Denise Bryant - Mother and Daughter

“When was that? Yesterday morning?” I demanded, suddenly outraged. “Was he looking at you? Tell me?”

“Well… no. He wasn't exactly looking at me,” Kathy admitted, more in a laughing mood about than anything else. “But he knew I was there. He could hear every word I was saying to Mary. I had even said 'Hi' to him when I sat down to phone…”

I felt worse than some cheap whore. Bob had been making love to my daughter by proxy. This time, I knew it. There was no doubt in my mind. I remembered only too well that I had been making up the bed in our room when Bob finished shaving the day before, and he came in with an erection and took me by surprise, telling me that he was suddenly inspired to make love. It had been a wonderful session… until I found out the reason why.

“You still have this fixated idea, don't you?” was his reaction when I confronted him with it that night when Kathy had gone out, “You still have this incurable inferiority complex, this idea that you are incapable of arousing me while your daughter is.”

“Don't… don't try to fool me anymore, Bob,” I protested, shaking my head as I sat on the side of the bed and watched him casually begin to undress. “You let Kathy sit there and watch you get a hard on! You were excited BECAUSE she was watching you! Maybe what she was saying on the phone to Mary excited you I too! Bob, you…”

“Shut up and listen to me!” he almost lost control of his temper, grabbing me by the shoulders. “When I walked out of this bedroom to go in there and shave, I carried with me the vivid memory of your naked body in bed next to mine. Two minutes before, you had taken my penis in your hand, kissed it, and looked at me with that lustful expression of yours and said, 'Mm-mmm, I like him. Don't keep him away from me too long,' isn't that correct?”

“Yes,” I had to admit.

“And before that… when we first woke up, Denise, you had taken my hand and placed it between your thighs to show me how wet you were! Right?”

“Yes, of course, but…”

“I'm a man. And like all men, I have a hard on when I get up, but I need to go urinate, right?”

“Yes.”

“So I went to the bathroom and did just that… WITH THE DOOR CLOSED!” he emphasized, releasing his grip on my shoulders and walking over to the dresser. “After that, if I may acquaint you with a few biological facts of the male, I was not erect, because I had to de-tu-mesce in order to urinate. Now… I put my organ back into my shorts and I opened the door while I was shaving. It has been common practice for me to do this, right?”

“Yes… we've become like a family… Kathy sees you in your shorts…”

“Kathy spoke to me as she walked by or something,” Bob went on, lighting a cigarette. “It was early morning. I was hardly even aware of her. My mind was much more taken with what I had just left in the bed-you! You do recall that you have expressed a desire that I shave prior to intercourse?”

“Yes…”

“That was the reason I chose to shave, my dear,” he brought his point dramatically home, “My entire mental concentration was on you. I was thinking of coming back into the bedroom here and making love with you… that, my dear Denise, is why my penis erected while I was shaving! Why… why do you punish yourself like this? Why? Denise, you are a very sexy woman!”

“Will you… forgive me, Bob?”

How can I describe the rest of the summer except to say that it was a series of similar incidents? In looking back, it appears that these things came in regular cycles. Bob would make love to me on night or one day until I was literally exhausted. His staying powers were almost superhuman, it seemed. This would be followed by a period of deprivation, and I would think that he was never going to make love to me again. There would be the flirtations with Kathy too, and I realized more and more how two-sided they were. One night, I walked in on them unexpectedly while they were watching T-V in the den. They were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, but Kathy had one of her breasts out the front of her baby dolls and it looked as if she was rubbing the nipple. I know Bob was watching, although he denied it. I felt his erection as soon as I sat down.

Before I knew it though, summer was over and Kathy was gone. I felt more confused than ever. It was almost as if the continual crises presented by the Bob-Kathy problem had been a way of life, a kind of replacement for the hectic swinging and part-time prostituting that kept me going before.

But Bob managed to introduce other intrigues. He would be gone for days or weeks at a time, then suddenly reappear in the middle of the night from out of nowhere. He took my car on most of these trips and ruined it in a wreck in Georgia that March. I saw the accident report listing a 29-year-old woman and a 14-year-old girl as occupants of the car. “The family of one of our men killed by the Commies,” he explained. And at the time, he made me believe it. When I was away for the state teacher's convention in April, I thought it would be Tuesday before I returned. We adjourned a day early, and I found a woman's suitcase and clothing in our bedroom when I arrived at the house. I didn't know what to do. I was actually afraid to stay there and face it when they both came back. Instead, I stayed overnight in a motel.

“Yes… I slept with a woman while you were gone,” Bob admitted without batting an eye, when I told him what I had seen. “Denise, I think this is something that you can understand… please listen. You may remember that I told you I was dispatched to Georgia to break the news of my best friend's death to his widow. It was a tragic thing. Her husband was fine boy… both of them from the country… code of the hills type people… married when she

was 14 or 15.

“While you were gone, the poor woman came up here and contacted me. Denise, I have never known a more natural and sincere woman. I knew her husband as a courageous young man who died at the hands of Communist torturers and murderers. She… she came up here and contacted me for one reason, Denise. I was Ed's best friend. I was not a part of their life together in that small Georgia village. But the woman was headed toward a nervous breakdown unless she had sex. I was her only trusted point of contact. The woman could not just go out and pick up any man. It had to be me, because I was a part of the secret life that no one else knew of. Her husband was a covert agent, you understand.

“Yes, Denise, I had intercourse with her seven times during the 18 hours she was here. It was not by my choice, but a humanitarian thing that I did. You know what it is to be lonely and starved for love, Denise. Don't you?”

“Yes, Bob. You… did the right thing,” I found myself saying. “I'm glad you did…”

My life became a cat and mouse game. I too began to stray when Bob would be gone for long periods of time. I was afraid to see anyone at the house, but I met Ricky sometimes at a motel on the other side of town, and Bill arranged paying dates for me with men in the hotels occasionally. He also took me to more swinging parties and bought me an entire wardrobe of exotic lingerie from that famous place in Hollywood.

One night, he took me to a neighborhood bar he frequented. I wore no pants, as he had instructed, and I would allow generous views of my thighs and crotch to men at the tables as I sat at the bar stool. Bill would go over and talk with the men he knew, telling them I had on no pants and asking them to watch when I turned to face them.

Later, we went up to one of the men's apartments and they all took turns with me. Again, I enjoyed the situation very much, particularly since none of the men were averse to kissing and licking my body. Sometimes, there were four or five working at the at the same time.