Walter Ramsden - Doris and Dad

"Nor Vern," she whispered. "He won't." She wished she could be sure about the Ormand boys. And a chilly fear gnawed at her. "What will the police do? With the men and the girls?"

Orville shrugged. "Be a helluva scandal if it's pushed. The town of Shaffer can't afford it-not with those wheels involved. Drop it, more than likely."

Softly, she said, meditatively. "We just have to be careful."

"And damned private," he nodded affirmatively. And Rhoda knew he had no intention of stopping-with Doris-and what other young girls was he getting to.

What happened at the Shaffer Municipal Water Company annual picnic wasn't lost on the kids in town. As Orville had surmised, there were no arrests. But the Shaffer Sentinel, in its back pages, carried a veiled, lurid account of the raid. No names, though.

Rhoda Myles was surprised, but not astonished when, the next morning, Phil and Doris and the two Ormand boys appeared at the back door of the Myles house. They had read the Sunday morning paper, listened to the adults in the house discuss it. (Orville, before going fishing with another mechanic, had casually cautioned his youngsters again about the necessity of silence-and caution-clearly meaning their experiences with Rhoda.)

"The paper, what happened at the picnic yesterday," Yancy Ormand said, slightly pale.

Rhoda clutched the lapels of her robs together over her breasts and held the screen door open for thorn to enter, trailing after the Hagerraan kids and the Ormand brothers. "Want to talk about it?" she asked directly, bringing her coffee into the living room.

She sat in her customary chair and nodded agreeably when the four youngsters seated themselves on the floor in a semi-circle before her. "Vern," she called, figuring she might as well do a thorough job of explaining. And she spent an hour, and knew it was totally unnecessary to admonish them all again about the vitalness of silence-if there was to ever be any more of "that sort of thing". And they all nodded, needing no detailed explanation of what she meant.

The Ormand boys looked at each other. And it was clear in their eyes they weren't about to do or say anything, if the meant they'd never have another chance to see Mrs. Myles totally nude, have her let them fuck their peters in her and have her suck them off.

Doris and Phil exchanged mutual glances. And there was silent acknowledgement they sure wouldn't-even if Doris was only getting screwed and getting a cock to suck except for her daddy-well, except for that giant of a man the day before in the brush at the picnic.

"Well, you understand," Rhoda said quietly, confidence growing in her mind-along with a torrid heat in her loins that spread through her belly, into her rectum and upward to tingle and sparkle in the tips of her voluptuous breasts. Truly, she could see no apparent danger in sexing it up with these kids.

As she set down her cup on the arm of the chair, she was hotly aware she had relaxed, sitting with knees akimbo and the Ormand boys had tilted their heads in an effort to sneak a peek up between her legs. And Vern, too. She didn't know about his adventure Saturday afternoon and had no way of telling his attempt to get a glimpse of his mother's pussy was merely academic, natural.

The five kids were discussing their conversation and the paper as she went to dress-even though she would have given a "purty", as her old man used to say, to herd the boys, one by one-then all together into her bedroom and screw the juices out of them. Also, it would be an entertaining morning to watch all four boys romp with little Doris, see if the girl would balk at fucking them all, gang-bang style, and could handle all of them.

When she rejoined them, wearing a mini-dress, a slip she had shortened for such garments, panties and bra and sandals, the kids were sprawled in the center of the living room floor, playing some card game. For a few minutes, Rhoda stood over them, thinking-remembering the time a couple of years after she had married of her husband and her getting in a strip poker game. Well, there had been no swapping-everyone just content and excited at trying to get everyone else naked.

Yes, she remembered most of the rules-after these many years. And she could add a few rules of her own, now, as the game went along, if the kids were willing to play. She frowned. Doris was the only one she had any misgivings about.

She brought another cup of coffee and stood on her knees in the circle of youngsters. Yes, they all knew the fundamentals of poker. But she went over the rules-all those that were pertinent for her purpose.

"If anyone quits before the draw, he loses whatever he has put up to draw cards-ante," she said, shuffling the cards. There was a wiliness in all their eyes, then a flicker of excitement and daring when Rhoda said, "Okay, I put up my right sandal."

The boys quickly started to remove their right shoes. "Oh, no not necessary at this stage of the game. Leave your shoes on 'til you lose." And she dealt as Doris said meekly, "My right slipper."

"Remember," she smiled, "If you win a pot-or the others' clothes-you can't bet theirs back. Everyone always has to bet something of his own."

Quickly, she dealt five cards all around, amusedly aware the boys already were getting primed in their pants in anticipation of what was sure to come. "If you do win, though, you can keep betting the same shoe until you do lose-then you have to bet the other shoe." But what she was acutely interested in was getting the boys and Doris down to betting their underclothes. She planned, after everyone lost their shoes and socks that they would have to really put up everything else in the middle of the circle before cards were dealt for the next hand.

"Look at your cards, then we all draw," Rhoda said. "Then," she dealt, "everyone bets their other shoe or quits-folds. "Without exception, everyone bet their footwear.

Rhoda folded, though-to prolong keeping her dress or her bra which would be difficult to take off. Doris won with a squeal of delight and excitement as her interest kindled quickly. "Gonna bet your pants?" she taunted the boys.

The deck passed to Vern to Rhoda's left. "My shirt," he said.

"Throw it in the pot," his mother said, explaining things now.

In minutes, Rhoda was faced with a dilemma. "I will bet my bra," she said with mock seriousness. All of the youngsters, including Doris, leaned toward her, eyes gawking, to watch her take it off. But she sprang to her feet and darted into the hallway to remove it. "There," she said, dropping it on the pile of assorted clothing in the center of their human circle.

She lost and stood, turned her back and removed her panties, careful no one could see a thing. "My almost new pink skivvies," she frowned, peering at Doris who removed her blouse. "Well, you guys?" she queried, eyebrows lifting in curious arches. And with nervous giggles, Vern, Phil and the two Ormand boys shucked off their pants, sat back on the floor, blushing modestly.

Rhoda won and, sticking out her tongue at her, Doris slipped out of her skirt. "You boys?" the teenaged girl frowned, eyes glittering.

"I don't want to take off my shorts," Jack Ormand pouted, "Me, either," the others echoed his modest objection. Rhoda shuffled. "We'll just consider them wagered," she grinned. "But if you lose, off they come. Right?"

Rhoda won. With a daring, I-don't-care smirk, Phil took off his shorts, as did Yancy, and threw them at her. "Oh, heck," Vern said and clumsily took off his shorts. But Jack objected, glancing at the other boys sitting with their hands shielding their somewhat excited genitals.

"Then you just crawl over here and do me a goodie," Rhoda said, not yet passing the cards to her son.

"A what?" Jack blushed, fingers absently tracing the huge welt of pecker in his shorts.