The Bored Housewives Club, Pt. 04

Part Four: Thinking the Unthinkable

I. Inheritance

Learn not to discriminate; If any man or woman wants to fuck you, then spread your thighs

Sir William Carrington, Advice to Girls, Maxim 4

i. The Carrington Clique

Maggie Willis was entertaining. The posher of her two living rooms, which she called her 'salon', was full of people, about a dozen all told, sipping wine and nibbling on sandwiches. They were all from the Village, so she knew most of them by sight, or in a 'pass the time of day' way, but none of them well. They all shared a secret only now revealed to her. It was Isobel who had summoned them here.

"You see," said Isobel, "we've kept a presence here for many years."

"So you've been spying on me!"

"We've been watching over you, though never other than benignly I assure you! We left you alone for years after you came here. My grandfather insisted on that. He said you'd made your choice and that it must be respected. But when your girls grew up, it was different. They hadn't made any such choice. I'm afraid to say that, by your own choices, you denied them that."

"Still my choice," growled Maggie, fighting down rising anger.

"It was," nodded Isobel. "And it was our choice to move some of our people here. Grandma Barbara could see, though, what her husband could not, that any community in which the daughters of Maggie Willis grew up, was bound to become infused with the Carrington spirit, even if they didn't know they were Carringtons. Many doubted it, especially among those who have lived here the longest. They reported that Ursula had moved away and suppressed any hint of her Gene, then Gregory (despite his far more promising German wife), while Elizabeth played the part of a respectable wife and mother, even though her heart was never entirely in it. But Grandma Barbara is a patient woman, and she bided her time."

They all seemed to look up to Isobel, to treat her with deference, as if she were their queen, but they showed Maggie a good deal of respect too, which she found flattering, despite herself. Isobel's niece was here, the dark-haired, olive-skinned Olivia. Then there were the two beautiful West Indian men, Michael and Elijah, whose bodies made her mouth water; The twins James and Julia Thorne; And the English teacher, Cassie Payne. What their relationship to the Carringtons was, she didn't know, but she knew the Carringtons and their ways well enough to know that these people were closely bound to them, otherwise they would never have trusted them.

"And then she sent you."

"No," said the tall, grey-eyed woman standing beside Isobel. "Then she sent me. She has faith in her granddaughters, you see."

"You're part Carrington too?"

"Oh, I'm all Carrington," said Caroline Wilkinson.

"She's my cousin," said Isobel, stroking Caroline's hair and treating her to a swift but intimate kiss. "Her mommy's my Aunt Christine, and her daddy's my Uncle David."

"So you might say I'm her cousin twice over," purred Caroline, drawing Isobel in for a second kiss. Fuck, all the Carrington women were simultaneously gorgeous and feral! It made Maggie hot under the collar just thinking about it.

"I remember David," said Maggie. "So tell me, Caroline, how many half-siblings do you have by now?"

Caroline laughed. "Five that I know of for certain, though Faith's kind of my cousin and my niece."

"God bless the Carrington Gene!"

"Well, probably not God," observed Isobel. "More likely one of those horny Greek deities. Aphrodite or Zeus or some such.

"Some would argue Satan or one of his infernal demons," said Maggie wryly.

"Well, you have the Gene too, Aunt Maggie. Or should that be 'Great Aunt'?"

"Jesus! I can do without that!"

"Either way, you're a Carrington through and through. Don't you think it's time you stopped equivocating and nailed your colours to the mast?"

"Why should I though. I'm too old for this nonsense, truth to tell."

"Too old? Absurd! You've suppressed it all for much too long, Aunt Maggie. But there's no reason to suppress it any longer. The sooner you admit it, the quicker you can start making up for lost time."

"I don't consider my long and happy marriage to be 'lost time'," she huffed.

"Whatever. The point is, you're every bit as much a child of Hyacinthus as I am, and Caroline is. Now, look around the room. Look at all the gorgeous flesh on offer, all of it yours for the taking. A true Carrington wouldn't hesitate to avail herself of such juicy fruit, would she?"

"She wouldn't," agreed Maggie. The temptation was powerful. And the truth was, she was not getting any younger. How many more years, realistically, did she have in which to indulge her birthright. Because, smug, arrogant cow that she was, Isobel was not wrong.

"Everyone here is either family or else a true disciple of Hyacinthus. Everyone here is ready and willing to bring you pleasure, Maggie Willis. They know who you are. They'd do anything you asked them to. All you need is the will to ask it."

Maggie sighed. "And in return?"

"Nothing!" said Isobel. "All I'm asking is that you acknowledge who you are, come back into the fold. Be a Carrington again."

"I never stopped being a Carrington."

"Of course you didn't. But you need to start acting like one. Are you ready for that?"

She looked around the room. It certainly was full of temptations, not just the gorgeous West Indian men, the delectable Olivia, the Thornes, Cassie Payne, Simon and Caroline, but the stunning Aaliyah Khan and the vicar's nineteen-year-old daughter, Emilia Rice.

"So much to enjoy!" enthused Isobel. "But if you had the pick of anyone in this room which, to be clear, you do, who would you choose, and what would you like to do with them?"

That was easy. Much as she craved cocks in her arse and pussy, her eyes were drawn to one, beatific figure. She smiled. "I'd like her," she said, pointing at Olivia, "to lick my pussy." Olivia, who was standing close by, looked up at her. "Assuming she's not put off by the prospect of an old lady's twat."

Olivia licked her lips, looking Maggie up and down with hungry eyes. "I think cunts are like bottles of fine wine," she purred. "They improve with age."

"Then I can offer you a Chateau Philips, 1961," grinned Maggie. Taking Olivia by the hand, she led her over to her comfortable, chintz armchair. Hiking up her dress, she sank into it and spread her legs invitingly. Olivia, dressed in a gypsy top and ripped jeans, went down on her knees in front of her. Looking into her beautiful eyes, Maggie drew aside her knickers to reveal her grey-fringed pussy, already moist at the prospect of the young goddess paying it homage.

"I can't believe I'm about to go down on the legendary Maggie Philips!" she said.

"Make me proud, Olivia," replied Maggie, settling back in her chair and parting her labia with her fingers. With a low growl, the teenager dipped her head and began to feast.

The girl was good. First, she would take broad tongue-swipes of Maggie's entire pussy, then stab deep into her, then nibble at her labia, then suck on her clitoris, until the old woman was writhing in her seat, fondling her own tits and happily whimpering and sighing as Olivia took her in a slow, upward spiral of oral bliss. And her lust was intensified by what was happening elsewhere in the salon because the others had taken Olivia's actions as a signal to begin their own lubricious games. Seated on her throne, Maggie was in an excellent position from which to observe the proceedings, even as Olivia continued to eat her out.

Caroline and Isobel had resumed their make-out session, but it was growing heavier, and Caroline's blouse was hanging open as Isobel fondled her cousin's perfect breasts. Cassie Payne was on the armchair opposite with Aaliyah sitting on her lap; The two of them were snogging hard while Cassie fondled her former pupil's broad, lush backside. Simon was on his knees in front of James Thorne and was unzipping the man's trousers and searching for his cock. Michael was also on his knees, this time in front of Julia Thorne, kissing her feet and licking her shoes. Meanwhile, Elijah had his monstrous cock free, liberated by Emilia Rice who stood behind him, stroking it. It was like the old days again, and Maggie suddenly felt forty years melt away in the liquid heat of her pussy, and the magical spellcasting of Olivia's tongue.

Olivia surfaced, face shining with Maggie's juices, only long enough to pull down the woman's knickers. She didn't take them all the way off but left them around her ankles while she skinned off her gypsy top to reveal her firm, luscious breasts, which made Maggie's mouth water and her mind race. "Put your fingers in me!" she urged. "And look at me while you're doing it."

The girl grinned up at her, impudent and confident as she sank two slender digits into Maggie's slit and waggled them inside her. "How do you like that, Mrs Willis?" she purred.

"Yes!" breathed Maggie, tightening her grip on the arms of the chair. "Yes, fuck me, you little tramp!"

"Mm, do you like my fingers in your cunt? Do you, Mrs Willis?"

"Fuck, yes! Harder, you dirty whore! Fuck me harder!"

Olivia was not slow to respond. She drove both digits hard into Maggie's slit, making delicious squelching sounds as they sawed in and out. Olivia kept her eyes fixed on Maggie's, licking her lips as she fingered her. "You're so wet, you slut!"

"Nothing makes me wetter than a young whore!"

"Want more fingers? Is two not enough?"

"Yes. Yes, give me more."

As Olivia added a third finger inside her, she looked up again for the first time in what seemed like many minutes. And all around her, things had moved on. Caroline and Isobel were half naked, and each of them had her face buried between the other's legs. Simon was sucking James' cock while, next to them, Michael was lapping away at Julia's pussy. She didn't miss the small detail that James and Julia were holding hands as they received the passionate homage of the two men. A short way away from them, Emilia was on all-fours with Elijah's huge cock squeezed into her tight, young pussy. On the armchair opposite, Caroline and Aaliyah were still snogging, but Caroline was fingering Aaliyah's pussy as they kissed, and the Asian girl's knickers were at half-mast. The room was pervaded with the smell of sweat and wet pussies.

But at that point, she lost interest in all of it, because Olivia had added a fourth finger and folded in her thumb, so that she was now fisting Maggie's cunt, flicking her clitoris with her tongue as she did so. She closed her eyes for a few moments, concentrating all her senses on the feel of Olivia's fist in her pussy and the way in which her tongue was worshipping her. It was too much! Gripping on to the armchair for dear life, her legs started to spasm, and she let out a wail of unbearable ecstasy as orgasm shuddered through her, the best she could remember in decades.

"Fuck me! Fucking fist me, you dirty, fucking cunt!" The obscenities poured from her like an aeons-delayed release, and Olivia responded, redoubling her efforts, pounding her fist in and out of Maggie's sopping-wet cunt as the woman came.

She slumped back in the chair as Olivia carefully extracted her fist, and just as carefully licked it clean, again fixing her eyes on Maggie's as she did it.

"Thank-you!" said Maggie, and she meant it. But this did not feel like a one-orgasm kind of day. Once she had come down from her mind-shattering orgasm, Maggie allowed Olivia to help her to her feet. She kissed the girl, long and hard, delighted to find Olivia's tongue probing into her mouth, and her hands roving over her arse.

"Undress me!" she breathed in Olivia's ear.

Olivia grinned a wolfish grin, reaching behind Maggie to unzip her dress, and careful to push her own breasts against the older woman's as she did so, and to run her tongue around the rim of her ear. She helped Maggie out of her dress and bra, then watched her kick away the knickers around her ankles. Maggie struck a pose. "Not bad for an old woman, eh?"

"Hot as fuck!" agreed Olivia, already unfastening her jeans and peeling them off. She wore no knickers and so now stood revealed in her divine nakedness.

"Christ on a bike, you really are a goddess!" breathed Maggie.

"Thank-you!" Olivia curtsied to her.

"Do you think we should mingle now?"

"I do!"

Maggie strode across to where Michael was lapping away at Julia's pussy and tapped him on the shoulder. "I need you, young man," she told him, shooting an apologetic glance at Julia, who waved a gracious hand in reply. "And you," she added, addressing Elijah. The man was still thrusting in and out of Emilia's teenage pussy, but if he was disappointed to swap the teenager for the sexagenarian, he showed no sign of it. He simply withdrew his seemingly endless cock from her snatch and allowed Maggie to take his hand. With Michael holding her other hand, she led them over to an empty space on the floor.

"I find myself with a taste for cock," she told them. "And you two have the most appetising in the room." They grinned at her without a trace of modesty. "I want this one in my pussy," she said, running two fingers along the shaft of Michael's beautiful phallus, "and I want this gargantuan thing in my mouth," she added, taking Elijah's in her other hand, still not quite able to believe that a human penis could achieve such dimensions.

"They don't call me Tripod for nothing," he boasted.

She had Michael lie on his back, dick thrusting up like a flagpole, then squatted over him and sank onto it with a sigh. It spread her apart and penetrated deep, deep into her cunt. "Fuck!" she cried out, putting her hands to her naked tits and weighing them as she powered herself back up the shaft and down again, letting him split and fill her all over again. Breathing deep, she beckoned to Elijah, who stepped up to her. His cock was a foot long, if it was an inch, and three inches in girth. She virtually had to unhinge her jaw to get any part of it into her mouth, but Jesus fuck it was worth it. It tasted divine, and the sensation of having the head hit the back of her throat, even though more than half of it was still protruding from her mouth, was amazing. She tried not to gag but couldn't quite help herself. She looked up at him, to reassure him it was OK, and he changed the angle slightly before pushing deeper, down into her throat.

Around her, the orgy had mutated but was continuing. Simon was lying on his back, wanking his hard cock, while Emilia straddled his face. Aaliyah was on her hands and knees, face buried between Julia's thighs, while James ploughed her from behind. Isobel was bent forward, supporting herself with her hands on the back of a chair, while Cassie knelt behind her, vigorously tonguing her arsehole. Olivia had gone into a soixante-neuf with Caroline.

Maggie rode up and down Michael's cock, leaking pussy-juices all over him, and he took her hips in his hands to hold her steady. And she was leaking at the other end to, as Elijah's cock down her throat forced her to drool in a most unladylike way. Being ladylike was bottom of her priorities right now, however, and the idea of debasing herself on these two beautiful, black cocks was heavenly. She only wished Beth and Ursula were there to see her. That sent a jolt through her. She had never had such a thought about her girls before, and suddenly she was imagining them naked and aroused. She eased her mouth from Elijah's cock and looked up at him, eyes blazing with lust.

"In my arse!" she told him. "Split me apart!"

Laughing, Elijah moved around behind her while Michael accommodatingly spread the woman's buttocks wide with his hands, his cock still buried to the hilt in her pussy. Maggie could see nothing of what was happening behind her, but she soon felt the head of Elijah's super-cock nestling between her cheeks and probing at her arsehole. Slippery with her drool, it was already sufficiently lubricated to ease its way into her rectum, despite the resistance provided by Michael's cock in her vagina. It really did feel like she was being split apart, and her head was reeling with lust and depravity. It had been many, many years since she had had two cocks inside her like this, and she had forgotten what a rush it was, how wanton it made her feel.

"That's it!" she screamed. "Jesus fucking Christ! Now fuck me, the pair of you! Make me feel it!"

And as the two beautiful men worked harmoniously to fuck her, one plunging deep as the other withdrew, and vice-versa, Maggie glanced from side to side to check on the progress of the orgy in her salon. Simon and Emilia were in a vigorous sixty-nine, each competing to see who could make the other come first; Julia was grabbing Aaliyah's hair hard as the Asian girl tongued her to death, with James slapping her arse as he fucked her young pussy; Cassie had three fingers in Isobel's quim as she devoured the woman's arsehole; And Olivia and Caroline were still feasting on each other's pussies. Four men and eight women caught in a maelstrom of debauchery. Twelve people. So, so close to being a coven...

Maggie screamed as she came. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me hard! Fuck!"

The two men continued to see-saw into her, filling her up, tearing her apart with their huge, glorious cocks. It was Michael who succumbed first. Sensing him close to the edge, Maggie locked her mouth onto his and drove her tongue into his mouth just seconds before his eruption. He groaned as his body stiffened, and she sucked on his tongue as he pumped her full of sperm. Elijah drew his cock out of her arse, leaving her impossibly empty. She rolled away from Michael, sensing what the other man wanted to do. As she did so, she saw Elijah's black serpent rearing up in front of her face, his hand a blur up and down the immeasurable length of his shaft. His eyes rolled back, and his face contorted as he exploded in her face, splattering her chin, her cheeks, her nose, her eyes, her hair with his illimitable cum. And as he continued to ejaculate, Maggie fingered herself furiously, coming in ripping waves as he drowned her in semen.

She had to wipe cum from her eyes before she could see the climax of the orgy: Simon coming in Emilia's pretty face; Julia shuddering from head to toe on the point of Aaliyah's tongue; James spurting cum over her creamy, coffee-coloured buttocks; Isobel squirting in Cassie's face; Caroline and Olivia competing to see who could make the other come the most times.

"Well?" prompted Isobel.

The orgy had finally petered out, and Maggie's salon was full of naked, satiated people. She was naked herself, with Michael's cum still dribbling out of her quim, even though she was now sitting demurely in her armchair, for all the world as if she had just presided over a tea-party. Isobel, also naked, was standing in front of her, with the sunlight creating a halo from her golden hair.

"Well what?"

"Are you ready to come back to us?"

Maggie offered her a quizzical smile and parted her thighs. "Lick my cunt clean and I'll consider it."

ii. Julia Thorne

Clara was bored. Her office job at Carmichael Recruiting was less than exciting at the best of times but today was particularly tedious; She had been given the brain-challenging task of entering invoice data into a spreadsheet and her mind was constantly wandering. Her favourite way of passing time on such a boring day was to check out each of the other employees in the open-plan office, assess how fuckable they were, and attempt to flirt with the more appealing ones. She tried to be objective, letting neither age nor gender weight her assessment unfairly. On her own bank of six desks there was Gregory, middle-aged, fat, and moderately funny on a good day (today's fuckability rating: 12.5%); Saskia, early thirties, a bit sarcastic and judgy but with nice tits and a stylish hair-do (58%); Edwin, not much older than she was but much more nervous and fidgety (25%); Aaliyah, extremely fit with big, brown eyes and an infectious giggle (97%); and Jocelyn, fifty-something, very classy, posh accent (70%). It struck her, as it often struck her, that she always scored women, on average, higher than she scored men. Maybe Owen was right about her, maybe she did lean towards the lezzie side. She didn't think it was particularly important. She just fancied a nice, hard fuck. If life gives you lesbians, make lesbianade. The stupid joke amused her.

The day took a more interesting turn just before lunchtime when her boss (and the owner's daughter), Abigail Carmichael (75% plus), came into the office accompanied by three people she had never seen before, smartly attired and business-like. Two of them were youngish men (43% and 61% respectively) and one of them was a woman in her thirties, whose severely beautiful face, perfect makeup, stylish haircut, and sharp trouser suit put her well into the 90-plus category. They disappeared into Abigail's office, and that seemed to be that.

"Who are they?" she asked the others.

"Web designers, I think," said Gregory. "Abi said she was tendering for the new site."

An instant message pinged on Clara's phone. It was from Aaliyah.

"10-1 you fancy the honey in the suit"

She looked up to catch Aaliyah's eye. The girl was smirking and looking very pleased with herself. Clara grinned and nodded. Aaliyah knew what sort of things pushed Clara's buttons. The two of them often had lunch together, and their conversations could get pretty spicy. Aaliyah seemed to share her fairly catholic taste in fuckable people.

"Wouldn't kick her out of bed"

She could see Aaliyah typing on her phone and awaited the reply while pretending to focus on her bloody invoices.

"I know her, as it goes"

"WHAT??? Dish!"

"Julia Thorne. Designed my dad's website last yr"

"What's she like?"

"Stern. Sexy. Prob. pegs her bf, if she has one"

"Don't you KNOW?"

"Gives off dyke-domme vibes IMO"

"Mmm. She can dyke me up any fkn day!"

The two of them caught each other's eye again and tried not to giggle. Some of the others were looking at them with various attitudes of amusement and annoyance. Clara decided to park it until lunchtime. But as lunchtime approached, and she was reaching into her bag for the sandwiches she had picked up on the way into work, her boss put her head round the door.

"Clara? Could you pop in here for a bit, please?"

That was unexpected. What could they possibly want her for? Eager as a puppy, though, she sprang up and made her way into the office. The two men were seated in front of Abi's desk while the woman, Julia Thorne, was seated behind it next to Abi with a laptop open in front of her, apparently halfway through a presentation.

"Ah, Clara, come in," said Abi. "I'd like you to meet Charlie, Hugo, and Julia. They're going to be managing our new website for us."

Clara said her hellos, which were met with ill-disguised lust from the two men and indifference from Julia Thorne, who had cheekbones you could slice bread with and an icy beauty that made Clara's pulse race. "Clara has some background in design," Abi told them (which was true), "and she has some sound ideas on what would match the company's look and feel." This was news to Clara, but she was not about to contradict her boss. "So, Clara, what I'd like you to do is to ride shotgun for me. I'll be visiting Julia's company next week, so that we can go over their provisional designs, and I'd like you to come with me. Be a second pair of eyes, so to speak. How does that sound?"

"That sounds amazing!" said Clara.

"Good. This is a real opportunity for you to shine. If we get this right, we could really grow our sales over the next couple of years, and you could be an important part of that, Miss Brookes."

For some reason, that made Julia pay attention to her for the first time. She frowned at Clara, which made the girl's stomach flip over. "Clara Brookes?" she said, as if trying out the name to see what it tasted of. "You're not Maggie Willis' granddaughter, are you?"

"I am!" said Clara. "Do you know her?"

"I met her the other day, actually," said Julia. She spoke exactly how she looked, crisp, no-nonsense, vowels as cut-glass as her cheekbones. "The chair of our company is a neighbour of yours. Do you know Isobel Carrington?"

"I've seen her around," said Clara. "I don't really know her, though."

"I believe that may be about to change."

iii. A Neighbourly Bond

Elizabeth rang the doorbell while Ashley stood a respectful distance behind her. It was Simon who answered the door, and he smiled when he saw them, though she wasn't sure how genuine it was. They had invited themselves, after all, and at fairly short notice.

"We brought some vino," she said, holding up a bottle in evidence.

"Nice," he said. "Well, come in."

Beckoning to Ash, she followed him inside. Simon ushered them through to the living room, where Caroline was standing by their old-fashioned, dark-oak sideboard. She was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans that fit snugly enough to accentuate the pleasing shape of her thighs and bottom.

"I didn't know you were coming," said Caroline, sounding put out.

"I'll come when I please," said Elizabeth. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Their eyes met for a moment, and whatever Caroline saw in Elizabeth's was enough to make her subside. "Of course not!" she trilled. "I'd never turn you away."

Caroline led them into her conservatory, which boasted a prime view of her lovely garden. Elizabeth reclined on a pink, padded chaise-longue, while Ash sat on the floor beside her, not murmuring a word. Caroline sat on a matching hard-backed chair opposite, with Simon standing behind her, playing with her hair.

"I came," said Elizabeth, "because your husband made me a promise, and it's time for him to make good on it. He's not going to back out, is he?" It amused her to talk about Simon to Caroline, when he was right there with her. She ignored him as if he didn't exist, and the same went for Ash. She wanted to make it clear that this arrangement was between herself and Caroline, and that their husbands were there only to do as they were told.

"Certainly not!"

"It must be nice to have a bisexual husband," she continued. "Ash has always been tiresomely straight, but that's about to change. He's going to be bisexual whether he likes it or not. Isn't that right, Ashley?" She looked at him for the first time.

"I'll be whatever pleases you, mistress," he said. She knew he was squirming, having to speak like that in front of their neighbours, but he was under strict instructions. And she liked making him squirm.

"So obedient!" gasped Caroline. "What a good boy he is!"

"He'd better be," said Elizabeth.

"When we moved into the Village, I hoped I might meet some two-way swingers, if you see what I mean. We had a bit of a circle going in our old home."

"Why did you move here?"

"I had my reasons," she said enigmatically. "I'll tell you all about them one day."

"Yes, there's no time now," replied Elizabeth. "It's time, in fact, that you were fucked."

"Don't I get a say?" asked Caroline with a teasing grin. "Doesn't my husband?"

"You'll be fucked when I say you'll be fucked. Now get undressed."

"Oh my! I suddenly have a super-wet pussy," she answered, peeling off her T-shirt to reveal firm little tits in a white, lacy bra.

"Good. That will certainly help matters along."

Caroline skinned out of her jeans, and looked Elizabeth directly in the eye, teasing and taunting, as she stripped out of her bra and knickers. Naked, the woman smouldered with sexuality, and it was all Elizabeth could do to affect an air of indifference.

"Finally. Now, I want you and Ashley on your knees, just over there, I think. It's time I put you to work."

Ashley was quick to obey, while Caroline did so more coquettishly. They looked adorable, kneeling side by side like good little whores. She glanced at Simon. "I'm going to fuck your wife," she told him. "You can have my husband or do without."

"That works for me," he told her, walking around to help her up off the chaise-longue. Three pairs of eyes were fixed on Elizabeth as she unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her skirt, knowing that each of them hungered for her. Once down to her black lingerie, she bent down to rummage in her bag, deliberately giving the others a prime view of her scantily-clad arse. She retrieved what she was looking for, a long, slim dildo and its accompanying straps, and climbed into it.

"Hard yet?" she asked Simon as she took his hand and stepped up to the kneeling couple.

"Like a rock," he confirmed.

"Good! It's about time my husband confronted a nice, hard cock. Get it out."

Simon dutifully unzipped his trousers and freed his cock, so that the head of it was barely a foot from Ashley's nose. Elizabeth similarly aimed her cock towards Caroline's face.

"Well?" she enquired. "What are you waiting for? You both have cocks to suck."

Looking up at her through impudent grey eyes, Caroline licked her lips before parting them to flick her tongue over the head of Elizabeth's dildo. Not taking her eyes off her, she took it between her lips, sucking gently on the head as if it were a real cock that she was trying to pleasure. Beside her, Ashley was approaching his task not so much coquettishly as with abject terror. He put out a tentative tongue to test the taste of Simon's cockhead before, closing his eyes, he took it between his lips as if he were being forced to swallow something that had, at best, a 50-50 chance of being poisonous. Simon caught her eye, and she could see how amused he was by her husband's squeamishness. He put both hands on the back of Ashley's head, and eased himself into the man's mouth while Elizabeth, mirroring him, did the same with Caroline.

Elizabeth bit her lip. While, obviously, she could feel nothing of Caroline's mouth on her ersatz cock, the sight of her and Ashley, kneeling subserviently side by side, while they went down on her and Simon, sent thrills through her body. Their heads began to bob, and there was no sound but that of mouths squelching on cocks and Simon's occasional hiss of pleasure.

"Does it feel good?" she asked him. "Is my husband a good cock-sucker?"

"He's doing his best," replied Simon. "I don't have to ask about my wife."

"They both look so pretty with their mouths full of cock, don't you think?"

"They do! A pretty pair of whores."

"Oh, I like that," smirked Elizabeth. "That is, indeed, what they are."

She could see that Ashley was struggling a little. Perhaps his jaw was aching, or he was finding it difficult to breathe, but he'd just have to get used to it, as she once had. He had been too comfortably straight for too many years, without even considering the alternative. If a man went his whole life without sucking a cock, how was he to know whether he liked it or not? She turned her attention back to Caroline, who did indeed look pretty on her knees, looking up at her, with her jaw stretched open. Still, she was feeling magnanimous.

"On your hands and knees, whore!" she told her.

A gleam in her eye, and all but purring with expectation, Caroline drew her lips from Elizabeth's cock with a smacking sound and, turning around, went down on all-fours, raising an expectant backside up at her. It was a delectable sight, it was impossible to deny, and both Elizabeth and Simon drank in the vision of Caroline's gorgeous arse and oh-so-inviting pussy. Never one to decline an invitation, Elizabeth knelt behind her, guided the head of her cock between the woman's labia, and sank the dildo into her pliant depths. Caroline's groan was deep and guttural, as if this was what she had been waiting for. Elizabeth took her hips in her hands and began, with a slow, easy rhythm, to fuck her.

From where she knelt, she was pretty much at eye level with Ashley's head bobbing up and down on Simon's patient cock. He had a slightly panicked look on his face, but he was determined to obey his mistress and, to his credit, never faltered. Simon's hands were in his hair, steering and guiding him as he sucked and slurped his first ever cock. The idea that he would do this to please her, to obey her, was a powerful one. Was he doing it purely because she wanted him to? Or was he doing it because it was secretly what he wanted to do? Or, she mused as she thrust in and out of Caroline's hungry cunt, did he want to do it because he knew it pleased her? What a pathetic little worm he was. She loved him with every fibre of her being.

As she fucked Caroline, the woman gyrated her hips and pushed back against her, moving to the rhythms of Elizabeth's thrusts. Sensing the creature's need, Elizabeth upped the tempo from andante to allegro. And when Caroline murmured, "That's it! Fuck me, bitch!" she rewarded the impudence with a hefty slap across her buttocks. Caroline yelped, and it was such a delicious sound that she slapped her again, harder this time, and fucked her even deeper.

A groan from Simon suggested that he approved of this, and a glance up at the man told her he was getting pretty close. Did he intend to come down her husband's throat? A stimulating thought, but not what she envisaged right now.

"Come in the slut's face!" she told him.

That made Caroline crane her neck around, eager to see what was happening behind her.

"Eyes front!" barked Elizabeth, with another slap across the woman's arse, which was now showing evidence of its abuse in the form of blurry, pink handprints. Caroline complied with a groan. She pounded the bitch as she watched Simon withdraw his glistening cock from Ashley's mouth. He held her husband's head in place with one hand, tangled in his hair, while he furiously wanked his cock with the other. Ashley was still fully dressed, but she could see a telltale bulge in his jeans. She smiled. He wanted this, the dirty slut!

And he got it, too! With a grunt and a grimace, Simon came, jetting thick ropes of cum over Ashley's face and neck. Ashley's only response was to close his eyes and take it. Elizabeth's was to pound Caroline still harder, and rain down a flurry of slaps across her irresistible arse. As he finished coming, Simon plunged his cock back into Ashley's mouth. Elizabeth was about to tell her husband to suck it clean, but she soon saw that he needed no telling; He was already working on it, even as Simon's cum dripped down his cheeks and off his chin, the smell of it pungent in her nostrils.

Tiring, and with her knees hurting from the hard floor, Elizabeth withdrew her unliving cock from Caroline's pussy, ignoring the woman's groans of protest. Hurrying to unbuckle the straps, she tossed it aside, lay back on the floor, splayed her legs apart, and thrust two urgent fingers into her slit. Caroline was doing something similar, to judge by the moans and squelching sounds emanating from her direction. That only left Ashley.

As Simon withdrew from him and slumped in the chair, spent, Ashley was left abandoned, with an erection that was threatening to burst the seams of his jeans. He watched the two women furiously masturbating, stroking himself through the coarse denim, as if unsure what he should, or was allowed to, do.

"Take your cock out," grunted Elizabeth through the clenched teeth of impending climax. "Let me see you wank."

Ashley was not slow to comply. Positioning himself between Elizabeth and Caroline, presumably so that he could watch them both pleasuring themselves while he did likewise, he drew his hard cock out of the flies of his jeans and stood there, masturbating with some urgency. Perhaps this was what drove Caroline over the edge, or perhaps she had been approaching it anyway, but the sexy bitch stiffened and arched her back as she plunged two merciless fingers in and out and rode them over the precipice of orgasm, shuddering and cursing as she went. By the time her paroxysms stilled, Elizabeth was also coming, and so was Ashley. It felt amazing to come together, watched by their satiated neighbours, Elizabeth trembling from head to toe and Ashley's cum arcing out at an impressive trajectory to splash on the laminate floor of the conservatory. This, decided Elizabeth emphatically, was how she wanted her life to be.

At last, everyone was still, though breathing hard, and Elizabeth glanced from one to the other, trying to gauge their reactions to what they had all just done. Simon had a look of quiet satisfaction, Caroline was smirking, Ashley looked vaguely stunned.

"You made a mess on Mrs Wilkinson's clean floor," she told him, when she caught her eye. "Why don't you lick it up, like a good boy?"

II. The Weirdest of Love Triangles

Fucking is the ultimate expression of love. Do you not love your family?

Sir William Carrington, On Family, Maxim 2

i. Jealousy

Things had been weird in the Ellis household for nearly two weeks now. Matilda knew that Ryan had told Harriet about their little oral session, but nobody was saying anything. There was an awkward impasse between the three of them, complicated by the fact that it was being kept secret from Tobias, who definitely wouldn't understand or approve of the incestuous shenanigans. But on that Friday, Harriet had been doing her exams and was home early, meaning that Matilda had her elder daughter to herself for once. They circled each other that afternoon, like metaphorical prize fighters unwilling to risk the first punch. But in the end, Harriet broke.

"Ryan told me what you did," she blurted out.

Matilda had been working in the kitchen and had only popped into the living room to ask if she wanted anything to drink. She paused in the doorway. At first, she was flustered, but a hardened resolve soon took over her. "Is that so?" she asked dangerously.

"Yes. He tells me everything."

"And?"

"You admit it? You sucked Ryan's cock?"

"I'm not sure that's any of your business."

"What would dad say, if he found out?"

"I don't know. What would he say if he knew his daughter was also sucking her brother's cock?"

Harriet was on her feet in an instant. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I think you'd be surprised by what I'd dare, Harriet. I think you'd be very surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means don't go throwing threats around!"

"You think I won't tell dad?"

"Tell him. Don't tell him. What do I care?"

"Why did you do it, mom? How could you! Your own son!"

"And your own brother. You do see the double standard here, I take it?"

"It's different!"

"Is it? You lust after Ryan's cock, I lust after Ryan's cock. Seems pretty much the same to me."

"You're his mother!"

"You're his sister!" she mocked. "And if you don't stop yelling at me, I'll show you what else a mother's capable of."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning shut the fuck up and stop whining like a spoiled brat!" Harriet's mouth dropped open. She began to protest but didn't know where to start. "Oh, what's the matter? Nothing else to say, Miss Mouthy?"

Harriet stepped up to her mother, got her face in hers, and snarled, "I say you're a disgusting slut who whores herself to her own son!"

Without warning, Matilda brought the flat of her hand crashing into her daughter's cheek. Never in her life had she struck any of her children, and Harriet stepped back, eyes wide with horror. "You... you hit me!"

"You deserved it, you mouthy little shit. You're not the least bit outraged that I'm doing sexual things with my son, you're jealous because I'm doing it with your man."

"Fuck!"

"Well?" Matilda advanced into the room, and Harriet shrank back.

"Ryan's mine," she said.

Matilda laughed in her face. "He's not anyone's," she said. "He's a young man, and like all young men he'll get a hard-on for anyone with tits and a pussy."

"He's not like that! You're vile!"

She struck her again and it felt... good. She wasn't expecting it to, but somehow it did. But why? Harriet, nursing her stinging cheek, turned impudent eyes up at her mother. "So you not only like sucking boys' cocks, you like hitting girls too!"

"Want another?"

Harriet licked her lips. "You wouldn't dare, you fucking bitch!"

"I'd stop daring me, if I were you."

The truth was, Matilda had seen a change in her daughter's eyes. She had struck her the first time out of rage, and the second time because she felt she deserved it, but she hadn't expected this reaction from Harriet; The slut wanted this. "I believe it's time you were taught to respect your mother, don't you?"

"I don't respect you. You're a dirty slut!"

Matilda grabbed her daughter by the hair and dragged her over to the armchair. Perching on the edge of it, she threw Harriet over her knee and started slapping her arse. It had little effect because she was wearing jeans, but she did it anyway. At first, Harriet fought her, but within half-a-dozen spanks she lay still.

"Are you sorry?"

"No. Fuck you. It doesn't even hurt."

Matilda paused. "OK, then stand up and unfasten your jeans."

To her astonishment, Harriet quiescently did as she suggested. She was going to step out of them, but Matilda stopped her. "No, leave them like that, around your ankles, and get back over my lap."

Swallowing hard, Harriet did as her mother told her. So, there was a first time for everything. All that now stood between Matilda's palm and her daughter's buttocks were her thin, cotton knickers. She went to work, landing slap after open-handed slap on Harriet's firm, creamy arse. It was a delicious-looking thing, she was happy to admit, though she soon turned its creamy complexion into something much pinker. Apart from the occasional stifled whimper, Harriet lay still, enduring the punishment. But then, after a dozen spanks, she started to squirm. At first, Matilda thought she was doing so out of pain, or a desire to get away, but the truth soon dawned on her. Pausing, she slipped her hand down the back of Harriet's knickers and ran two fingers down the groove of her pussy. The girl was soaking wet!

"You dirty little bitch, you're loving this!"

"Mm, your fingers feel nice..." Her mind aflame, Matilda kept her hand inside her daughter's knickers, running her fingers up and down her slit, while Harriet arched and groaned in response. Her fingers slid easily along the groove, so damp was the teenager's pussy. "Oh God, that's so good..."

"This was supposed to be a punishment, not a bloody reward!" So saying, Matilda rolled Harriet off her lap, causing her to land in an ungainly heap on the floor. Harriet looked back up at her. The girl was wild-haired and wild-eyed, flushed red from forehead to shoulders, quivering with lust. With her jeans around her ankles, and her knickers all askew, she looked fucking hot.

"Punish me some more, mom..." She pushed her knickers down around her knees as she spoke and, when Matilda did not immediately respond, began to finger herself, keeping her eyes fixed on her mother's as she did so.

Matilda stood up and looked down at her wanton daughter, devouring the scene with her eyes. Saying nothing, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall, kicking it away nonchalantly. She stepped forward and stood astride Harriet, one foot either side of her waist, so that the girl was looking up at her powder-blue knickers. "Is this how you want it, slut?"

Harriet nodded. "I never knew you were such a sexy bitch," she told her mother. "No wonder Ryan has the hots for you."

"And what about you, Harriet? Do you have the hots for mommy too?"

The girl continued to finger herself as she fixed an impudent gaze on Matilda. "I'm not really into girls," she said.

"Oh?" Matilda slid her knickers down and off, dropping them onto Harriets' face. Harriet bunched them up under her nose, and inhaled them, looking up at her mother's exposed pussy. "Looks like it."

"Nice view!" commented Harriet.

"You think so? Well, that's good, because I want you to eat my cunt!"

"Mom!"

Matilda was ablaze with unexpected lust. "Don't 'mom' me! Are you going to do as you're told?"

Harriet gaped at her, but Matilda could already see the realisation dawning on her. No, it was not realisation it was something more like submission to her will. "Yes, mom," she said.

"That's better. Now come and lick my cunt, like a good little girl."

She supposed that Harriet had never eaten pussy before, but to the girl's credit she did not hesitate. She buried her face between her mother's thighs and went for it. It was not the most skilful tonguing Matilda had ever received but it was definitely the hottest. How many women got to be eaten out by their own teenage daughter? She put both hands on Harriet's head, not that she needed to be trapped in place, and lay back in the armchair. She was no longer even thinking about how wrong this was, only about how hot this was. And after she came, and Harriet looked up at her, face ashine with her mother's juices, she felt an upsurge of pride and adoration for her beautiful, sexy daughter.

ii. The Defining Characteristic of Carrington Women

"So, have you fucked your son yet?"

Isobel's ice-blue eyes were dancing with mischief as the two women regarded each other across the patisserie table. Matilda was eating a sticky bun and almost choked on it. Isobel had lowered her voice a little, but the shop was pretty crowded.

"No!" she said, glaring at her friend. She leaned forward and whispered, "There have been other developments though."

"With Ryan?"

She shook her head. "With Harriet."

"Girl!"

Matilda rather enjoyed the fact that she had surprised the cool, cynical woman, so she didn't elaborate until pressed. She leaned forward even closer to murmur, "I spanked her, and she ate me out."

"How unutterably delicious! Did you come?"

"I most unequivocally did come," purred Matilda.

"You're starting to behave like someone with the Gene."

"The famous Carrington Gene?" frowned Matilda.

"You've heard of it then? It makes all Carrington women into glorious sluts and the men into sex-crazed beasts." She grinned. "The family has a long and distinguished history of carnality, incest, and perversion, as is told in the Carrington Codex."

"Are you making this up?"

"I'm not! The Codex has existed for centuries, with more volumes added every generation. Believe me, whatever you think of me, I'm not exceptional when it comes to Carringtons."

"Well if I have any Carrington blood in me, I've never heard about it."

Isobel smirked. "We have a saying: All Carrington women are sluts, but not all sluts are Carringtons."

"How encouraging."

"So what happens now? Are you planning to continue your infamous exploits with your children? And what about your dreary husband?"

She sighed. "I don't know, to be honest. I keep telling myself it has to stop, and then something happens and it's too exciting to resist. Sooner or later, Toby's going to find out, it's inevitable. God knows what will happen then."

"Get ahead of it, then. Own it. Take charge of the situation."

"And what would that involve?"

And Isobel told her.

iii. Nineteen

It was Harriet's nineteenth birthday, and exactly a week since she had been spanked, and since she had licked her mother's pussy. All that week, Harriet had kept thinking back to the way her mother had dominated her, and every time she pictured it, her quim moistened. What was wrong with her? She might enjoy the odd bit of girl-on-girl porn, but she was pretty sure she wasn't a lesbian. Yet the thought of her mother bossing her around or, even better, spanking her, turned her on. She had masturbated to the fantasy of it several times now, getting round the guilty feelings by turning her mother into an authority figure from television, or even her old school headmistress. But it was always a woman, and it was always someone roughly her mother's age. Was that it? Did she want to be dominated by older women? She wasn't sure, though her pussy seemed to be.

She had told Ryan nothing of what happened. There had been no great opportunity for them to be together in the past week anyway, but something held her back from mentioning it. She did keep a close eye on both him and her mother, though, wondering when (not if) they would get together again. Was this the most bizarre 'love triangle' in history, between a brother, his sister, and their mother? It was weird, yes, not the sort of thing you could ask for your friends' advice about, but it was also pretty damned cool.

It was getting to the point where she wanted to bring everything to a head, for all three of them to be open, at least with each other, about what was going on. That was her first motivation in what happened on her birthday, that Friday evening in the middle of May. The second was her half-admitted desire to have an older woman dominate her again.

Her dad would be home late. He usually was on a Friday, and the fact that it was his elder daughter's nineteenth birthday was neither here nor there. He probably didn't even remember. She was up in her room, and Ryan was up in his room. Their mother was downstairs in the living room with their two younger siblings. Going into Ryan's room and getting up to mischief there was dangerous, therefore. Any of the other three people in the house could have come in and caught them, but that made it all the more exciting. So much so, that she waited until her mother had come upstairs to the bathroom, and until she heard her come out again, and set foot on the stairs, before loudly exiting her room and making her way down the landing. Catching her mother's eye, she pretended to be startled, and darted back into her room, laying the 'trap'. She waited for ten minutes, then went more silently to her unsuspecting brother's bedroom and, without knocking, opened the door and slipped inside.

She didn't in any way have to 'seduce' her brother. He knew why she was there, and he was not about to fight her on it. Pretty soon the brand-new nineteen-year-old had her brother's beautiful cock in her mouth and was savouring the taste and hardness of it, while listening intently for the sound of footsteps, actually hoping she would hear them before her brother came (and at the same time hoping that what she was doing distracted Ryan sufficiently that he did not hear them).

Her plan worked out beautifully. The door burst open, and their mother burst in. Ryan actually gasped (though quite what he had to be worried about, she didn't know). Matilda was circumspect enough to be quiet, and to close the door carefully behind her. She stood just inside, eyeing them both more with an air of curiosity than of outrage.

"Well now, isn't this a pretty sight?"

"I imagine it is, yes," said Harriet sassily. "I mean, we are both pretty, after all."

"Is that all you have to say?"

Harriet shrugged, while Ryan seemed frozen into speechlessness. "What else is there to say? I felt the need to suck my brother's cock, so I came to do that."

Matilda folded her arms and glared at her daughter. "The trouble is, that cock belongs to me, you little slut. Did I say you could suck it?"

"But it tastes so good, mommy, I couldn't resist it." Calling her mother 'mommy' was not something she had planned, but it was a stroke of genius; She saw the woman's eyes light up as she did so. "I'm sorry, mommy. Are you mad at me?"

"You shouldn't take what's not yours!"

"Fuck you, bitch!"

"Harry!" Ryan had watched the exchange dumbstruck and could clearly not believe what they were saying to each other.

"Excuse me? Come here!"

Grinning, Harriet got up off the bed and sashayed across to her mother. "Apologise!"

"No!"

Matilda slapped her face which, after all, was exactly what Harriet had been hoping she would do. "I said apologise!"

"Mom!" Ryan's helpless protests were almost enough to make her laugh out loud.

"I'm sorry, mommy," said Harriet, though she said it with enough sass to earn a second slap across the face. "Ow!"

"Stand here!" Matilda grabbed her by the arm and roughly swung her against the door. "Hands on your head!"

Harriet did as she was told, though with as much impudence as she could muster. Ignoring her, her mother now took her place on the bed. Ryan's erection had subsided somewhat, but his mother knew exactly what to do about that. Without speaking, she lay down next to her son and took his half-hard cock in her hand. It immediately sprang back to life; Harriet knew this because her mother had made sure she had a perfect view of what was happening. Squeezing her son's balls, Matilda bent her head to take his cock in her mouth, running her lips up and down his shaft. All three of them were still fully dressed, except for Ryan's cock and balls poking out of his jeans, but that just somehow made it hotter.

"Oh yeah, suck him, mom!" breathed Harriet, carried away by the sheer perversion of the moment.

Matilda needed no encouragement, however, and Ryan was quickly transported into bliss. He lay back on his pillow, eyes closed and hands behind his head while his mother sucked him off. Harriet met her brother's eyes when he opened them. His were questioning but hers, she imagined, were burning with lust. She ran her tongue over her lips.

"Come in the bitch's mouth, Ry!" she urged. "She'd fucking love that!"

Whether it was a coincidence, or whether her words pushed him over the edge, Ryan stiffened and groaned as he began to come. Their mother took her mouth from his cock to take most of the load in her face, squeezing his balls with one hand and stroking him with the other. Harriet could see everything, and watched with delight as her mother's face and hair became streaked with her brother's cum. Matilda looked up at her daughter now, a glorious, sexy mess.

"God, you're such a fucking whore!" Harriet exclaimed, admiringly.

"Is that how you talk to your mother?"

"It's how I talk to skanky whores!"

"I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, young lady," said Matilda, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"Too fucking bad, skank!"

Matilda got up off the bed, still wiping her mouth, and went toe to toe with her daughter. "You're asking for a spanking, you little slut."

"No, mommy, I'm begging for a spanking."

She watched the grin spread across her mother's face. Matilda leaned in close and whispered, "Trousers and knickers round your ankles then. You know the drill." She sat back down on the edge of the bed, while Harriet complied with her instructions, then waddled over.

"What's happening?" asked Ryan, still breathless from his orgasm.

"I'm about to teach your bratty sister a lesson," Matilda told him.

Harriet compliantly draped herself over her mother's lap and waited for the first blow, an open-handed slap across her buttocks. She winced but it felt good, even better for knowing that Ryan could see what was happening. That made it more humiliating and, for reasons she didn't yet understand, being humiliated was turning her on. Another slap. Another. Each spank made a sharp, satisfying sound and delivered a sharp, satisfying pain in her buttocks. Ryan was watching with increasing eagerness, and she could see, to her great satisfaction, that his cock was twitching despite his very recent orgasm.

"Harder!" she breathed.

Her mother said nothing, but the fourth spank was harder. It made her gasp, but it also sent a cascade of tingles through her pussy. The fifth was no more merciful, nor the sixth. Ryan had stood up now, to circle around the bed and get a better look. The bastard loved this!

"Harder!" she said again. "Please, mommy! Turn my bum black and blue!"

Matilda obliged, bringing her hand crashing down on Harriet's bottom for the seventh, eighth, ninth time. Her mother paused then, noticing the eagerness in Ryan's eyes, and the hardness of his cock, poking out from his open zipper.

"Fuck her mouth," she told him. "Come on, son, fuck your slut-sister's slut mouth."

"Yes!" urged Harriet. "Do it!"

Ryan needed no more persuading. Taking her head between his hands, he directed his hard cock at her mouth. She parted her lips to accept it, and he drove it between them. Harriet swirled her tongue around the salty head, purring at the taste of her brother's cock. When her mother delivered a tenth slap across her burning buttocks, she almost bit down on it but managed to restrain herself. He started pushing his cock in and out of her mouth, not deep but in careful, shallow thrusts which were met by her worshipping tongue. Her mother hit her again. Her bum felt like it was on fire by now, but she did not complain. She loved this. A twelfth and thirteenth followed, all the time with Ryan carefully fucking her mouth. She was being used and abused, and it felt fucking magnificent.

Now, though, her mother stopped spanking her and instead began to rub her pussy with the flat of her hand. Harriet could not help but strain back against it, in rhythm with Ryan's mouth-fucking. The sound of her mother's hand was squelchy, which told her just how wet she was. She tried to hump hard against her palm, straining to bring herself off, all the while savouring the taste and scent and feel of her brother's cock in her mouth. The enormity of it, of experiencing sex simultaneously with her brother and their mother, was dwarfed for now by the intensity of the physical sensations, of a tasty cock in her mouth, of a hand rubbing her pussy, of her own impending climax...

What set it off was Ryan's explosion, filling her mouth with the sudden overpowering taste of male cum. He held on to her head, kept his cock in her mouth as he pumped out his cum, and it was enough. Harriet was coming too, quivering in every inch of her body as it washed through her in waves. She was still coming as he withdrew from her, as she swallowed down his offering, as her mother continued to attack her pussy.

The comedown was long and languorous, Ryan and Harriet sprawled back on the bed together, their mother sitting beside them, rubbing loving hands over Harriet's thighs and burning-hot buttocks. Only as the orgasm subsided did she become conscious of the stinging pain her mother had left her with, but she didn't care. She was on a high so powerful, she felt like she'd never come down again.

III. The Stewart Women Surrender

A loving wife will applaud as her husband fucks her friends

Sir William Carrington, On Marriage, Maxim 5

i. The Food of Lust

"Will, would you mind dropping Jemima off? She has clarinet practice all afternoon in Witney."

"Can't," he said. "I'm going out."

"Oh? Where are you going?"

A darkness came into Will's eyes. "None of your fucking business."

She recoiled as if he'd slapped her. "Sorry? What do you mean..."

"I said it's none of your fucking business, bitch!" And with that, he did slap her, clean across the face.

Anna was stunned. She put her hand to her cheek, flushed with shock and outrage. But she also felt her passion flare. She met his gaze for a few seconds but then hung her head and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I forgot my place."

"Well don't forget it again, or I'll give you worse than that. Much worse."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Anna was quiet as she drove Jemima over to Witney, but her daughter didn't seem to notice. She was too busy texting with her friends. She dropped her off with the promise that she or Will would pick her up at eight thirty that evening. Jamie was off playing rugby in Oxford, so when she got home it was to an empty house. In some ways she enjoyed the peace and quiet, but she couldn't stop herself wondering about Will, where he had gone and why he had been so quick to be assertive. Well, not assertive - downright aggressive.

Coming to her own conclusions about what he would want when he got home, Anna made sure she was ready for him when he arrived, which was well past five. He found her lying on their bed, dressed only in a red bra, stockings, and suspenders. And he must have known where he would find her, because he came straight upstairs. When he saw her, he smiled and closed the bedroom door behind him. He had with him a plastic carrier bag, black and unadorned.

"Well now," he said, "don't you scrub up sexy?"

"Why, thank-you, my lord," she said with a smile. "I thought maybe you had an appetite."

He laughed and gave a little bow. "If submission be the food of lust, play on," he quipped.

"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "Please say you'll hurt me. I want you to make me cry!"

"On your hands and knees on the bed," he told her. "And I want those knickers around your knees."

Anna was not slow to comply. She got on all fours facing away from her husband, and pulled her knickers down, exposing her bum and pussy to him. He made an appreciative noise, then she heard him rummaging around, presumably in the bag he was carrying. She wanted to look back over her shoulder, but on the other hand she also wanted whatever he did to be a surprise. And it was a surprise. Without warning, something hard and broad crashed into her upturned arse, making her cry out. It stung badly, but that didn't stop him doing it again, and then a third time.

"What is it? What are you hitting me with?"

He held it up for her to see - a broad, wooden paddle with circular holes cut out to squeeze and pinch the flesh with every strike. "I bought it while I was out."

Anna gulped. "And, er, how many times are you planning to hit me with it?"

Will grinned a malicious grin. "You choose," he told her.

"Really? Oh! Er six I suppose."

"Six?" Will was contemptuous. "That's far too few!"

"I'm not sure how many I can... Is twelve OK?"

"Twelve is perfect," he said. "However, you keep failing to address me as 'master', so I'm afraid I'm going to have to double it. Count for me." He swatted her again, hard, making her wince with pain.

"Ow! Four!"

"Four? Oh no, no, the first three were just practice strokes. And because you miscounted, we're not counting that one either. Start at zero."

"Yes, master," she whispered.

The paddle collided with her arse again. It was already sore from the first four blows, whether they counted or not, and she could feel tears forming in her eyes.

"One!"

"That's better." He swatted her again, focusing the blow entirely on her left buttock.

"Oh God!" she shrieked. "Two!" Her arse was already burning and stinging simultaneously. She could not possibly imagine how she might take another twenty-two swats of the paddle. The third landed on her right buttock and the fourth across them both. "It hurts!" she protested.

"Poor baby!" he mocked, slapping her again, even harder this time and causing her to yowl. Tears were streaming down her cheeks by now, and the bastard knew it. But if she hoped her tears might move her husband to pity, she was sorely mistaken. By the time he reached twelve she was openly sobbing and pleading with him to stop.

"But you've only taken half your punishment," he told her. "Is there some other form of payment you might make, to persuade me to cancel the last twelve?"

"Anything! I'll do anything!" she sobbed.

His grin told her she had surely said the wrong thing. "Excellent. Then I expect you'll be able to forego your ridiculous, lifelong refusal to take my cock up your arse?"

Fuck! She had always been terrified of the idea of anal sex, no matter how much he begged her (in the early years of their marriage anyway; He had given up years ago). But when she hesitated to answer, he delivered a thirteenth swat to her glowing arse that made her yowl.

"OK!" she sobbed. "OK!"

"OK, what?"

"You can fuck me in the arse, you bastard!"

"Oh no, that's not good enough. You have to beg me to do it."

She took a deep breath, as much to control her trembling as anything, and to try to fight down the burning pain in her buttocks. "Please, master," she said, "please fuck my arse! I beg you!"

He shrugged. "Very well. I can't refuse my little slave-wife a single thing." He rummaged in his bag again and emerged this time with a tube of lube. He squirted it into her arse-crack, cold compared to the burning flesh that surrounded it. He drew apart her sore, stinging buttocks, causing her to wince and whimper, and inched his hard cock inside her rectum.

Honestly, it didn't feel anywhere near as bad as she had always dreaded. The pain in her buttocks was far more the focus of her anguish than the feel of her husband's cock up her bum anyway. The worst part of it was that, once he was embedded balls-deep in her bowels and began to fuck her, the slap of his hips on her bottom was agony on her sore buttocks. She knew better than to complain though. Besides, the sensation of being sodomised was already growing on her.

"Fuck me!" she urged him, surprising herself as much as him. "Please, master, fuck my arse!"

Whether it was her words that provoked him, or her humiliation, or the power trip of having beaten her, or just plain old lust, it did not take much more than a minute of fucking before he was pumping her bowels full of cum. And as he climaxed, he slapped her battered backside mercilessly.

He left her like that, with no word on where he was going, and she lay there for a good half an hour with her arse glowing, and his cum dribbling from her rectum. Unable to turn over onto her back for fear of chafing her abused bottom, she reached under herself, fingering her pussy even as she sobbed in pain and humiliation.

ii. Jemima Undone

When Olivia came round on Sunday afternoon, Jemima was the only one home. Or rather, her father had disappeared into the attic around lunchtime with a bag of tools, and had stayed up there ever since, with the occasional banging and sawing sounds the only reminder of his presence. Her mother had gone shopping, and Jamie was out with his rugger pals, celebrating their epic victory in Oxford the previous day. Olivia must surely have known that and, in fact, didn't even ask after her boyfriend.

"I thought we could spend a bit of time together," she said. "You know, if you like."

This surprised Jemima, who continued stubbornly in her refusal to accept that someone as popular and sophisticated as Olivia Hendry could be remotely interested in spending any of her precious time with someone as fundamentally uninteresting as Jemima Stewart. The girl intimidated her, truth to tell, and had a tendency to overwhelm her with feelings of jealousy and inadequacy, mixed in with an unhealthy dollop of good, old-fashioned lust. Jemima had never seriously lusted after anyone before, and certainly not another girl, but Olivia so exuded sex from every pore that it was hard to imagine anyone not lusting after her.

"Oh, OK. What, er, what did you have in mind?"

Olivia shrugged. "Oh, you know, just girlie stuff. I thought we might slouch around and talk about music and boys and stuff." She paused, trying to gauge Jemima's reaction to this. "That is what girls talk about, isn't it? To be honest, I'm not altogether sure."

"I don't think there's any hard and fast rule," ventured Jemima, not understanding why Olivia would not know what girls talked about. "But sure, we can chat if you like."

Jemima led her into the living room, where she had been lounging, watching YouTube videos on her phone. She sank back into the armchair, expecting Olivia to take the sofa. Instead, Olivia came and perched on the arm of her chair. She was wearing a ridiculously short skirt, leaving Jemima mere inches from a tantalising expanse of taut, tanned thigh which she could only deal with by looking away. She suddenly felt self-conscious in her tatty old jeans and Miss Kitty T-shirt. Olivia must think her dowdy and immature.

"We haven't had a proper chance to chat since the incident in the bedroom," drawled Olivia, as if the 'incident' had not been entirely manufactured and controlled by her.

"I think I've been trying to repress that," said Jemima primly.

"It's not good to repress things," smirked Olivia. "It causes mental problems further down the line. You need to learn to accept things, embrace them... The truth is, you've seen your brother's cock, and you can't deny, even to yourself, how much you liked it."

"I was just... I was just taken by surprise, that's all."

Olivia laughed. "Girl! Tell me you haven't had a dozen wanks since, just thinking about it."

"I'm not comfortable having this conversation with you!"

"What's up? You getting wet, Jem?"

"No! God!"

Olivia leaned over and brushed her cheek, causing Jemima to be engulfed in wafts of the girl's heady perfume. What was it with this girl? It was like she had Jemima's libido on a leash and had taught it to do tricks on command. And even as Jemima struggled to understand her reaction, Olivia kissed her. She gulped, heart racing, not quite daring to kiss her back for fear of what it might lead to, of what it might say about her. As if to brace herself, Olivia put one hand on her thigh, warm even through the coarse denim of her jeans.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Don't you fancy me?"

"Bloody hell, Livy, everyone fancies you, and you bloody well know it!"

"They do, don't they?" she smirked. "That's what comes of being from a long line of succubae!"

For a heartbeat, Jemima found herself wondering whether the bitch really was a succubus. It would kind of make sense, in the insane world she suddenly seemed to be inhabiting. "You're impossible!"

"Do you sometimes think about me when you finger yourself?"

All the bloody time, goddamn it! "No! Never!"

"That's a shame. I think about you sometimes. I think about how pretty you are, how sexy. Then I think about how good you'd look with Jamie's cock in your tight, little pussy. What do you think about that?"

"I think you're a fucked-up perv!" protested Jemima. Olivia just laughed and kissed her again. This time Jemima did kiss her back, just a little, and was rewarded with Olivia's hand not on her thigh but on her breast, squeezing gently through her Miss Kitty T-shirt.

"I am a fucked-up perv," whispered Olivia, placing her lips next to Jemima's ear and sending delicious shivers down her spine. "But I'm not the one who wants to fuck my brother."

"I don't!" she protested.

"Shush! Stop fighting it." Olivia slid a hand up under Jemima's T-shirt, and stroked the girl's midriff with light, teasing touches, until she wanted to scream. "You have all this pent-up sexual energy, bubbling away inside that hot, sexy, little body, and it's time you gave vent to it, don't you think?"

"No, I can't! I shouldn't!"

Olivia kissed her again, this time moving her hand up further to cup Jemima's breast under her T-shirt and give it more gentle squeezes as she parted her lips and probed at Jemima's with her tongue. Yielding, Jemima parted her lips and found her own tongue duelling with the other girl's. She swallowed hard, barely knowing what was happening to her, or what she was doing.

"I want you!" whispered Olivia.

"We can't... Jamie..."

"Maybe next time we can ask him to join us," she giggled. "But this once, I want you all to myself."

Olivia slid off the arm of the chair to kneel at Jemima's feet, looking up at her with those big, irresistibly brown eyes. Never breaking eye contact, she unbuttoned Jemima's jeans and unzipped them. In a daze, Jemima lifted her hips to allow Olivia to tug them down. She pulled them off altogether and tossed them aside, contemplating Jemima's legs (which, she was prepared to admit, were pretty good legs).

"You have the most lickable hams!" Olivia told her.

"Oh!"

She landed a series of butterfly kisses up and down Jemima's thighs, while Jemima hugged herself and tried not to surrender to the arousal that was threatening to overwhelm her.

"Cute pants too," added Olivia, landing one last kiss right on Jemima's pubic mound. The pants, like her T-shirt, had Miss Kitty on them, but were pink and embarrassingly girly. "But I'm going to take them off now."

"Gulp!" She actually said the word, which made Olivia laugh. And she did not resist, not in the slightest, as Olivia drew down her knickers to unveil her virgin vulva. She had never felt so vulnerable, yet at the same time so desirable, in all her young life. Olivia made a noise in the back of her throat, composed entirely of lust. She left Jemima's Miss Kitty knickers at half-mast, somewhere slightly south of her knees. Placing one hand on either thigh, she drew them apart, while Olivia closed her eyes again, trying not to die of embarrassment and desire.

"I'm willing to bet that nobody ever licked your fanny before," opined Olivia. "But you know what? That's about to change." So saying, Olivia bent forward and suddenly her tongue was on Jemima's pussy. She gasped, not quite knowing how to react. Her body, however, did know how to react, and she found herself slumping back in the armchair and surrendering as Olivia went to work. The girl might not be all that much older than Jemima herself, but this was clearly not the first pussy she had licked. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it didn't take long before Jemima was melting. Sometimes, Olivia would probe with her stiffened tongue demanding entrance to her vagina, at other times she would suck on her labia, or lap at her clitoris. Then she would suck Jemima's clit between her lips and flick it with the tip of her tongue, which had much the same effect as fireworks going off in her brain. She gripped the arms of her chair, white knuckled, as every muscle in her body tightened and her mind spun somersaults. Nothing that had ever happened to her had felt one-tenth as good as this. It was like a chorus of angels were singing in her head.

"Gnh!" she said, then said it again because it was the most articulate thing she could think of to say. Olivia's tongue was swirling circles now, circles of which her clitoris was the focal point. The girl's hands gripped the underside of her thighs, which were starting to tremble as pleasure consolidated its grip on her. And then Olivia was sucking, sucking, relentlessly assaulting her clit until she could no longer remember where she was, or who she was, or which way was up. To say she was coming was an absurd understatement. She had come many times before, but her self-induced orgasms were to this as a puddle to the ocean. She grabbed hold of Olivia's hair with both hands, clamped her thighs down hard on either side of her head, and came, and came, and came.

When it was over, and she had evaporated back into the armchair, panting hard and with lights coruscating through her brain, she was dimly aware of Olivia standing up, resuming her perch on the arm of the chair, and tenderly stroking her hair. She was also vaguely aware that her pants were still somewhere around her knees, and that her puffy, sopping wet pussy was exposed for all the world to see. Also, that she didn't care in the slightest.

"That... was... like... seeing God!" she panted.

"I did rather get the impression you enjoyed it," drawled Olivia, kissing her forehead.

"How on earth did you learn to do that?" She opened her eyes to see Olivia's face only inches from her own, radiantly beautiful and insufferably pleased with herself.

"My Aunt Isobel taught me," she said. "Now, about your brother's cock..."

iii. A Web of Enchantment

On the following Saturday afternoon, Will took his wife to one side and told her, "I'm going next door, and you're coming with me."

She frowned, puzzled. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. Come on."

"But I'm not dressed!" That was not altogether true. Anna was wearing an old T-shirt and pyjama bottoms designed more for comfort than for aesthetics, and decidedly not meant for going out of the house in. If they were going to see the elegant Isobel, she would need to look a lot more, well, elegant. "Give me a few minutes to get ready."

"Excuse me? Are you disobeying me?"

Anna's eyes widened. They were standing in the kitchen, and the kids were both in the next room. "No, sir," she whispered. "I'm sorry, sir."

"On your knees!"

Trembling a little, Anna fell to her knees on the cold, ceramic floor. Will took a handful of her hair and yanked it roughly, causing her to whimper. "When I give you an order, you obey me, understand?"

"Yes... yes, sir!" she squeaked.

"Good. Now beg me to forgive you."

"Yes! I do beg you! Please, sir! Please forgive this thoughtless slut!"

He snorted. "Pathetic! On your feet!" He dragged her up by her hair, slapped her face, then simply marched to the front door, without even checking that she was following. But of course she was following. This unexpected situation was suddenly very promising.

It was evident that Isobel had been expecting them. The door opened before they were down the path and she stood in the doorway dressed as elegantly as Anna had feared, in a bottle-green blazer over a white blouse and calf-length green skirt. Her make-up was meticulous. Bitch! She welcomed Will and ignored Anna, but led the way inside and upstairs, straight to the master bedroom. Oh, she'd been expecting them, sure enough. Isobel sat herself on a cushioned chair beside an elaborate dressing table, reflected thrice over in a triptych of mirrors, back erect, one stockinged leg crossed demurely over the other.

"I see you've brought your creature with you," she said, flicking a disapproving glance at Anna. "I can't imagine what you see in her."

"She's a clapped-out old hag," agreed Will, "but sometimes a man needs a convenient hole to fill."

"I take it she responds to simple commands?"

Will nodded. "As long as you're firm with her."

"Good." She waggled one stilettoed foot at Anna. "Lick my shoe, there's a pet."

Swallowing hard, Anna fell to her hands and knees, well aware of what was being asked of her. She crawled across the deep pile of Isobel's dusky pink carpet, took Isobel's foot in both hands, and carefully laved her black shoe with her tongue. To submit so humiliatingly, and not even to a man but to another woman, triggered something deep inside her. She was aware of two pairs of contemptuous eyes watching her degrade herself and felt utterly alive. Isobel uncrossed and recrossed her legs to offer Anna the other shoe, to which she paid equally slavish attention. She wondered what Will made of it all, but did not dare to look around.

Once she was satisfied that her shoes had been adequately cleaned, Isobel stood up and looked imperiously down at the kneeling Anna. "You," she said, "you will undress me now. I'm going to fuck your husband, and I really don't care to get my clothes crumpled in the process."

She motioned Anna to stand up then indicated that she should remove her blazer for her. Anna did so without a word, folding it carefully and draping it over the back of Isobel's chair. Isobel then allowed her to unbutton her blouse. Anna had never in her life, so far as she could remember, ever found herself attracted to a woman in a sexual way, but the headiness of Isobel's perfume, the sight of her slowly revealed breasts (as perfect and succulent as they were bound to be), and the sheer submissiveness she was being required to show to her, triggered a powerful reaction in her. She found that her fingers were trembling as she unfastened the last few buttons of the blouse, and her breathing was growing uneven. She was relieved to move behind Isobel to help her off with the blouse so as to escape the web of enchantment the woman seemed to be spinning about her. She folded the blouse and draped it neatly over the blazer. She dared to look up for half a second, to find Will watching all this with focused, hungry eyes. Well, if he was consumed with desire for Isobel Carrington, it was very difficult to blame him. The woman radiated sexuality from every pore of her body.

She knelt behind her to pull down the zip of her skirt and unfastened it. She did not let it drop but brought it down almost reverentially into a pool about Isobel's shoes. Clad now only in black lingerie (a lacy, half-cup bra, wispy knickers, stockings and suspenders) and her black stiletto heels (still shiny from the labours of Anna's tongue), Isobel stepped out of her skirt and waited patiently for Anna to fold it over the chair-back. Kneeling behind her, Anna was on eye-level with the succulent peach of Isobel's arse, a work of art all on its own. She found herself having to resist the temptation of planting worshipful kisses on it, an impulse entirely new to the forty-one-year-old woman. Another glance up at Will confirmed what she knew would be true, that he had eyes only for Isobel, and more specifically for her breasts which were as depressingly perfect as the rest of her.

Anna did not get up off her knees but reached up to unfasten the clasp of Isobel's bra, feeling a surge of excitement that she would be the one who got to expose the woman's breasts to her husband. She took the straps over Isobel's shoulders and liberated her from the garment. Peeping around Isobel's hips, she could see Will unzipping his trousers and freeing his cock, which was predictably hard. Ah well, if I had a cock, I'd be hard too, she thought, resigned to being outshone. As she skinned down Isobel's knickers, her face was almost pressed against those Olympian buttocks, and her only thought was that she was unworthy to be in the presence of such perfection.

Ignoring her, Isobel stepped away and beckoned to Will. She turned around and bent over the dressing table, thrusting out her backside. Even in this position, even naked when both of the other people in the room were fully dressed, she was the one with all the dignity, the control. Smirking at Anna, Will stepped forward, cock in hand. Getting behind Isobel, he unceremoniously guided it up into her pussy and watched their triple reflection as he moved inside her. Anna, still on her knees, was barely four feet away from the oddly dispassionate copulation. Nobody spoke as Will fucked a goddess. Anna desperately wanted to plunge her hand between her thighs and masturbate, but nobody had told her she could, so she didn't.

It was Isobel who broke the silence as she purred at Will, "Now, doesn't it feel better to fuck a real woman, instead of a mangy, old cur?"

Will's only answer was to growl and fuck her harder. Anna's mouth was dry, but her pussy was wet, and her heart was hammering in humiliation, and the lust that humiliation brought. She would have given anything to be Isobel, bent over the dressing table while her husband pounded her. She would have given anything to be Will, driving his potent cock into that divine cunt. But she was glad that she was Annie, watching it all from her knees, like a sinner looking up into the face of God.

As Will's climax approached (and who knew better than she when it was approaching?), he withdrew from the goddess and turned his cock towards the sinner. Grateful, Anna closed her eyes and waited for him to come in her face. He did not disappoint her, and she felt jet after warm jet of the pungent liquid wash her in its cleansing heat. She could hear Isobel's laughter and Will's abusive curses, but she didn't care about that. She felt wanted, and loved, and worthless, and degraded. She felt alive.

IV. The Morality of Incest

Kinship is meaningless without desire. How can they be kindred to you if you never dream of fucking them?

Sir William Carrington, On Family, Maxim 8

i. Women who Lunch

Maria and Vicky were in the local tearoom, about to tuck into brunch. Their relationship, after all these years, had irrevocably changed. They were still the friends they had always been, but it was impossible to have done the things they had done and not look at each other differently. The Vicky she saw looking back at her across the table was not the clever, kind, bookish woman she knew, or rather she was no longer only that. She was a sexual being now, almost a lover. She wondered what Vicky saw when she looked at her.

"Aren't you going to tell me who fucked me?" she whispered.

Vicky laughed. "Not a question that normal women ask their friends, I suspect."

"We left 'normal' several stops ago," said Maria with a smile. "But every man I pass, I think, 'Has this man fucked me? Have I sucked his cock?'"

"That's pretty hot, don't you think?"

"I suppose it is."

"And from a philosophical viewpoint, you might almost say that every man in the village exists, at least to you, in an indeterminate state between lover and non-lover. Like Schrödinger's Cock." She laughed at her own lame joke.

"Very droll. But I hadn't entirely thought through the consequences when I agreed to your insane scheme. What if any of these men are... indiscreet? Natasha's already on to us. One careless whisper and I'm discovered."

"And in what way does that matter, my darling Maz? I mean, really?"

"I don't want to be thought of as the village slut!"

"Not even if you are the village slut? I should have thought it was an epithet you could wear with pride. I've been thinking about it recently. I'm coming to the conclusion that it's not enough to be sexually liberated if you carry on hiding it from the world."

"I'm not so much worried about the world as our children."

Vicki shrugged. "I'm pretty sure Dani and Belinda are having sex with each other, and the others are all adults. Would it be so terrible if they found out who their parents really are? To be honest, it would be a relief not to go on deceiving them. Or attempting to, given that they're a lot shrewder than we give them credit for. Especially your Natasha and my Tanya."

"Maybe," said Maria, though the whole idea made her uneasy. "After my little wobble, I'm resolved to carry on doing what we're doing. The fact is, for the first time since before I had the kids, I'm full steam ahead on the sex train, and I'm keen to find out what the destination might end up being. And not so long ago I'd been starting to think I was past it!"

"So what do you have in mind? I mean, what's the next station stop for the Maria McNish Express?"

Maria laughed. "Actually, I've been giving that some thought. You know how we've been trying a bit of wife-swapping?"

Vicky frowned. "I'm not likely to forget, am I?"

"Obviously not. Well, I was wondering how easy it would be for us to... open it out a bit. To try swapping with other couples."

"Such as?"

"That's the problem, Vick, how exactly does one broach the subject? I can hardly go up to a random woman in the pub and say, 'Excuse me, I really fancy fucking your husband. How do you feel about mine?', can I?"

Vicky considered this for a moment, then Maria saw her eyes light up. "How about Erica?"

"Erica Saunders?" The wheels turned in Maria's mind. "Oh yes! Why didn't I think of her? She always used to be dropping broad hints about what she and Bryan got up to. I assumed she was exaggerating, but maybe..."

"Maybe they really are into it! You should meet up with her, probe her about it."

"Me? Why not you?"

"She's more your friend than mine. It would be a bit weird if I got in touch, don't you think?"

"I suppose so." Erica did know Vicky, but mostly through her. Maria had known Erica for years, but they didn't see each other all that often, especially since she moved over to Didcot. But they met occasionally for lunch, and she hadn't seen her since before Christmas. "Yes, all right, I'll get in touch. That's going to be a really strange conversation though!"

"I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall for that," grinned Vicky.

The conversation paused when the waitress, a pretty little thing in a white blouse and black slacks, brought them tea and cake. Maria found, to her amusement, that as the girl walked away from them, she caught Vicky checking out her bum. She was even more amused to realise that she had been doing the self-same thing.

"She's new, isn't she?" asked Vicky.

"Isn't she the vicar's daughter? Emilia?"

"Emilia Rice, of course! She was at school with Dani and the twins, wasn't she?"

Maria nodded. "Nice arse on the girl," she whispered.

"I was thinking the same thing. Look at us, Maz! We've turned into dirty old women, leching over teenage girls!"

"I prefer to think of us as modern, open-minded women with a healthy attitude towards sex," replied Maria primly.

"Same thing!" cackled Vicky.

"Do you really think Dani and Belinda are doing it?"

"Would that bother you?"

"Not at all. Dani's such a lovely girl. I've never been sure whether Bel's gay or not, but if she is then I can't think of anyone I'd prefer her to be with, actually."

"Thank-you! I feel the same. Oh, except that I've known for years that Dani was gay, of course. She's always been the most vulnerable of my three. Tanya's a little know-it-all, but I never fear for her. That girl knows how to take care of herself."

"And Lilah?"

Vicky hesitated, a conspiratorial look dancing in her eyes. "If I tell you something, Maz, do you promise to keep it to yourself? I know that sounds hypocritical after all my talk about the importance of being open, but it's not the kind of thing I'd want broadcasting..."

"I'm all ears!" exclaimed Maria, unconsciously leaning closer.

"It's... well, it's only a suspicion really, but I'm fairly certain... It's Richard, he..."

"What?"

"It's the way he looks at Lilah. I think... God, it's an awful thing to say, but I think he fancies her..."

"Seriously?"

"Of course, pretty much everyone fancies Lilah."

"But... her father?"

"Oh, I know that as parents we're supposed to not notice how sexy our children are, but the truth is young people are sexy, or many of them are, and it seems a bit disingenuous to pretend they're not. Lilah might be Richard's daughter but she's also a young woman, with a libido. I'll bet even you fancy her."

"I do not!" Maria's words were emphatic but not particularly convincing.

"No shame in it!" said Vicky.

"Shamelessness is becoming our life philosophy, isn't it?" She wasn't at all sure whether this was something to be celebrated or deplored.

"That's what I'm aiming towards, anyway."

"But incest, though, Vick? Isn't that going a bit far?"

"Hey, I'm saying there's no shame in a father finding his daughter sexy. I'm not saying I'm about to give Richard licence to fuck her, even if he wants to do that. And if she wants to, of course."

"But if they did both want to? What would you do?"

She frowned, and it was obvious to Maria that this was something her friend was still wrestling with. The fact that she even needed to wrestle with it, was pretty telling, not to mention shocking. She tried to imagine how she'd react if Josh suddenly started fancying Natasha, and was surprised to discover that she found the idea less appalling than she would have expected. Not that it was ever going to happen. Things like that only ever happened in the very sleaziest of porn.

"The thing is," said Vicky at last, "we've already established the principle that we're allowed to fuck other people, namely you and Josh. Would it be that much of a moral leap if Richard also wanted to fuck other women?"

"Speaking as someone who has recently fucked three complete strangers," said Maria, "I'd have to say no. But if that woman is his own daughter..."

"It's all hypothetical anyway. I know Richard's a lech, he always has been, but that's a far cry from doing anything about it. I suppose what I'm saying is that I'll cross that bridge if I ever come to it."

"That's a long way short of a hard no," observed Maria.

"A long way short," smiled Vicky.

ii. The Banbury Road Declaration

Since their discussion with Dani, it was becoming increasingly obvious to the twins that some of their other friends' families were also exploring some extremely interesting sexual possibilities. Clara had hinted that her parents were into some kind of weird domination games, and Harriet had heavily implied that she and her brother's relationship was a lot more physical than that of most siblings. It had been Natasha's idea to gather them all together in Belinda's room one Saturday afternoon to pump them all for information. Belinda's twins sister was obsessed with getting to the bottom of what the hell was going on in the Village these days.

Once all five girls were assembled, Natasha addressed them in her familiarly blunt manner. "The fact is," she said, "that things around here have been getting kinkier. I think you all know what I'm talking about. Our parents are acting weird and, frankly, so are some of you."

"What about it?" asked Harriet.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd, how all our parents have suddenly gone from being boring drones to sex-crazed lunatics. I'm mean, we have the excuse of being young, vibrant, and pretty, but they're all clapped-out old people."

"I don't know," mused Clara. "Some of them have very definite DILF and MILF vibes."

"Thinking of anyone in particular?" asked Harriet.

"Well not your dad, no offence," replied Clara. "Your mom though... She was always glamorous, but she's turning into a stone-cold cougar, don't you agree?"

"Maybe. It's ever since Isobel Carrington turned up in the Village. I think we can all agree on that."

There was general nodding and murmurs of agreement. "I think that bitch has stiffened every dick and moistened every fanny in the place," said Natasha. "I'm sure our two resident lesbians are intrigued by the contents of her knickers," she added, nodding at Dani and her twin sister. Belinda rolled her eyes, long past the point where anything her sister said offended her anymore.

"Oh, is it true that you two have been making out?" asked Harriet.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that," said Dani.

"Yes, we have," said Belinda, at the exact same time, making everyone laugh.

"Jesus, I hope we're never depending on you not to crack under interrogation," Dani told her, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Well, you make a very pretty couple," said Clara. "But I think Nat's right. Something has changed recently. But it's not a bad thing, is it? I mean, the old people getting more sex is good for them, isn't it? I think it should be encouraged."

"I agree," said Natasha, "but that doesn't mean I'm not curious why it's happening. Or exactly what form the sexual shenanigans are taking. From what I've been able to figure out, my darling mother and father are banging Dani's parents, Clara's mom is playing mistress of pain with her dad, and Harriet's sexy mom is going full-on lezzie (though there's a lot of that around at the minute)."

"Seems pretty accurate," agreed Harriet, "except my mom hasn't gone full-on lezzie. I happen to know there's at least one member of the opposite sex who can still stoke up her furnace and it's most definitely not my boring dad."

"Who?" asked Natasha and Clara simultaneously.

"I probably shouldn't say. Let's see where the discussion takes us, shall we? Then I'll decide. But is it true about your mom and dad, Clara?"

"Can confirm," she nodded. "Owen heard it happening. The sick little perv was listening at the bedroom door and told me all about it. I think they may also be banging the next-door-neighbours. You know dishy Simon and sexy Caroline?"

"Nice!" said Harriet. "Fair play!"

"What also intrigues me, however," said Natasha, "is what's going on with your sex lives. Because I've heard rumours that are so salacious they're impossible for a young innocent like me to believe."

"Well, since we're all being so coy," said Dani, "how's this for an idea. We play a few rounds of Truth or Dare, and see what, er, comes out, so to speak."

"I'm up for that," said Clara. "What could be hotter than five fit girls playing Truth or Dare?"

"Nothing I can think of. Who's going to go first?"

"It was your idea. You should."

"OK, ask me then."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Danielle Peterson, do you choose Truth, or do you choose Dare?"

Dani smiled. "I'm a truth-teller," she said. "Let's start with that."

"Very good. In that case, have you licked Bel's pussy yet?"

"Hey, that's also my truth!" protested Belinda.

Clara conceded the point. "OK, have you licked anyone's pussy?"

"I have not. Does that make it my turn to ask someone?"

"Disappointingly, yes. I was hoping for something juicier."

"You mean a juicier pussy," laughed Natasha.

Sighing, Dani turned to Natasha. "I believe you just volunteered, Nats. Truth or dare, bitch?"

"Dare!"

"OK. In that case, I dare you to flash us your tits."

"Is that it?" scoffed Natasha who, without a moment's hesitation, lifted the hem of her T-shirt up under her chin to flash them all her breasts. Belinda shook her head.

"You're wearing a bra, so that doesn't really count," said Clara.

Shrugging, Natasha peeled off her T-shirt altogether, unhooked her bra and flung it at Clara, who caught it with a laugh. Belinda had seen her twin sister's tits a thousand times, but there was a bit more of a frisson about it when she did it in front of all their friends. To Natasha, though, it was doubtless not much more than a lark, and she unself-consciously waggled her shoulders to make them bounce a little, provoking a mix of catcalls and laughter. She put her T-shirt back on, as unembarrassed as only Natasha could be.

"Right then, I nominate Clara. What's it to be, pretty girl?"

"I'll choose Truth," said Clara.

"OK," said Natasha, "How about this. If I gave you the choice between sucking Jamie Stewart's cock or licking Olivia Hendry's pussy, which would you choose?"

"A tough choice," replied Clara, "but I strongly suspect that Olivia Hendry's pussy would taste like fucking paradise. So I choose the pussy."

"Sweet!"

"Probably tangy, I imagine, but doubtless delicious. But I believe I've completed my round and will challenge the lovely Belinda. Bel? Truth or dare?"

"Sorry," said Belinda, "I'm still trying to process the idea that the beautiful Clara Brookes is batting for our team!"

Clara shrugged. "I'll bat for any team that makes me come."

"Good attitude!" said Harriet. "We need more of that energy!"

"Whatever! I know I'm going to regret it, but I choose Dare," said Belinda.

"Like sister, like sister," laughed Clara. "OK, I dare you to kiss me."

That was not what Belinda had expected, and her immediate response was to look across at Dani, to see how she'd reacted. Dani didn't look entirely happy about the prospect, but she probably didn't want to be the killjoy who brought proceedings to a crashing halt, either. With an apologetic grimace at the girl, she went over to Clara, took the gorgeous girl's cheeks between both hands and leaned in to kiss her. She had only intended a token peck on the lips, but Clara grabbed the back of her head and snogged her like her life depended on it. She was good, too, though Belinda was caught between enjoying the kiss, worrying that Natasha would sense exactly how good it was, and guilt that Dani had to see this. She broke the kiss as soon as she was able to but could not hide how flustered it had made her.

"Sorry, Dan," said Clara, "I couldn't resist."

"She is completely irresistible, isn't she?" replied Dani, but Belinda could tell she was a bit miffed. She would have to make it up to her friend (girlfriend?) later.

"It's my turn to nominate now," said Belinda, keen to move the thing on. "Harriet. Truth or dare?"

"Truth, baby!"

Belinda grinned like a Cheshire cat. "In that case, which man does your mom fancy?"

Harriet laughed. "So predictable!" she said, shaking her head. "Are you sure you can handle the truth?"

"Tell us!" urged Natasha.

"OK. The man whose cock my depraved mother craves is... Ryan's."

"Fuck!"

"Are you serious?"

"Your mom fancies her own son?"

Now it was Harriet's turn to grin like a Cheshire cat. "And a bit more than 'fancies' it," she teased.

"What's that mean?" urged Natasha. "What has she been up to?"

"Oh, I believe I've already answered the question posed to me, and now it's my turn."

That caused everyone to groan with frustration, but Harriet refused to budge. "I nominate that annoying little brat, Natasha McNish. Truth or dare, brat?"

"You know what, I'm bored with this," said Natasha. "Let's change things around. This time, I'll ask one question, and everyone has to answer it in turn. Agreed?"

"I can't help thinking you're trying to wriggle out of your next turn," complained Harriet.

"Be that as it may," huffed Natasha, "do you want to play this game?"

There was general agreement, albeit in varying shades of enthusiasm.

"Good. Then let's cut to the chase, shall we? The question is this: Given the opportunity, would you fuck a member of your family, and if so, who?"

"Nats!" Belinda realised her sister did still have the capacity to shock her. This was a bit on the nose, even for her.

"Oh what, Belly Bops? Too scared to answer it, are you? Well, for the pussies amongst you, I'll go first. Given the opportunity, I would fuck my dad. Clara?"

Clara smiled a slow, self-satisfied smile. "Not only would but have had oral sex with my brother."

"Liar!"

"No way!"

"Ladies, on my word as an absolute slut, I have sucked my brother's cock and he, like the good boy he is, has licked his sister's fanny."

"Jesus!"

"I'm glad to hear that, Clara," put in Harriet, "because I can now confirm that I, too, have enjoyed oral sex with my handsome brother."

"What the fuck!" This was Belinda's exclamation. These confessions were going beyond anything she had suspected. "Are you girls serious?"

Clara and Harriet were giving each other a fist bump which seemed, at best, inappropriate, and they both now looked insufferably smug. "I take it you wouldn't fuck a family member, then?" asked Clara.

"That would be a very hard no."

"Shame," said Harriet. "I bet Nats would love a piece of your pussy."

"Ugh, gross!" complained Natasha. "But I don't really believe there's no one in the fam you wouldn't lez out with, Belly Bops. Mom, for instance?"

"Certainly not!"

"Fuck! I'd lez out with your mom in a heartbeat!" put in Clara. "She's fucking hot!"

"Me too!" agreed Harriet.

"OK," said Natasha, making a 'calm your tits!' gesture. "How about another question, then? Of all of our parents, if you could fuck any one of them, which one would it be? Personally, I'd go for Dani's dad. He can have a piece of Nat-pussy any day of the week!"

Dani sighed. "Nats, you're such a sick bitch!"

Natasha shrugged, unconcerned to be thought so. "Which one would you fuck then, Dani girl? Not one of the DILF's, presumably."

Reluctantly, Dani said, "I'd probably choose Harry's mom, if pressed."

"Good choice," said Natasha. "Harriet?"

"I'd also choose my mom," she smirked.

"Bold! Clara?"

"As I already implied, I would choose Mrs McNish."

"One vote for mom. Belly Bops?"

The truth was, Belinda would have chosen Vicky like a shot, but she'd already upset Dani once today and wasn't about to do so again. "Actually, I'd choose Clara's mom," she said.

"Interesting," said Natasha. "I note that, apart from me, everyone chose a mom and not a dad. And here was I, blissfully ignorant of the fact that all my best friends are rug-munchers. I'm quite surprised, given the undeniable hotness of me, that none of you have tried to ravish me yet. I warn you, though, I'd fight you off, you bunch of queers. At first, anyway."

"Like anyone would fancy munching your rug, Natarata," said Belinda.

"Suck my balls, Belly-Bops! But here's one last question for you flock of dykes: Does each of you give permission to the other sluts gathered here today, that if they found a way of seducing either of your parents, that they can go ahead and do it. Let's call it the Banbury Road Declaration. For the record, I'm happy for any one of you sluts to fuck mommy or daddy."

"If anyone's sick enough to want to fuck my dad, feel free," said Harriet. "And my mom fucks whoever she damn well pleases, so I doubt I get a say in that anyway."

"I'm not sure I'd be entirely happy about one of my friends fucking my dad," complained Dani. "But they're adults, and we're adults (just about), so it's not like I'm going to have a hissy fit or anything."

"My parents are off the rails," said Clara. "Honestly, I think it'd be pretty hot if I discovered they were fucking one of my bitches. Yeah, why not. Mark me down as a Yes."

Belinda looked around the gathering of her friends, as hot and beautiful a collection of young women as she could hope to find herself amongst (excluding Natasha, of course), and was struck by just how confident, how assertive they were in their own sexuality. None of them was shy about discussing the things they'd been discussing. Not even Dani had run from the room with her hands over her ears. Conscious that all eyes were now on her, she said, "I assent to the Banbury Road Declaration. If any of you wants to fuck my mom or dad, have at it!"

After Clara and Harriet had left, and they finally managed to turf Natasha out, Belinda and Dani sat on the bed facing each other. Belinda took both of Dani's hands in her own.

"You're not mad at me, are you, Ellie Pie?"

Dani shook her head. "Our friends can be a bit of a handful. I was a bit jealous when you kissed Clara. I mean, we're all a bit jealous of Clara, aren't we?"

"She can't hold a candle to you!"

"We both know that's not true."

"I'd climb over a thousand Claras to get to you, Dan."

"That's very sweet!" Dani leaned forward and kissed her friend (girlfriend?).

"I'm a sweet girl," laughed Belinda. "But do you remember that Truth, when she asked you if you'd ever licked a girl's pussy?"

"Yes."

Belinda made sure she had full eye contact. "Don't you think it's time for that to change?"

Dani bit her lip in just that way that left goosebumps all over Belinda's body. "Do you want me to?"

"I do."

"I'm probably rubbish at it..."

"Practice makes perfect," smiled Belinda. She stood up, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, never taking her gaze from Dani's beautiful brown eyes. Not feeling anywhere near as self-conscious as she thought she would feel, she rolled her jeans down and tugged them free of her feet, leaving her standing there in T-shirt, socks, and pants. She had never thought of herself as alluring, but to judge from the look on Dani's face, the other girl did not share that opinion.

"Show me!" she breathed.

Teasingly, Belinda turned her back on her friend (almost certainly girlfriend!) and drew down her knickers, bending provocatively forwards to roll them down her legs. This, as she well knew, left Dani at eye-level with her profoundly exposed arsehole and pussy. She heard an intake of breath and held the pose as she stepped out of the flimsy garment.

"Are you perving at me, Danielle?"

"I am!"

"You'd better be!" Belinda turned back around, sat on the edge of the bed, and swung her legs around, while Dani watched her breathlessly. Once in position, head resting comfortably back against her pillows, she raised up the hem of her T-shirt just enough so it would not be in the way and parted her slender legs. Reaching down, she spread apart her labia between thumb and forefinger, enjoying their wetness and hoping the Dani was enjoying it too.

"Bon appetit!" she said, with a shy smile.

Dani said nothing but bit her lip again. She slid off the bed and knelt beside it. Taking one of Belinda's thighs in each hand, she leaned forward somewhat with the manner of one in a dream or a daze. Swallowing hard, she leaned closer still, until Belinda could feel the warmth of her breath on her vulva.

"I'm not sure I know how..."

"Whatever you wish a girl would do to you, do that to me..."

Dani licked her lips, paused, and then stuck out her tongue before she lowered her face into Belinda's pussy and, like a starving woman presented with a feast, began to devour her definitely girlfriend. And in that moment, Belinda's world changed. She had always regarded herself as a thinker, a scholar, in her heart and soul an artist, but all of that flew out the window as Dani went to work on her pussy. It wasn't that none of it mattered, it was that all of it became subsumed into the feelings she was feeling. She had thought of sex and sexuality as an adornment, an embellishment to life but, overwhelmed with emotion, sensation and, yes, unapologetic lust, she understood a different truth - that the thinking, the scholarship, the art stemmed from the passion, and were the passion. And when she came for the first time, the first time of many times, it all became one, a singular, all-consuming, all-embracing Orgasm.

She lay back on her pillows, exhausted in body, mind, and spirit. Until Dani crawled up beside her, took her in her arms, and kissed her. She could taste her own orgasm on Dani's lips and tongue, and it revivified her. Because this was not an ending, but a beginning.

iii. Catching Up with an Old Friend

It wasn't too long a drive to Didcot, not much above half an hour all told, but since Erica moved there a few years ago, she had seen a lot less of her. Erica had never been one of her closest friends but had definitely been part of her circle. They had been to school together, been to each other's weddings, and got drunk in Oxford bars together. They still messaged each other, and occasionally met up on girls' nights out, but this was the first time she'd visited Erica's new house (well, not new, she'd been living there for five or six years by now), and she needed Sat Nav to find her way there.

There was an earthiness about Erica, which Maria always enjoyed (though only on a strictly time-limited basis; you could have too much of a good thing), and a directness that could be refreshing when it wasn't too shocking. Erica was waiting on the doorstep when she pulled up, a curvy brunette in a floral-pattern dress that was sufficiently low-cut to show off the kind of embonpoint you could ski down. As Maria got out of the car she opened her arms for a hug.

"Welcome to Saunders Manor!" she effused. "And it's about bloody time!"

She led her inside to what was a spacious, elegantly-furnished, but at the same time deeply untidy house. A good description of Erica herself, she thought wryly. She followed Erica into the kitchen.

"I'll give you the tour later," she said, "but all visits start with a cuppa. We're all civilised people here." She clicked the kettle on and dropped teabags into a couple of pre-deployed mugs. "You're looking as hot as ever, Mazza," she told her. "And if I'm not mistaken, there's a bit of a glow about you that I haven't seen in years. I reckon you must be getting some."

"Erica!" She feigned shock but quickly decided that would be exactly the wrong tack to take. "Well, actually, my sex life has taken a bit of an upturn recently," she confided.

"Oh? Do tell! Has Joshie been on the Viagra, or have you taken a Latin lover?"

"Neither, actually. But let's wait until we have a cup of tea apiece. You definitely need to be sitting down."

Tea was delivered together with a shared plate overflowing with chocolate digestives, chocolate hobnobs, Maryland cookies, and custard creams. Erica settled herself into the kitchen chair opposite and took Maria's hand in her own, giving it a squeeze.

"I'm all ears," she said.

"Funny, I always think of you as all boobs!" laughed Maria.

"Takes one to know one. But stop evading and start spilling!"

"OK! OK! I'm trying to find the right way of putting this but recently Josh and I have been experimenting with, er, with wife-swapping."

"Oh darling, Bryan and I have been doing that for years! What on earth took you so long?"

"Shyness, I suppose," said Maria. "And, you know, worrying about the kids."

"Nonsense! Once you've got your fanny out for the first time, it gets easier and easier. I can't imagine how boring my sex life would have been all these years if we hadn't mixed things up with a bit of swapping. There's nothing more tedious than having the same cock up your chuff year after year. Honestly!"

"There's something else, but I'm not sure..."

"Oh come off it, Maz. If you've brought it up, it's because you want to share." She bit hard into a chocolate hobnob. "So share!"

Maria managed a sheepish smile. "'Share' is exactly the thing. Josh 'shared' me with three other men."

"At the same time?" Erica was impressed.

"Also..."

"There's more?"

"I was blindfolded. I've no more idea who the men were than you have."

"You absolute slut! I never imagined you'd have the cojones for that! What, little Maria Marshal getting banged by strangers? How did you manage to organise that?"

"I didn't. Vicky did."

That did the impossible, and silenced Erica. All the woman could do was stare at her, open-mouthed.

"Our wife-swap was with Vicky and Richard."

"So what you're saying is you've had Dicky Peterson's dick up your fanny?"

"I have."

"You lucky cow! I've dreamed of having that bastard shag me. Jesus!"

"It was rather nice," conceded Maria.

"And now you're wondering whether Bryan and I might be your next conquest?"

Maria had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Well yes, maybe. Although I was also hoping you might have, you know, connections with other swingers in the area."

"Swingers?" laughed Erica. "It's not the bloody seventies, Maz! But yes, we certainly do have contacts. And yes, I'm quite sure Bryan and I would consent to a bit of jiggy-jig with my old friend and her handsome husband. Just name the date, petal. I do like to watch Bryan shag other women."

"Well that works out nicely because, as it turns out, I like to watch Josh."

"Though as a matter of fact, we sometimes change it up a bit; Bryan watches me shag the wives, and I watch him shag the husbands."

"Oh!"

"Aha! Do I have the upper hand in this conversation at last? I've finally shocked you!"

"Not shocked, exactly," said Maria. "Surprised, really. I had no idea you were both bi."

"Bryan will shag anyone if they're pretty enough." She laughed. "Same goes for me, really."

"Er... so, do you think I'm pretty enough?"

That made Erica halt, with a custard cream hovering halfway between her plate and her open mouth. "Why, Mrs McNish, are you trying to seduce me?"

The truth was that she hadn't been until that exact moment. But suddenly her mind was racing, and she was trying to imagine what it would be like to... do stuff with her. "I've never exactly been into women, actually," she said. "But I'm trying to broaden my horizons. You see, it turns out there are all kinds of things that have suddenly become possible, the more fevered my mind becomes."

"So if I were to offer to, let's say, lie you down on the kitchen table and tongue you to Paradise, you wouldn't necessarily fight me off with a stick?"

"What is it with lesbianism and kitchen tables?" she asked, as a vision of Matilda and Isobel flashed, unbidden and unwanted, into her head.

"Was that an attempt to be Dadaist, sweetie, because you've lost me."

"It's nothing," smiled Maria. "But could we perhaps start that tour of the house you promised me? And if it happens to end at the master bedroom, well, that might just turn a woman's mind to flights of Sapphic fantasy."

"If you say so. I just fancy a shag."

When they made it to the bedroom, things were awkward at first. That is to say, the were awkward for Maria. Erica always gave the impression that nothing ever embarrassed or daunted her. But perhaps she sensed her friend's discomfort because, not saying a word, she took her in her arms and kissed her. She was a good kisser too, though in truth Maria had not kissed many women so was in no position to compare. Any sense of awkwardness soon left her when, with their impressive bosoms mashed together as intimately as their lips, she felt Erica's hand between her legs through the sheer material of her slacks and knickers.

She was caught in a daze as Erica, barely breaking from the kiss, began tearing at Maria's clothing, unbuttoning her blouse and unzipping her slacks. Maria offered neither help nor resistance but allowed her friend to disrobe her until she was left with a blouse hanging open at the front, and her slacks halfway down her legs. Her surprise at the direction her life was taking was diminishing by the day but having her clothes all but torn off her by a voracious woman was still pretty novel territory. Not that she didn't enjoy it. It felt incredibly wanton, actually, and the thought of another woman wanting her with such undisguised hunger was a turn-on all of its own.

Erica steered her to the bed, and when Maria felt the back of her legs hit the mattress, she sat on it, only for her friend to push her forcefully back until she was sprawled across it. Before she knew what was happening, Erica was next to her, fingering her clit and kissing her forcefully. So far, Maria had been entirely passive and was, for now, content to remain so. Erica seemed to know what she was doing, and she could see no good reason to interrupt. She did gasp and whimper a tad as she felt two impertinent fingers slide into her soggy pussy but was not moved to protest when they began sawing in and out. It felt rather good, actually, and without taking any conscious decision to do so, she began to return Erica's kisses with interest. Having her tongue in another woman's mouth was both weird and emboldening, and she was determined to explore the sensation thoroughly. The main difference from being in the entirely same situation with a man was the feel of Erica's super-generous tits pushing against her own considerable bosom. It was at the same time sexy and comforting, which was a strange combination, but then everything about this situation, and about her life in general recently, was pretty strange. It was better just to go with it and accept the free supply of orgasms.

Orgasm, in fact, was not long delayed. Erica seemed able to sense her exact level of excitement at any given time and simultaneously to ride it and to push it higher. She was plunging her fingers deep and hard into Maria's compliant pussy by now, just as she was plunging her tongue into Maria's compliant mouth. Maria stiffened, moaning into Erica's mouth as she passed the point of no return. Breaking their kiss, Erica seized the moment to add a third finger and really go for it. Quivering all over, Maria could feel her climax take her over.

"Jesus mother-fucking Christ!" she hissed, as wave after wave of it crashed over her beached body. "Fucking... fucking... fucking fuck!"

She had not come back to her senses by the time Erica began pushing the same three fingers between her lips and urging her to take a taste. Maria took them into her mouth and slurped at them. She had tasted better things in her life but had never had this level of hunger for any of them. She had had more powerful orgasms in her life but never one quite as unique as this one. She had been fingered before, many times, but never by Erica Saunders. She was still thinking these random thoughts when she was made aware, by the feel of a tongue on her clitoris, that Erica had moved on. And if riding to orgasm on Erica's fingers was a unique experience, it paled into insignificance compared to riding to orgasm on Erica's fucking face.

Afterwards, they lay in bed together, Maria mostly naked, Erica mostly clothed, and just chatted as if it were perfectly normal for two old friends to preface their conversations with a fingering.

"So, did I pass the test?" asked Erica.

"Test?"

"The wife-swapping test. I mean, do you still want to play swapsies with Bryan and me."

"As long as you don't expect Josh to do anything remotely gay," she replied. "I can't imagine he'd be up for that."

"I never imagined you would be up for doing anything gay, yet here we are. Never say never."

"I'm not opposed to gay, Erica. I wouldn't like you to get that impression. And neither is Josh. Look, I haven't told you this, but Belinda's got sort of a thing going with one of Vicky's daughters."

"Really? Good for her!"

"I'm not sure she's... well, she may still be experimenting or whatever, but it doesn't matter to me if she's gay. I'm no bigot. I'm just saying I doubt Josh would be into that, that's all."

"Fair enough. It took a while before Bryan accepted that he was bi. David, on the other hand..."

Maria frowned. This was new information. "You think your son's bisexual?"

"Pretty sure he's full on gay," she answered proudly.

"It doesn't worry you?"

"Why should it? He's young and pretty. He'll do okay."

She nodded. "Yes, that's how I feel about Bel. She's a good girl. Kind and thoughtful. That matters more than anything else."

"David's the same. Now, about this swap-o-rama... are we definitely on for that?"

"I definitely want to. Let's, er, arrange something, shall we?"

"My dear, I can barely contain myself."

iv. Vicky Hosts the BHC

Vicky was nervous about hosting the Bored Housewives Club for the first time. Reggie, too, was excited by so many visitors all at the same time, and went from one woman to the other, tail wagging furiously, as he received their fusses. Only Matilda was stand-offish. Anna was unquestionably his favourite. She had decided to host the assembly in her back room, which was rarely used except when she had visitors. It was pleasant in there, with just enough space for five women (and a dog) to sit around a polished dining table and gossip over a couple of bottles of vino and a cake-stand of assorted goodies.

She had known them all for years, though in varying degrees of familiarity. Maria was the one she knew best of course, and she seated herself beside her. Maz was looking much more self-assured and less flustered these days and had dressed up somewhat for the occasion (which was also a change in behaviour). She was wearing a rather elegant dark-green dress with a plunging neckline, showing to best advantage her rather magnificent bosom. Anna, whom she knew somewhat because of the editing work she'd done on her children's stories (which were, she must admit, rather good), was next to Maz, a slightly timorous woman whose kind eyes lay at the heart of her attractiveness. She was wearing a tight, white T-shirt and old blue jeans, yet still looked good enough to eat. Across from her sat Elizabeth Brookes, whom she knew only slightly, a stern-looking woman with chiselled features, wearing a black T-shirt and black leather trousers. Between her and Vicky sat Matilda Ellis, whom she knew hardly at all, an elegant, arrogant creature, whose self-centredness bordered on rudeness. She wore a powder-blue blouse and a hip-hugging, knee-length skirt, which proclaimed to the world just how classy and sexy she knew herself to be. Vicky didn't like her much but, at the same time, fancied the pants off her.

"Since we last assembled," Vicky told the other four, "I can report that I successfully arranged for, er, one of my friends to be gang-banged."

All eyes turned not to her but to Maria, who blushed a deep red. "What are you looking at me for?"

"We've all heard about the gang-bang, Maz," Anna told her. "And we were all very impressed. Have you found out who was there?"

"No! That's kind of the sexiest thing about it." She paused. "Do you know?"

"I don't," said Anna.

"Nobody knows except the people who were there," Vicky told them which, as far as she knew, was true. "So, I guess that's Maria's report for the month done, too."

"Actually," said Maria, "I do have a lesbian fingering to add."

"You?" gawped Matilda. "I thought the Sapphic stuff was my Unique Selling Point!" How typical of Matilda, thought Vicky, to make it all about her.

"It was uncharacteristic," she admitted, "but extremely satisfying."

"So, er, whose fingers are we talking about?" asked Vicky.

Maria coughed. "Erica's. Her tongue, too, actually."

Vicky raised her eyebrows at that. "You went to see her then?"

"Obviously. She was, er, happier to see me than I'd bargained for."

"Nice! So the wife-swap's on, is it?"

"To be arranged, but yes."

"Hey!" complained Elizabeth. "I can't help feeling that we're being left out of the loop here. What wife-swap, exactly, are we talking about?"

"Vicky remembered that a mutual friend of ours, Erica, has always bragged about being into wife-swapping. She suggested I look her up and see if she was interested or could, you know, point me in the direction of any other local swappers."

"You've, er, overcome your various inhibitions, then?"

"I'm still not happy with all the talk of incest," she said, lowering her voice as she uttered the forbidden word. "But I've decided that we must all explore as we see fit and make our own moral decisions."

"Or immoral ones," sniggered Matilda.

"Quite so."

"Speaking of which," continued La Ellis, "I've moved things along vis-à-vis the family fun question."

"I don't think I want to know," said Maria.

"Well I bloody do!" said Vicky. "Spill, Mrs Ellis!"

Matilda's look of self-satisfaction was worthy of a punch in the face, but Vicky really did want to hear what had happened. She was unprepared for the woman's revelation that she had engaged in sexual activity not only with her son but with her daughter, too. Both at the same bloody time! She knew Harriet slightly, because she had been at school with Dani. She had always had the girl down as a bit of a tearaway but had never gone so far as to guess she might be a mother-fucker. Maria looked outraged, Elizabeth slightly disapproving, and Anna simultaneously shocked and impressed. As for herself, Vicky was quietly turned on by the very notion.

"You're going to land yourself in all kinds of trouble," said Maria.

"You do need to be careful, Tilda," Elizabeth told her sternly.

"Careful, yes," said Vicky, "but it sounds like the kids are into it too."

"They most definitely are," confirmed Matilda. "And for the record, I don't give a rat's bollocks about your moral objections, Maria McNish. In my opinion, parents have not only the right but the sacred duty to fuck their offspring, at least once they're of age and of a mind to."

"That sounds rather less like your opinion, and rather more like that of Miss Isobel Carrington."

Matilda shrugged. "She's my positive role model," she admitted.

"Jesus!" opined Maria.

"There is something a bit exciting about it, though, don't you think?" asked Anna.

"Really, Annie? Can you imagine yourself fucking Jamie?"

Anna went silent for a few moments, and blushed slightly when she replied, "You should see him when he's doing his rugby training. He's so handsome and muscular. I'll bet he could show a woman a firm hand under the right circumstances."

"It's not his firm hand you're thinking of, you dirty cow!" laughed Matilda. "But what about the rest of you? Are there no possible circumstances under which you'd do dirty things with one of your kids?"

"None!" said Maria.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Moral absolutes are becoming a bit tenuous lately," she admitted. "Things that seemed unthinkable three months ago are suddenly becoming commonplace. It seems a bit rash to make confident statements about the future, given our direction and velocity of travel."

"That's a lot of words," complained Matilda. "It was a simple question."

"Right now, I'd have to say there are no circumstances, no. Vicky?"

"I'm fairly sure my husband has the hots for my eldest," she admitted. "I doubt he'd actually do anything about it but if he did, well, I'm not sure I'd completely disapprove."

"Mealy mouthed!" said Matilda. "Anyway, I wasn't asking about your husband, I was asking about you? You have a lezzie daughter, don't you? Not interested in trying a slice of Dani's pie?"

"Classily phrased," said Vicky sardonically. "Right now, I'm ruling nothing in and nothing out. Beyond that, I'm not prepared to go."

Matilda scoffed. "You sound like a politician. So, it's me and Annie for Team Motherfucker, Maria for Team Prude, and Beth and Vicky have their fat arses squarely on the fence."

"You do have a way with words, Tilda," said Elizabeth. "Have you considered taking up oratory?"

"Oratory, no? Oral, yes. But all this talk about incest is starting to churn my butter. Anyone else getting flustered in the knickers?" So saying, she actually slid one hand under the waistband of her super-tight skirt and, leaning back in her chair, started fingering herself. The others looked on, open-mouthed. Vicky, on the other hand, took it as her cue.

"Well now, if she's taking care of herself, I don't see why I shouldn't." So saying, she pushed back her chair, spread her legs a little, and drove her own hand down into her slacks. Things were slightly damp down there and in need of attention. With a little sigh that was part need and part defiance, she ran two stiffened fingers over her clit. It felt good, and all the more so for the astonished faces watching her.

"Oh to Hell with it," said Anna, unbuttoning her jeans and joining in the finger buffet.

Soon, the three of them were quite openly masturbating while Elizabeth watched them, disapproval melting into excitement, though she showed no signs of emulating them. Maria was caught between embarrassment and arousal which, given what she'd been up to lately, seemed a bit disingenuous to Vicky. But until this moment, the Bored Housewives Club had only talked about sex or planned sex. This was the first time it had been the venue for any kind of sexual activity in itself. That felt like a turning point. But then again, their lives these days were nothing but turning points.

By the time Vicky was nearing a self-induced orgasm, Maria had given in, hitched up her dress, and had her hand in her knickers, while Elizabeth was content to rub herself through the leather of her trousers. And so the five middle-class, middle-aged housewives, sat around Vicky's middle-class table, in her middle-class house, and frigged themselves to orgasm.