Maryon Swelt - He seduced his little sister

Carver relaxed his grip on her now and she hung from him in a limp loop, face down, arms and legs and neck dangling like a dead goose. Through searing eyes she saw her own spendings trickle and spurt down on his golden-furred balls to the floor as he continued to convulse and flicker within her cock-crammed cavity.

Finally he was through. His bag went flaccid and the shaft up her asshole became soft. He shuffled toward the bed, bending his blond-ape legs so that her own, drooping down, could touch the carpeting. She slid painfully off his fragrant, brown-limp cock, giving a couple of last wringing-out squeezes before he was free, and flopped, exhausted but content, covered with dampness inside and out, upon the mattress, her ass sore and bruised, breasts aching, her cunt a red-hot void that felt uneasily pleasant.

Carver slapped her rump playfully and Maryon winced, but he dropped down beside her and put his arm about her shoulders. "First time?" he asked. She nodded. "Won't be the last," he laughed in her ear, and began to run a soothing finger up and down her crack.

And it wasn't. Not that he was particularly perverse, fixed only on fucking her ass, but Carver did like variety, and Maryon soon found herself adjusting. He stayed for four months until she learned from Mike that Carver looked forward to a life of being supported by girls, seeking neither to work nor study, but relying on his pussy-powered piston to get him along.

He wasn't that good, although he had humor and some tenderness in him, so… out he went, with a grin and a groan.

Carver went because he'd been using Maryon in a way that she could the more easily perceive because of her studies in Social Anthropology. As she moved into her nineteenth year and the beginning of the '70s she spent much time in analyzing her near decade of sexual experience and began to see that, though she had most often had her own pleasure, it had been at the price not, actually, of willing cooperation, but of an enforced coercement that had been laid on her by physical or moral pressures. Even when she had actively sought out some new enlargement of her sexual scene, it had usually come about by her being prepared to submit to another's whims.

She was now able to see that this would have been bearable, that to cater to someone else did not necessarily mean that one thereby had to lose something, that a compromise, or a share of giving was, after all, the only way in which any area of life could be maintained in a civilized manner. But, not knowing this at the time, she had appeared as a 'victim' to the other participants in her sexual adventures and had thereby been degraded in their eyes, from her brother Mike on through Colin and Sylvia and Johnny, through Karen, through the 'cats'… Jim, Wes, Carver. All had taken advantage of her and she had willingly gone along with them, taking her joys as though they had been crumbs thrown her from the table of the others' sensual feasts.

A comparison of various cultures throughout space and time showed her that it was always possible to find one that broke the more usual taboos… incest as practiced in ancient Egypt, polyandry in Northern India, polygamy in China and in Islam, sodomy in Glorious Golden Greece… The list of unacceptable sexual practices' became smaller and smaller as she read and studied in the literature on the Global Village.

Mistress of all these facts, and of herself, Maryon began a steady program of search and fulfillment, determined to live a full and complete sex life. But the way was not necessarily easy because of her knowledge…

A visit, alone, to a meeting of the local chapter of the Sexual Liberation Movement found her one evening on the porch of an old Victorian-style mansion whose purple-painted door and orange lintels proclaimed it as the repository of the 'new' and 'in' and 'far-out'. At her buzz the door opened to disclose a short, stringy-haired blonde girl in a throat-to-ankle wrapper, presumably an 'officer' or functionary of the SLM. An imitation Tiffany lamp gave off a red-bulbed glow to illuminate the small foyer into which she was quickly ushered, and another lit a slightly larger room opening off it. "Hi," said the girl, after locking the front door. "Just feel free to wander around. If you see anything you like…" The statement was loaded with implication. "If you feel like skinning down, just drop your stuff in this room – find yourself a corner or something – it'll be easier to get yourself together that way when you're ready to split. Have fun."

With that the blonde pulled a pair of granny-glasses out of her pocket, put them on, and dropped the wrapper onto a chair to show herself as a rather chunky nude with a thick waist and a wealth of hair at her crotch. Looking at the flat planes of the girl's butt as she wandered away, Maryon begin to realize why the lighting was so subdued. She'd brought no purse, and she didn't feel like stripping down till she'd seen what the action was like here, so she contented herself with dropping her maxi-coat behind a couch whose surface was covered with little piles of clothing and went cautiously off to explore. Not quite knowing what to expect, she'd come dressed in a black leather ensemble of vest, mini and boots, over a pale blue bodystocking, the vest joined at the front with a single silver chain. She soon found that she was over-dressed. Practically all those she saw in the house were nude, and those that were not wore only minimum clothing that did more to enhance the wearer's sex than to conceal it. There was a tall, crop-haired black girl in glasses, for instance, who wore a kind of ornamental metallic yoke about her neck from which hung down hundreds of white silky filaments, through which her proud strong black breasts protruded impudently. When the girl struck a pose with a foot placed on the head of a boy on the floor, her long leg broke through the white waterfall to disclose a belly whose base was covered with a wooly black mat to match her hair.

Every room in the multi-roomed house had a different colored light-bulb either hanging from the ceiling or glowing from a stand in a comer. And every room in the house contained at least five people engaged in some quasi-sexual activity, from comparatively innocent naked necking between boy and girl to several copulating couples to blow-jobbing men to mutually masturbating girls. There seemed to be very little voyeurism involved, and Maryon figured this was because there was just too much to do. Everybody seemed to have found a partner but even as she watched two couples merged together and changed partners in mid course and a single roving male wandered into a room to thrust his hand-held erection in between a mobile mouth-and-cunt team to no one's objection. Do-it-yourself seemed to be the name of this game. Still, Maryon wasn't quite ready to be this indiscriminate and sought for some halfway measure that would take her out of the role of being mere spectator. Returning to the room off the foyer, she saw that it was already occupied by a bearded male whose age she couldn't quite determine in the dim light. Naked, he was stretching himself as if weary, in a pose that reminded her of some Roman statue, his back toward her, head half turned. At sight of her he grinned and good-naturedly winked, immediately taking her into his aura of semi-boredom with all this. Ignoring him Maryon unchained her blouse, put it down onto her maxi-coat, and began to unbuckle the broad belt of her mini. The man… no boy, he, she could now make out… momentarily paused in his task of pulling on a brief pair of black jockey shorts to look at her, and kept his eyes on her body as she dropped the skirt and stepped out of it to reveal her long, slim-waisted and voluptuously curved breasts and ass in the tight-clinging blue bodystocking. She'd noticed a lot of crap on the floor, litter, paper, bits of broken plastic wine-glasses, and decided to keep her black boots on. When she left the room she noticed from the corner of her eye that the bearded man, in his late twenties or early thirties, had restricted himself to the jockey shorts and was preparing to follow her. Well… who knew? He looked like he might be pretty good. Conscious of his continued gaze, she let her blue-shrouded butt roll just a bit more than usual and drew herself up so her tits would stand resolutely out against the thin covering.