Marjorie Hampton felt overwhelmed. Not only did she have to juggle Thanksgiving dinner and a dozen noisy friends and relatives, but her husband, son and daughter were up to something behind her back.
Precisely what, she couldn't tell, but she knew that Laura was at the center of it. Cal was trying to spend far more time with his daughter than he ever used to, and Tim talked to her in whispers, as if they were conspiring. Both of them, Marjorie noticed, often tried to sneak off alone with Laura.
Perhaps Laura has a boyfriend she hasn't told me about, Marjorie speculated. Maybe she's sneaking out to see him and Tim's helping. But why should she sneak around behind my back? She's had boyfriends before.
Marjorie carried a full basket as she walked down the hall toward the laundry room, pondering this problem. Marjorie decided it was time to sit down with Laura and have a chat like they used to before she went to college.
After Marjorie started the washing machine, she went back down the hall and started to knock on Laura's door, when she heard a familiar, but startling, sound: creaking bedsprings and subdued moans, the unmistakable sounds of lovers who didn't want to be caught.
Who on earth is in bed with her? she wondered.
***
Earlier that night, Laura had donned a plain white nightdress, put on her glasses to read a while, and get some sleep.
But a firestorm was pending, and Laura had no idea how she was going to handle it. On Monday afternoon, Laura had made love to her father and her brother in the space of an hour. Thanks to the presence of all the relatives visiting for Thanksgiving, there had been precious few opportunities for more, but both of them kept trying to get her alone. So far, she had been able to keep them from finding out about one another, but how long could that last? And what would they do when they did find out?
Now, just as Laura was about to begin Mary Shelley's "Mathilda," she heard three soft knocks on her door. It was Tim, barefoot and dressed in a white T-shirt and grey sweat pants, who ducked in.
"Christ!" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"
"I can't stand it anymore," he said, his eyes falling to the large, firm globes hidden by the nightdress. He wasn't wearing underwear, Laura noticed; his dick poked at his sweat pants like a tent pole.
"Everyone's asleep or watching TV," Tim said. "If we're real quiet--"
"Tim, it's too dangerous." Especially if Dad finds out, she thought.
Tim sat next to her on the bed, pulled her close, kissed his older sister hard on the mouth. He ran his hands along her cool bare thigh.
"If my balls get any bluer, they'll be plums. See?"
With that, Tim stood yanked his sweats down and freed his dick with obvious relief. He joined his older sister on the narrow twin bed, and kissed her again, roughly.
"I'm in love with my sister," he breathed, as he ran his hands along Laura's smooth, tan legs. "I can't believe I'm in love with my sister."
He's pouring gasoline on the fire, Laura thought, but decided not to say anything; thoughts of their intense lust the other day were keeping her hot, too.
Tim's hands flew under Laura's nightdress and found her breasts. He covered her broad nipples with his palms, caressing them, warming them. Laura's arms tightened around her brother and she nibbled his ear, then his neck. Her hand found his aching prong, and she began to skim her hand along its length.
Tim's kiss was softer now, more loving and less desperate, now that he knew Monday afternoon was no fluke, that his gorgeous sister would let him make love to her again, that she wanted him to make love to her again.
The kiss dissolved. Laura pushed Tim back, and lifted off the nightdress, tousling her dark brown hair, revealing her flawless, rolling breasts. Her green eyes blazed, and Tim took her glasses off to get a better look at them.
"So lovely," he sighed, removing his shirt. Now completely naked, he snuggled close to Laura, easing her onto her back. "Some day we'll be all alone for a while, and we'll cause an earthquake together."
Laura thought Tim's voice was a little too loud. To shut him up, Laura kissed him with fervor, wanting him to believe he, alone, was at the center of her universe. His hot, throbbing prick lay flat against her thigh, like a voracious tiger waiting to pounce.
I'm going to have to teach the men in this family something about foreplay, Laura thought as Tim hunched forward. His purple prick now lay flat on her pubic bush, and she took over, rubbing her clit along its length.
