The next week Elaine invited Annie and Lydia to the apartment, and Lydia suggested they bring along two other "swingers". These turned out to be Francine and Mary. Francine was tall, brunette, and slim. Mary's hair was a strawberry blond, and her breasts – unhampered by a bra – were full and ripe, swelling amply under a purple jersey top that emphasized the jutting nipples. She was shorter than she seemed – her heavy breasts gave her presence a force that compensated for her lack of height. Her eyes were a weak sea-blue, and her skin tanned. Her thick, sensuous lips were free of lipstick; they were almost brown. She was constantly chewing at her lower lip with her upper front teeth and at her upper lip with her lower teeth.
Both of the girls were young, probably the same age or near; neither could be over thirty. Both were extraordinarily feminine – Francine in a more ladylike way, Mary in a sultry, rawly sexual way.
All four of the guests were introduced to Claude, who took his dessert with them. The women were charmed by him and they talked freely; Claude seemed to enjoy their company. Even Elaine, Irene noted, was on good behavior, though it was becoming more and more clear to the child's mother that her lover detested the boy. Yet, each time she told herself she would take him and leave Elaine, she realized again that she did not have the strength to make the first move. Her behavior patterns had been frozen, she reflected, when Terry had left her.
She sent Claude to his room soon after the last of the coffee was finished, before hints of the orgy about to begin could be dropped. Her concern for disguise was ridiculous, she guessed, and she did not know how long she could indulge in the schizophrenia of pretending that Claude did not know, when daily his eyes told her he did. At least she had not lost his sympathy – not yet – for, though he could not say anything, his look made it clear that he sided with his mother and hated Elaine. In the way that a child has of softening a truth he must face, he blamed Elaine alone for the way he was treated.
Mary's arms had already gone above her head by the time Claude shut the door to his room. The jersey moved up and exposed her mocha-tinted diaphragm. Then the full breasts, the nipples a deep ebony, hardened by the friction of the jersey as it passed over them.
The girl undid her pants and stepped quickly out of them. Her legs were lean, though the flesh on the thigh jiggled as she slid the panties down past her heels. Her hair was copper-colored and thick.
Irene was busy laying a huge fluffy blanket on the floor, but Elaine was already half-nude, clad only in bra and panties, standing with legs straddled, leaning against a wall.
Lydia was reaching behind herself to undo the clasp of her bra. She gave up and asked Irene to help her. Irene could not keep her hands from moving around to Lydia's breasts, to nab the nipples down until they seemed as hard as stones. When one hand rested on Lydia's hard, flat stomach, the older woman pushed it down toward her bikini panties. Irene, taking the initiative now, slipped her hand under the elastic of the sheer garment. Lydia's pubic hair bristled like wool against her fingertips, and she probed eagerly for her clitoris. Her other hand moved inside the panties from the back, and she scooped a handful of buttock meat before moving around to Lydia's front. Then her index finger moved down across the pouting lips to the slot itself. It wagged inside, and Lydia moved her legs closer together as she stood to maximize the pressure of the bone inside her hole. She was warm and dry inside, but Irene's finger drew moisture as it slid back and forth, bending at the knuckle. Lydia reached behind her and followed the curve of Irene's hip with her hand, forcing Irene to spread her legs when a tickling sensation overcame her cunt.
Annie's mouth was at Mary's unshaved underarm, the brown hair webbed together in a tuft. The big woman was licking at the hidden skin with the end of her tongue; her hand hesitated at Mary's rounded belly before the fingers sank to her cunt. She teased the lips with her fingertips, while both of Mary's hands were flattened against her own chest.
Elaine had strapped on the flesh-colored dildo that she had often pushed into Irene. Irene watched out of the corner of her eye as her lover lay on her back, legs spread wide apart, waiting impatiently as Francine, stark naked, tried to hoist herself onto the plastic. The girl's fingers were wrapped around the staff and she was squirming to fit the head inside her hole. She grunted as the first inch passed inside; Elaine had not allowed the girl time to become excited, to lubricate herself. Elaine pushed up and filled the girl with several more inches of the instrument, and the girl moaned as she raised her arms and threw back her head, reacting to the difficulty of the insertion. Elaine grabbed both arms tightly at the wrists and held her stationary on the cock until it had slipped all the way inside her cunt.
Lydia and Irene were sitting facing each other, their legs stretched out at each other's sides. The older woman was rolling Irene's breast in her palm, seemingly fascinated by the resilience of the muscle. She rubbed the dark round circles until they were stiff, and Irene's breathing began to keep time with the rhythm of her stroking.
She slid her ass against the floor and jammed her hips against Lydia's. Her hand swept down the curve of the other woman's thigh, and her finger easily parted the folds of skin at the entrance to her cunt. The walls clung tightly to the finger as it moved back and forth, while her thumb massaged the clitoral nub.
She felt Lydia's hands at the back of her head, drawing her closer. Lydia's tongue was cool against her own, and the tip swirled against the inside of her cheek while the lips twisted together. Irene was so excited by the tenderness of the kiss that she could not be sure which was her mouth and which Irene's. She was breathing hard and trying to push her tongue further down, trying to enter Lydia's throat, trying to swallow as Lydia tried to swallow her. Lydia's hand squeezed her breast, and she pushed herself deeper into the vise. Lydia's thumb and finger were tweaking the nipple, and her other hand was rubbing Irene's mound.
In the corner of the room, Elaine had succeeded in working Francine to a fever pitch, and the girl swooped down in alternate strokes on the fake prick just as quickly as she rode up the tool, almost losing it in her excitement.
Mary and Annie were both on their backs, their legs spread out from the joined centers of their bodies like the arrows of an asterisk. Both were pumping, their buttocks slamming against the blanket-covered floor, rolling their labial skin inside the tufts of pubic hair. Mary was squealing as she ground her hips into the floor, her body rocking from side to side.
Irene found she could fit more than one finger into Lydia's asshole when the woman's insides were oiled to a froth. She twisted her hand at the wrist and stretched the wails. Then she drove the fingers deep inside and kept them there, not withdrawing them when Lydia expected her to. Lydia's ass jumped with the beat Irene had missed, and her pelvis rolled in a spasm of such force that the fingers were almost ejected.
When Irene knew she was about to cum – the tingle rolling in waves through her while her body undulated with the pumping of Lydia's fingers – her other arm reached behind Lydia and her fingers gathered and scratched the skin as she pulled the woman closer to her. She let herself fail back against the blanket, and Lydia followed her, kicking her legs behind her as she jammed her stomach hard against Irene's fingers. As the orgasm filled her, Irene's fingers slipped out of the woman's box and shoved hard against the clitoral ridge, and Lydia's body jerked wildly up off the floor as she came.
Lydia moved toward Elaine without saying another word to Irene, who was alone for less than a minute before Mary stood in front of her. Though the girl seemed a bit stocky, her legs were thin. The first inch of her thighs was covered with hair only a bit more sparse than that which covered her pubis. "Can I sit down?" The girl's voice was soft now. The hole was almost shiny with recent moisture.
"Of course," said Irene, wondering at the rhetorical question.
She did not notice, in the new excitement of touching Mary's full, warm body, that Lydia and Elaine had left the room. They returned in a couple of minutes. Claude stood in the doorway of the living room. He was dressed in cotton pajamas, and his face wore a timid expression. He looked at his mother appealingly. Mary's face covered her vagina. The shock passed through Irene in a single nauseous wave.
"Claude!" The sound of his name surprised her even as it came from her dry throat. His hands were at his sides. The fingers were spread apart, as if to enable the hand to catch something, should it be thrown. Every muscle of the boy's body was tensed.
Her glance shifted to Elaine. She was angry. But Elaine remained impassive, and the strength in her answering glance buried the anguished scream of protest in Irene's throat. Claude's mother felt an incredible weight of failure at not being able to object, and Elaine, knowing that she had won, brought the boy's pajama top over his head.
His nipples were like brown dimes on the bony surface of his narrow chest. The skin was hairless, but the sun had tanned it. Elaine knelt behind him, and Irene winced as she watched her lover's thumbs push down under the waist at the sides of the bottoms. As if to torture her, Elaine pulled the pants down slowly, lingering for a moment just before the undressing was to reveal the child's sex.
The hair around the cock was thin, though the strands themselves were long and dark. His scrotum hung below the limp tool like a shriveled sack. The boy's penis had been circumcised when Claude was an infant, but – as if for protection – the remaining foreskin covered the glans. Elaine, rising a bit on her haunches, reached around him and rubbed the underside of the bag with her palm. The prick inflated slightly, and the covering skin drew back. A line of purple shone with the light in the room as the head became bulbous and the stick moved to erection.
"We just wanted him to… watch," Elaine said, staring into Irene's eyes. Irene wondered why she was still conscious, why she had not fainted or fallen into a swoon. Her consciousness, she realized, biting into her lower lip, was her punishment for letting her son be put through this. She cursed her own weakness.
"Get him a pillow," Elaine said, gesturing across the room, and Lydia moved gracefully, returning in seconds. Elaine fluffed the pillow and put it on the floor directly under Claude. Her fingers pressed against his hips as she eased him down. He seemed completely pliable, Irene realized. He was acquiescing now; the childish fight had gone out of him, and he had resigned himself. He had traced himself and it was almost as if a cloud had been drawn over the proceedings, obscuring them, filtering them to make the outlines of motion and reaction less harsh. Yet, at the same time, he felt an excitement in his stomach. At first it was like an ache; strokes of pain that seemed to pull and contract the muscles inside. But almost immediately that sensation seemed (o diffuse into his genitals and flow with the pulse of the blood. As soon as Elaine drew her hand away from his swelling cock, he instinctively, wanted another hand to replace it, pulling on the skin until his cum would shoot out and drench it, as he had so many times.
Elaine had come to Irene. Her legs were spread apart, and one hand was stationed oh her hip, while the other arm dangled at her side. Irene knew what she wanted – the ultimate in submission. Rising up, straining her body against the gravity of her own repulsion, she brought her mouth against the thick bush. Her hands moved under Elaine and pressed the buttocks as her tongue came out to lash the clit, which grew with each wet stroke.
As if to make a chain, Mary was behind her on all fours, ducking her own head between Irene's limbs, twisting her neck so that her own mouth could drill itself to Irene's cunt. Her grip was tight; she did not release Irene for fear she would lose her balance. Her tongue slipped inside the narrow hole, and her own hair was strewn over her face as her mouth made sucking, slurping noises. Irene could hear the rhythm of the suction as she felt the indirect pressure on her clit. The thumbs were tugging at the sides of the box, and Mary's tongue would circle the flaps just before it sank into the hole, soaking it in mild spit.
Elaine leaned down and wrapped her hands around Irene's neck, trying to keep her balance as the tongue stroked her button. Irene covered her teeth with her lips, then pulled the clit inside her mouth and twisted back and forth as Elaine, standing, began to writhe, thrusting her whole pelvis against Irene's face. Irene's face absorbed a thin layer of sweat from her lover's stomach, and a few strands of pubic hair were drawn into her sucking nostrils. Her fingernails clawed her buttock cheeks; the rough lovemaking she would give Elaine when both were really excited was her only way of expressing the violent emotions she felt toward her lover. Her nail even cut at the sphincter before drawing back, the fingertip rolling over the slight gap that opened in response.
Behind her, Mary had lifted her legs, one resting on each of Irene's shoulders. Mary was leaning back, sitting on her ass, with her legs drawn up toward her, bent at the knees, supporting Irene's spread thighs as Mary fingered the cunt and licked the clit.
Claude's eyes widened, but he tried to avoid the tangle of bodies, the central link of which was his mother's. He watched Annie and Lydia begin to make gentle love in a corner of the room. Annie had wrapped a belt around her waist, buttocks, and pelvis; attached to it was an almost comic representation of a penis. Astride Lydia, she tried to poke the bulbous head at her cunt, but Lydia was squirming under her, avoiding the instrument, and gesturing across the room. Annie reluctantly assented, and she drew back. Lydia stood; her hands moved unconsciously against her taut flesh, as if to smooth it down while she walked. Annie followed her, the giant prick bobbing between her legs.
Claude shut his eyes, and his hand took tight hold of his own phallus. He kept the cock hidden in the vise of his fist as he squeezed it. The feeling was an exaggerated ticklishness; he had made himself cum before, but he had never been this excited. He was almost afraid to go on with masturbating; the sensation that encouraged him was so intense that he almost feared blood rather than semen would spurt from the prick head.
It was not his hand that moved first, but rather his belly, which pushed out almost automatically. The hand was stationary, but his cock moved up. Released, Claude began to pump at his cock. His hand was a blur as he pressed down on the flattened underside with four fingertips, on the curved side of the tube with his thumb. Every few strokes he would hesitate, fearing he would cum too soon, that the pleasure quartered in his genitals would escape.
Annie had seated herself on the floor behind Mary, whose rear she lifted with Lydia's help. The girl was furiously running her half-open mouth over Irene's cunt, the teeth almost ripping the labial skin, while the lips twisted behind them to soothe the aching. Annie separated Mary's buttocks, and Mary squatted down on the dildo until half of it was hidden between her cheeks and her grunts began to interrupt her deep, wheezing breaths with a rhythm of their own. Mary's ass seemed to swivel back and forth, until still more of the dildo was inside her rectum, pressing at the tearing walls.
Only Lydia's body was perpendicular to the line the other women formed. She ducked her head under Mary's leg and rolled her mouth over Mary's thick cunt hair, covering the hole with her tongue.
Claude heard the flushing of a toilet down the hall. He was surprised – he remembered no one else. Francine entered the room and hesitated, her shock unconcealed. Surprise gave way to a smile; she could not imagine that he had been forced to watch the swapping orgy – surely he had consented, even volunteered. Her cunt gave off the crisp smell of antiseptic douche. She felt dry, but the walls of her cunt contracted in a spasm.
There was something, she thought, almost feminine about the nearly hairless little boy. She stared at the drop of seminal fluid that had already pushed its way out of his small cock. Claude's hand moved from his penis to his side as he looked at her eyes, which were staring directly at his groin. He was frightened, but somewhere inside him the fantasy of her letting him touch her was already full blown, waiting only for the details reality could provide.
The child's sex did not deter Francine. She had always liked children of either sex, and the boys – the younger the better – had always been far easier to seduce and less likely to inform. She sank to her knees. She brought her hands toward her chest and lifted her breasts, displaying them.
"Do you like me, Claude?" The voice was coy and seductive at the same time. Claude felt as if his heart and his throat had suddenly come closer together, and that his throat was being choked by his heart.
"You can touch me," she said, placing the base of her palm on his knee, the fingers just barely touching his upper leg. She lifted her right hand and her fingers folded over his wrist as she made him touch her breast. She ran his hand over her in one wide stroke, but she brought him back to the nipple. His fingers found the magnet, and he was too fascinated to move from the tit as he felt it grow harder and sharper.
"Squeeze me, Claude." He was aware he was being talked to, but he was grateful that no answer other than physical reaction was called for; he doubted he could talk. He was too excited. His hand clutched at the breast. The muscle seemed to bloat inside his hand. He prodded the aureole, fascinated with its texture.
She was smiling. Her hand stroked the inside of his thigh, and he almost jumped as the fingers slid up toward his crotch. She spread the thick globs of premature cream over his dome, running the side of her finger along the glans. The child's noises were more or less than human; his sighs were like the muted cries of some tropical bird. Her hand folded around the staff, and only the head still stuck out from the fist. She bent the penis forward, down from its natural angle, and she shoved her head between his legs.
He might have been less frightened if it were a fire about to devour his prick. As it was, he felt the first sliding stroke of the woman's tongue all the way up his spine. An echo of the sensation made his head snap on the base of his neck. His hand clutched the breast more tightly than before. She was swallowing him; he felt as though his body were hanging in space, and that he was kept from dropping only by the attachment of her mouth to his penis.
She bent her tongue back and smoothed the flattened underside, and the head brushed the roof of her mouth. Her forefinger and thumb circled around the scrotum and met, tightening the bag at the place where it was connected to his crotch. The testes wobbled on the bottom, rolling against the skin. Her index finger moved back and scratched lightly at the wrinkled covering just before it disappeared between Claude's legs.
He felt the edges of her upper teeth run down the erection, and he feared for a moment that she would start biting him in earnest. She had the prick halfway in her mouth when she rolled her teeth back and forth against it, and he knew that he was safe. He bent down and tried to follow her breast as she moved her body from side to side, sucking his little boy's cock.
He tried to reach her cunt, but it was hidden behind her. Her lips drew back as she blew him, exposing her teeth in a smile that his cock obscured and that he could not see. She knew what he was grasping for. On her knees, she thrust her legs in front of her, then curled her body into a curve so that her groin was almost next to his hips. It faced him, almost, the triangle's base separating her cream-white belly from the sex it almost hid. His fingers were so timid as they probed for the opening that she could hardly feel them, and she pushed her stomach up so that they would hit her harder. "Lower," she whispered, and he knew from the slight moisture and the lips, slightly pulled back, when he had reached her hole. He forced his fingers inside, and the walls closed down on them. They exerted a hold, a suction that made him doubt whether he could pluck them out again. The movement of her pelvis against his hand made him a passive rider. She jerked wildly, and his fingers almost slipped out before her forward thrust consumed them again.
He began to understand how he must manipulate her. When his fingers moved back too far and he lost hold of the lining, she led the grease-covered tips to her clitoris and pushed them down on the pink-purple nub. "There," she groaned, excited now. "There…" He was more imaginative than she would have expected. It was as if the fingers themselves were curious to touch every fraction of an inch of fold, to press on the clitoris from every angle. The energy within the small pearl surprised him, and he pushed it hard, as if he were trying to crush it against the cartilage below. He was aware of every hair as it grazed his fingertips. Excited beyond any impulse toward method, Claude left her clit and stroked the labia again, then dropping below to stick them inside her cunt, which grew more moist with each entry.
"I want you," she said to him with the same desire she would have offered a man – or woman. She lay back and pushed him away from her so that he could aim his phallus at her slot. He smashed the prick impatiently against her lips, missing the hole. She arched her spine and waited for the next thrust. This time she caught him in the clammy muscle. She lifted her legs from the floor at his sides and wrapped them around his legs, fastening him inside of her. "Lot me move," she whispered softly, afraid that his impatience would combine with his inexperience to make him pull out and then have to reinsert.
The friction did not build from a beginning. Once he was inside her, the first smooth fall down the chute was like the hundredth stroke of a coupling. She pressed her heels into the floor, holding herself back by bracing her body so that she would not move too fast, too wildly.
But he was almost finished. His body was a blurred thumping pressure on her chest and stomach. Her wrist bore down on his backbone as he sent his prick inside her, until his few strands of pubic hair were absorbed in her thick nest. She felt the small cock grow larger in spurts, growing and then shrinking back to normal size. She felt every, tiny change in its size as he prepared to shoot inside of her.
The heat of his cum surging out triggered her orgasm. Her walls opened and contracted, and her body rolled under Claude's. She felt his hipbones bash painfully into her own as the last few animal strokes drained him of cum, and her own juices moved out from the inner tissue as if to compensate for the thirst he would now feel.
His body did not crumple against her own as she expected. Her skin was covered with sweat, but his was dry as he continued to move inside her, after her own orgasm was through. He was pushing, his little cock still hard. His lips were tight, as if he were straining himself. For a moment his penis moved slowly up the canal of cum-soaked flesh, but then moved without pausing into the next highest gear, then the next, and finally his body was like a single snapping muscle, tempting her body to suck it in and bury it inside her belly.
The intensity of the first orgasm had exhausted her and her walls were almost numb at first. But with each new stroke she felt herself prodded toward another climax. She was amazed at how instinctively he could lead her. The orgasm was his gift, his entirely. At last she began to move, slowly, delicately. Her body's answer to his fucking prick excited him, and his pelvis ground out a circle just as he drove as far inside her as he could. He drew back quickly and repeated the circling thrust. She twisted under him, letting her clitoris feel the tension of the cock.
The foam spurted out in waves. She clutched the small ass cheeks in her hands as he delivered. Her back against the floor, she rubbed her spine against the blanket as he drowned her with his cum.
The network of female flesh had come apart in stages and all the women but Irene were staring intensely at Francine's and Claude's performance.
"Wow," said Mary, her hand moving across a thigh behind her. Of its ownership she was uncertain. She felt the moss of hair and sweaty, scented tissue. "Wow," she said, as her finger tested the vaginal cavity.
Irene's fingertips pressed against the floor as she pushed herself back, out of the young woman's casual reach.