3 comments/ 29148 views/ 1 favorites Much Love Forever. M. Pt. 01 By: joe_of_diamonds I'd paid the lawyer untold thousands for the privilege of giving my wife the house and a couple thousand a month in support. He billed me fifty bucks for some leftover clerical work. I sent him back a letter thanking him for letting her lawyer hand him his ass. I still owe him the fifty. Meanwhile, the group that had bought out my employer decided that my services came at too high a price. The new group comprised mostly accountants -- British accountants, the very worst kind. They put me off payroll and promised me about half-salary in consulting work. Between that and a couple of their high-profile clients, who went with me, I was able to keep up my living standard. All that done, I decided that summer to take a couple months off, to get out of the city, clear my head, and decide what I wanted to do with the next 40 years. I liked the idea of living near the bay, away from the tourist stops, maybe a shack on an inlet where i could toss out crab pots in the morning and have a meal by evening. I called an old friend, Frank, whom I'd known off and on since high school. Frank had some bayside properties, and I figured he could get me started in finding something, somewhere -- anywhere. . . A few days later, Frank called back. "Joey," he said. "Yeah Frank. What did you find me?" "About as far from anything as you can get." He gave me the location. "Sort of a village, sort of a glorified fish camp. Not too far from the ferry." "How much?" "Too good to be true, Joe, if you're up to some work. The owner has been there for forty years, but he's getting old and doesn't want to keep the place up anymore. He'll let you have it for the summer in exchange for some, uh, home improvements. Otherwise, absolutely free." My god, I thought. "What kind of work?" "Some plumbing, wiring. Needs new windows, new roof. Nothing you can't do." Frank was right. This sounded too good to be true, and it was. The place had two bedrooms, bath, kitchen, living room and laundry. The roof leaked, the kitchen fixtures were rusty, everything in the bathroom dripped (plus some rot in the floor). The plus? It was a hundred yards from the water and had a nice, covered front porch. Yes, it needed a lot of work, but it could be made liveable pretty quickly. I sat down with the owner, a long-retired gentleman who wore a plaid jacket and a summer straw hat. He told me he'd built it in the 1960s as a vacation getaway, and he'd spent summers there every year since. He told me what things he'd like to see done first, and I ran a mental budget to see what I thought I could do. Mr. Cabell's intent, he said, was to have the cottage fixed up so he could rent it. Without much further discussion, we worked out and signed a two-party lease, and I had a home for the summer. Mr. Cabell, the owner, had left some older furniture in the house. I brought a few business items, some comfort pieces, a bed, and what clothes I thought I'd need for a summer at the shore. Oh, and tools -- a table saw, vise, clamps, a bunch of 18V utility hand tools, and the usual box of hammers, wrenches, bits, and so on. In a week, I had the walls painted and the leaky faucets in the kitchen and bathroom repaired. I decided to start on the roof, which was not large and needed only shingles to be made tight. Within a week, the place had begun to appear comfortable. Meanwhile, I began to make acquaintance with some of the neighbors. Most were older people, folks like Mr. Cabell, who had been coming here for years. Some had moved on, leaving the properties to their children -- people closer to my age. There weren't many of those. I assumed the woman and girl whom I saw out walking occasionally were of this next generation. A county road led into the village, then dwindled to a lane that dead-ended at the water's edge. The bayfront had sort of a small beach, and I'd see one or the other or both of them, sometimes in company with others from the community, walking to the beach. I couldn't do much for introduction, as I spent a couple of hot days on the roof, popping the new shingles over the old, flaky ones. The woman and the girl stood out because both were blonde. I guessed the woman was, say, 40 or so, and the girl about 20, perhaps. From similarities in coloring, build and carriage, I guessed also that they were mother and daughter. It came as a nice surprise when "mother and daughter" walked up the sidewalk toward my cottage late one afternoon. I had changed out of my work clothes and sat in a chair on the porch wearing only swim shorts. I said hello, smiled, and told them I'd be back. I went in the house, found a shirt and pulled it on, then went back to the porch. The older woman smiled, perhaps at my modesty. The girl also smiled. "I guess we're the welcome committee," the woman said. "My name's Michelle -- Chelle is what I go by. This is my daughter Ishtar. We call her Star. I still don't know what got into me to name her that." Star looked askance at her mother, as if performing a fragment of an old comedy bit. "The Evening Star, mother," the girl said. I put out my hand and shook first Chelle's hand, then Star's. "The star of Babylon?" I said, trying to place the name in some mythology. "Something like that," Chelle said with a little chuckle. "Jack," I said. I'm not sure why, but I frequently protect my identity by giving false names to momentary acquaintances. "Jack" seemed to work this time. I seemed to recognize something in Chelle -- her voice, her face, even the feel of her hand. The sense was faint, and I let it pass. "I'd offer you something to drink. All I have is iced tea. Come and sit down and I'll get you some. Chelle and Star came up the creaky porch stairs and sat each in one of the chairs set out the open deck. I went to the kitchen, filled two glasses with ice and tea, and brought them to the girls. "You look like the sun got you," I said. Both were tanned dark, their blonde hair lightened by the sun. Chelle wore white shorts, a light-blue t-shirt, and flat sandals. Star had on a cotton robe over her swim suit, with flip-flops on her feet. "It IS hot today," Chelle said. "Summer's finally here. About time I guess, seeing it's the end of June. We've been down on the reef for a couple of hours, thinking it might be cooler late in the day. We usually go down there a couple hours a day." "No such luck," Star said. "Mother, do you have any aspirin? I have such a headache from the heat." Chelle dug in the small beach bag she carried and handed her daughter a bottle of drug-store brand pain reliever. We began to talk. They lived in a cottage similar to mine a little way back up the county road, a hundred yards or so. Their house was well-maintained and had been redone in the past two years. Chelle taught school in Maryland, somewhere in southern Maryland, and was here for the summer break. She also received a supplement, alimony from her ex-husband. They had been divorced for a year. Star had a bit of an independent nature, just short of rebellious, and she and her mother seemed more like close friends than like mother and daughter. Star had been born when Chelle was 22, and he'd married Jimmy three years later. He was a good man, Chelle said, and he had taken in Star as his own. She didn't seem to want to say much more -- and I really didn't care to go into detail over my grim divorce. "We just grew apart," Chelle said. "Why don't you two come inside," I suggested. "It's a little cooler in there." They looked quickly at each other, then gratefully accepted. I had two big box fans in the living room I set one up in front of a wicker chair, and the other I set toward my desk and work gear. Star quick got into the wicker chair. She leaned back and closed her eyes, her arms hanging over the arms of the chair. Her robe fell open and her knees parted, letting the air from the fan cool her. I looked at Star, and it became clear that both women were quite attractive -- not in the conventional, magazine sense. I saw in both a self-reliance and certainty, an easy comfort each with herself and each with the other. Chelle tempered her nature with maturity and what seemed like a native wisdom. Star was a mirror of her mother, in full young flower. * * * I might have looked a little too long at Star, and I caught a hint of reproof in Chelle's smile as she sat in the chair next to mine by the desk. "I don't know what to do with that girl," Chelle said, again in mid-routine. "Oh, MOTHER," Star complained. "I've tried to get her in school. She got a scholarship to Eastern Shore and didn't make it through first semester. Last year, I had her in community college -- same thing. She gets tired of it and quits. So she worked at Food Lion all winter and spring, came home every day saying she hates the job and has a different boyfriend every two weeks." She laughed. "I wish I could do that well." I laughed too. I had had a few close encounters since the divorce, but nothing I'd write home about, I told her. "It's tough," she agreed. "It takes a couple months just to get over the bitter part of you, and to get over him. Then, when you try to get going with somebody else, you almost feel guilty about it." "Right," I agreed, then let my guard down. "You feel guilty, but only up to a point." Chelle gave me a queer smile, and honestly, I'd swear I'd seen that smile before -- many times. I began quickly shuffling memory files, trying to place what was so familiar about her. Co-workers? Former girlfriends? In-laws? Nothing really rang up. "Look, you're welcome to whatever you'd like," I said. "There's plenty of tea. If I look around, I might have a bottle of wine, maybe some gin. I don't drink it. I quit four years ago -- had to, doctor's orders. There's some ham in there, some cheese, some bread. I should go check my pots and see if I took any crabs today. "I'm fine," Chelle said. "Star, you need anything honey?" "Can I get another glass of tea?" the girl asked. I nodded, and Chelle got up and went to the kitchen. That gave me a chance to get a longer look at Star, who lay in the chair, eyes closed, in an attitude of complete langour. The bay breeze had blown her hair almost to a tangle. Her lips were full and delicate, and she had long arms and legs -- an athlete's legs, soccer or tennis. She had kicked aside her rubber sandals. "I see you looking at me, Mister," she said suddenly and without stirring at all. The words had not a trace of scold or reproach, just a statement of fact with a faint acknowledgement of flattery accepted. Chelle returned with two glasses of tea, one for Star and one for me. She went back again and came out with a glass of chilled riesling for herself. I hadn't heard her open the bottle. "Cheers Jack, and thanks for the cold comforts," she said, touching her glass to mine. She sipped the wine quickly, then started to get up. I put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "I'll get it for you," I said. I came back with the bottle and set it on the floor next to Chelle's chair. We talked some more, nipping at details of what we do, what we hope to do, what we had done. The sun angled lower -- the clock on the PC showed 5:45, and Chelle had finished her third glass of wine. Star seemed to be almost asleep in her chair, next to the cooling fan. " . . . and I admire men who work with their hands, who know how to get jobs done," she was saying. "You actually have this place looking good, at least inside. The paint is cheery, and it makes the house smell new." She got up and walked to the bathroom. "Needs some work in here, but I'm sure you'll get to it. When did you say you were going back?" "Oh, probably end of August. My alimony case comes up that month, and if I get what I'm hoping out of it, I'll have enough to make a good restart," I said. "Let me show you . . . " I walked into the bathroom. Chelle, standing in the door, made no real effort to move, and I brushed against her as I went in. I pressed on the floor at the corner of the tub. "This is pretty soft here," I showed her. "I'll probably have to replace the whole floor, which probably will be a hell of a job if I have to take the tub out." Chelle stood behind me, acting interested, and I felt her hands on my shoulders. I winced a bit. I hadn't realized I'd burnt some while on the roof for two days, even with the shade of the big poplars. Her hands felt good. It had been a while. Apparently, it had been a while for her too. Or maybe it was just the way she was. I turned in the small room, and she wrapped her arms around my waist and kissed me. My god, her lips felt warm and wonderful. "I can do something for the burn," she said quietly. "Take your shirt off and go lie on the bed." I did as I was told, my excitement rising. I heard her cracking open a tray of ice in the kitchen. She came back with a plastic bag half-full of ice and began to rub it on my reddened shoulders. "Very nice, Chelle," I murmured. She bent to kiss the back of my neck, then across my shoulders, her lips following the ice pack. She rubbed my shoulders and back with the ice for a minute or two. I turned sideways so as to face her, raised the hem of her shirt, and kissed at her belly. We were both overcome at once. She pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a light-green swimsuit top, which I quickly released and tossed aside. She snapped aside the button on my shorts and tried to pull them off straightaway, paused to lower the zipper, then pulled them off, releasing my hardening dick. She began stroking my penis with her hand as I worked her shorts off, revealing her lovely, light-brown bush. Her breasts were surprisingly youthful, with no droop or sag. I pulled her to me for a long kiss and a tight hug, pressing my hard dick against her, rocking slightly. Jesus, I needed this. I worked my hands free to caress the sides of her breasts, and she moved to let me squeeze them and tease the nipples, which were small and hard. Chelle nudged me onto my back and slid down to my dick, now thick and hard as a pipe. She placed her lips over the head of it, swirled it with her tongue for what seemed forever, then lowered her head to take as much of me into her mouth as she could. She wrapped her hand around the base of it to make a stop, then swallowed the rest of it, sucking it in and out. I was in heaven and in love. At times like that, it doesn't take much. "Please Jack," she said. "Please?" I held her to me and rolled us over together, she on her back. She spread her legs wide and repeated, "Please Jack. Oh please, please." I raised myself so as to mount her and pinned her shoulders to the bed with my hands. I lowered my head to give her a hard kiss on the mouth, then began working my dick into her, in and out an inch at a time to wet us both, then drove it all the way in with a groan. * * * And we commenced the fabulous business of fucking -- this reaching for that, stroking at that, ripping and tearing, changing holds and grips like wrestlers. Chelle made her sounds of love, the screams and cries of pain and pleasure, in rhythm with my thrusts -- hard and fast, hard and slow, gentle and slow, the most magical dance in the world. We rolled to put me on my back, and she mounted me at her pace, lowering her tight cunt onto my fat, hard dick, she now controlling the stroke, groaning and crying as she worked with my penis to hit the right spots, my ass tensing and relaxing so as to drive up into her. "Oh god Jack, fuck me Jack, god fuck me so hard, don't ever STOP . . . " She had her orgasm, a fit of loud incoherent cries, as I held her ass tight against me, making her work for her strokings. She lay on me, somehow both weakened and strengthened, as I rolled her to her back again, determined to finish the job. Again I drove into her, and again the volume of her cries rose. I took her hand and guided it to her clit, and she circled it with her fingers as I rammed my dick into her deep, up to her womb. I placed a hand firmly over her eyes and fucked her fast and hard, twisting to suckle at her nipples. I made my body rigid, tightening my ass so as to fuck harder and to summon up my building orgasm, my balls slapping at her ass.. Chelle came again, crying out and throwing her arms around my back and shoulders, then sliding her hands down to grip my ass and pull me into her. I fucked her harder, faster, a tangled frenzy of our two bodies. I asked if she was protected, and she spat out, "Yes, yes, I am, fuck me Jack, god fuck me, cum in me, please give me your cum." That was all I needed. My nuts and my dick exploded with great force as I pounded into her, the wave of deep pleasure spreading up my back and down my legs. In and out I rammed all the strokes I had, gushing cum deep into her womb, into her tight, hot hole. God, it was glorious. We melted together, mated in satisfaction and affection. I lay still on top of her, idly stroking the curve of her waist, my dick softening inside her. Drained, weak and content, I lay my head between her breasts and felt joy. At the door of the bedroom stood Star. "You kids having fun, are you?" the girl asked in gentle mockery. "I was dozing in the other room, but you two woke me up with, like, 'oh god, oh god, oh god', and all that. "It was like, 'Wow Mother, It didn't take you long to find some business.' " Much Love Forever. M. Pt. 02 Never in my life had I been so shocked and dismayed, not so much with having been discovered, but moreso with Star's frank acceptance of what she had seen. I glanced at Chelle, and my psyche snapped along a jagged edge. She seemed surprised, sure, but more in the manner of a child caught picking through a stolen box of chocolates. I quickly reached for something to cover us with, and just as quickly realized how foolish that would look -- who knew how long Star had been watching? I decided to try to salvage some cool from the situation. "You two know each other?" I said, with a weak laugh. The two women DID look a little sheepish, but I detected no shame in either. "Star honey," Chelle began. "Jack and I, uh, we . . . " "Oh Mother, I'm sorry, really." Star cut her off. "I didn't mean to walk in on you. I woke up and heard you guys, and I was still a little dazy and hot, so I . . . " There WAS something here a little awkward for mother and daughter, although much less peculiar than it was for me. I rolled slightly off Chelle and to one side. Star came to the other side of the bed and sat next to her mother, and the two hugged and began with some quiet, female commiseration. As a gesture of companionship, I gently rubbed Chelle's belly, in as non-sexual way as I could -- more idly comforting than anything. "Should I leave?" I said. "I really could use a shower. I hadn't expected visitors, and . . . " "No Jack, it's all right," Chelle said with calm assurance. "Oh, I think I will," I said. "Really, I'm fine with all this -- I mean, we can . . . " I'd made mud out of all this, so I stood quickly, found a clean towel in a pile on a chair, and walked to the bathroom. I let the water run to just short of cold, stepped in, and pulled the curtain. I took a short shower, then dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. To my surprise, the two women were still as I had left them. I half figured they'd be gone, or at least dressed and ready for a quick good-bye. But Chelle still lay on her back, naked, and Star, still in her robe and swimsuit, sat by her mother's shoulder. Both looked very composed, even relaxed. Seen this way, Chelle looked more familiar to me than before, and Star looked very much like a younger version of her mother. My initial shock had passed, and curiosity took over. "Can I ask you a question?" I said, to Chelle or Star, or to both. Both shrugged and nodded. "Has something like this" -- I waved my hand in a sweep as if taking in the room -- "ever happened to you before?" Both women hesitated, and Chelle spoke first. "A few times," she said. She gave a little smile of feminine embarrassment. "You know," she looked at Star, "at first I thought it was an accident, when she was like 14 or so. She was so wrinkled up that time that it took me about six hours of girl talk to bring her back straight. But by the time she was in high school, I started to wonder." Chelle stopped, as if to try to hold something she shouldn't give to a stranger. Star broke the spell by standing and fluffing out her wind-blown hair. "Mr. Jack, I'm real sorry, again. You can have your place back." The girl smiled. "I'll leave you guys alone." Chelle glanced at Star, then looked at me and held out her arms to me. I slid back onto the bed with her, and we both lay there, fully naked. "Mmmm, Jack. You smell soapy and sweet," Chelle said. I looked at Star to gauge her feeling and again saw a very pretty young woman, a bright garden flower. She gave me a quizzical look in return and seemed to pause and linger. "Mother," she began. "I hope you don't mind if I . . . " And, completing my amazement, she put her hand on my dick, began to tug it and turn it as if examining it. I looked at Star, I looked at Chelle, and I did not detect either encouragement or objection. So, this was how it was going to be . . . * * * Star's tugs and tickles turned to gentle strokes as my dick hardened in her hand. I looked at Chelle, who seemed still restful and spent, and gave her a long, reassuring kiss. Star paused in her work on me and stood to slide out of her terry robe, then her suit top, then the bottom. So here was lovely Star, bright and glowing, showing what she could give. It was so quick, clean and natural. Putting my hand behind Star's neck, I drew her down to the bed, and she curled next to her mother, her hand again working my hard penis. "This is nice, Mother," the girl said. "I'm jealous." Chelle laughed lightly. I moved my mouth to Chelle's breast and drew the nipple in between my lips, flicking it with my tongue, snapping at it with my teeth. I cupped the breast with both hands and continued to kiss the nipple. I felt her body tense slightly, and she gave up a moan, so I moved my hand to her pussy and began to tease at the soft fur. I began to relax as the physical sensations took hold. Chelle spread her legs slightly as I pushed my hand into her crotch, stroking her slit with one finger, stopping at her clit on the up-stroke, tickling it between my finger and thumb. She moaned again. Star moved to kiss her mother's ear and neck, then to lick at her other nipple. Her hand joined mine at her mother's pussy, and we twined our fingers, untwining them, seeking the buttons and folds of Chelle's sweet cunt. Chelle began to groan aloud, and Star kissed her mother's mouth to muffle her. So I moved my hand to Star's pussy. She let out a sigh and raised a knee to let me have a good grope. As she continued to finger and stroke Chelle's pussy. I forced a finger into Star's cunt and felt it slide in easily, feeling the wet, silky warmth in the darkness of her hole. I placed my thumb on Star's clit, and she too began to exclaim and moan. My god, I needed another set of hands . . . "Jack, please," Chelle panted. "Please put it in me again. I need to feel it inside me." She spread her legs and raised her knees, presenting her cunt to me. I twisted myself between her legs and lifted her ankles over my shoulders, then plunged my dick into Chelle's juicy hole, all the way in at once. I held it there, in her bottomless cunt, as she wiggled her hips and gripped me with tight ripples of her muscles. I began to pull it out and push it in, slowly. "Ohhh god, Jack," Chelle moaned, throwing her hips at me so as to make milking motions around my cock. "God this is so wonderful." "Yes baby," I groaned. "You can't know how wonderful it is. You are so beautiful and hot." And then another surprise, the feel of Star's lips and tongue on my balls, tonguing my shaft on its out-stroke, and moving to tease Chelle's pussy -- back and forth, over and over. She slipped my nuts, one then the other, into her mouth, sucking them lightly, and she reached awkwardly to grip my ass and force me into her mother's womb. That was it; I had to have some of that. As if by some unspoken cue, we untangled ourselves and rearranged ourselves, with a few giggles and gasps and "over heres" and "this ways", and we ended with me atop Star's lovely young body and Chelle lowering her pussy to her daughter's open mouth. I pushed Star's legs apart, mounted her, and pushed my dick into her. She gave out a groan, followed by a sequence of panted gasps as I pushed it in a little at a time. I could feel her tight pussy adjusting to me, stretching for me, as I eased my cock all the way inside her. Star, meanwhile, stuck out her tongue as Chelle fit herself onto the girl's face. She commenced grinding as Star hummed and moaned, then groaned as I raised the rpm of my stroking in and out of her pussy. Chelle raised a bit and locked her brown eyes into mine, then her eyes closed in pleasure, and she held her mouth open for a deep kiss from me. I kissed her mouth hard and drove hard into Star's pretty pussy, Star's moans now muffled by her mother's cunt. I could feel Chelle's hot breath through the kiss, the pace of her arousal rising in sounds from deep in her throat. "Star, darling, oh my baby girl," she cried. "God this is sooo good." Chelle's cries rose in pitch as her orgasm built deep inside her; she writhed and struggled. I put my hands on her breasts and squeezed them hard and kissed her hard again, and she came, came again, in a series of breathy groans and sharp cries. That seemed to be all Star needed as well. As Chelle collapsed onto the younger woman's body, I drove into Star with increasing power. I could feel her pussy tensing and clenching as she rose toward climax, and it came with a sudden rush that made her scream, loud enough to be heard outside. And that certainly was all I needed, especially when Chelle put a hand between my legs, fingering at my ass hole, pressing hard on the taint, and stroking my nut sack. This was too much; with a couple more hard, brutal strokes, I cut loose inside Star's pussy with what felt to me like Niagara Falls, firing shot after shot of cream into her tight young hole. Never, ever, had I cum so hard or felt so spent. Almost literally, every ounce of being in my body had emptied into this beautiful young baby. Still inside Star's pussy, I twisted off to one side so as not to over-weight the pile. I threw my arms around Chelle's waist and kissed quietly at her lower back and her ass. Chelle was the first to speak. "My god, what a great team we are," she said. "Jack, you owe me a load of cum now. You up for it?" I laughed. "Jeez, honey, give me a little time. You and Star are wearing me out as it is. And Star, baby?" "Mmhmmm." "You are fantastic." * * * When I'd recovered enough to stand, I told the ladies I needed some nourishment, and I asked them if they wanted anything. "I'll split a ham sandwich with you," Chelle said. "I'm not really hungry, thanks," Star answered. "Now Evening Star," Chelle said in a mock deep south drawl. "You know a young lady has to keep up her stren'th." Star giggled. "You have any chocolate?" she asked. "I could like destroy some Reese's Cups." "Don't think so dear. I might have some chocolate syrup. I can put it in some milk for you." Star laughed again. "Imagine how the world would change if a man's cum was the only source of chocolate." I went to the kitchen and made two ham sandwiches, one of which I cut in two. I poured two glasses of milk, and I stirred chocolate syrup into the one for Star. "Chelle," I called back. "I forgot to ask if you wanted something to drink." "Just bring me the rest of that riesling, Jack," Chelle said. "And a glass of water, if it's no trouble." "Other than needing a tray, no." I carried a baking pan with the sandwiches, milk and water back to the bedroom, then went to the front room to retrieve the half-full wine bottle and Chelle's glass. All delivered, we ate and drank. "Be sure and give the boy a nice tip, dear," Chelle said to her daughter. And they giggled. Star finished her milk, and then, as if finishing her thought, came to me as I sat in the chair and knelt between my legs. She placed her hands on my hips, her elbows on my knees, and began to suck at my soft dick. Somewhat surprisingly, it began to grow again in her warm mouth. She brushed her hair out of her face. "I want some chocolate," she said, looking at me and grinning. "Sorry darling. This one's mine," Chelle said, mock-seriously. Star continued sucking me. My dick continued to grow. "Jack," Chelle insisted. "Get your ass over here." I raised Star by the shoulders and stood, holding her close to me. Pressing tight together, I felt her sweet young breasts crushed against my chest, her arms wrapped under my arms and around my back. I pulled her ass tight to me and gave her a long kiss. "Kids," Chelle said. "Class is in session. Take your places immediately." Star turned her face to her mother and stuck out her tongue. I crawled onto the bed next to Chelle, and Star followed, nestling in behind me. * * * Much Love Forever. M. Pt. 03 What followed can not be told entirely, as it seemed endless. At some point, I found a couple of candles in the kitchen and lit them as the sun set and the room darkened. They mounted and rode me, I mounted and rode them. I took turns giving each ten strokes at a time, each mock-fighting with the other for an extra couple of strokes. We did sitting, standing, against the wall, oral chains, even a little light bondage with Star's wrists bound behind her, blindfolded and gagged, and me pounding at her pussy from behind. I came twice more in Chelle's pussy, once in Star's ultra-tight cunt, and once in her mouth. We fucked on into the night, up toward midnight, when the candles sputtered and burned out, the three of us ending up on the huge Persian rug in the front room, an oriental intricacy in black and royal purple and gold, with only the desk lamp for light. The mad orgy concluded in a chain, with Chelle eating Star's pussy while I pounded Chelle's ass with my dick. The chain fired in sequence, with me cumming in Chelle's ass in a frenzy of force. Chelle, feeling the last bursts of my juice in her ass, came next, screaming in climax with her mouth on her daughter's cunt. That seemed to set off Star, whose orgasm broke her into a thousand shrieking pieces. We all collapsed in a heap. We actually had reached a point where we could fuck no more without rest, without salving for our worn and beaten and stretched and depleted sexual parts. Star lay spread and half-conscious. "Oh god," she said weakly. "Oh Jack. Oh Mandy, Mandy, Amanda-mandy." * * * BAM! Right between the eyes, the big picture suddenly clear and laid out in front of me. Amanda! Mandy! How could I not have seen? Amanda! Mandy! Or Chelle? Or what? Twenty-some years before. Mandy, Amanda-mandy, and I had had a hot, hot, six-month "relationship", afire with the kind of passion you only get at twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. We'd broken it up at the end of that time -- fairly bitterly, over slights and cheatings on both sides. We both moved on, and I'd never seen her again. Until now. Looking at her, I saw my Amanda-mandy, matured into something new -- not so much older, but a woman now sweeter and wiser. It had taken me a couple of years to get over her then, such was the intensity of our coupling. I'd heard she'd had a baby and had gotten married, and after that she gradually faded from my memories. I rose quickly, suddenly wide-awake. "Mandy?" I said to her. "Mandy, it's me, Joe." She seemed just slightly less surprised than I. "Ahhh, Joe, Joey," She handled the name like a delicacy from the sea. "I'd really thought it might be you. It looked like you, the way you moved around on the roof today. I told Star I wanted to stop in and introduce myself to you. "I could make out some old resemblances, but you said your name was Jack, and I used an aka also; for the night I would be Chelle, Shell, something perfect washed up by the waters. Maybe it was just to protect myself in case it . . . je ne sais quoi. But god, lover, it's great to see you, to hold you and feel you." "I don't know what to say either, Mandy," I said. "Same with me. I saw in you someone I knew but didn't remember knowing. Maybe too much time and travel have passed by. . . . At this moment, I was seriously and truly in love. We melted together in a long, deep embrace. I felt extremely tender toward her and stroked her hair gently. She ran her hand along my cheek and neck, neither of us daring to say more. But no, the day's final, agonizing twist came quickly behind. "Star, darling?" she said to her daughter. "I want you to meet your father." A blinding explosion behind my eyes, and the gears and machinery of my mind ground and clattered to an abrupt stop, as if trying to reset all its parameters at once. Even Star, the self-assured, insolent Evening Star presented a look of confusion and shock. "Mandy, that's too much for me to take. How can you be sure? Have you brought this up to Star before?" "I'm sure, Joe," she answered quietly. "Yes, there were a couple men toward the end, but I'd had my periods. Then -- you remember our last time? In that back bedroom at Perry's house? It was so good I almost couldn't leave you. But I had to go home to New Jersey, right then, right there. "Well then, I didn't have another man for like six months, and I started missing periods. And Joe, I knew, I just KNEW." "Mother," Star said in a summons that was almost a question. "How could you . . . did you know? When did you know. Wasn't there . . . didn't you . . .?" The girl was almost in tears, and I wasn't real sure about myself. "Jack, Joe, you couldn't have, like, you didn't know about . . . " Too much. Way too much for us all at once. The chances of such a meeting in this remote place were like zero and less than zero. And now, I'd met my own daughter, a daughter I hadn't known existed until this moment. And I'd fucked her, fucked my own beautiful daughter. Star may have suspected -- or Mandy may have told her -- that Jimmy was not her birth father, although he had fully accepted her as his daughter. The wonder she had felt about all such matters had come to a crashing conclusion right here, She had fucked her father, and whether that knowledge came after the fact didn't matter. Mandy seemed in the best position to understand a lifetime of complex chambers and hidden secrets. She believed firmly that Joe, long ago Joe, had been the father of her daughter, although it came as a loud morning alarm to come to this realization with crashing suddenness, after an evening and night of joyous, pure sex. And what now had this done to her daughter? This all needed mental resolution. I went to the bedroom and picked up the piles of clothing. I pulled on my shorts and a shirt, then came back and handed each their clothes. Both dressed quickly and without speaking. None of it seemed real at all. The three of us walked through the front door and onto the porch. I gave each woman a tentative hug -- none of us seemed certain of how to go on with relationships that had gone up the funnel cloud in a couple of mind-racing minutes. "Should I walk you home," I asked, trying to be a gentleman. "Oh, that's ok, Joe," Mandy said. "This place is nothing if not safe, especially at midnight. Everyone's asleep by now." They walked down the porch steps and up the sidewalk, turning at the corner onto the county road. * * * Mother and daughter left in the middle of August to go back to Maryland. I stayed two more weeks. Before the girls left, Mandy and I coupled a few more times, becoming familiar and intimate. We even tried out on a date, taking the ferry over to the island and sitting down for crabs and shrimp at a bait shack next inlet over. It was a nice day and night. Star came by just once more, by herself, that is. Neither was sure of how to proceed, and although it had been easy for me to get lost in her sexual inventiveness, I had to keep in mind that she was still a young girl, vulnerable in many ways, and at an age where such a car crash could leave behind a lifetime of unanswered questions. We talked for quite a while, and I tried to be kind and understanding, but we both seemed taken aback by the sudden perversion of the rules of human conduct. We reached points of agreement and left it there for now. There was one thing I yet needed to know. "Star," I said. "Why was it that you called out your mother's real name that night?" "Joe, Mother and I have always been close -- maybe too close in a lot of ways," the girl said. "When I was 17, she and I shared one of her boyfriends -- Jimmy wasn't supposed to know, of course, and I don't know that he ever found out for certain. Then it got to where Mother and I would, you know, play with each other, sort of, and . . . " Her voice trailed off. "We'd play a lot of games, and one of them was for me to pretend to be someone else, someone not her daughter. Don't ask me what that did for her, but I got to liking it, and every now and then, when I'm really out of control, I guess I slip back into it. "I'm almost sorry now that I gave the name away. I guess we'd all have found out some way, some day, but it was so heavy-duty finding out about it the way we did. I don't think I could take anything like that again." * * * Mandy promised to stay in touch with me. About two months after they left, Mandy sent me an e-mail: Jack:how did this happen to us? I have to tell you, Star is pregnant, and we are trying to decide what to do. She swears she has not had sex since this summer with you. I want her to have an abortion. as much as I love Her I could not let her put herself through what I went through. I almost feel like calling that ass Jimmy just for some stableity in her Life. It seems like She wants to know some things to make Her decision. My dr. says he can match DNA samples but he would need one from You. please call me on my cel phone, or I could call you. I need to know. Thank you for everything you have done. I am not trying to hold you up in any way but this is for Star and for Her piece of mind Much Love Forever M.