Three Peeping Toms Pay Up - Hard

Marlene took a quick step forward, whipped her hand back, and slapped Betsy across the face. It was a blow that lashed Betsy's face to the side. She screamed and her hand flew to her cheek. She stared at Marlene, thunderstruck, for a moment, then started to cry.

"NEVER talk about that, again!" snapped Marlene.

"This is over," said Guy. "I'm going to call the police."

"Wait!" said Betsy, looking up quickly. She wiped her hand across her eyes. "Don't," she said in a shaking voice. "I agree with you. We treated you like total non-persons and now..." She hesitated, then stood up, took a long, quivering sigh, and blinked back her tears. "I've got to show my dimwit mom how it's done."

Victor quickly looked up at her, but then nodded slowly.

"All of us."

Betsy's fingers went at the buttons of her shirt. Leslie glanced at Guy quickly. He nodded. She settled back in her chair, watching. She said, "Did you get that fresh pot of coffee, Guy? I totally forgot."

"I'll get it," he said, standing up.

Betsy turned to him, "Should I wait, Mr. O'Brien?"

"No," he said. "You're quite a young woman." Finishing the last button, Betsy shrugged off the shirt. She said, shyly, "Someone ought to play some music, or something." "I could get my drums and do a roll or two, for this," said Victor.

"Next time," giggled Betsy. She tossed the shirt over the back of her chair. She wore a black brassiere of a size and structure that obviously had to do a big job. She looked at Leslie, with a crooked grin, and said, "I never thought I'd be doing this in front of you, Mrs. O'Brien."

Leslie said, gently, "Amazing what I've learned to do, this summer that I never thought I would do."

Marlene was watching Betsy intently. Suddenly, she said: "Okay, stop. Just stop, Betsy. This shouldn't be about you."

"You're right," said Victor. "I should take out my junk, first." He reached down and started unbuckling his belt.

"I didn't mean that," said Marlene. Her hands took the bottom of her T-shirt and quickly pulled it over her head. She too wore a serious bra, although white. Above it, Leslie could see the full breasts swelling, not contained even in the large brassiere. Marlene's swelling bosom was pale and slightly freckled; she didn't have much time for the beach. Her cleavage was dramatic, a wide 'V' diving into the depths of her bra.

For a moment, Marlene closed her eyes; her face had become bright red. She had a roundish face, with an upturned nose and large blue eyes. Blond hair, cut practically and efficiently short, framed her cheeks. Leslie admired the elegant, firm jaw line. When they were not pressed tight, as now, Marlene had exceptionally passionate lips. Thinking of her husband, Leslie could imagine the frustration, the bedroom tirades.

Then, Marlene reached back with both hands, fumbling, and the bra slipped down. The full breasts settled on her chest, pale in the sunlight.

Guy was returning with a tray that held the coffee pot and five clean cups. He stopped and looked.

Marlene glanced down, for a moment, but then lifted her head. "Okay, here are the knockers, folks."

The breasts were full enough to be drawn down, but their roundness conceded nothing to gravity. They rested slightly apart, like two perfect, pale gourds. In the center of each, surprisingly high, was a good-sized nipple, light pink against the white skin.

Marlene took a deep breath, which seemed to shudder a little.

"Wait," said Betsy. She reached back, flipped open her bra, and tossed it on the table. She straightened up pushing out breasts like her mother's, but still almost defiantly high, with solid bases that tapered upward to end in nipples cocked straight up. With a little giggle, she said, "For comparison's sake." She was looking a Guy, as though it was a man who must approve.

"So beautiful," he said softly. "Mother and daughter. So perfect."

Marlene shrugged. She was unbuttoning her shorts. When she had unzipped and opened them, she wiggled her hips to work them down. Then she dropped them to the terrace. She stood only in sneakers and a red thong. Her hips were wide and full, her belly rounded above the thong. Although heavier than Leslie's, Marlene's legs had a robust, rounded shape. And whatever was under her thong had impressively plump contours.

She hooked her thumbs over her thong, and, looking right at Guy, pushed it down, worked it over her tennis shoes, and tossed it on her pile of clothes. She had a remarkably prominent pubis; it seeming to push out, demanding attention. It was well covered with thick blond curls that stood up, as though brushed upward, as they mounted her belly.

Leslie said, "You're so pretty and sexy, Marlene! I knew you were hot, but I never expected such a bod."

Betsy turned to Victor. "Mom's been very brave. Time to show Mrs. O'Brien your junk." She giggled. "That's what he calls it!" she explained.

Victor was still standing. He finished unbuckling his belt and shoved down pants and underwear with one hard push. His penis flopped out of captivity, bobbing. Leslie appraised him openly. He was a healthy young man, down there. Full rich brown hair that could not hide the thick cock that made a gentle curve away from his belly, ending in a head that was full, uncircumcised, and very red. Leslie smiled at him when, very briefly, he glanced up at her.

He straightened up slowly. Betsy was gazing at him fondly, but Marlene studied him, as though curious what Betsy was getting.

"I'm 'it,' now," said Betsy, "start that music again. She quickly opened her shorts and stooped, pushing them down. Now, she wore only light-blue bikini underwear, intended perhaps to look well with blond hair." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, said, "This is more people than ever saw my snatch at one time," and pushed down the panties till they dropped around her ankles.

Then she stood and spread her arms, saying, "Ta-da!" She had the same full, insistent mound as her mother, bulging from between slender thighs that taped to perfection. Leslie saw her toes curl tightly, the only outward sign of nerves.

The three were completely naked, now, and stood examining one another: the mother her daughter's boyfriend, the daughter her mother, the boyfriend his girlfriend's mother. Marlene took a deep breath, and said, crisply, "Well, no more secrets in this family. They even know that I'm a frustrated housewife, thanks to you, Betsy."

She turned to look at Guy. "What next?" He motioned to the chairs. "Have a seat, there's coffee for everyone."

"Don't we have muffins?" asked Leslie, as though Guy had deliberately left them behind. She rose, said "excuse me," and hurried into the house. In incredibly short order, she emerged with a tray of muffins, butter, jam, knives and forks, and napkins. She set them down on the table and smiled. The three naked guests had sat down, the mother's and daughter's breasts jutting over the table. Victor, in the interests of fairness, perhaps, had moved his seat back from the table and sat with his legs open, giving Leslie and Marlene a clear view.

"You know, we haven't asked you to do anything," said Guy.

"Yet..." said Betsy, with a smile. Guy continued: "But I for one am enjoying seeing these hot bodies."

"Me, too!" said Leslie, looking directly at Victor, who looked sheepish, but resisted the impulse to close his legs. She said, Victor, come over here."

He made a face, lips pressed, and got up. When he was standing beside Leslie's chair, his package not six inches from her arm, Leslie said: "I want to see you completely naked." He spread his arms and shrugged, looking down.

"Betsy, you can reach. Show him what I mean."

Betsy leaned forward in her chair, and reached out with one slender white hand. Marlene was watching intently. Betsy's forefinger and thumb closed on the round, red head of Victor's penis and pulled back the foreskin. "Oh," said Victor looking down at himself. Now, he was blushing.

"That's his meat," said Betsy. "That's the USDA prime head of fresh prick." She gently pulled it back and forth, and almost immediately it swelled. She said, "If foreskins didn't exist, some drug company would invent them."

Guy sighed, "My tribe sacrificed mine to some deity almost as soon as I was born."

"Sit down," said Leslie, with a grin, "Leave your meat out till I tell you otherwise."

"I think we're all at your disposal," said Marlene, a little shyly, and Leslie suddenly wondered if that frustrated bedroom life had mellowed her attitude toward all of this so rapidly. Marlene looked at Betsy, and said, "I'm so sorry I dragged you and Victor into this! I can't believe what I did!"

Betsy said, "Oh, mom! So who's been hurt? Am I traumatized because Guy and Leslie saw my tits and pussy?" Marlene stared at her for a moment. "I guess NOT," she said emphatically.

"I'm cool," said Victor. "I'm sure this hasn't been easy for you, Mrs. Owen. I mean, my being the boyfriend and all." "Interesting, though," said Marlene, thoughtfully. "I'm really glad for Betsy."

Betsy actually laughed aloud, "For exactly WHAT are you glad about, mom?"

"You've got a game boyfriend who takes charge. I like that."

"Is that what you really MEANT?"

"You're saying I meant that I envy you Victor's big dick with the fat meat, dear?"

"Mom!"

"Well, isn't that what you were pushing me to say, just now? What you thought I meant?"

Betsy blushed furiously and looked down at her lap—to the extent she could see it below the shelves of her breasts. Finally, she said, "Like mother, like daughter, I guess."

Leslie was watching them, fascinated. Somewhere, somehow, the energetic, endlessly preoccupied and involved Marlene must have found time to signal to her daughter that passion was okay. She smiled and started serving the muffins and coffee.

Guy was watching, too, and noticed that both Betsy and Marlene had noticeably stiffer nipples than a few minutes ago. Embarrassment? Arousal? Sure as hell not a cold breeze; it was beginning to swelter under the afternoon sun.

Marlene must have read his mind—or perhaps she spoke with other motives. "Wish you guys had a pool—but, of course, you've got the incredible bay beach."

"We'll all go to the beach after dark," announced Guy, "so we can protect your anonymity. Usually no one there, anyway."

Betsy said slowly, as though to herself: "So we'll...still be here." Marlene looked at Guy for the answer.

"Oh, I think we'll have dinner early. You two will draw straws for waitress."

Marlene was nodding her head. "Well, Edward is gone for the week—to Washington, so...I'm at your disposal."

"Thanks for the invite, Mr. O'Brien," said Betsy uncertainly.

"Meanwhile," said Guy, rising. "We can cool off like we did when we were kids—except not so chilly."

He disappeared into the house. A moment later, he was calling out of a cellar window, "Victor, take this hose, will you?"

"Yes sir," Victor hopped up and hastened to the side of the house. Marlene watched him as he went. The strong, lean haunches were a sight for frustrated eyes, thought Leslie. He came back dragging the hose and passed the table, hauling it onto the lawn. Guy followed soon after, saying, "I hooked up to warm water. There has to be SOME privilege for being adults."

"Yay!" said Betsy. It sounded a bit forced, but she was grinning. Leslie wondered if she was thinking that she might get back to Columbia this year, after all."

Marlene rose and walked, hips swinging, out onto the lawn. From the backside, thought Leslie, she was a bit hefty, with an ass that flared out from her waist.

Marlene stopped a few yards from Victor, spread her arms, and ordered, "Hose me down."

"Here comes," he yelled. "Ooh," exclaimed Marlene, "that's beautiful. Just the right temperature, Guy! Then, she said, "Ouch, watch for the boobs, young man. They're big, but they're sensitive as hell."

Betsy jumped up and took a few skipping steps out onto the law. "Here, too," she cried. Her compact body was obscenely delicious, thought Leslie. How could anyone compete? But she had a little grin of happiness for her former student.

"I'm coming, too!" cried Leslie. She glanced toward Guy, who nodded. Leslie tossed off her bathrobe and ran naked across the lawn, to stand next to Marlene. Betsy was glancing with curiosity at Leslie, but also monitoring Victor's reaction to the two naked women. He just lifted the hose and started at Leslie's knees, working his way up. Leslie said, "Oops, easy now." She put one hand over her pussy "I like it there, but can't you make it softer?"

There came a wider, easy stream that Victor played over Leslie's lower belly, then her breasts.

"Perfection!" Leslie purred.

"Get me!" called Betsy. "And me, again," said Marlene. The two naked bodies, both a medley of sensuous curves, one a larger version of the other, spread their arms for the spray. Marlene also took a step sideways that spread her legs. When Victor got to her, he let the spray pause at her pubis. After a few second, she bent forward, hands going down, and said, "Oh, my God!"

"Hurts?" called Betsy. "Doesn't HURT," said Marlene, pointedly. "Just too much all at once."

She looked at Leslie. "You have a glorious little shape, Leslie. I had no idea, although I know you do yoga. You're a gem. Guy is so lucky!"

"I think he gets off on knockers," said Leslie. "I'm a titty girl, not a booby girl." Marlene asked, a bit wistfully, "Is Guy going to join in or is he modest?"

Leslie turned and yelled, "Your turn, Guy! Take it all off. We want to see what you've got dangling down there."

"Oh, my God," Marlene giggled. "Talk about making him self-conscious!" She watched as Guy stripped. Nor did she look away as he walked toward them. This babe is in a bad way, thought Leslie. And with a body like hers!

Guy came up to them, his dick wagging. Not too many women could look at that and feel disappointed, thought Leslie. Assuming, that is, that a woman was the type to worry about it. Leslie wasn't; she never met a dick she didn't like.

Guy spread his arms. "Hit me, Victor." The spray played over him, from face to toes, until Victor turned to his games. The stream came to a halt on Guy's package. Leslie expected him to yell, but, apparently, the impact was bearable. For a few seconds, she watched. MORE than bearable! The stream played over the penis, shaking it, bouncing it; the glans penis started to swell and redden.

Leslie glanced at Marlene, who was gazing fixedly, with what Leslie thought was a world of longing. Her nipples were hard—assertive as bullets on her broad breasts, pointing at Guy.

Finally, the fresh hose moved on, crossing to Betsy, and Guy turned to them. He had grown considerably. He walked over with a smile, giving Marlene a long, appraising examination. Suddenly, she lifted her hands to cover her nipples. Her face went bright red, "Oh, God. Look at me! Oh, I'm sorry, Leslie!"

Leslie leaned her shoulder against Marlene's and slipped one arm around her. With her other hand, she reached out and took Marlene's hand off one of her nipples. "Don't cover your tits." Marlene let Leslie move the hand, watching Leslie's face. With two fingers, Leslie pinched the rigid pink nipple and wiggled it back and forth. Marlene closed her eyes. "Not here," she murmured, hoarsely. "Later, okay? You can do anything you want to me. Either of you. But not in front of them." She nodded in the direction of Betsy and Victor.

Leslie looked. About the same scene over there! Betsy had the hose, now, and was playing it over Victor, always returning to his penis. She lifted the stiffening penis with two fingers so she could aim the spray to tickle its underside. Victor was shaking his head, laughing, pushing away her hands, but his hard-on had progressed very far.

Marlene was watching him, now, and, when he noticed, Victor shrugged and pointed at Betsy accusingly. God, said Leslie to herself: This family has been waiting to be FORCED to do something like this. All it took was a threat of jail, and their inhibitions vanished. It probably was true of Marlene, more than Betsy; but Leslie wondered if in some way Betsy's shameless display was a "sharing" with her mother, a tantalizing? Leslie called to them, "Betsy, what are you going to DO with that thing, now that you've made it?"

"I don't know," laughed Betsy, still teasing Victor. "Does anyone know what to do with it? I'm just a college girl." Victor was looking down at his stiff dick, now the focus of all attention, including from his girlfriend's mother. Betsy knelt slowly to the grass, her shape from the back an amazing hourglass; but she turned her face to them and gave a little shrug. "I mean, is this part of the deal?" she asked. "With everyone..."

Leslie took Guy's arm with her right hand, Marlene's with her left, and marched them toward the terrace. "Where are you going?" called Victor.

"To watch television," Leslie called back.

She led them to the far side of the terrace and dragged over a chaise lounge with a thick brown cushion. She adjusted the chaise lounge flat, then looked at Guy and Marlene. "Anyone need a little nap?"

Marlene sat down slowly. Her curves were astonishing: the wide shoulders and out-thrust breasts, the narrow waist that flared to wide hips. She looked up at them. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. She said, in a whisper, "Please... It has been six years—more, I think. Only frustration, wanting it. Edward is with someone else—his latest. Someone less demanding, I guess, less of an emasculating bitch." She let herself fall back on the chaise lounge. "Oh I don't know, anymore," she said. Her head fall back, her legs opened a little. She looked up at them.

"You want just Guy?" asked Leslie, softly. "It's okay— really." Marlene shook her head. "I want to be gang-banged, if you want to know the truth. Fucked till I can't stand." She closed her eyes.

"Do you remember, in Spartacus? A Syrian slave girl was pegged out and raped by Roman soldiers till she was dead. The commander was disgusted. He asked, 'Are the women of Rome so virtuous that the whole Roman army has to rape one slave girl?' I know, I know, horrible. Of course, it is. But I lie in bed sometimes and imagine that I'm that slave girl and I...I keep...I have a huge dildo... I keep jamming it in, you know, hard...over and over...till it hurts like hell. And then, when I'm really sore, I masturbate and I'm so hot I can't stand it. I walk around for days hurting up my pussy."

Leslie knelt beside the chaise lounge. She put her hands on the two big breasts and squeezed. Marlene gave a long sigh. "Fuck the living shit out of me! Slap the shit out of my tits. I want it all."

Leslie's face came down and she closed her mouth over a nipple. "Oh, God," murmured Marlene. Tears were on the lashes of her closed eyes.

Suddenly, she squirmed her hips and gasped. At her feet, Guy pushed apart her thighs until the lower legs slipped over the sides of the chaise. He held her thighs and slowly drew her down to where he knelt. He said, "Tie that bitch's legs apart, so we can all fuck her."

"Don't, oh please," she said. "Not...oh, God, no so many! Where are the other girls>"

Her hand came up behind Leslie's head and pushed her face down against the breast, squashing it. She twisted her shoulders to mash it against Leslie's mouth. She said, her voice tight, "I'm going to come in about one minute, you know. I can't help it."

Leslie lifted her face. "You want Guy's dick, now?"

She nodded. "You really know how to share."

Guy rose and, leaning forward, lifted her legs, his arms under her thighs. He knelt on the chaise lounge and shuffled forward. Leslie lifted her head and said, suddenly, "See her big clit? Wow!"