Buck Fever

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Epilogue

Chapter Ten

Bob sat there, miserably.

“I am a bastard,” he said. “I should have stopped it.”

“Why didn’t you?” The vitriol that had been in her exclamation was gone. Now there was something almost like inquisitiveness there.

“I don’t know,” he groaned. “It had been so long. And she was so sure about it. And then Sam did things with Randy that drove me nuts.”

“Seeing him sleeping with her wasn’t enough to drive you nuts?”

“This was before that,” said Bob.

“I thought we had already covered that. Did you leave some things out?”

“A few,” he said, miserably. “What I told you was bad enough. I figured to spare you what I could.”

“Well, as I told you, I’m not stupid. You admitted to masturbating each other and intercourse. The most common thing in-between them is oral sex.”

“Yeah,” Bob sighed, softly.

“So ... are you saying that Samantha and Randy had oral sex, and told you about it?”

“No. She just did it to him in front of me. I think she was paying me back for what I did with Mal.”

“And why would she pay you back for that? I thought there was a pact.”

Bob felt drained. He didn’t feel like he had enough energy to go into what he and Sam had done. He had no way to defend himself from those actions, none at all. He couldn’t blame it on being curious, or sheltered or anything else.

“Let’s just not go into that, please?” he muttered.

“I see,” she said, her voice frosty. She stood again.

"Remember when this whole idea came up?" she asked.

"Which idea?" said Bob.

"The one where we talked about this hunting trip being about bonding?"

Bob's eyes widened as he remembered the conversation.

"That's not what I intended to happen," he said. "Honest."

"Well it sure seems like somebody took that seriously!" said Lucy.

“Yeah,” sighed Bob, and he flopped back on the bed, his arms outstretched.

She moved toward the door. “I think I should talk with the children now. Please stay here.”

The children, as she had classified them, had one possible advantage that Bob did not - time to think. While Bob had been spilling his guts in the bedroom, they had the luxury of time to try to prepare for the expected interrogation and plan what to say. Bob, however, could have used that time better. Their status as children was a legal one, and well deserved in the sense that they were not considered experienced enough to operate and survive on their own in society. They were at the upper end of that legal status, but even so, their preparations to face Lucy were those of inexperienced youth. That’s the long way of saying their defense was a little juvenile and lame.

When she stalked back into the family room the whispered consultations they'd been engaged in stopped, and all three of them turned to face her.

None of them believed that Bob had told her anything even near the truth. They wouldn't have, so they assumed he hadn't either. The bulk of their debate had centered around what to do about Sam's blurted confession about "it" being an accident, and unplanned. Their final decision, reached only seconds before Lucy came back, seemed like the story that would get Mallory grounded for the least amount of time.

Lucy sat in her recliner again. She leaned back. "So!" she said. "An exciting trip, I understand."

Nobody said anything, but there were some tentative head nods. Their lack of excitement over something that, earlier, they'd been practically manic about, spoke volumes to her. But now she knew why. Lucy started like a seasoned interrogator, just probing with a bit of the truth, to see what might pop to the surface.

"Sam, you called Mal a slut. It's pretty clear you've felt like she deserved that appellation for some time. But your father wasn't aware of that before this trip. Can you tell me why?"

"I didn't tell him," said Sam, unknowingly confirming that Mallory was, in some fashion, an actual slut.

"Why not? Didn't you think he had a right to know?"

Sam blinked. What they had talked about would fit in perfectly here. It was uncanny.

"It was too personal," she said. "And Mal would have been too embarrassed. That's not something you talk to any adult about."

"We have both said you could talk to us about anything," said Lucy. "And before now, I thought you believed that."

"We would have said something," said Mallory. "But only later, when we were older. He found out about it by accident and then the cat was out of the bag."

"Tell me about how he found out about it ... by accident," said Lucy. She glanced at her son, who seemed entirely relaxed. That brought a frown to her brow.

"Sam told me not to take it along," said Mallory, adopting what Lucy instantly recognized as a falsely contrite visage. "But I get ... um ... you know ... horny a lot." The last few words were delivered in a muffled rush as Mal covered her face in equally fake embarrassment.

"I told her not to take it," said Sam, pushing the point. It had been decided that if Mallory could have kept her panties on, this whole thing would not have happened. If she'd simply let her uncle fondle her boobs, but then stopped it at that, they would have had power over him that would have protected them from disclosure about their own activities, and everything would have just gone on like before. But she hadn't done that. So she deserved taking the brunt of the damage. Even Mallory agreed on that.

Lucy, sensing some kind of planned deception, suddenly realized that the kids had no idea what Bob had told her. Now, however, they were confessing to having possession of some “it” that they were trying to use to evade the truth with.

"I'd like to see ... it ... if I may," she said, softly.

"Do I have to?" Mallory had expected this, but still didn't want to go through with it.

"Yes, you do," said her mother.

"Okaaay," said Mal, drawing it out as if she were nine or ten, rather than sixteen.

She got up and went to her room. When she returned, she had a rolled up towel in her hand.

"Do I have to show it to you?" she complained.

"Yes."

"Can you make Randy leave the room?"

That was interesting. Lucy looked at him. He looked entirely too carefree. She wondered what they had cooked up. If the situation wasn't so serious, she might have wanted to smile.

"No, I believe Randy should stay."

Sam had a very quick and very shocking stab of concern, because while she knew what was in the towel, her Aunt Lucy didn't. Not yet. And when Mallory's plea for Randy (who also knew what was in the towel) not to see it was so easily brushed off by their mother, it seemed ... off somehow. But she didn't have time to reflect on that because Mallory unrolled the towel.

What was revealed was an anatomically correct adult penis, made of what white people call flesh colored latex. It had a nice pair of balls at the base of it that, other than being aesthetically pleasing, served as a handle of sorts. It represented a circumcised penis, and was about eight inches long.

Lucy felt something flutter in her belly at the sight of it. When her husband had left, he had left her libido behind. She had chosen not to seek some kind of sexual satisfaction with another man. She hadn’t been happy with “men” in general. So she had had to make do with her fingers after that. She had almost bought something very much like what Mallory was presenting, several years back, but had fled the store in horrified anticipation of the smirk she was quite sure the clerk would give her.

"That's why I'm not a virgin any more, Mom," Mallory admitted, her voice filled with tragedy. "That's why Sam calls me a slut. I'm sorry I was too embarrassed to come talk to you about it when I got it."

Part of Lucy's mind marveled at the audacity of their attempt to subvert the truth. Another part snarled that her daughter was so willing to lie about something so important as losing her virginity. That Sam and even Randy were in on it too, just made her sad. But the overall story they'd come up with was hilarious. True, it was only hilarious because she knew the actual truth. Still, it was clever in many ways. This object had been right to hand, in her daughter's room, which might be why they cooked up this cockamamie story. And if what Bob had told her was true ... if the girls had been playing around with Randy, but stopping short of intercourse, then she would have needed something like this around. So would Sam. She looked at Bob's daughter and was about to ask if she borrowed Mal's or had her own, when the tension that had gathered inside her roared out in the form of hysterical laughter. It was just too much.

The kids sat, frozen in shock, as the woman they expected to rant and rave started laughing, and then produced belly laughs, until she actually scooted forward as if she was going to try to stand up, but lurched sideways and fell onto the floor instead. The laughing continued unabated until even inexperienced youth recognized that she was in pulmonary trouble, as she tried to breathe but kept laughing anyway. It went on long enough that Bob came into the room, having heard it go on so long, and having decided it was worth risking her wrath to make sure she was all right.

Such things take care of themselves, though and, eventually, with Bob kneeling over her, Lucy relaxed and the belly laughs turned to giggles, which turned to sighs mixed with giggles. She was grinning like she'd been at a Richard Pryor show, and liked Richard Pryor a lot.

"You okay?" asked Bob, with concern in his voice that Lucy recognized as genuine. It was the first honest thing she felt like she'd heard in a long time. It sobered her. She nodded and let Bob help her up.

"Mallory showed me that," said Lucy, pointing at the pink dildo still on display on Mal's lap.

"What?!" Bob stared in shocked surprise.

"She explained how that's why she isn't a virgin any more, and why Sam calls her a slut."

Bob put both hands over his face, and a muffled "Crap!" came from beneath where they didn't quite cover his lips. He dropped his hands and looked at the kids, who looked confused.

"I told her everything," he said.

"What?!" All three teens yelped the word at the same time, in the same tone of voice and with the same level of concern. It sounded like a trained trio.

"I told her the truth," said Bob. "She deserved the truth."

"Thank you, Bob," said Lucy, who sat back down in her recliner. "It's refreshing that somebody thinks I deserve the truth."

The kids still had stricken looks on their faces. It was Sam who recovered first.

“How much of the truth?” she asked, staring intently at her father.

“Most of it,” he said, tiredly.

“Most? So you left some things out?” Lucy looked over at him, but didn’t look angry. “I’m not surprised. It was a long week.”

Nobody said anything. Lucy smiled, tightly.

“You’ll understand how I might have a few questions. Shall we get to those right away? And, this time, I’d like you to answer them truthfully.”

The interrogation went on for another hour. Lucy seemed to have some perverse desire to make them give her details. Perhaps she knew that this amounted to punishment of a sorts.

But one thing became very clear. Mallory had, in fact, actively attempted to seduce Bob. That she did so with such ease was something Lucy had no trouble understanding. She knew her daughter was cute, and she knew that Bob wasn’t the first man to think about having sex with her.

She could tell that something was being held back. The odd thing was that it seemed like all four of them were holding something back. She had watched the whole quartet squirm as she probed. She had pulled information out of them that could have been used to write the screen play for an XXX rated movie.

She decided to think about it the next day. She was too tired to work through any more of it. They'd all still be here in the days to come. Whatever the secret was, she'd worm it out of them.

She closed her eyes. Maybe not. After all, she had her own secret ... something that had happened to her when she was a teenager, like them ... something that she'd never told anybody about. Even decades later, nobody knew.

"It's late," she said. "Why don't we pick this up tomorrow?"

"You mean we aren't finished?" moaned Mallory.

"Of course we're not finished. This isn't something like trying a new food. This isn't some TV show you've watched and now you're ready to flip the channel to something else."

"Oh," said Mallory, looking sheepish.

"I'm sorry," said Bob.

"Oh, you're sorry, all right," said Lucy, but the vitriol that had been in her voice before this wasn't as sharp.

"It wasn't his fault," said Mallory.

"Yes it was. He was the only adult out there, and he should have controlled the situation."

All four sat mutely. Lucy stood up.

"We'll have to set some new rules too, but we can get to that later."

"What kind of rules?" asked Mallory.

"Surely you don't think I'm going to let you just go hop into Bob's bed whenever you feel like it," said Lucy, her voice serious.

"Oh," said Mallory again.

Bob stood.

"We'll just go now," he said. "I'm really sorry, Lucy."

"I am too, Bob," she said.

Things did not get picked up the next day. That was because Lucy got sent on a service call by her boss the next day that required her to go out of town for three days. There had been an "event" at a construction site, involving one of the company's power transfer modules. Apparently some high voltage electricity coursed through components that were only designed to handle a fraction of that. It destroyed tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment and the customer was screaming about suing somebody. Lucy's boss was pretty sure that one of the contractors had hooked something up wrong, probably something to do with the grounding system, but that needed to be documented. Lucy was an electrical engineer, and she was his trouble shooter, so she got the call to go do the investigation.

She couldn't very well tell her boss, "Hey, can I miss this one? I just found out my best friend is porking my daughter, and my son is fucking the daughter of said best friend, and we're still working through some issues about this."

What she could do was lay down some rules before she left. To that end, she got her children together. Looking at Mallory, she said, "I shouldn't have to tell you not to have sex with Bob while I'm gone. But since I shouldn't have had to tell you not to have sex with him to start with, I'm going to be very clear on this now. Don't have sex with Bob while I'm gone. Got it?"

"Yes, Mom," said Mallory.

Lucy looked at her son next.

"It's really Bob's business whether he lets Sam be sexually active. But you are my son, and before you go all manly on me, we need to have some discussion about your responsibilities as a sexually active male. I should have had this discussion with you already. But I didn't. For now ... no sex with Samantha while I'm gone. Not even if Bob says she can. Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

It never occurred to her to tell them not to have sex with each other.

And she was in too much of a hurry to notice that neither of them seemed nearly as bummed out by her rules as she expected them to be.

She called Bob to explain why she was going out of town.

"You're going to have to keep an eye on their studies while I'm gone," she said. "I told Mallory she is not to have sex with you while I'm gone."

"Of course," said Bob.

"Try to keep it in your pants for me."

"Of course," he said again.

What Lucy didn't know was that, as she talked to Bob on the phone, he was lying in bed with his daughter, who had unabashedly climbed into said bed the night before, after the big blow up next door. When he had resisted, feeling a lot of guilt, she had said, "We don't have to have sex, Daddy. I just want to sleep with you."

The phone woke them both up.

And, technically, since Bob didn't have on pants at the time, he wasn't violating his "agreement" with Lucy when Sam rolled against him and reached for his penis, which happened to be experiencing what is commonly called, "morning wood."

As stated before, Lucy hadn't prohibited her children from having sex with each other either.

This all sounds very legalistic, but it exemplifies perfectly the difference between the Daoist approach to thinking, which was mentioned at the beginning of this tale, and that of Confucius.

Lucy was operating on the philosophy of Confucius, while the others were firmly in the Daoist camp.

The perceptions of the people involved in all this were what drove their actions, rather than the more remote, sterile rules of some outside influence.

Granted, Bob felt guilt about the fact that he talked to Lucy while he was naked, next to his equally naked daughter, but that guilt wasn't enough to fuel true resistance when Sam wanted to continue being his lover.

As for the teens, they were completely comfortable with the change in the status of their sexual lives. All they were concerned about was getting caught and being faced with rules and restrictions they couldn't evade.

Which is why, as Lucy reached the city limits on her way to find out what idiot had wired things wrong, her son was lustily fucking his teenage prick in and out of her moaning daughter, and the man she had thought of for more than a decade as her best friend, was groaning as he spurted his semen into her niece.

"We can't keep doing this," panted Bob. He was lying on his back, his chest heaving as he tried to get more air into his lungs.

"Yes we can," sighed Samantha. She'd cum twice while he fucked her, but still felt the urge to circle her clit with one fingertip. This was made easier by his sperm, leaking from her pussy.

"What I mean is that if we keep doing this without some kind of protection, you're going to get pregnant," he said.

"That wouldn't be the end of the world," she said.

His head rolled and he stared at her, gaping.

"Are you crazy?"

"Women have babies all the time," she said, carelessly.

"Having a baby now would ruin your life!" he huffed.

"Did mom having me ruin your life?"

"Apples and oranges, Sam. We're not talking about ruining my life. Besides, the circumstances were different, Sam. We had already been to college. We were married."

"I'd marry you if I could," said his daughter.

"Well you can't. And you can't have a child now either. Especially not my child."

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to college, and you're going to meet some nice young man and marry him, and have his babies!"

"What if I don't want to do that?" she asked, calmly.

"Sam!" he yelled.

"Okay, okay. Don't have a heart attack. I didn't say I don't want any of that. But whatever guy wants me to have his babies is going to have to be as good as you. I doubt there are many of those guys out there."

"You're being ridiculous," said Bob.

"I'm being honest," she replied.

Next door things weren't so complicated. Mallory was sitting on top of Randy, whose youthful, straining penis was firmly surrounded by her sucking pussy. She was leaning forward, holding his wrists on the bed beside his head, and rubbing her breasts across his face while she scooted back and forth, making the tip of his cock massage her cervix.

"Fuck! I love this," she panted.

Randy didn't reply, having finally latched onto a nipple, which he was happily sucking.

Some five minutes later, when he groaned and thrust his hips upward, jetting his nectar into her belly, neither of them gave a single thought to the danger of pregnancy.

Of course it was already much too late to worry about that anyway.

Lucy had said she expected to be gone for three days or so. Amid the charred remains of the power transfer module, however, was clearly visible the burned ends of the cable that should have been connected between points A and B, and had been connected between points A and C instead. It was more technical than that, but the details aren't important.

What's important is that it only took her an hour to document the fact that the electrical contractor had screwed up monumentally, and that no fault could be assigned to her company.

This is why she got home much earlier than anyone expected her to.

And that is why, when she walked into the house and heard moaning, she did not call out to announce she was home. Instead, she investigated the moaning.

Which was emitting from Mallory's throat as she sat astride Randy, impaled on his teenage boner while he sat on a chair beside the kitchen table. Both teens were naked. Their partially eaten supper was still on the table.

To say Lucy was nonplussed would be the understatement of the century.

Thankfully, when Lucy barged into Bob's house, he and Sam were not engaged in the same pursuit as she had just caught her children in. Bob had removed a load of laundry from the dryer and was folding it. Sam was putting the supper dishes in the dishwasher. Lucy didn't knock. She never knocked. Mi casa es su casa was almost literally true when it came to Bob and Lucy.

"Hi," said Bob, automatically. Then he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

"Aunt Lucy?" Sam came from the kitchen.

"Go see your cousins," said Lucy, tersely.

"I thought you were going to be gone," said Sam.

"Go see your cousins!" snapped Lucy.

Bob set the laundry aside. He looked at Sam. "Go on," he said, softly.

She opened her mouth, but then closed it. She hurried toward the front door.

Lucy paced.

Bob could tell she was agitated, but he'd never seen her like this. She looked ... odd ... somehow.

"What's wrong?" asked Bob again. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened," she said, still pacing. "I just got home and found my children having sex in the kitchen." This was delivered with a peculiarly flat inflection.

"Oh," said Bob, feeling dread.

"You kind of left some things out of your explanation of what happened on that fucking camping trip," she growled.

He had no idea what to say. He felt like a kid, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"You fucking bastard!" Now there was emotion in her voice.

"Lucy ..." He was pleading, but he still couldn't put anything into words.

She stopped and turned to face him.

"I've loved you for years. I loved you before Valerie and Brad took off! That's why I could understand why they did what they did. But did you turn to me after that? Ohhhh no. You went all stoic on me and did without intimacy for ten years. And I waited for you all of those years, going without intimacy too, because the only man I wanted to be intimate with was you. But when you finally decided to break your sexual fast, you didn't come to me. Instead you chose two teenage girls! I waited ten years for you to come to your senses and reach out to me, but what did you do? You decided to fuck my daughter, and then to fuck your daughter. I was right there, you fucking prick, and you ignored me."

Bob's mind whirled. Obviously she knew everything. Part of his brain whispered that, when she'd found Mallory and Randy having sex, they had told her the one thing he thought she'd never forgive him for. And she was furious ... except she wasn't furious for the reason he'd assumed she'd be furious. It was incomprehensible! At the same time, another part of his brain was trying to process her statement about loving him ... waiting for him. She'd loved him before Brad and Valerie had run off together?

"We need to talk about this," he gasped.

She glared at him, her hands on her hips.

"Really? Now you want to talk? We live next door to each other for sixteen years and now you want to talk?"

"We've talked almost every day," he objected. He was on the defensive, and wasn't thinking very clearly.

"And yet we never talked about the most important thing we should have talked about!" she snapped.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Bob just stood there. There were so many things she could be referring to that his mind whirled.

"Like what?" he said.

"About us, you idiot!" she yelled.

Next door Sam burst into the house and yelled for Mallory. She was almost bowled over when her cousin slammed into her, crying hysterically. Randy was close behind. He looked scared.

"What happened?" yelled Sam.

Mallory was sobbing so hard she couldn't talk. She stuttered something, but it was incomprehensible.

"She came home early and caught us," said Randy.

"Caught you?"

"Having sex," said the boy.

"Oh shit," said Sam softly, her arms wrapped around her weeping cousin.

"That's not the worst part," said Randy.

"What could be worse than that?"

Randy looked off to one side. He was clearly agitated, though in a different way than his sister.

He finally looked at her.

"She was yelling at us and asking questions. I mean you know how she is when she's like that. And ... well ... I guess we sort of told her about you and your dad."

Sam froze. Her face drained of blood.

"You sort of told her?"

He looked uncomfortable.

"Mallory did," he said.

An extra burst of sobbing wracked Mallory's body at this.

Sam looked at the wall, but what she was really trying to see was through the wall, to where her aunt and father were at the moment. She looked back at Randy.

"Tell me exactly what you told her."

Lucy had continued her rant, mentioning specific times and incidents in which she had reached out to him. He remembered them all, even the time when he'd turned the sprinkler system on, not knowing she was in the field of fire. She'd gotten soaked and the shirt she'd been wearing had become translucent, exposing the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra that day. She had stayed there intentionally, laughing with him about it and hoping he'd ogle her. He had ogled her, but only briefly and only when he was sure she wasn't watching his eyes.

What he thought of over and over again as she raved, was the fact that he had wanted to reach out to her, but had controlled that urge, because he was sure all she wanted was his friendship, and he didn't want to ruin that. His repeated apologies were as much about his ignorance as they were to assuage her anger.

Then she got to that New Year's Eve that they'd both gotten a little extra tipsy on. It had been late, or more correctly early, and the kids had finally crashed. She had asked him to dance with her and he had. She had felt good in his arms and he'd gotten an erection. He'd been embarrassed by it and turned away, breaking contact.

"I rubbed up against you like a common whore and you still didn't get it!" she yelled.

Something broke inside him. Had he been able to sit and reflect on this feeling, he might have drawn a parallel between that breaking feeling and what had happened when he had rolled on top of his daughter that first time and intentionally pushed his prick as deep into her as he could get.

he yelled.

She was so startled at the change from him being a whimpering milksop to having such an assertive tone, that she did.

"Stop right there," he said, his voice heavy. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?" It came out in a rush, fueled by her agitation.

"That night. When we danced. I did want something more. I got an erection, Lucy. I got a boner. I wanted to bang you so hard that you would never think about Brad again. But I knew you only wanted friendship. At least I believed you only wanted friendship. I believed you didn't want another man pawing you and using you, especially not Brad's brother, so I pushed you away. I didn't want you to know I wanted to take Brad's place."

"But that's not what I wanted!" she yelled.

"I know that now," he yelled back. "But you never said anything then. And that night is a good example. Remember what you said before you asked me to dance with you? You said that Brad would have had sex with you three or four times that night. And you made it sound like that disgusted you."

"I was disgusted with Brad, not sex!" she groaned.

"But you didn't say that. You never said anything that would have communicated that you wanted anything more than just a good friend. I wanted you hundreds of times before that, and since then too, but I never did anything because I didn't want to screw up what we did have."

"What was I supposed to say, Bob? That I wanted you to please fuck my socks off?" She snorted.

He took a breath. What he was about to say might very well make the rift between them into a gaping chasm, but he had to say it.

"Mallory did. And Sam did too."

She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything. She blinked three or four times.

And then she slumped. Looking around, she chose a place to sit down.

"Sam," she said. "You had sex with your daughter."

His sudden surge of something other than shame vanished. This was it. This was the point where she'd say she never wanted to see him again. He had caused that chasm. And he knew it was his own fault.

"I have no defense for that," he said, softly.

She seemed not to have heard. Instead she spoke, but not to him.

"I thought this was all behind me." Her voice held a mysterious tone of tragedy, mixed with wistfulness, somehow.

"What?" he asked, automatically.

She looked at him, but there was no anger in that look. He was mystified.

"There's something I should probably tell you," she said.

"What?" Sensing this was important, he sat. It was an unconscious desire to put them both at the same height, so he wasn't looming over her. Professional interrogators do this intentionally, to keep a resistant interviewee talking once they have started. It's psychology, but Bob didn't think about that.

She leaned back in her chair. She suddenly looked defeated.

"When I was a girl," she started, and then seemed to waver.

He waited. Again, that was unconscious, but the psychology of making someone else fill the silence worked in his favor.

"When I was a girl," she said again. She looked away from him. "I had two brothers."

He was confused, now. What did this have to do with anything? Still, he waited, saying nothing.

"They did things to me," she almost whispered. Then, as if an infusion of energy entered her body, she sat back up and looked at him. "We did things together," she said in obvious correction.

The context of the situation penetrated Bob's brain, and suddenly her words were entirely relevant.

"You mean ...?" he prompted.

She looked away again, but responded to his encouragement.

"I mean we did the same thing Mallory and Randy did," she said.

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