. "My promise? Sweetheart, as I recall – and I recall last night very well – it was you who promised me." "Parry!" I said, feigning shock. "How ungallant!" "Meg?" He looked puzzled. My darling man looks so adorable when he's puzzled. "Holding a woman to a promise made in the heat of passion is as ungentlemanly as trying to break you own promise. And you've completely ignored another young lady who has clearly gone to much effort to be worthy of notice. For shame!" "But Dear!" he protested meekly. "I have no intention of breaking the promise… whoever made it. And I have not ignored Honey B!" "That's True, Meg." B admitted. "He checked me out the same time you did." She dimpled as she caught my eye. "But now I have to go and wake up Eric. Excuse me." She squeezed between Parry and I, winking as her tits brushed against mine and a surreptitious hand caught the sash of my robe, drawing it open as she walked away. Parry and I both turned our heads to watch B go up the stairs. I think that was the point where I realised I'd stopped trying to talk myself out of B's proposition. Then I realized my robe was open and reached for the sash. "Don't bother, Mom." Helen had extracted her hand from Parry's pants and was leading him to the kitchen table. "Starting today, naked breakfast is a new family tradition. You too, Daddy: Pants off!" Helen was pulling at the hem of Parry's shirt already. And because our daughter is spoilt rotten and always gets her own way, B and Eric found all three of us sitting naked in the kitchen, eating scrambled eggs and drinking coffee. My gaze went from the large camera in Eric's hand to the large penis a few inches to the right of it. Yes, I'd seen it in pictures – and video – but this was my first encounter with Moby – as B and Helen called it – in real life. I stared. Even limp, it was twice the size of Parry at his best. I followed it as swung like an elephant's trunk as he walked around Helen to sit beside me, parking his camera on the corner of the table. "Good morning Parry." He didn't look at my husband. He was taking his turn at staring and I swear I could feel the heat of his gaze on my breasts. "Meg, you look lovely today." He leant near and pecked my cheek. "You are going to let me photograph you later, aren't you?" I felt a hand on my thigh under the table and froze. Could Parry see? "I…" I clammed up. Stage fright, I guess. "Go on Meg." It was Parry's voice. "I want to see what Eric comes up with on the theme of mother and daughter." "Not just mother and daughter, Daddy." Helen said. "We can't leave B out of the action, or you." "Ooh!" B clapped her hands. "I feel an orgy coming on." "Parry?" Eric looked across to my husband. His hand hadn't moved from my leg. "Eh? Oh. Don't ask me Son. That's between you and Meg." Parry looked from Eric to me to gauge my reaction. "I think you're getting the best of the deal, Darling." I could feel my innards churning just at the thought of Eric's majestic penis. I could have denied those feelings – denied I wanted him – but who would I be kidding? "B's gorgeous." "Thank you." B was round the table in a flash, standing beside me and bending to kiss me. Was it for the green light on Parry, or the compliment? Who cares? I tried hard to give as good as I got but B is an excellent kisser. I felt the hand on my thigh move and eased my legs apart to accommodate Eric's advances. When his fingers parted my sticky labia, my moan alerted B who broke off kissing to glance down between the table and my belly, between my thighs to Eric's surreptitious hand. Without a word, Eric pulled his fingers out of me, brought his hand from under the table and offered two glistening and musk scented fingers to B who closed her mouth over them right in front of my face and sucked as she drew back until only Eric's finger tips were between her lips. Her tongue flicked out, caressing his fingers briefly then she turned back to kissing me. There was just the slightest taste of my sex on her lips as her tongue fenced with mine. There was silence around the table as B straightened up. There was definitely going to be an orgy. * * * * * Everyone managed to get breakfast first, then Eric set up his gear in the guest room and spent two hours posing B, Helen and I for increasingly intimate photographs while Parry watched and got increasingly eager to join the party. Eventually, he got his turn and I got the best view in the house as Parry's penis pressed into Helen's bottom. Although I really don't want to try anal sex, the sight of Helen's sphincter stretched smooth and taut around her father's penis was incredibly stimulating. Eric clicked away, getting some of the extreme close-ups that were his trademark. "Show her who's the Daddy." B whispered in Parry's ear. "Fuck her hard. She loves it." Parry was in seventh heaven: A lifelong ambition was being fulfilled under the kinkiest circumstances imaginable. "Fuck me like you mean it." Helen gasped, urging Parry on too. "See!" B whispered. "Give the slut what she needs: an ass full of Daddy's special sauce." Parry was like a man possessed. The bed rocked as he thrust frantically into Helen. I'd never seen him so keyed up, even last night. Helen was yelling obscenities and clearly climaxing as Parry groaned and ejaculated inside her, his frenetic motion slamming to a halt as he clung to her hips for support and panted for breath. I thought that was it for Parry's anal adventure but as he pulled out of our daughter B made a b-line for his penis, taking him into her mouth without hesitation. Eric must have been paying more attention to me than I realized because he noticed my shock and moved quickly to my side. "C'mon Meg." Eric drew me to my feet and led me to the bedroom door. "Let's go to your room." I followed mutely to the door, slightly grossed out but totally transfixed by B's oral antics: She'd moved from Parry's penis to Helen's bottom now, lapping at the semen oozing out of my daughter's bowels. Although I'd seen this before – on one of the videos Helen showed me – to see it happening in my presence, with Parry's semen, was… shocking. As Eric drew me along the corridor toward my own bedroom, I found my voice. "Eric, I…" "Shh." He spun round, drawing me into his arms and silencing any possible objections with his open mouth on mine. His magnificent penis was hard all the way down my thigh and reminded me what I'd decided a few hours ago at the breakfast table. "Not a word." He finished kissing me – though I remained thoroughly kissed for quite some time – and drew me, unresisting, into my own room, onto my own bed and into his arms again. Eric was a surprisingly gentle lover: surprising because he was so young and obviously energetic; because that heroically proportioned penis of his should not have been comfortable to accommodate and most surprising because I knew the two girls he regularly beds are very lively. But Eric took his time, touching me in all the right places and ever so gently easing himself between my legs. He didn't talk much, but kept looking into my eyes, voicelessly checking I was ok with what he was doing: Like my nails raking his back weren't a clue. Inside me, he did feel huge, but not uncomfortably so, except when I thought he would push right through my cervix. The faintest gasp halted his progress and after that I just felt wonderfully full of my virile young lover. His finesse was as shocking and as delightful as when I first saw a Chinese chef carve a swan out of an apple with a cleaver. I started to climax steadily; wave after wave of my orgasm broke against the rock that was Eric until the tide receded. Eric let me rest a moment, never ceasing in his caresses but only skirting the edges of my erogenous zones. As soon as my breathing steadied, he resumed his assault on my senses and the tide came in again, soaking the juncture of our bodies. Again Eric paused only slightly before upping the tempo, sending seismic tremors through my whole body that built to a crescendo with the eruption of his seed inside me, boiling from his penis like lava. I screamed in ecstasy as the tsunami of my final climax crashed down on me, my body arching off the bed, under Eric's weight before collapsing back, slick with perspiration, gasping for air and sobbing quietly, overwhelmed by my own body's reaction.