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She moaned appreciatively and pushed her hips up against mine.

"Oh damn, Ran, fuck me," she breathed.

Her legs looped around mine. I moved faster, more insistently, pounding her. My chest crushed her ever-glorious grapefruit globes. My voice moaned, "Oh yeah, so good..." My lips locked to hers -- lips tasting like flowers and herbs. Our tongues danced their mating ritual.

Rachel shifted, with her legs locked around my waist, limiting our motions. We tilted into a tighter, shorter, faster, rougher rhythm. I hammered into her. Our pubes slammed together. I felt my orgasm approach, and hers.

"Oh, Randy," she moaned. Her arms pinned my upper body. Her fingernails raked my back. "Oh fuck, oh yeah, oh oh oh..."

We spasmed together. I felt every cubic centimeter of her vagina massaging and mangling my blood-filled bayonet as she tried to milk each and every last drop of semen from me. She nearly succeeded. I roared, and flooded her, filling her womb with my living seed.

She squeezed; I shot; we convulsed.

Rachel did not quite wail. That was good; soundproofing was not great in this old house. But her muted moan sounded quite satisfactory.

"You had enough?" I asked.

I did not await a reply. I slipped down between her thighs and nuzzled her vulva. I am not shy about tasting my own cum mixed with a woman's juices.

I licked around her puffy labia and lapped into her carnal chasm, but concentrated on circumnavigating her clitoris. Around, and across, and she gasped! Then across, and around, and across again, and she groaned!

My arms were under her thighs and around her sides, reaching to her breasts. My lips and tongue attacked her clit while my fingers abused her nipples. She quivered and shook and moaned, "Oh, oh, oh..." I felt her reach for a pillow to smother her voice.

And she gurgled. Then gasped, and threw the pillow aside, and grabbed my hair, and pulled my head closer to her. Then pushed me away.

"Enough, enough, oh shit Ran, stop now, please stop, please... I mean it! Oh, oh... Oh crap, stop now!" Her voice was a raspy whisper.

When she pushed hard enough, I stopped.

I slid up next to her. She snuggled into me. We lay quietly, embracing lightly, murmuring softly. Our twenty-nine-year-old-bodies fit well.

"That was great, Ran."

"You're always great, babe."

"Of course I am! But it's late. We needed to be bright and functional tomorrow." She kissed me. "We won't be doing this a lot more, will we?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "Let's go get clean now."

We showered. We lathered each other carefully and fully. And that's all we did. No fucking in the shower. We had to save something for our spouses.

I eased into bed with Ruth, both naked. She snored. I likely did too.

I woke after dawn with my cock deep in Ruth's mouth -- slow and gentle, a really nice wake-me-up. I hummed happily as she stiffened me nicely.

I made I'm-awake sounds. "Shhh," Ruth whispered, "it's my turn."

Ruth pushed the light blanket aside. She straddled my hips and pushed down onto me. My cock slid nicely into her. We both moaned. She lowered herself further, totally impaled. I reached to hold her lovely breasts. She looked into my eyes.

"You and my sister fucked again, didn't you, Ran?"

I nodded. "You know we did." I leaned up to kiss a nipple.

She slid up and down my shaft, rolled and rocked, then up and down again.

"That's got to stop, Ran. It's just us now. Just us."

She moved faster. And faster. Her hips blurred. Her body tightened. She stopped, every muscle minutely tensed. She dropped onto me. And screamed.

Not a quiet, muffled scream. A full-tilt-boogie scream, suitable for waking dead alligators from their fetid swampy graveyards.

I heard laughter through the thin walls, then moans and groans, not at all stifled. It sounded like we were not the only ones connecting that morning.


The hospital allowed Allen visitors the next day. We four 'kids' gathered around his bed. We all talked about Allen's prognosis and prospects.

"Look, kids.

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