The Forbidden Family Game

by Ward Fulton

  "Airplanes, on the other hand, have always been functional. They have to be, for the weight factor. So they haven't, as yet, got around to the flying hotel concept. And with them, when it comes, it's more likely to be flying Holiday Inns.

  "Oh, I'm bright enough for eighteen. All right, I'm nearly eighteen. Okay, then, you with the charts, I 'm seventeen and three months. That's going on eighteen. Almost. And I've never had the slightest inclination to go hippie. Like Mother Darling, I prefer elegance. Oh, the hair is a trifle long, to be sure, but Mother Darling liked the Byronic look. I do have rather good features, strong enough to live up to the concept, gentle enough to be considered mildly poetic. Women like it.

  "Oh, yes, other women besides my mother have-liked me. I have a certain charm. I dance well. I play an amiable game of bridge-by the rules but not rigid enough to confuse any of the boat crowd. Some of the old biddies are easily confused, you know. No, I don't include my mother in that category.

  She was quite lively. You probably remember her. Seeing her on the screen, I mean. She did the young, wistful charmer bit very nicely. She was tiny, with an elfin face. No, not quite back to the silent days. She was quite popular even up to the late 50's when the young, wistful charmer sort of went out of style.

  "Actually, you couldn't say she had much of a career-timewise, that is. Not more than five years, I'd say. Of course, I wasn't around then, but I think I have my facts straight. But in those five years Mother Darling did rather well. I believe the fan magazines spoke of her career as 'meteoric'-and still do when one of them does a reprise on some of the stars of the past.

  "Of course, Mother Darling hated being thought of as one of 'the stars of the past' She even turned down offers to make a 'comeback' because she didn't want to risk being compared with Gloria Swanson, Janet Gaynor and others, as if she had been their contemporary. She wasn't, you know. She was less than forty when she died. Officially, that is. I think Mother Darling fudged a bit-not much, but a bit-on her age.

  "She retired from the screen when she married my father. She must have been at least twenty, then. Five years as a star, you know. Even Shirley Temple grew up. Then I came along-and I'm nearly eighteen now. Just add it up. She must have been forty if not more when she wrote that stupid, stupid note and took those pills. I know her skin was getting-oh, just the teeniest bit creepy. I certainly had more than ample opportunity to inspect it.

  "I've been her lover for the past couple of years, as that damnable note says. Father died about four or five years back. No, come to think of it, it's nearly eight years. Mother Darling and I flitted around the world on cruise ships. That started when I was about ten or so. It was always cruise ships. Now that I think of it, it is quite likely Mother Darling was looking for other men-and probably finding them.

  "After all, she was a celebrated star and we were quite, quite wealthy so we made a splash. Quite possibly she stuck to cruise ships because on them she was a celebrity and on a jet she was just another passenger. Oh, very much V.I.P. but there's scarcely any opportunity to swank around and meet people, particularly men, as there is on a cruise ship. And, though Mother Darling was quite modern, she really should have been an Edwardian. The period suited her. Flamboyant.

  "We never actually shared a cabin. Oh, possibly when I was ten or so. I don't really remember. I always had an adjoining cabin, if not part of a suite. We couldn't always book suites. Even with the kind of money Mother Darling had, suites weren't always available. You know, having separate cabins looked better, especially after we started having our affair.

  "I think what really started it was that Mother Darling was piqued. We had booked this cruise-through the Mediterranean, which we had covered at least four or five times before-and Mother Darling hadn't met any satisfactory men. It was almost a senior citizen type thing, with elderly couples hobbling around together and being thrilled to be on such a big ship, at last For some it was a second honeymoon-for others a last honeymoon before the grave, I expect.

  "None of them were very thrilling characters and mostly, like those in the Ark, hooked up two by two.

  Not even a good entree, for a bridge set up. God, I think most of them played whist! And one old biddy took Mother Darling for some silent movie star and spread the word-which put Mother Darling in the dinosaur class, as far as she was concerned.

  "I remember Mother Darling flounced in from the predinner cocktail hour-at which I wasn't allowed, being only fifteen. Oh, I could have passed for older. I was quite tall. But at that time Mother Darling was minimizing my age, so I was 'just a child.' Out of boredom-what's a fifteen-year-old kid going to do among the crutch-and-armchair set?-I was taking a shower.

  "Mother Darling stalked into our suite and practically slammed the door-only you can't on that vessel; they have air checks. She was seething about the old biddy and being mistaken for somebody like Vilma Banky or Billie Dove. She started telling me about it through the bathroom door, getting herself ready for a predinner shower, really getting worked up.

  "On the high note of 'Disgusting! And positively no men aboard!' Mother Darling charged into the bathroom, wearing a diaphanous peignoir and a frown, while I was just stepping out of the shower, thinking about-well, there was a cute babe back home I'd have made if we hadn't shot off on this cruise. So I had a hard on.

  "I don't say I've got any record-breaking dong as for as size goes, but it was a right respectable hunk of love-meat, especially for a fifteen-year-old. There are girls back home-some in the debutramp age-who like what I've got. I've been laying some of 'em since I was thirteen or so. And if you think that's young, you don't know the kids in our set. Screwing is S.O.P.-Standard Operating Procedure or Share Our Pussy, I've seen some dolls of eleven getting it and liking it, or making out they do. Not that I've torn off any pieces that young. Twelve was the youngest, I'd guess-and she'd been at it a year or so then.

  "So I wasn't even thinking about Mother Darling -as a female, that is. I didn't want her to see me with a hard on and realize I had ideas on sex. As far as I was concerned then, Mother Darling was just catching up to the under-the-cabbage-leaf school of thought. I tried to swivel so she wouldn't see that cunt-buster poking up-and wished maybe I'd done a little dong-beating so it would be down, not standing up like General Custer, alone on the field at Little Big Horn, with one shot in his pistol.

  "Only I didn't figure on that damn wall mirror. So I'm standing there with my bare face hanging out and my pecker up like a flag on the Fourth of July. And Mother Darling is standing there looking right spang in the mirror-and seeing all. I can't even seem to maneuver a towel right, I've gotten so flustered.

  "Mother Darling gets an entirely new look on her face-one I don't remember from any of her pictures as the young, wistful charmer. Or even around the house or on any of our cruises. It's-hungry. Avid.

  "She licks her lips and says, 'Who said there were no men aboard this boat?' And catches my shoulder to turn me around. By that time her peignoir is wide.open and I have a view. You've seen Mother Darling on the screen, tiny, wistful. But she's not in the least wistful now. She's got a glaze in her eyes that really isn't seeing me. It's just focusing on my privates-my love-meat.

  "She moves up on me, then, slow, her pelvis weaving and humping, until she is right up against me. And I mean that's woman up against me. She's got tits all right. They're small but firm, damn near hard when she pushes 'em against me. And wiggles 'em. And twitches her pelvis right up against my love-meat.

  "I'm not saying I fought it, understand. I was already thinking cunt when this was slammed at me. On the other hand, I'm not claiming any Oedipus Rex business. I knew who she was, all right. My mother. It wasn't some emotional entanglement with psychological overtones, like the old Greek boy had it. Oedipus tore himself to pieces over it. But not me. And I didn't think it ate into Mother Darling any, either. It was just sex. Good old sex. Tearing off a piece of ass.

  "She gave me a tug, pulling me toward her-and I went. Who wouldn't? The
re was a time when half the male population would have been happy to be in my shoes-except, of course, I wasn't wearing shoes. We did a sort of blind dance, with her moving backwards, to the bed in her cabin. And fell on to it. She reached down and grabbed my meat and rubbed it hard against her cunt, sighing and sort of moaning.

  "We lay there, sidewise to each other, with one of her tits rubbing up against my chest. And I had eight hands and didn't know what to do with any of them. They just seemed to get in the way of each other. At first.

  "Gradually I sort of forgot who I was in bed with-she got to be just a woman, but what a hunk of woman! Wow! So I could play around with my hands, getting them more or less coordinated, feeling those tight little tits and running my hands down her back and along her sides, while she moaned and wiggled, and kept tugging at my love-meat, punching at her snatch with it.

  "She was a demon in bed, a real hot number. Now that I had a chance to think about it, I remember some of the gossip that had been around about her-that she was a man-eater, using her leading men between takes, and burning them up. Not that I'd had believed it. The very demure type often gets talked about more than the one playing the 'hot numbers'-mostly for contrast, I guess. In Hollywood, anyhow. And I figure, on a smaller scale, practically everywhere. If somebody doesn't know what the demure ones are doing, they speculate- with a dirty mind.

  "In her case, I guess it was true. She sure went to town in bed, writhing, twisting, moaning and clutching at my dong till I thought she'd stretch it. Her pussy was hot as fire and wet and wide open! And chewing. Man, I could feel it nibble at my dong-head. I tried some of my better techniques-kissing her nipples and throat and running my hands over that nice, raunchy little rump. These weren't necessary. She just wanted meat in her.

  "She kept wrestling at my shoulders to pull me on top of her, with her legs spread and that hot cunt like an open mouth in the bush of her pubic hair. I wanted to hold off a few minutes, like I usually do, getting a girl built up for the big climax, but she wanted it right then!

  "And got it. I rolled over on that jouncy, tight little belly of hers and threw dong into her. Yipes! It was like sticking it in a wet furnace! And she could take plenty of it. Mostly, I have to hold back a little, so I won't ream a kid all the way to her hairdo. But not this time.

  "In I went, right up to the balls, in one big whoosh. I could feel my rocks knocking against the cheeks of her ass, which was bouncing around like crazy, with her pelvis making Elvis look like a kid sucking a lollipop. She could twist it and twirl it and hump it all at the same time, it seems. And ripples seemed to run right up her stomach, rubbing against my belly. It felt like I imagine a warm snake might feel crawling up me. And all the time I could feel that snatch box with the hot lips working on my love-meat My juices seemed to get pulled out of me, like they were being sucked. And I was trying my damnedest to hold back. You know, so a girl can catch up with the screwing-they take longer, mostly. Not her. She wanted all the jism she could get-and wanted it delivered in one big, hot, lumpy package-right then!

  "I drew back as far as I dared and then rammed my old dong as far up as I could, reaming it into her. And she wrapped her legs around me, kicking me in the ass, and grinding her cunt hard up against me.

  "We came like that-right together. I shot a hot load up her cunt and she heaved way up, giving funny little yips, and threw everything she had into gear for the big moment. I know I could actually feel her come swelling inside her, and then I was bushed. Or thought I was.

  "Not so. She wanted another round-and right then! She kept that old twitch going, even though my love-meat had wilted somewhat, but then it was back in business. Hard. Well, maybe not full on, but enough.

  "This time it took a little longer for me to get to the point of squirting my hot hose into her, but in some ways it was more fun, because I could time things better-better for me, that is. Right up to the moment when I shot my load.

  "She dug one heel into my ass, right at my asshole and ground down. I don't know how she managed to twist it, the position she was in, with her legs wide open and wrapped around me, but she managed to bear down on my asshole with one heel until I thought she'd give me an enema, which was all right with me, since it made things a lot hotter in the love-meat department and maybe gave me a bigger load to deliver.

  "And I rammed it way up her, shot my wad-a really big gob of it-and felt her bust loose. And I was ready to sag down and take a rest. But not with that woman, you didn't. She was back in business and waving her twat before I had a chance to pull out and drain my hose.

  "We were at it again-with her belly rippling and her tits writhing and that pelvis of hers getting in some real work on my love-muscle. We beat that mattress in some real rhythm, sweating and grunting and twisting. This time she clawed at the cheeks of my ass, digging in with her fingernails until I was sure I'd eat off a mantel for a week. She even rammed one finger up my brown hole and twisted it around.

  "She knew every trick in the book for getting more come out of a guy-some she may have invented special-and used 'em. And I found I could take 'em up to a point. Oh, I liked everything that was happening. It was just that too much was happening all at once.

  "I couldn't get up steam for a fourth round. I mean, the hose had a leak somewhere back up the line and just wouldn't fill up-went limp on me. I could feel it going down and sliding out of that hot trap it had been in.

  "She could feel it, too, and sighed, relaxing her legs so they flopped away from my ass, and the ripples died down in her stomach and her pelvis, except for some minor twitches, went into retirement.

  "I was beat. But beat. The most screwing I'd ever done before was two times, with time out in between. This nonstop stuff was new and hard on the system. I could have hollered quits right there. Hell, I could have hollered quits after the second round, only I discovered I could make it for the third.

  "And then I found she had ideas about a fourth. She was fumbling around down at my love-muscle, which was a pretty flabby hunk of flesh right then. She started playing with it, but at that moment nothing short of a steel spine inside could have made it stand up. Or so I thought. After a few minutes of those hot little hands playing with it, it was beginning to show signs of life-feeble, but signs of life.

  "Then she went down on me. She wriggled around on the bed until her head was right over my meat and she sucked on it, sliding her lips up and down my feeble little shaft until it was almost human again. They were hot lips-almost as hot as her cunt. I've had others on me since, but their lips were always a little coolish. Not hers. Real hot lips!

  And they sucked on my love-muscle while her tongue went twisting around it, licking off the come and grabbing for more.

  "I didn't think I had any left, but she managed to work me up to giving her a spurt I don't think it was anything like what I'd pushed into her cunt the first three times, but it made a fairish gush-and I felt like I'd shot my whole guts.

  "After that I was really empty. It seemed to me I didn't even have blood left inside. And she was licking that old love-meat like she might eat it, and smearing her face and cheeks with my come. It was a pretty gruesome sight, I can tell you. I think she must have realized it, because suddenly she whisked off the bed and darted into the bathroom.

  "I could hear the shower running and wanted to get in there and let hot water pour over me to revive me a little. But I had to content myself with a sort of spit-bath out of the basin, handling myself with unusual care. There were moments when I was afraid my love-meat might drop off. But I did begin to perk up a little. Not enough so I was thinking of a six-day bicycle race but enough so I felt I could make it down the corridor to the dining salon and maybe take aboard some nourishment.

  "Just the idea of nourishment-and that boat fed well, let me tell you-did me worlds of good. I could even lift my head without my neck creaking. Of course, my balls were hanging low in the sack, looking like hazelnuts instead of walnuts, which I had thought they resembled, and I had
a tendency to spread my legs and waddle instead of walking.

  "Still and all, by the time I got into jockey shorts and a T-shirt, and was pulling on some slacks, I felt almost human again. At least, I wasn't ready to resign from the human race. Socks were a problem, because my balls ached so I couldn't get my leg up easily. However, I had them on by the time she came out of the bathroom.

  "She had gone in ooze-smeared and blear-eyed, flushed and sweaty, and came out looking like the dew had just been brushed off. Her eyes were clear and bright. Bright? They were twinkling. Her mouth and cheeks were smooth and soft-looking, and she was back to being that wistful young charmer, cocking her head daintily and smiling at me. 'You'll have to hurry, Ed. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.'

  "No mention of what had happened. Apparently no memory of it. And seemingly unaffected by it. Except maybe for a certain self-satisfied twitch to her rump as she sat down at the vanity to finish her makeup.

  "I took one look at her and then went into the bathroom where I could duck my head in a basin of cool water and comb out the rat's-nest hairdo I was wearing. For once I almost wished I could use makeup. Maybe then I'd've looked like a functioning entity.

  "Astonishingly enough, when I finally looked in the mirror I found I was presentable. Oh, weak inside, to the very guts, and ready for a foot-thick steak, if they came that thick, but as I said, functioning.

  "We went in to dinner, with Mother Darling on my arm, which was shaking from sheer exhaustion. She could look around and smile and be the gracious lady all the way across that huge dining salon. And I was walking beside her a hollow person. I almost expected my guts to grumble when I smelled the hors d'oeuvres, which I tackled as if they might go out of style in the next few minutes. I also shoveled up the puree of pea soup with a fast metronome motion. I slowed a little on the fish course and could handle the entree-a steak only a little over an inch thick-with a degree of nonchalance. And even managed to toy with proper indolence at my dessert and fruit-and-cheese.