First, there was the continuing presence of Kathy in conversations when Bob and I were making love or preparing to do so. This would occur in various ways, but the one incident I remember clearly, was fairly typical of them all. On this particular evening, Kathy had paraded around in front of us in her baby-dolls more than usual, and would sit looking at TV with her legs purposefully pushed apart, the fuzz of her nymphet mound visible at the loosely fitted crotch.
On another occasion, Bob had invited some friend of his over to watch Kathy strut around and model her new bikini, and she did such a provocative job of twisting and contorting in front of them that I (and she too) had no doubt of their arousal.
But on the specific evening I remember so well, I saw Bob pretend to be half asleep while his eyes remained open just enough to observe each move and twitch of Kathy's lovely flesh as she twisted around in her seat. My eyes were trained too, trained on his trousers. I saw it rise from limpid flatness until there was the clear outline of his erect penis beneath the trousers that were tightly stretched from the position in which he was sitting. It was so clear, in fact, that the head and ridge was completely discernible.
An hour later, as we lay together on the bed, Bob began to stare at me with a peculiar expression. He kissed me hard on the mouth, tasting and nibbling at my lips, then moving back to look at me again.
“Your mouth is very much like Kathy's,” he commented with a certain huskiness that was not usually there. “And your breasts, they're still inverted… the nipples, I mean. So are hers. Here… kiss.”
Bob pushed me down to his belly and I began to lick his hairy flesh, then envelope his stout manliness with my lips. I knew what he was thinking, and yet I fought to deny it. I was not Denise. I was Kathy. I was Denise in presence, but I was Kathy in his mind.
“Have you ever had a doctor check her to be sure she's still a virgin?” he asked me later as we fingered each other and kissed.
“I don't see what good that would do,” I tried to get rid of the subject quickly. “If she's not a virgin, there's nothing a doctor can do to make her one.”
“I wouldn't worry so much about the boys, Denise. Have you ever noticed how she stays locked in her room with her girlfriend, this Mary Clauson?”
“She spends the night with her,” I said indignantly, pulling away from him. “All girls spend the night with their friends. So what?”
“I wonder what they do together?” Bob seemed to muse pleasurably, licking my nipples and using his fingers on me in both places, “I wonder if they play with each other… naked together… in bed…”
“Bob, please… oh, darling… darling,” I objected, moving my hips to the rhythm of sensuousness he elicited from me. “Can't you talk about something else when you do that… I'm… o-o-oh, I'm just about to come, darling. Please… talk about something else…”
And when I looked down at his penis, I saw that he had already had a climax. I immediately confronted him, accusing him of using me to get so worked up about Kathy he couldn't control himself.
But would you believe it? That man actually talked me out of it, made me seem like a dirty minded slut, while he denied any such thoughts himself.
“You must understand,” he explained to me with such conviction. “In my work, the mind is trained to disassociate itself from the body, from the purely physical pleasures of the flesh. I was talking and thinking about Kathy with sincere concern, while the physical closeness with you and the manipulation of our sex parts caused me to come to orgasm. There was no connection, Denise. Any connection was only in your mind, not in mine.”
When it would happen the next time, he would always have another excuse, and the end result was always that it was my fault for having these ideas. Yes, I really believed at the time that I was to blame. It never occurred to me that we could both be somehow a part of the same evil thing.
The second event of the summer that had me really torn apart was the episode with the “spy-scope.” Bob kept insisting that something was going on between Kathy and Mary Clauson, the cute little blonde who double- dated with her and was her almost constant companion.
One evening when Mary was spending the night with Kathy, Bob signaled me to follow him up the stairs after they had gone up to Kathy's bedroom. He took me with him into the big storage closet in the hallway and turned on his flashlight.
“See the two little scopes there,” he whispered, indicating two objects that seemed imbedded into the back wall of the closet and looked like miniature telescopes or jeweler's devices for viewing gems.
“I installed them this afternoon when Kathy was at the movies. I use them in my work all the time. They consist of wide-angle photographic lenses with a viewer. The front lens is miniaturized. It sticks out in the bedroom like the head of a small pin, unnoticeable. Here… look through this one.”
As I put my eye up to the device nearest me, Bob peered through the other one. Almost the entire bedroom was completely visible to us. Kathy was taking off her bra, while Mary sat on the edge of the bed in her bra and panties.
“Bob… you must be mad!” I said almost aloud.
“Sh-sh!” he shushed me up, his strong hand squeezing my forearm until I thought it would break. “I didn't set this up for our amusement, you know. I'm seriously concerned about the abnormal sex habits of your daughter.”
I was terrified. I was terrified and uncomfortable. I felt like the vilest mother in the world as I realized Bob was watching my own daughter peel her panties down seductively as Mary said something to her that caused both girls to laugh. We could only catch a word every now and then. One thing I was sure that I heard was, “Bob flips… do this,” from Kathy.
She paraded all around the room stripped naked, projecting her growing breasts, wiggling her torso so that they bounced and quivered, so that her buttocks and thighs fairly danced with the obscene undulations of a strip artist or go-go girl.
“Bob… we can't do this,” I whispered to him.
“Sh-sh,” he responded again, this time slipping his arm around my waist and drawing me close to his side, “See what they're doing? I told you there was something to this.”
“Oh, Bob,” I objected, keeping my voice low, “they're just kidding around. I understand men do more than that in the shower room when they're joking or something.”
“You should know. Look.”
Mary stood up from her perch on the bed and removed her bra. Her breasts were smaller than Kathy's and the nipples quite large. I recall frowning at the unattractiveness in comparison.
The two girls stood together in front of the mirror, admiring themselves, then Kathy reached over and slipped a finger beneath the elastic waistband of Mary's pants.
“Oh… no,” I moaned under my breath, and I felt Bob's grip around my waist tighten.
They were both smiling at each other in the mirror, almost laughing. Kathy tugged downward at the pants until Mary's light blonde triangle was exposed. I caught my breath and I felt like I was going to faint dead away. My hand brushed past Bob's trousers.
“Bob… why…?”
“Sh-sh!”
He had exposed himself in the dark there and he was totally aroused. But I quickly looked back into the bedroom, torn between two terrible concerns. When I looked back through the scope, I felt like laughing out for sheer joy. What an evil person I was, we both were, for letting our minds imagine so much. Kathy and Mary did a quick dance in front of the mirror, laughing and giggling, then put on their baby-dolls and lay on the bed to read some pop music magazines.
“Why… why did you have it out like that?” I confronted Bob as soon as we got into our own bedroom a few minutes later, “You were about to… you were bursting with passion, Bob. I think…”
“Yes, I can imagine what your dirty little mind was thinking,” he popped back at me, pulling off his shirt and throwing it in a corner. “I can't understand how such an attractive woman as you, such an irresistibly erotic woman as you, can have so little self-confidence. You seem to be incapable of realizing your own attractiveness to the male.”
“Me?” I puzzled genuinely, taking off my blouse. “I'm talking about you getting so excited watching Kathy and Mary… your own private little peep-show to watch my daughter my dress…”
