My Loving Family

Synopsis: Both Pete and Paula have sex with their children -- in Pete's case, with his step-daughter, Nonnie, and in Paula's case with her son, Fred. There was a phone call from the hospital.

Part III - Our Story

Chapter Seventeen

David was gone. The Olerun Jaguar had been virtually crushed by a head-on collision with an on-coming pickup truck that had somehow crossed the centerline. The driver's side had been obliterated. Dave probably never knew what had hit him.

Karen was still in surgery when we arrived at the hospital. We spent nearly two unhappy hours pacing the tiny waiting room and trying to console one another before a solemn faced surgeon wearing traditional hospital garb came into the room.

"Mrs. Olerud survived the surgery," he began, "but I hesitate to hold out too much hope. She was fearfully mangled, but she's young and otherwise healthy, so I expect her body to heal.

"We're primarily concerned because her windpipe was crushed, and we're not sure how long she was deprived of oxygen, so there's no way of predicting whether her brain lost any of its function. We'll know more when she wakes up -- if she does."

Everyone began speaking at once, but the doctor held up a hand and we fell silent. "There's nothing you can do tonight, so I suggest you go home. As matters stand at present, if she regains consciousness, we'll allow two visitors tomorrow for only a few minutes. Since she has no known relatives, you can decide among yourselves which two it will be. That's all I have for you tonight. I wish I could be more encouraging." He turned and left the room.

We were a silent, thoughtful bunch as we trooped back to Rick's car. We had very little to say as we reflected on the tragedy that had befallen the Olerudes.

Nothing was said on the long drive back to the O'Conner house. When we reached the house, I stepped out of the back seat and turned toward our car, but ever practical Sarah had other ideas. "I think we ought to decide tonight which of us will visit poor Karen tomorrow," she said.

Rick said, "Well, I knew David as well or better than my own brother," he said. "I should be one of the two."

We all nodded. He was right. "Would it be all right if I went with you, Rick?" Sarah asked. "Unless Paula wants to go, of course."

Paula shook her head. "Hospitals depress me," she said. "If you want to go, Sarah, be my guest." We agreed on a time to meet, and then parted. Karen had barely regained consciousness the following afternoon when Rick and Sarah were allowed 15 minutes with her. "She seemed to know who we were and where she was," Sarah said hopefully.

Rick shook his head. "Well, maybe," he said doubtfully. "I didn't get that much out of a single hand squeeze."

"But the doctor seemed more hopeful, today," Sarah insisted.

Rick slowly nodded his head. "That's true," he said. "But he was still very guarded concerning her ultimate recovery."

And so it went for the next 10 days. But then, Rick and Sarah returned from their brief visit, both wearing pleased smiles. "She spoke to us today," Sarah announced. "She's still not out of the woods, of course, but the doctor thinks her amnesia is only temporary; and that her brain seems not to have suffered any permanent damage."

Paula and I heaved a collective sigh of relief. "That's just great," I said, expressing, I'm sure, what we all felt.

Karen's memory continued to improve over the next three months. Shortly before she left the hospital, she advertised for a live-in nurse- housekeeper. She interviewed several applicants, but none of them were satisfactory.

When she left the hospital, she still could walk only with the aid of a walker, so Sarah invited her to stay in the apartment until other arrangements could be made. Nonnie had moved in with Roger -- they planned to be married in the spring -- so her room came Karen's bedroom. Willa was home most of the time, and the two women became practically inseparable, although they were a generation apart.

As Karen continued to gain strength, she naturally became increasingly restive, wanting to return to the home she had shared with David.

Willa volunteered to accompany her. Ruthie, naturally, wanted to remain with her mother, so in a relatively short span of time, the old Olerun mansion became our social center.

Meanwhile, our weekend swings with the O'Conners became history. That was partly because of David's death, but it was also a consequence of the increasing friction between Fred and his dad.

Apparently, Rick suspected that Fred and his mother were still enjoying incestual sex. In Rick's eyes, there was no greater sin than that. I'm not sure whether Rick's suspicions were well founded, but Sarah seemed to think they were.

"If you know what to look for," she said, "you can always tell when a middle-aged woman has a young lover," she said. "There's an indescribable something about the way they look and move that indicates the smug satisfaction of a woman in possession of a young cock. Paula has that look."

Things usually work out for the best. Because of his constant attention to Ruthie, young Seth had virtually become the man of the Olerud house. However, some tasks were simply beyond his young strength. When that happened, he often asked his older brother for help.

Fred evidently found the atmosphere in the Olerud house far more congenial than the constant tension he experienced at home -- and it wasn't long before he transferred his sexual allegiance from his mother to Willa! And possibly even Karen, although I was never sure of that.

One Saturday morning, while we were enjoying a leisurely breakfast, Sarah said, "You know, sweetheart, I miss the good old days when we were never sure, when we woke up on Saturday morning, who our bed mate was likely to be. Don't you?"

I nodded. "Me, too," I said.

"The kids are gone; there's no reason why we can't invite the O'Conners over for the weekend, is there?"

My cock stirred in happy rememberance of Paula's musky flavors when she was ready to be fucked. "None at all," I said emphatically. "I'm ready when you are."

"I'll give Paula a call," Sarah said. "Why don't you talk to Rick at work and see how he feels?" At first, Rick was dubious about continuing our swinging parties. "I'll be straight with you, Pete. Paula and I have been going through a rough patch lately, and I'm not sure how she might feel." He cocked an eyebrow at me and grinned, adding, "But I wouldn't mind partying with Sarah again."

"If Paula doesn't feel up to it, how about a threesome with Sarah?"

Rick rubbed his hands together. "Anytime!" he said heartily.

When I reported back to Sarah, she smiled at the thought of two lovers. "But I don't think that's wise under the present circumstances -- at least not with Rick." She paused. "I could call Paula, but you've given me an idea. Suppose we find another man? Believe it or not, I've never had a threesome, but I've always been curious."

"Maybe we're talking about two things at once, here," I said. "I think we both have an itch that needs to be scratched. Rick told me about a new swinger's club that just opened up in town. Suppose we go check it out?"

Sarah was quietly studying my face. "I have another idea," she said. "I don't know if it's a good idea or not; you'll have to be the judge of that. I received a call at the office the other day from a man named Paul Anderson. I dated Paul several times over the years. He's a nice man, and I think you'd like him. Anyway, he told me he would be in town for a couple of days toward the end of next week, and asked if I would care to have dinner with him. I'll bet he'd like to do a threesome. What do you think?"

As often and eagerly as I had helped Sarah prepare for her occasional nights out as the company escort, her dates had all been anonymous. The only thing I knew about them was that they were men. Suddenly, one of those nameless and faceless entities had become a real person, and I wasn't sure whether I was ready to face that reality, so I temporized. "How would you find out?"

Sarah, as the saying goes, could read me like a book. "Look, Pete, it was just an idea, that's all. It's nothing to get worked up about."

Feeling suddenly very foolish and immature, I demurred. "I didn't mean that," I said. "It's just that . . .well, I guess I find thinking about your dates exciting, but only in the abstract. Meeting one of them, knowing how he must regard me, makes me uncomfortable. Almost as if I were pimping you."

"Yes," Sarah said softly, "I can understand how you might feel that way, especially since you know I earn a "bonus" whenever I have a date, but my dates don't know that. I'll be honest with you, Pete. Now that your mine is beginning to pay off, we don't need that money -- if we ever did --but I find it exciting and sexually stimulating knowing I'm almost 40 years old, and am still sufficiently desirable to be paid for sex -- and that's what it really amounts to, you know. I think, as much as anything, that's why I was so grateful to you after we were married because you didn't ask me to give it up."

Sarah fell silent, then added, "I want you to know, Pete, that I love and respect you so much, that there is almost nothing I wouldn't do for you!" She smiled. "I knew my little adventures excited you; that's one reason I wanted to continue. Now, what about Paul?"

I wasn't really ready to make a commitment, but I slowly nodded. "OK, if you can make it clear to him before hand that we have an open marriage and that we each respect the other's right to enjoy other relationships."

"I can do that, darling," Sarah said. Her eyes were shining as she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a loving hug. "This is going to be such fun!" she whispered in my ear. "I can hardly wait!"

Despite my reservations, I found myself becoming increasingly excited at the prospect of actually watching one of Sarah's "dates" fuck her. Of course, I had seen her many times writhing passionately in David's arms and energetically thrusting herself up against Rick's pillaging cock, but those were recreational activities; I had never seen her fuck for money. That was, perhaps, a crass way of putting it, but something so deviant, so ... so sinful (what an old fashioned idea!) was, in a very perverse way, extremely exciting.

Consequently, I felt a powerful sexual tension as I watched Sarah, fresh from her shower, prepare for our date. First, after dabbing a trace of scent behind her knees, on the inside of her thighs, behind her ears and between her breasts, she slid a wisp of black lace up her thighs. It barely covered her freshly shaven mons. Then, sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly drew sheer, gray thigh-hi hose up her slender legs.

She moved gracefully to the bench in front of her boudoir table and began applying her makeup. I never tired of watching her breasts sway as she moved her arms but perhaps I was a bit too eager. She half turned to face me.

"Pete, your hovering is making me nervous. Please be a good boy and go fix us both a drink. Take your time; I do this better without an audience."

"OK," I said cheerfully, as I left the room. I belatedly realized that my nervous excitement was probably infectious. Anyone applying mascara needed a steady hand. Consequently, I fixed myself a drink and sat in the living room waiting for my bride to appear.

When she appeared, I whistled my appreciation. She whirled, and smiled down at me. "Think Paul will like this?" Sarah was dazzling in a dress I hadn't seen before. It was a very short, black dress with a decolletage cut so deeply that her cleavage was bare almost to her waist. The dark color emphasized her light coloring and drew immediate attention to the fact that her full breasts were unfettered. When she had whirled, a deep split in her skirt had flared revealing the lacy tops of her stockings.

Three inch heels completed her ensemble. Her hair was carefully arranged in a coil on her head, and it looked as if she had spent the afternoon in a beauty parlor. She wore a heavy coating of lipstick that with her heels and revealing dress, gave her a faintly sluttish look.

I had an instant erection. "My god, you look like every man's wet dream! Know what I'd like to do right now?"

Sarah looked down at the lump on my pants and smiled coquettishly. "Down, Tiger. There'll be plenty of time for that later. We have to call a cab, now, or we'll be late. Paul doesn't like waiting."

Soon we found ourselves following the maî'tre'd to our table in a dark corner of Brown's restaurant. Sarah had warned me that Paul was a big man, but the shadowy figure who rose to greet us was bigger than I had expected. He bent to give Sarah a welcoming kiss and extended his ham like hand to me. "I'm glad to have the opportunity to meet you, sir," he said formally as we shook hands.

I liked his firm grip. I murmured my greeting while sizing him up. Anderson was a big man; taller by a couple of inches and considerably heavier than me; yet he wasn't fat. He had a pleasant open face under short cropped blonde hair and an engaging smile. I could easily see why Sarah found him attractive.

Our table was round. Sarah slid onto the curved padded bench so she was seated between us. Anderson and I were almost -- but not quite -- facing each other. Sarah reached out and covered my hand with her right hand and Anderson's hand with her left. "I'm so glad the two most important men in my life have finally met," she said, looking first toward me, then toward Anderson. "You two have a lot in common. For one thing, you're both in the mining business. For another, you're both important to me." She gave my hand a little squeeze for emphasis.

Anderson lifted her hand and kissed it. "I swear, dear, you are more beautiful every time I see you." Then, still holding her hand, he looked across the table at me. "I salute you, sir. You are indeed blessed to have found this jewel."

I'm not much for hand kissing, and I was still trying to size Anderson up. "You're in the mining business, Mr. Anderson?" I asked.

"Please call me Paul. Yes, but not as directly as Sarah tells me you are. I'm just the financial officer in Gold Bay Ltd. Please tell me about your mining property."

"My name is Pete," I offered. "There isn't much to tell. I'm just a damned lucky prospector." I then went on to tell him how Jack and I had stumbled across the molybdenite deposit while we were prospecting for gold, and how we had staked it after despairing of finding "color." Then, suddenly realizing I was talking too much, I fell silent.

Paul asked a couple of polite questions, mostly, I think, to show he had been paying attention. Then he turned toward Sarah again, and continued to flatter her. The waiter brought our drinks and took our dinner orders. Paul raised his glass. "Here's to the happy couple."

Sarah flashed a smile toward me and gave my hand another squeeze.

"Thank you, Paul," I said, "that's very kind of you." Then I raised my own glass and said, "Here's to our friendship."

Paul smiled broadly as he raised his glass. "Indeed," he murmured, "hear, hear."

The waiter interrupted us. Later, while we were savoring glasses of after dinner Grande Marnier, Paul said, "I hope it wasn't presumptuous of me, but I took the liberty of reserving a table at the Cave, thinking it would give us an opportunity to become better acquainted."

He meant, of course, that it would give us two males a chance to see whether we wanted to go further. We were both well acquainted with Sarah on almost every possible level.

Sarah enthusiastically nodded her head. "That's wonderful, Paul. I was hoping I'd have a chance to show off my new dress."

Minutes later, we were shown to another round table, this time in the subdued lighting of a nightclub. The band was playing a swing tune from the '40s. Sarah put her purse on the table and turned to Paul. "Let's dance," she said, holding up her arms.

Paul smiled apologetically at me, and took her hand, leading her to the small dance floor. Seeing the two of them side by side made me realize what a giant Paul really was! I was surprised to feel pangs of anxiety gnawing in my belly. Frankly, I was torn.

On the one hand, I was really looking forward to seeing Sarah in action with one of her "dates." On the other, if Paul's cock was in proportion to the rest of him, I had difficulty seeing how the three of us could possibly have a good time.

I don't mean to suggest that I was suffering from penis envy. I've never had complaints; but I was concerned that Sarah might not be able to accommodate him -- and then, just as quickly, I realized that Sarah knew all about the weapon Paul carried between his legs, and this, after all, was her party.

Sarah was obviously enjoying herself as she clung tightly to Paul on the dance floor, but after a short set, when the band retired, Sarah was breathless when she led Paul back to our table. "Let's go back to the apartment. . ." Then she looked up at Paul, "Unless you'd rather we went to your hotel?"

I hadn't thought that far ahead, but somehow the idea of the three of us in our bed was disturbing. It's hard to explain, but I had managed to convince myself that Sarah's evening "dates" were something separate and apart from us, although I was eagerly looking forward to tonight's romp, but still, it felt better to keep it at arms length.

Consequently, before Paul could respond, I interrupted, saying "Paul's hotel is a lot closer than our apartment."

Paul looked pleased as he nodded. "You're right, Pete. Is the hotel OK with you, dear?" "As long as your room has a big bed," Sarah said, "it's fine with me."

During the brief cab ride to Paul's hotel, I tried not to notice as Sarah eagerly accepted Paul's embrace while their mouths joined in a marathon kiss. Her hand massaged his crotch while he reached inside her decolletage, and I saw the shadow of his fingers through the fabric manipulating her aroused nipple.

I looked away but even then imagined I could hear her licking and nibbling on Paul's lips. I definitely felt my cock stir as Sarah began softly moaning as she does when she's well on the way to becoming completely aroused.

We went straight across the hotel lobby to the elevators. I trailed behind the lovers who were walking with their arms around one another, feeling like a fifth wheel. Sarah must have sensed my mood, because she paused, waiting for me to catch up. Then she kissed me and wrapped an arm around my waist, so we entered the elevator three abreast. Once the doors closed, however, Paul swept her into his arms and held her tightly.

Again I felt a pang of unaccustomed anxiety -- or perhaps it was annoyance -- when I saw how eagerly she clung to his massive body with one hand behind his head and, tilting her head back, offered her open mouth to his. Their lips worked tightly together, nibbling and sucking, while their tongues met and teased. Both his hands were on her ass, lifting her, and holding her close to his groin where, I'm sure, his cock was stiffening against her warm, soft belly.

At the same time, however, I found that expression of unbridled lust incredibly arousing, and twice during the brief elevator ride found it necessary to adjust the uncomfortably growing lump in my own pants.

The elevator stopped at the eleventh floor. The lovers released each other, and as soon as the doors opened, hurried into the corridor. I followed close behind, and as Paul fumbled with the card to unlock his door, I was comforted to again feel Sarah's hand grasp mine.

The door swung open. Paul stepped aside, allowing Sarah and I to precede him into the room. He closed the door behind us. "Would you like a drink, Sarah? How about you, Peter? I have some of Sarah's favorite Chablis on the cooler and I also have some really good single-malt whisky."