“Are you going to fight me from now on?” asked Jack.
“Only if you don’t want to fuck me.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. My cock will stand up and beg for it everytime I see you.”
They locked the gate behind them and drove slowly back to town. Joan, with her hand resting ant Jack’s cock, leaned against his shoulder and wondered why she had gotten so uptight about seeing Billy fucking their mother. At the house she kissed Jack good-bye and went through the door completely relaxed, as if nothing had happened.
Betty was putting supper on the table when Joan walked in. She looked up and almost dropped the bowl she was carrying.
“Joan, darling. I’m so sorry about this afternoon. You shouldn’t have seen that. It was something that had to happen but I should have had the door closed.” She put the bowl down and went back to the stove. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. I think I was a little jealous but it doesn’t matter now. Nothing can upset me now.” She sat down at the table and started drinking her tea.
“Do you think I’m perverted?” asked Betty.
“Oh, hell, no. I went to Billy’s room at night before I found out how much better it is with someone you really love.”
“Do you mean Jack?” asked Betty as she turned around to study her daughter’s face.
“Yes. I’ll never be satisfied with Billy again,” said Joan with a big twinkle in her eyes.
Betty wanted to agree that Jack was quite a fucker but caught herself. There was no need to ruin Joan’s happy mood. She just smiled and carried the rest of the food to the table, called Billy and sat down.
Billy came running in. “Joan, I’m sorry. I should…”
“Oh, shut up,” said Joan. “It doesn’t matter. Eat your supper and keep quiet.”
CHAPTER 8
After supper Joan, Betty and Billy watched television together for the first time in months. When the eleven o’clock news was over Betty went upstairs, leaving Billy and Joan to turn off the television and lights. She went quietly to Billy’s room and grabbed the four golf balls off his dresser, then went to her room and closed the door.
She undressed, showered and sat down on her bed. She picked up one of the golf balls, feeling its weight, turning it around in her hand, rolling it around on her palm. Satisfied, she got up and went back to the bathroom, wet the golf balls in the sink and slipped them, one at a time, into her longing cunt. Holding her pink pussy lips closed with her fingers she went back to the bed and lay down.
With the light out she twisted her thin torso, causing the heavy balls to roll around with every move. The feeling was more intense than it had been with ping-pong balls. She pulled her legs up, placed the fingers of one hand in the lips of her cunt and other hand on her abdomen. She pressed down, making a ball pop out against her fingers. And she pushed it back in.
I’m going to concentrate, she thought. I’m going to remember everything. I know there were two of them and they were fourteen. Let’s see. Let me start at the beginning. It must have been about ten or twelve years ago. Oh, hell. Let, me get the pillows straight.