7 Chapter 7

Diana rolled over in the bed. Her long, graceful arms reached out to hold her husband. But only found emptiness on his side of the bed.

She pushed her sleep-laden eyes open and stared beside her. Michael's side had been slept in, but it was empty now. She quickly glanced around the room. Her husband was gone.

"Hrmph!" she snorted out loud. "Not much of a way to treat your bride on the second night of your marriage!"

Then she remembered the man in the passage and was grateful that her husband hadn't awakened her.

It's passed now. Let it be. There's no reason that Michael needs to know. Not now at least. He's upset enough as it is, at having had to make this trip to his family's home. I'll tell him later, when we're away from here. Later ... maybe ...

She rolled to her back and stretched. It would be nice to have Michael now. He's good in the morning. Hell, he's good any time!

She smiled and pulled his pillow to her and hugged it. She could detect the slight smell of him. She shivered, wishing the pillow was her husband, imagining she was holding him close while he was atop her.

No! Forget it! she scolded herself. No reason to get yourself hot and bothered. Michael's not here!

Groaning with disappointment, she tossed the imaginary Michael-pillow back to the other side of the bed, gave it a loving pat, then swung herself out of the bed. After a few moments in the bathroom, tending to the regular morningly duties, she came back into the bedroom and selected a pair of burgandy hip huggers and a cream-colored blouse from the suitcase. Not sure how the Hightowers would take to the braless look, she also pulled out one of those thin, very sheer, nylon bras, that did little more than keep her nipples from poking out under her blouse. Her breasts were still firm, even without a bra; they did little more than jiggle around pleasantly.

Quickly stepping into her casual, but attractive, clothes, she glanced longingly at the empty and unused bed once more, then made her way downstairs.

The mansion seemed deserted. She made a quick check of the room she had been in the night before, but could find no one, let alone her husband.

Deciding that if she had been left to fend on her own, she'd do something about the growing hunger in her stomach. After all, it was time for breakfast.

With little difficulty - she did make two wrong turns that led her to the den - Diana located the hall leading to the kitchen.

"Good morning," Lorraine cheerfully greeted her as she swung the door into the kitchen. "Sleep well?"

"Wonderfully," Diana smiled at the blonde-haired woman, finding herself still disbelieving Lorraine was the mother of two teen-age children.

If I can only hold my age as well! she thought, but said, "Where is everybody?"

Her mother-in-law smiled and offered a cup of coffee, which she accepted, as well as two pieces of toast and several slices of crisp fried bacon.

"Your Michael got up earlier this morning and drove in to the courthouse. Both the girls went along to do some shopping," Lorraine said, seating herself at the breakfast counter with Diana, nursing her own coffee. "Bryan and my Michael are around the house somewhere."

Diana listened as the woman talked, mostly idle conversation about her family and the Hightower estate.

However, Diana couldn't help but wonder if Lorraine really knew what was going on with her family.

Did she know that her son and daughter had shared anal intercourse last night, shared it and enjoyed?

And did she know that they were both their stepsister's lovers?

She smiled to herself, remembering the lusty scene she had witnessed from behind the one-way mirror last night.

Then the memories of the man in the dark came to her again. Less distressing than last night, but still perplexing.

"Look, Diana," she heard her mother-in-law suggest. "It's a beautiful day. Why don't you go outside and see our place? It's really rather beautiful. Michael One did most of the work himself."

"I think I will," Diana agreed, mostly because she wanted to think.

"I'll be back shortly to see if I can help with lunch."

"Don't bother," the older woman answered. "I'm just going to throw some cold cuts together. Take your time. I might come out and join you in a little bit."

Nodding, Diana left her mother-in-law alone in the kitchen and left the immense plantation house via the back door.

It was a nice day, spring warm, but lacking the humidity that comes with Louisiana summers. A light breeze added to the fresh feel of the day. A mildly, sweet scent of the blossoming magnolia trees suffused through the air.

Moving idly and without any set purpose, Diana walked away from the house. She stopped once and reached down to remove her shoes. The St. Augustine grass, with its broad flat blades, was a thick green carpet that felt cool and alive under her bare feet. It was almost a sin to walk on this grass with anything but bare feet. Beautifully manicured, the lawn of the Hightower estate was almost a work of art.

Who had it been?

Despite the marvelous feel of the day, her thoughts kept returning to the secret passage, the alcove with its sexy viewing arrangement, and the man who had fucked her so thoroughly, the man she hadn't seen -

only felt!

"Good morning!" a voice called to her, her husband's voice.

She pivoted, glad that he had gotten the legal business out of the way so quickly. But it wasn't Michael that was coming toward her. At least, not her Michael. Rather, it was her husband's father.

"You look especially lovely this morning. The way all new brides should," he smiled at and received a smile in answer. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied. "Lorraine suggested I come out and see what you've done with the landscaping. I'm glad I took her up. It's beautiful."

His face beamed with pride, "Thank you. I won't be humble about it. This took a hell of a lot of work and I did most of it by myself. I guess it's the New England farm boy I never was coming out in me. There's something special about planting things and watching them come to life."

She smiled, then chided, "Don't tell me you're responsible for these magnolias!"

"No," he chuckled. "They were here when I bought the place. But they were in bad condition and I did nurse them back to health."

"A man with a green thumb," she laughed.

"Thumbs don't get green by working with the earth," he corrected. "They get dirty."

She laughed again. Last night, she had decided she liked her new father-in-law and those feelings were being confirmed now. "Is there anything special I should see? Any labor of love you're especially proud of?"

"Why of course," he smiled, offering her his arm, which she took. "The pond is just over there. If you'll kindly come with me."

The walk was farther than Diana anticipated. The mansion had disappeared behind them, hidden by the small forest of magnolias. But it was worth it. Michael One's pond was special.

Skirted by trees on all sides, the small pool of water was clear and calm looking. To one side was a small clearing, complete with a picnic table and benches.

"I had to call in the bulldozers to help me with this, her father-in-law explained. "It's my design, though. The pond's spring fed and most of the year it's downright cold, which keeps the snakes away."

"Snakes?" Diana glanced up at him.

"This is bayou country. There's plenty of cotton mouths around," he answered. "But don't worry. Like I said the water is plenty cold, too cold for them. But on a hot summer's day, this pond beats the hell out of a swimming pool. Lorraine and I often sneak away from the house during the summer for a little skinny dippin'."

Diana laughed. It was quite easy for her to picture her father-in-law and his sexy wife swimming nude in the pond. He might be in his fifties, but he still presented a virile image. The humor, however, was Diana's mental images of Bryan, Paula and Kate doing exactly the same thing without the knowledge of their parents. This quiet, little pond had probably been the scene for more than one of the sexual romps the threesome had shared.

"Your home really is something special," she commented, as they paused, leaning against the trunk of one of the towering trees.

"We think so," Michael One smiled at her. "There's a lot here to work with and we're always finding something new, some remnant of this estate's history."

"Like those cellars they used to keep runaway slaves in until passage north could be arranged?" Diana asked.

"Mmmm hmmmm," he nodded, gazing out over the pond. "Or some buried wagon wheel. Or like those andirons for the den's fireplace. I found them while the workmen were digging this pond. There must have been another house out here at one time. Perhaps a guest house. If not, then I discovered the Duvalle's old trash dump."

She chuckled with him at the thought of the antique andirons once being someone else's garbage.

"This whole place is like the house," he continued.

"Full of those quirks you mentioned last night?" she asked.

"Right," he smiled at her, his eyes locking to hers. "Did you know that the house has secret passages?"

"Yes...." she suddenly stopped.

It hit her all at once, like a ton of bricks!

Her father-in-law's eyes flashed with a devilish glint.

He knew!

And she knew!

The man in the alcove had answered to the name Michael last night! He had sounded like her husband! Michael One sounded like her Michael! They were both the same size. The similarities were unbelievable!

"You!" she gasped. "It was you!"

Her hand lashed out, fully intent on slapping her father-in-law's face. It was silly, a childish reaction. But at the moment, it was all that she could think of; all she could do to relieve the anger and the embarrassment that flushed through her body.

But even that was ineffectual!

His own arm jumped up and grasped her wrist. Her anger growing, she slapped out with her other arm. Which again, he blocked, raising both her arms above her head and pinning them firmly against the rough trunk of the magnolia. She struggled, twisting to free herself, but he held her solidly.

"You bastard! It was you!" she spat. "You were the man last night! You ... you ... rapist!"

He chuckled and grinned at her, "Rapist?"

"Yes, you son of a bitch!" she grunted, still trying to wrench her wrist free of his one vise-like hand.

"Come now," he chided, his eyes laughing with amused delight. "Surely you don't expect me to believe

that. I doubt whether you've been able to convince yourself that it was rape!"

Her knee lashed out, directed toward his groin. A measure he had apparently been anticipating, since he easily sidestepped the would-be painful thrust and laughed, obviously enjoying the position he held his daughter-in-law in.

"My dear Diana, you wanted it as every bit as much as I did," he grinned lewdly down at her, knowing. "You never so much as tried to get away from me. And I know you could tell I wasn't my son."

She kicked out again, but it was a vain effort. He was now positioned beside her, out of reach.

"You bastard!" she hissed, renewing her struggle to get away from his

hand, but he held her tight

"I only did as you asked," he continued smiling at her. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do a damn thing until you asked me to. Unless you want to count my copping a feel of those marvelous tits of yours."

Again she twisted and writhed and again her struggles received the same results. Nothing!

"And you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it as much as I did," he went on. "My God, girl, you had one of the strongest climaxes I've ever seen in a woman!"

"No! That was not rape," he concluded. "One of the farthest things from rape I've ever seen!"

"Yesss!" she hissed. "It was! You raped me!"

"No," he answered simply, as he reached up and tightly grasped her chin with his free hand. "No."

His head dipped forward.

He's going to kiss me!

The thought jolted her. It was the last thing she had expected.

The conceit! The egotistical bastard!

She tried to jerk her head away, but his clamping fingers held her steady and immobile. Lightly his lips brushed over hers, then his head rose and he smiled, as she glared with indignation.

Releasing her face, his fingers tauntingly glided down the smooth arc of her neck, resting on the top button of her blouse.

"I guess, if you won't admit that it wasn't rape," he grinned, "I'll have to demonstrate my point to you."

His fingers fumbled with the button momentarily. She felt the top of her blouse suddenly loosen and knew he had been successful.

Again, he reached up and grasped her chin and jerked her face toward him. His head lowered and their lips met again, pressing a little harder and lingering for a second or two.

Repeating his movements, his fingers drifted down the softness of her neck and down the front of her blouse, dipping a little lower this time.

The fabric of her blouse tugged as the second of the five buttons was freed from its hole. As before, his hand caught her chin and pulled her face to him. His lips pressed hard against hers. With enraged

determination, she kept her month tautly drawn closed.

Again his fingers slid down along the curving arch of her neck and dipped through the opening "V" of her blouse. Downward his fingers softly caressed, moving much lower and much more intimately through the valley separating her breasts and over the thin nylon that covered the well-proportioned globes. He found the fourth button and easily slipped it from its hole.

For the fifth time, his fingers clamped under her chin and pulled her to him. His mouth covered hers. His tongue, warm and moist, danced out from his mouth, as his lips parted, then taunted over her lips. But she was determined! Her mouth refused the probe. She shivered, remembering its feel on her neck and ear last night.

Once more, following the now familiar path, his fingers caressingly glided down her neck and drifted over her bare skin, through the smooth valley of her breasts and over the quivering flatness of her stomach. They found the last of the five buttons and quickly slipped it from its hole.

Her blouse was now completely opened.

His free hand tucked under the edges of the shirt and pushed them back over her shoulders so that the blouse remained on her, but her chest was exposed to him.

"Beautiful," he whispered glancing at her, then letting his eyes drop to the nylon-conflined mounds of her tits, so that she knew exactly what he was speaking about.

The bra was flimsy and sheer. It held absolutely nothing from his eyes. Her nipples and aureoles looked brown under the flesh-colored fabric, rather than their natural coral pink, but what the hell did that matter, she found herself thinking.

"Beautiful," he whispered again, as if to make sure that she heard him.

His hand was back on her body again. This time gently caressing the sleek flatness of her stomach, his fingertips teasingly ringing the deep well of her navel. She shivered.

Damn! she cursed herself. She could feel her nipples responding to the taunting gentle manipulation of his hand. Slut! You're nothing better than a cock hungry slut!

It didn't help. Her nylon-confined nipples still tingled, pushing against the fabric of her bra.

Working slowly upward, his hand glided beneath the restrained globe of her right tit and slowly caressed the bulging lower curve. She shivered again. Then his palm cupped beneath the sister mound and repeated its loving fondle.

The bastard! He's doing exactly like he did last night!

Thinking she felt the grip on her pinned wrists slacken, she suddenly jerked and twisted. The strength of his hand hadn't diminished in the least. He held her firmly and continued his play without the slightest pause for her struggles.

Circling in a spiralling path, his fingers brushed around and around the captive globes of flesh. Despite the covering of nylon, she felt him, felt every little movement of his fingertips. The sheer fabric seemed only to increase the sexy feel of him, suffusing the pleasant sensations of his hands. Her nipples were alive, straining outward, pressing against the cloth of her bra.

His fingers then drifted into the deep valley between the mounded forms of her breasts. Carefully, they

tucked under the fabric.

His eyes rose to her again, glinting with delight as they caught the excited flare of her nostrils and the wide-eyed gaze of definite interest.

His hand jerked forward. A sharp biting pain ran across her shoulders. It was the broad strap of her bra! Then it was gone as suddenly as it had come. He had ripped the front of her bra open. Her tits, pink and vulnerable, now stood out from her chest, displaying their nakedness, while wispy bits of torn nylon dangled to their sides, moving in the slight breeze.

Involuntarily, she sucked her breath in. It hissed as it rushed through her teeth on the way to her lungs. Whether she wanted it or not, her body was reacting to him. She was enjoying this rough treatment. Just as she had enjoyed the things he had done to her last night!

His hand rose to her tits again. This time his fingers were met by the summery warmth of her flesh. She quivered, trying to push the mounting excitement of her body away.

His fingers lightly brushing and tapping at her erect nipple did little to help. Nor did the wonderfully squeezing finger that expertly kneaded and rolled the firm cushions of flesh.

And when he cupped one of the tempting globes of melon-like tit and pushed it upward so that he could just barely get his lips and tongue on the deep pink cherry of aroused flesh that topped it, there was nothing she could think to do, except moan.

His tongue was like a feathery whip of pleasure. He licked and laved, slickening the fat, plump nipple.

He lashed and whipped over its hardening surface, causing her chest to heave with labored breaths.

His lips closed over the excited bud and he sucked - an action that only increased the wonderful tingling that flooded through the billowy mound and suffused down into her loins.

She moaned again, arching her back away from the wrinkled trunk of the tree, in a hope of giving him more of her wanton breast. But the confining position he had her pinned in did little to help.

If he'd only let my hands go! she found herself wishing and not caring. She knew as she had known last night that she wanted what he had given her. She wanted it now, as she wanted it then!

With a moist little sucking sound, his lips slid from her nipple and his hand squeezed around the fleshy globe as he rolled it against her chest.

His eyes met hers again and he leaned to her.

Their lips met. This time, he found no resistance, no struggle, no protest!

She opened her mouth to admit the moist, warm probe of his tongue. She accepted the oral digit into her mouth, caressing it and teasing it with her own tongue. He drilled deeply, flicking toward her throat.

She felt him move at her side, pressing against her, then covering her from the front. She could have made her kicks connect now, but that was the furthest thing from her mind, as she felt the bulging thickness that pressed against her from the crotch of his pants.

Her pelvis pushed out and rubbed into the bulge. She felt him tremble a little, but enough for her hands to slip free and cling tightly around his back.

As his tongue retreated from her mouth, she moved after it into his mouth. Her gyrating oral digit flicked

and twisted within the humid warmth of his mouth, dancing lightly over and under his tongue.

His hand climbed up her back and slowly worked at her blouse. Briefly she unwrapped her arms from around him, so that he could slip it and the shredded remains of her bra free and toss them to the ground. Then her arms were around him again, drawing him close.

Eventually, they parted and he gazed down at her, an undeniable light of certainty in his eyes, "Kneel down."

She obeyed his whispered command, trembling as she dropped before him, her green eyes never leaving his face. He smiled reassuringly.

"Suck me off," he whispered his next command. It came as if to make sure she knew neither one of them no longer spoke of rape.

She glanced at the thick knoll that strained from the front of his pants and nodded without looking at him.

Her fingers slowly drifted out and traced up and down the swollen shape beneath his jeans. His legs opened, spreading a little as her fingers found his zipper and moved it downward, then dipped inside his fly, carefully maneuvering the fat rod of flesh she found free of its confinement.

That it was thick, she already knew. She had felt it last night and it had packed her to the brim. But seeing the full size of his club-like prodder was something else. While no more than six inches long, it was at least two inches in diameter, and the gorged glans looked like some small red apple.

And from the long, slitted mouth at the direct center of the arrow-shaped crown welled a large drop of crystal clear fluid. Juice that she stirred from his loins.

Grasping the thickness of his cock with both of her hands, she leaned to his crotch. Her pink tongue snaked out and lapped away the heavy drop. The familiar taste of sex filled her mouth. It was a taste she liked. No! A taste she loved! She rolled the singular drop in her mouth, savoring it, then she swallowed.

Her tongue flicked out again, this time washing its way over the bloated-looking crown of his cock. It looked so firm and hard, yet it was smooth and soft. The delicious combination was arousing. She licked some more, thoroughly enjoying the task her father-in-law had set her to.

He moaned as she continued her delicate laving over the sensitive thickness of his glans and moaned as her tongue ran up and down the firm column of his sex, leaving it glistening with the wetness of her saliva.

She nibbled and teethed her way up and down the plump hardness, delighting in the virile feel of his manhood. Then she gave its bulging head one last kiss and pulled away.

Her emerald eyes rolled up to him once again.

"Suck it!" he repeated, his voice less steady and filled with the desire she was igniting within his loins.

Which is exactly what she did.

Her predatory lips moved in, opening in a wide "O" of tightly pressed muscle. Over the hugely massive crown knob, her lips pouted.

Then she sucked!

She sucked, pulling on the ponderous head. She sucked as her tongue whipped and lashed over its agitated surface. She sucked delighting in the fatness of the manmeat she possessed.

He groaned and his lips lurched forward. At least half of his length plunged into her mouth, vanishing into her face.

She gulped and sucked in her breath through her nostrils to suppress the urge to gag. Then she slipped further down the fat rod.

He was too big for her to take all of him. At least too big for this first time in her mouth. Perhaps after some time, she could accommodate his ponderous mass in her face. But not now. Still, she took enough of his swollen stalk to let him know she was giving him head and enough for her to know that he could easily crack her jaws, if suddenly he became overactive.

But he didn't.

He just stood there, letting her do the work, watching as her head bobbed up and down on his pole of flesh. Delighting as she slid her lips on and off his cock. Thrilling as her cheeks hollowed while she sucked, then stuffed outward as she swallowed up his prick once again.

She could hear him moaning. She could feel the rigidity that stiffened his cock to a hard pole of flesh, And she could feel the thick knot that pushed up along the underside of his shaft.

Then he blasted into her mouth.

Hot come in a direct race from his balls splattered over her tongue and coated the roof of her mouth. She swallowed and sucked, welcoming each of the thick spurts of sexual cream that exploded out from his loins. Again and again, she gulped down the viscosity that exuberantly spilled from the head of his cock.

She sucked at him, milking at his throbbing rod for even further offerings.

"No more," he groaned, his hips jerking back, rudely wrenching his shaft from her lips. "No more!"

Still on her knees, she stared up, pleased with the grin of satisfaction that spread across her father-in-law's face.