obscene act to be perpetrated upon her.
Mom… how can you let it go on? Dear God… sh-should I do something… make a noise… let them find out that I–I've been watching… a-and make a big s-scene…? I–I could do it real easy… but, then… Mom would kn-know that I–I know a-all about h-her… and what good would that d-do…?
The girl knitted her brows in deep thought as she watched. Her decision was a hard one to make, but, instinctively, she knew that she was making the right one. No! I–I'll never l-let her kn-know…! But, I–I can't stay here… live in this h-house with h-her… knowing what I–I d-do…!
Now, the movement of her mother's soft, smooth, white thighs caught her attention, and she watched with fascination as her beautifully sculpted columns began to move, rubbing back and forth sensuously against each other, her hips moving in undulant circles under her, erotically. This, the young girl saw and recognized. Her mother was sexually aroused!
It was a completely surprising revelation to her; the possibility that her mother could enjoy this unnatural oral coupling had not occurred to her.
Then, the truth of this shocking discovery was borne out for her, as she saw, now, that her mother's head had begun to move in opposition to the punishingly hard cock in her mouth, countering his fucking movements, her lips seeming to tighten around the thick hardness of him and her cheeks beginning to hollow in and out with vigorous sucking movements. Oh God! Her mother was helping him! She was a participant!
Above her mom, now, the man was panting, his face contorted with the agony of his need for release. He was moaning aloud. He spoke then, the first sounds for several moments: 'Just a little more… and I'll cum in that sweet little mouth of yours!'
Charity watched as he slid his knees back and lay flat on her mother's face, his hips flexing up and down, driving his lust-inflated prick ever deeper into her tightly locked lips and the young girl marveled that her mother was not suffocated from the brutality of his pile-driving actions. Her mother gasped for breath and writhed under him, her thighs splaying out, almost as though they begged for something. It happened then! Charity knew what her mother felt. She was unfulfilled and frustrated. Her mother's thighs were spread to receive a penis she could not get, and as she watched, her mother provided it for herself!
Her mom's hand snaked downward to the moist, blatantly throbbing mouth of her cunt, three fingers held closely together, forming, roughly, a stiff substitute with which to fill her demanding pussy. Charity watched, disgust filling her as her mother's fingers ground deeply into her own voracious depths, matching the rhythm of the huge penile presence in her mouth. Then, her other hand moved on her clitoris, and together, both hands worked there, lewdly, faster and faster, her fingers jabbing almost savagely into her open, hair-fringed cunt.
Suddenly, she saw the man's body stiffen, and the horrified young girl knew that he must have reached his climax, his sperm pumping through his swollen cock deep into her mother's mouth. She saw her mother struggling to swallow it as his ejaculate spewed from him. She decided, at that instant, that she had seen enough and heard enough of the depravity going on in her mom's bedroom.
Sick at heart, she turned away and padded through the other connecting door into her own bedroom and closed it, softly, to blot out the scene that was rapidly coming to an end. Then, the girl threw herself full length on her bed and sobbed softly into the crook of her arm, reaching for a corner of the pillow to stuff into her mouth when she feared that her grief would be heard in the other bedroom by her mother. Never would she allow her mother to know that she had spied on her. Oh, Mom… why? Why? WHY? Charity, of course, would never know how that scene ended.
CHAPTER FIVE
After several minutes, her emotional storm was over, and she lay dry-eyed, on her back, now, staring up into the darkness of her lonely room. She was alone, she had decided. No more, would it be possible for her to re-kindle a feeling of warmth in her for her mother. There is a thin dividing line between love and hate, and Charity felt disgust, betrayal and contempt for her mother, at that moment. Did she hate her mother? Most probably, she did. Her youthful idealism had been shattered, brutally, within a few moments, as she discovered that her mother had feet of clay. The mother who had nurtured her and trained her had become, suddenly, the lowest creature on the earth, and the girl did not know why… perhaps would never know why her mother had done what she had done. The youth that was Charity was all too ready to condemn… ready to hang a label… ready to hate what she had loved. Later, perhaps, with maturity of thought on her part, she would be able to reason it out, but at this excruciatingly painful moment in her life, she could only feel… feel the betrayal and the sudden hate; most of all, she felt the aloneness, as though she were lost in a trackless forest, her last dismal hope of rescue gone as the wild animals seemed to close in on her, their cries echoing in the blackness of the night.
The roar of Donnie's motorcycle crackled in the still darkness. She listened as he parked his bike and heard his footsteps as he walked along the side of the house, passing her window, on his way to his sleeping porch cubicle at the rear of the small cottage.
Donnie! Donnie, her little brother, was all she had, now. Suddenly, she didn't feel so alone. He would understand how she felt. She had to talk to someone, and Donnie was the only one she could talk to, now. Her heart was so near to bursting that she had to share her burden with him, ask him to prop her up, give her the moral support she needed. Yes! She would have to lean on Donnie… because it was just the two of them, now!
She listened, carefully, straining her ears to catch any sound coming from her parents' bedroom. There was none, and she assumed that the strange man had left, for, surely, she reasoned, her mom would not allow him to stay with her for the rest of the night.
Slipping quietly from her bed, she slipped from her room, threading her way, carefully, through the dining room and kitchen to the back porch. Unexplainably, her heart was beating wildly, and she realized that she had not thought through how she would tell her brother about what she had seen and heard in her mom's bedroom. Her face flushed. She could feel the warmth rising from her neck to her hairline. How could she tell him? What should she tell? Bear God! It was such a delicate subject. How could she bring herself to tell even her brother that their own mother was a common whore?
She stood, silently, before her brother's closed bedroom door collecting her thoughts and her composure. Inside, she heard Donnie moving about, and she assumed that he was preparing for bed. She hesitated. Should she bother him, now? Her own agitation was too great, she decided. She had to talk to him, tonight! Dear God! She felt that she would go out of her mind, if she did not talk to someone… someone who would listen. Someone who would be sympathetic.
Charity tapped lightly on Donnie's door. 'Don… can I talk to you…?' she murmured in a half whisper.
There was a moment of silence, then she heard him answer, 'Sure… why not?' The door opened, his rather grim face poked out at her, and he held the door open for her. She walked in. He closed the door, looking at her guardedly for a long moment before he asked. 'What's with, Sis…? You look all uptight and strung out?'
She turned to him, her eyes beginning to mist, again, 'D-Donnie… I've got to talk t-to y-you…! I–I saw… S- saw…' She stopped, unable to continue for a moment. She swayed against him. Instinctively, Donnie caught her in his arms, her soft body molding itself to him; he could feel the trembling of her limbs and knew that she had experienced something that had severely upset her. It was nothing trivial.
'What's wrong, Char… you're shaking like a leaf? What's bugging you?'
Sobbing softly against his shoulder, she said, 'J-Just a minute… or two… and I'll be able to tell you…'
Don held his sister close while she sobbed, inconsolably. He stood awkwardly, his arms around her, not knowing what to do for her. He had the strange feeling, suddenly, that he felt closer to his sister, in that instant, than he had ever felt before in his life. He stroked her back with his hand, hoping that it would stem the flow of her tears, and as he did so, he became, increasingly, aware of her lovely young womanliness. The supple, pliant flesh of her back, under the thin material of her nightgown, was warm and smooth to his touch. His hand drifted almost naturally down to the curving swell of her round, firm buttocks, feeling them silky under his hand. God! His sister's body was really something else! He had never held her close, like this, before, and unbidden, unwanted, he felt the sudden flood of his pounding blood into the flaccid tube of his penis. His cock rose to partial erection, quickly. It throbbed and jerked in the confines of his jeans, and he decided that he shouldn't be that close to her. She would certainly be aware of its erect condition in just a moment.
