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DDM (11/13)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING!
The following story contains detailed descriptions of sex acts between
family members (incest), and between humans and animals (bestiality).
If you are offended by such material, please stop reading now!
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 8 >>
Chapter 8
Art showered and dressed with no appearance of urgency. Helen
slipped facial tissues inside the crotch of her panties and followed her
husband, slouching against the cabinet in the bathroom while he was in the
shower and perching on a chair with her arms around her knees while he
was dressing. He chuckled when she followed him from the bedroom.
"You going to stay like that?" he asked.
"Do you mind? I'm going to take a douche in a minute, but I'm not
going to dress."
"Man alive! Go douche, then!" He slapped her bottom. "And hurry!"
While she was in the bathroom, she heard the telephone. When she
returned to the living room, Art was grinning.
"Hey! Guess what sugar! That was Van on the line!"
"Does she want me to call her back?" asked Helen.
Art shook his head, still grinning. "She wanted to tell you she and
Barry were going to drop by. Be here in a few minutes."
"A few minutes!" Helen clutched at herself. "What for?"
Her husband shrugged. "Damned if I know. Just being friendly, near as I
could tell." He glanced sideways at her. "Hell, maybe they figured they'd
catch you alone and join you for fun and games. They didn't know I was
taking the day off."
"Art! What a thing to say!"
He laughed. "I sure can't imagine why else Barry would be coming.
Hell, he's got a job, too! You don't make sales sitting around home!"
She giggled. "Depends on what you're selling." And his earlier words
came to her. "A few minutes, did you say!" She shrieked. "Honey! It was
more than a few minutes ago when they called.
"Yeah."
"And you let me sit around here like this! Honestly, Art!"
"Barry's not about to criticize. And Van's understanding. Why not?"
'Why not! Why not, for the today-Helen?' she thought. 'Brrr! I wouldn't
back away from that cock today!' "I think you're mean," she told Art. "But
I've got the guts to call your bluff - this time."
She thought his eyes widened a trifle; she was certain he wasn't
laughing. She dropped to the couch beside him and snuggled.
"Good God! You're going to do it, aren't you!"
"I'll dress if you say so."
"Naw. Let it go." He put his arm around her and toyed with one of her
nipples.. "That reminds me!" he said suddenly. "I'm hungry!"
"I'll fix something for lunch!" She scrambled to her feet. "I'll get
enough so they can eat with us if they have time."
"Good."
Before she had gotten to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. She heard
voices and recognized Vanessa's. 'I can't do it!' she realized with a
sinking
feeling. 'I know I can't! Not like this!' She darted into the kitchen.
'An apron!
That's what I need!' She jerked open the apron drawer and held up one of
her
hostess models.
"Oh, no!" she cried aloud. The apron was a dainty, decorative bit of
uselessness, and the notion of resorting to it abruptly drew on a streak
of
perverse humor. She giggled and tied the belt ribbon on. Heart-shaped, the
lower panel had a narrow band of red trim and a wider lace ruffle. She
raised the upper panel and buttoned its straps behind her neck. It was a
second, smaller heart, each lobe lying against the underside of one of her
breasts with its strap wide of her nipple. She had to giggle again.
"My-y-y- God!" Vanessa's tone was a mixture of astonishment and
awe. "Helen!"
Helen whirled. "Oh, dear God, Van! You scared me out of ten year's
growth. I was afraid Barry was with you!"
"He's in with Art. But what are you doing dressed like that?"
"Art didn't change the other night, Van. You didn't really expect him to
be that shocked, did you?"
Vanessa appeared to tense. "Well . . . "
"I wouldn't have expected it either, except I was high on
screwdrivers. Anyhow, doing what I did convinced me how important he is
to me." She paused and spread her hands, palms forward. "So I changed,
instead."
"I can't believe it! Honey, you're not going out there in front of Barry
like that, are you?"
"Why not? It didn't bother you the other night?"
"Damn it, that was night time! He's still got calls to make."
"Then how come he's over here in the middle of the day?"
Vanessa sniffed. "I didn't know that was a crime!"
"I didn't say it was. But neither one of you knew that Art was home
today."
"No. We didn't. Why is he, anyway?" Vanessa's glance fell to Helen's
scanty costume and the corners of her mouth crinkled. "On second thought,
that's a foolish question."
"Art said you probably meant to take up where you left off the other
night," suggested Helen. She was conscious of a twinge of guilt at the
implication that Art had meant his little jest.
"You mean . . . ?" Van gasped. "For God's sake! Are you two paranoid?"
"He didn't mean it. I wondered, though, after he said it."
"Well! We were worried, if you want to know. We realized that was a
rough experience for you. barry thought you might like to go out to lunch
with us." She shook her head. "Looks like that's the last thing you want
to
do."
"I was getting ready to fix something to eat here. Why don't you and
Barry eat with us?"
"With you dressed like that, Barry would only be thinking of eating
one thing. God, Helen! Turn around! Let me see how you look from behind!"
Helen turned, resentful of vanessa's reaction. She heard Vanessa's low
whistle.
"Those panties are a louder invitation than the ones Olga wears!"
exclaimed the blonde. She smiled suddenly. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd
own anything like that."
"Art sent for them. I couldn't throw them out, but they didn't ever
come out of the drawer."
"He sent off? Where?"
Helen laughed. "You want a pair? They're risky, Van. Her irritations
evaporated. 'After all, she has a right to be off balance,' she thought.
'How
was she to know I was going to change? She didn't even know about the
other me.' "Art might remember, though, if you're not scared of what might
happen."
Vanessa responded to the new note in Helen's voice. "Honey, I said the
other night you had guts. I just didn't know how much! Would you honestly
let Barry see you in those in the middle of the day?"
Helen unfastened the apron and drew it aside with a delicious thrill of
wickedness as Vanessa's gasp.
"Oh, God!" Vanessa groaned. "They're hotter than I thought! They don't
hide anything! You wouldn't!"
"Yes, I would." Helen's stomach fluttered. Vanessa wasn't going to
permit that, but the mere challenge was frightening.
Vanessa let her breath out slowly. "Oh, my! Honey, come on! I don't
care if he does miss those calls! A guy doesn't get a chance to see that
kind
of underwear on a body like yours that often! He'd never forgive me If i
cheated him out of it!"
"Oh, no! You don't really want me to!"
"No! Hell no! But Barry would! Come on!"
"But I haven't got lunch yet!"
"We can come back and fix it. Come on."
Vanessa grabbed Helen's hand and tugged. Helen hung back, and she
thought for a moment Vanessa would give up. Then she felt her strength
fade and the eager blonde dragged her from the room.
"Barry? Hey, Barry!" called Vanessa.
Helen freed herself by a desperate wrench. "I'll go! For God's sake,
don't drag me!"
Barry and Art looked up as the two women entered the living room.
Helen flushed under Barry's startled stare.
He whistled. "Jesus, Helen! What's with her, Art?"
Art shrugged. "Look for yourself. She sure as hell can't be hiding
much."
Although his voice implied humor, Helen saw something else in his
face. The sudden hunger she saw drew her like a magnet, and she glided to
him. He extended his arm to lay his hand on her hip, the contact shocking
her
like an electric probe. He place his other hand on her waist and drew her
to
him. She emerged from her trance-like state long enough to throw a mute
appeal to her husband, then let herself sink onto Barry's lap. he turned
her
as she lowered herself, and she leaned back against him, her head next to
his cheek.
"Goddamn it, baby!" he said. "You'd make a guy lose his head with a
show like that!" His fingertips brushed her nipples. "I don't see how I'm
going to be in any shape to work this afternoon! When did you start
wearing
this kind of stuff around the house?"
"You talk a lot," she murmured, her flesh quivering at the continued
fondling of her tits.
"I guess." He laughed and began to rub her bare belly. "But you've been
so damn modest all the time we've known you, I thought you were a prude!
And then night before last and today! . . . Shit! Is it a wonder I talk?"
She moaned softly and squirmed. "I don't know. Art didn't."
Barry winced and squeezed her breast. "Art's a man of action, pet. Or
else he's got a one-track mind? I don't know which. Me, I like the way
conversation lubricates a situation."
'It isn't talk that's getting me lubricated!' thought Helen. 'God. I'm
wet!'
Barry felt the protruding strands of her pubic hair and the taut netting
of her panties. 'Tell Van where these came from, baby. She's got to have
some."
"They came from Art, and I told her."
"Like hell! I mean, where he got them! She'd better not get any from
him!"
"Barry! You sound jealous!"
"I don't care what you call it. She's had hot pants for that guy of yours
as long as I did for you! If she wants him to lay her once in a while,
that's
fine with me. But I'll be damned if he's going to buy these things for
her!"
He slid his hand between her thighs.
Helen clamped her legs together and Barry used both hands to pry them
apart. He grabbed her twat and his finger slipped through the panty
opening.
He gasped.
"Christ! What next! A cockgate!"
Barry maneuvered her on his lap until he could unzip his pants and let
his cock surge through his fly.
"Oh, dear!" she whispered. "Oh, dear!" She tightened her buttocks and
thrust her legs out, raising her pussy for him.
He parted her labia and dragged his fingers over the mouth of her
vagina. Her hips twisted.
"Barry, darling," she whispered. "Put your cock in, please! I want him
so!"
"Shit, Helen! I've go tot work this afternoon!"
"With a hard-on?"
He laughed. "You win. And that's how it would be. Probably will
anyhow, every time I think of you in these fuck-pants!" He grasped her by
the waist and raised her onto his cock.
She bent forward to rest her hands on his thighs, settling onto the
hard prick. A gust of contentment swept her as she felt herself filled.
"Ahhh! Barry, Barry!"
He slid his hands onto her hips, grasping the smooth bulges firmly and
bouncing her. The edge of the couch pressed her calves and her breasts
leaped in their half-cup supports. She clenched her teeth and groaned
shakily.
"I'm going to cum pretty fast this way, baby," Barry told her. Seeing
that little strip of hot net across an ass like yours is enough to light a
short fuse!"
"I don't care!" she panted. "I'll love every second of it!" She was
surprised at having discovered she wasn't up-tight about reaching an
orgasm. 'Because I've had so many the last three days.' she thought. 'I
wouldn't fight it, but I can wait until next time.'
Barry's hips jerked upward, his balls mounding against the sober gray
of his trousers, and Helen felt herself driven higher, the base of his
cock
hard against her pussy. She shook while Barry pumped his jism into her and
continued to twitch after he had squeezed out the last of his cum and
fallen
back. When there was no stiffness left in the cock that impaled her, she
pushed herself off. She faced Barry, bending over him and kissing him on
the
mouth. Then she straightened.
"Thank you, darling," she said. "It feels so good to have you screw
me."
He sighed. "You're a good lay, Helen. I wish we'd started swapping
sooner."
She tensed. "Swapping! Barry, only nasty minded sex fiends swap!
We're not doing that!"
"Whatever. I still wish we'd started sooner."
"Okay. So do I," She wrinkled her nose at him. "We didn't, though. That
means we've go to catch up."
"Oh, shit!" he groaned. "One crack like that and I'm in just as bad a
shape as I was before you made me screw you! Helen, you're not even the
same broad I used to know!"
"No." She dropped her glance to her toes. "No, I'm not, Barry. But
that's a long story."
"Tell you what," he said. "I'm going to remember that. One of these
nights we'll make it as far as a bed. And when we're screwed out, we can
lie there next to each other while you tell me the whole thing. Time you
finish, we'll be rested enough to make it again."
"Oh, you! she laughed, feeling herself flush. "Van? Do we have to get
lunch?"
Vanessa cuddled on Art's lap, her lips at his ear, stirred and looked
around. "Hmm? Lunch? Not now. Barry's appointment is in half an hour." She
glanced at her husband. "For heaven's sake, Barry! Get your peter in!" And
then, "Oh, no! You've got to go home and change! You've got pussy tracks
all
over you!"
Helen's face burned and she avoided Vanessa's eyes. Barry grumbled
and tucked his cock inside his trousers.
"It isn't all that Goddamn bad, woman." he growled.
"it's bad enough you've got to change your pants!"
"Okay, okay. I didn't say I wasn't going to. Only we'll have to get a
move on. You ready to wind up whatever you got going with Art?"
"And what would that be?" Vanessa bristled.
"How the hell would I know? Maybe you're trying to work him for a
pair of those fuck-pants!"
"Barry Rush!" His wife blazed at him. "You go ahead. I'll get Art and
Helen to bring me home."
"Suit yourself." Barry heaved himself to his feet and zipped his fly. He
paused on the way to the door to kiss Helen, then he was gone.
"Maybe he was hungry," suggested Art.
"Of course he was! Hungry for pussy when he saw all that flesh! Well,
he got it, didn't he?"
Helen resented Vanessa's implications. "It seems to me you dragged
me in here like this," she said. "I was looking for something to cover me
up."
"A hostess apron?!" Vanessa snorted. "What's the difference? I mean,
after all!"
"You still dragged me in."
"Damn it! Once I saw you like that I couldn't do anything else! It's a
sort of a thing between Barry and me. Like an unwritten agreement. But I
wouldn't have had to if you'd had any clothes on."
"Van! For Christ's sake! I dress for what's happening when I'm at
home, not for whether someone might drop in!"
"I called first."
Art nodded. "They did phone first," he said. "Fact is, I've go tot agree
it's going pretty far to shack up with another guy on his lunch break. I
mean,
it's like the difference between liking to eat and being compulsive about
it.
I don't know that we want to let this thing between us go quite that far."
Helen stared at her husband, aghast. 'He didn't want me the way I
was.' she thought. 'Now he doesn't want me this way, either!' A tendril of
panic sneaked through her. 'What'll I do! It's too late to go back! It
was bad
enough to have to live with what I did with that Indian guide: I couldn't
stand to have all the things I've done these three days hiding in the
back of
my mind! Besides, I like sex too much. If I have to choose, I'd rather be
what
I am now! Oh, what'll I do?'
Vanessa sighed and got up. "Look, maybe we're all hungry. We're
getting all up-tight without any good reason. We're mature enough to be
honest about what we feel like doing. If one of us is a little hotter
what's
the difference? Maybe I don't yank off my clothes every time I get hot for
Art, but there might be a time when I would. I'm not going to set myself
up
to judge you for going overboard, Helen."
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