David Ingram - Swinging Teachers

Ben was a big man, bigger than Barney, with a ruddy face and a heavy shock of reddish hair. At fifty-two he still was in excellent shape. Grace was small and rather severe looking, though pretty when she smiled, which wasn’t that often. She was four years younger than Ben, but looked older.

After the suitcases, Ben brought in several bottles and a case of beer, saying, “I figured if I wanted anything to drink, I’d better bring it, knowing Barney.”

“Really, Father Thorn, you needn’t have bothered, we have liquor in the house. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, I would like a drink, and call me Ben. Father Thorn makes me sound like a priest or something. I’ll have a beer. Save the hard stuff until after dinner. I’ll take you all out to dinner tonight.”

“I already have a rib roast started,” Leslie said.

“Sounds great, we’ll go out tomorrow.”

Ben sat in the kitchen drinking beer while Leslie prepared the dinner. Grace wandered through the house, looking things over. She finally came into the kitchen. “Mighty nice house Barney has provided for you,” she said, sliding her fingers along the top of a cabinet to check for dust. She found none.

“Yes, I like it,” Leslie said.

“School teachers couldn’t afford places like this when Ben and I started out.”

“Times have changed, Mother Thorn, Barney has a very good salary.”

“Hmmmph,” Mother Thorn said. “I’d like to freshen up before my son comes home. Could I take a bath?”

“Of course. The house is yours as long as you’re here.”

“Can I open you a beer?” Ben said after Grace had left.

“Barney doesn’t like me to drink beer.”

“I’m not surprised. Well, we won’t tell him,” Ben said, opened her a can, and handed it to her.

She took the beer and took a long drink. It tasted good. Ben finished half the case by the time Barney arrived from school. Leslie drank all three cans.

Grace was back and hugged Barney warmly. “It’s been so long, Barney,” she sighed. It had been just short of a year since they had been together. Ben shook hands with his son.

After dinner, Ben helped her clear the table while Ben and his mother went into the living room. Ben loaded the dishwasher expertly and turned it on. He had been dreading this trip, but now felt it might be enjoyable. Barney was still a moron, but Leslie had changed. She had been so shy and aloof the last time he had seen her; now she was gay and friendly, almost flirtatious. Maybe the three cans of beer had helped, he decided. At any rate, she was a fine specimen of a woman, and he wondered how Barney had been so lucky. She had the kind of beauty that usually scared a man off; Barney was probably too damn dumb to notice. Ben noticed.

After the kitchen was clean, Ben broke out a big bottle of wine and ceremoniously popped the cork. Leslie got the glasses. Both Grace and Barney registered disapproval, but allowed Ben to fill their glasses. The wine was delicious, a deep red semi-dry wine, and soon was gone. Ben produced another.

“Are you suitcases full of that stuff?” Barney snickered.

“Just might be, Barney my boy, just might be,” Ben said.

By ten o’clock, Ben was loud and boisterous, Leslie was giggly and a little bit drunk, Barney was slow and heavy lidded, and Grace was stiff and prudish.

“You athletes are a bunch of pansies nowadays,” Ben said loudly. “In my day, we were a hard drinking, hard fu…”

“Ben!” Grace screamed.

“We did a lot of wenching, too,” he said, with a wink.

“You disgust me, Ben Thorn,” Grace said.

“Have another glass of wine, Grace, my love,” he said.

Grace got to her feet. “I’m going to bed. It was a long trip and I’m tired.”

“Can I help you, Mother Thorn?” Leslie asked.

“No, thank you, dear. I can manage.” She went over and kissed Barney softly on the cheek. “Goodnight, son,” she said.

“G’night,” he said.

Leslie got up and put some records on the stereo. She selected some slow, moody pieces, even though she knew soft music put Barney to sleep. His head was already nodding from the wine.

“Boy, this wine really makes a fellow sleepy,” Barney said.

“You’re just not used to it, my boy,” Ben said. “It’s all gone, anyway.”

“Would you like something a bit stronger?” Leslie said.

“You bet,” Ben said.

Leslie returned from the kitchen with three drinks. Barney feebly protested when she handed him one, but drank deeply.

“Why don’t you have a bar in here, son? Save going all the way to the kitchen,” Ben said.

“We don’t need a bar. We aren’t drunks, Dad,” Barney said. Barney’s glass was already empty and he put it on the floor beside his chair, his head going back, his eyes closed.

“I think your husband is getting intoxicated, Leslie. Does he drink often?” Ben asked.

“Hardly ever, Ben.”

“I’ll bet he gets drunk easily.”

“Very easily. And he passes out easily, too. In fact, I think he’s about there.”

Barney opened his eyes. Everything looked hazy. He could hear their voices, but couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. It was almost as if he were dreaming, one of those far away dreams that never quite made sense.

“Look at his eyes,” Leslie giggled. “He’s smashed.”

“That’s good music, Leslie. Do you like to dance?”

“Love to, but Barney rarely dances.”

“I do, or did. Don’t much anymore.”

Leslie jumped to her feet and held out her hand. “Dance with me, Ben,” she said.

His arms went around her and they glided across the floor. He was surprisingly smooth for such a big guy. She closed her eyes and snuggled against him, pressing her belly and tits tightly close.

Leslie felt drunkenly foolish. She knew what she was doing, yet didn’t seem to care. She felt lightheaded and happy, free and totally uninhibited, and she felt sensuous, terribly sensuous. This big, coarse man excited her, all the more so being her father-in-law. She shivered. Forbidden fruit!

Ben Thorn had a big cock to match the rest of him, and it was already semi-hard. Leslie could feel it against her thigh, high on her thigh near her cunt, and it thrilled her, sending hot little prickles racing up her spine.

All of a sudden Ben felt drunk, too; drunk and uncaring. His blood was running hot, this little minx, his son’s gorgeous wife was turning him on, deliberately making him hot for her. They were behind the chair where Barney sat and Ben reached down and cupped her elegant ass cheeks in his hands and pulled her crotch tight against his. She moaned, grinding against him.

“Kiss me, Ben,” she whispered, turning her face up to his.

It had been a while since Ben had had a woman, almost a month. A friend of his had been having wife troubles and he had agreed to play John Alden and had ended up fucking the woman. She was a wild little minx and Ben thought he might have a regular piece, but the couple went back together the next day, his friend forever grateful to Ben for patching things up. Grace wasn’t interested in sex anymore so he was without again.

He kissed Leslie hard on the mouth, his lips grinding against hers. He gripped her buns tightly, pulling her mound roughly against his hard cock.

“God, I like that,” she gasped into his mouth, “do it some more.”

While they kissed, he lifted her skirt until he could get his hands underneath, then slid them up her thighs to her ass. God, she wasn’t wearing panties. His fingers groped between her legs and they came open for him. She had both arms around his neck and her lips held to his, her tongue deep in his mouth, while he felt her pussy.

Barney groaned and they jerked apart. Leslie looked guiltily at her husband, but he sat motionless. Ben went over to the chair.