The Chaperone Blues free porn video

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Chapter One

Claire Richardson was excited as she boarded the school bus. She didn't
take the time to examine that feeling, even though she was thirty-three
years old and was on her way to a high school football tournament. She
just enjoyed the thrills that were coursing through her body as she
bounced up the steps and entered a tiny world of controlled chaos. The
noise hit her like a falling wall as she turned the corner to face
fifty-some-odd students, all of whom seemed to be shouting at the top
of their lungs. Most of them were boys, a few of whom she knew because
her son, Bobby, had brought them to the house for one meal or another,
or because they had dated her daughter, Lori.

No one seemed to notice her at first, though, whether they knew her or
not. The boys were thinking about the upcoming games. The girls were
clustered in little groups that cheerleaders always seemed to sort
themselves into. They weren't exactly cliques, because the girls were a
team of sorts too, but they had natural tendencies to hang with the
other girls who were most like them.

Had Claire stopped to examine the feelings coursing through her body,
she might have recognized them as being remarkably like sexual
feelings. She might have noticed that her panties were a little damp
and that her nipples had spiked through the cream colored silk blouse
she should have known better than to wear to a sporting event weekend.
But she hadn't had time to change after work. She was dressed for
business—a charcoal wool skirt clinging to her hips, making
the jut of her breasts seem larger than they actually were.

She wasn't ignored for long.

Had Claire examined the faces of all those teenagers, she might have
noticed that a lot of the boys' eyes lingered on her as she waded
slowly through the crowd, lugging her bag behind her, looking for her
own children. Or she might have noticed the frowns of some of the girls
as THEY noticed who the boys were looking at with that look in their
eyes that made the girls get wary and careful.

But it had been a long time since Claire had been in an atmosphere
charged so heavily with teen hormones and the spirit of impending
"combat," and she'd forgotten how it affected a person. She'd shut away
her own feelings for the last ten years, after her husband had said
that two screaming kids wasn't what he had in mind for his future.

Back when Claire was in high school, she had fought off all the boys,
looking to her future and wanting to save her virginity for the man she
just knew would sweep her off her feet. It was made that much more
difficult by the fact that she was a cheerleader. She resisted men in
college too, until the team won a big game and a frat on campus threw
them a victory party. She had perhaps one too many wine coolers that
night.

The star of the game was a boy named Denny  who had convinced
her to give him a victory kiss. Denny's kisses had set her on fire. Her
resolve to stay a virgin seeped away like the fluid in her wine cooler
when it was knocked over as he pulled her up. The next thing she knew,
she was lying on a bed with him in a darkened room.

And it HAD been glorious. She hadn't had any idea how wonderful a stiff
penis would feel stroking the walls of her vagina and scraping along
her enflamed clit. Her almost instant addiction to that feeling had led
to her lying naked under him time and again. He’d knocked her
up while they were both sophomores in college, and she'd agreed to
marry him even though she liked several other boys more. She'd wanted
to believe they were in love and nothing either of their parents had
said against the marriage had sunk in.

And, truth be told, things hadn't been so bad at first. But when he'd
gotten her pregnant again within a year, and the money troubles had
started, and he'd had to take two jobs, and couldn't party with his
buddies, he'd thrown in the towel. Claire had been left to finish
college and raise Lori and Bobby by herself, with a little help from
her parents now and then.

So SHE was the one who had to take three jobs and forego dating or any
social relationships outside her jobs. And her determination had
finally led her to find something she was good at. She'd taken an entry
level job at a bank and had eventually worked her way up to being the
manager of the loan department. Her single-minded devotion to her two
children had resulted in success in the business world and a
comfortable living for them all. But it was at the cost of her social
life, as she deflected the well meaning...and some
not-so-well-meaning…advances of the men she ran into in that
business world.

She knew she was beautiful and desirable. She cultivated that
appearance, because it had helped her succeed in the banking business.
She was aware that she was attractive and that people—both
men and women—saw her as a sexual being, but she viewed that
side of her as a tool, used only to seal a deal and not to pursue
personal enjoyment. Her fingers did for her what she thought her body
needed occasionally. She had grown so used to the convenience of being
able to grab a quick orgasm now and then that she had unconsciously
held herself aloof from any relationships with a man that might have
been vastly more satisfying.

It was almost an accident that she’d met Coach Bondurant, or
"Chuck" as he demanded she call him. She knew he was her son's football
coach, because Bobby talked about him like he was a legend. So, when he
applied for a loan to buy a house in Hillsdale, where she lived, and
his file was brought to her for approval, she’d decided to
meet him in person.

That he was five years younger than she was something she noticed but
didn't dwell on. He had a good job and, as far as she could tell, was
good at that job, so she had approved the loan. Having been turned down
by two other banks, his thanks had been effusive, and her casual, "You
coach my son Bobby," had generated praise for her as a mother.

That was what made her give him another look. Being a mother was her
pride and joy.

And that look had turned into a chat, and that chat had resulted in his
solicitation for her to be a sponsor for the regional championships
that the team was going to attend. When he explained that the team,
along with their supporting cheerleaders, would be staying in a motel
for several nights, and that adults were needed to chaperone them, and
that the cheerleading coach was eight months pregnant and couldn't go,
and that he was having a hard time getting a female to agree to come
along for the ride, Claire made one of those snap decisions that she
had learned to trust.

She agreed to do it.

There had been little time to plan or think about things before it was
time to pack her bag and get in her Lexus to drive to the school. Bobby
and Lori had already made arrangements and were already gone as she
backed out of the driveway and drove to Hillsdale High School. She was
thinking about trips SHE had taken as a cheerleader almost twenty years
ago. She had seen what some of the cheerleaders did with the players
when adults weren't watching and she knew well what football players
were like. "Denny the Derailer," her former husband, was a linebacker
who had battered down her defenses as effectively as he battered down
the defenses around the quarterbacks he sacked.

She hadn't thought about Denny for a long time, moving on with her
life. He dropped a card to the kids once in a while, but neither of
them had ever seen him once they got old enough to remember him. They
knew who he was, but had no real feeling for him. The three of
them—Claire and her two children—had poured all of
their affection into their little family.

Maybe it was the memory of that wild night when she lost her
virginity...and got pregnant with Bobby…that re-awoke the
emotions coursing through her as she boarded the bus that day. If so,
she wasn't aware that she was excited in the same way she'd been
excited that fateful night so long ago. All she knew was that she was
excited and she was having fun BEING excited. There hadn't been much
excitement in her life for a long time.

At any rate, as she bumped and jostled her way down the aisle of the
bus, pushing past students, looking for her children, she looked like
she felt. She was a woman who made the boys turn their heads toward
her, admiring the thrust of her breasts through the silk blouse,
including the prominent nipples that pushed through her thin Victoria's
Secret bra.

She saw Bobby and Lori sitting together in a seat toward the back of
the bus and an even warmer feeling raced through her. They were talking
to each other animatedly, obviously fond of each other, and that made
her feel good. So many brothers and sisters fought constantly, but that
was something she didn't have to put up with.

And there were other students involved with them, leaning over the back
of the seat in front of them or standing beside them. They were
obviously popular. It made her feel successful as a parent.

Lori saw her first and smiled widely as she waved. She stood up and
called out, "Hi Mom!"

As Lorie's voice pierced the cacophony of sound, teenagers looked to
see Claire making her way slowly toward them. She heard one boy say,
"That's your mom? Wow!"

That simple comment, made by a boy young enough to be her son, caused
Claire to blush. The compliment that from an older man would have been
shrugged off as normal jarred her into thinking about her
attractiveness in a different way than she usually did. There was a
strange mix of emotions that flooded through her as she thought briefly
about the irony of the fact that a mere boy's positive appraisal of her
appearance meant something to her, while the same thing from a man
would have been deflected like a poorly thrown pass.

"Mom!"

Claire's eyes darted to her daughter's face, which was showing a mix of
surprise and embarrassment. Lori was looking at her mother's breasts.
Claire looked down and saw immediately what Lori was embarrassed about.
Claire had very prominent nipples most of the time, and they were
advertising their presence plainly.

The woman in her was proud of them. The mother in her immediately
recognized that her daughter would think she was improperly dressed.

Never mind the fact that Lori had inherited her mother's nipples and
that she often showed hers off too. What Lori thought was fine for
herself did not apply to her mother.

"Sorry," said Claire to her daughter. She looked at Bobby who was also
staring at her chest interestedly. There wasn't anything she could do
about it now. If she covered the tips of her breasts it would only draw
more attention to them and she was used to men staring, so she decided
to tough it out. "I'll change when we get there," she said.

"I would hope so," said Lori, looking around. She counted at least five
boys who were staring at her mother. The look on their faces was just
like when they stared at her or one of the other girls. She was aware
on a cerebral level that an "older woman" could be a turn on for a
younger man, and she knew her mother was beautiful, but the emotions
she felt at that moment were distinctly uncomfortable.  It was
odd to think of her mother as potential competition. At the same time,
with the certainty of all young women, Lori was sure that she was more
desirable than any older woman could be.  "Never mind. I'm
being silly. You want to sit with us?"

That sent another shot of warmth through Claire as her children, rather
than being standoffish that their mother was there, welcomed her. There
wasn't any place nearby to put her bag, but a boy offered to put it in
the back with the other luggage, which was piled high on the last two
rows of seats.

By the time she sat down, Claire Richardson was an overflowing jumble
of emotions, almost all of them pleasurable. She was immediately
surrounded by boys who, for some reason, wanted to talk to her
children. It made her feel young again.

At least until all the kids started calling her "Mrs. Richardson." That
brought her back to earth pretty quickly. But even then it was obvious
she was being accepted by the kids, and that made her feel almost as
good.

She had barely settled in, squeezing Bobby and Lori up against the
window of the bus, when Coach Bondurant got on the bus. He called the
roll and, when he had decided everyone who was supposed to be there
was, he introduced her.

"Mrs. Richardson has kindly agreed to chaperone this trip," he
announced. "I know you won't give her any hassles ... RIGHT?!" A chorus
of “RIGHT” was yelled out in that tone of voice
that kids all use to let adults know they've said something stupid,
even though they are expected to agree with it. Coach Bondurant went
on. "AND, just so we all understand each other, Mrs. Richardson was a
cheerleader when she was in high school, so she knows all the tricks.
Don't think you're going to be able to game her, because you aren't."

Claire wanted to giggle when there was a softer chorus of sighs that
clearly indicated some hopes had been dashed, both male and female. The
coach waved her forward and, as she left, she heard a boy whisper
behind her. "Man Bobby, your mother is HOT!"

There was a smack, as of a hand on an arm perhaps, and Lori yipped,
"Shut UP Thomas!"

Claire just grinned and went up to talk with the Coach. He had saved a
seat for them, it turned out, because he’d assumed she'd want
to sit with him rather than the students. As she sat down she saw that
his eyes were fastened firmly where every other male's eyes had been.
He looked up and caught her...catching him.

He blushed. "Sorry," he said. Then he smiled. "But I'm normal I guess.
I hope you won't hold it against me."

He sounded so sincere that she decided not to react as she normally
would have reacted. "I suppose I could give you another chance," she
said. "I didn't have time to change into something more appropriate."

"Thank you," he said and, to her surprise, he sounded like he meant it.
"Sit down and I'll show you the schedule and go over the expectations
of the school board.”

It never occurred to Claire that his thanks might be for more than just
... another chance.

He hauled out a thick three ring binder and flipped it open to a list
of rules and policies that the board expected the team to follow on
trips like this one. He was all business now.

"You can read over these in the room tonight, or as we drive if you
want," he said.

Then he launched into explaining a matrix of lines with names beside
them of all the schools that would be playing at the tournament,
explaining how losses and wins affected lines that didn't have anything
beside them. Claire began to remember how things worked and soon they
were chatting about their chances of advancing and his tactical plans.
Claire loved football. It was one of the few sporting events she
followed and watched on TV. That her children were like-minded made
their weekends full of sports, both inside and out of the house. The
bus started off and the noise level abated somewhat as kids began to
cluster into smaller groups and have their own discussions.

"So, other than enforcing the rules, what am I supposed to do?" asked
Claire.

The bus was bounding along on an uneven road now and she saw Chuck's
eyes drawn again and again to what she felt bouncing up and down on her
chest. To his credit he tore his eyes away from her breasts again and
again, looking at the book or at her face. She thought his attempts to
make good his "second chance" were cute. He appeared to be trying to be
a gentleman, at least.

"Well, really, it mostly amounts to making sure the kids don't let
their emotions get away from them...off the field," he said. "I mean
they're kids and they do what kids have always done if they get the
chance." His eyes strayed to her bouncing breasts once again.

Claire laughed. "Well, if they're in separate rooms that shouldn't be
so hard.”

Chuck didn't smile. "The boys know that breaking curfew will get them
benched, but the girls sometimes don't care about that and try to sneak
into the boys' rooms. And, of course, the boys who AREN'T involved
won't rat them out to the coach, so we have to keep our eyes peeled."

"Are there really that many problems?" asked Claire.

"You were a cheerleader. Were there problems back then?" asked Chuck,
not knowing her history, but assuming that such a beautiful and
successful woman would not have any skeletons in the closet.

Her response was confusing to him. First she took in a breath and
didn't breathe it back out. Then she blushed. Then her mouth opened and
closed several times. Finally she stammered, "I see what you mean." It
left him wondering about her past, but he didn't ask any questions.

"We'll try to put their rooms as far from each other as we can," he
said. “Sometimes we don't have much choice in the matter."

The rest of the trip—several hours—was spent in
light conversation, during which both adults developed a respect for
each other that didn't surprise them...and an attraction that did.

The coach's words were prophetic, in ways he couldn't have dreamed. It
turned out that all the other schools had arrived already. Several had
taken more rooms than they had originally booked and, based on Chuck's
preliminary room diagram, they were two rooms short at check-in. The
motel manager was apologetic, blaming his staff for overbooking the
motel. He called three other places in town, but if they went that
route the team would be scattered all over the place. Fire codes
prohibited more than a set number of people being lodged in a room and,
as they pored over the paper map the manager produced, it became clear
that there would be one female and one male student left over after all
the rooms were assigned. And that didn't take into account either Chuck
or Claire.

Oddly, the solution was offered by Lori, who came to the desk after
being chosen by the team to find out why they were all standing around.
When she found out the problem she said simply, "Why don't we put Bobby
and me and you and Coach in one room?"

Chuck looked at Claire and she stared back. It wasn't perfect, but it
was a lot better than either of them had come up with. It was agreed
that it was the best fix to the problem.

The manager was all smiles then, until it was determined that, in one
of the rooms, there was a bed missing. Investigation revealed that one
bed had been broken the night before, so badly that it couldn't be used
any longer, and the maintenance staff had removed it. The remaining bed
was a queen sized bed, but it wouldn't sleep four.

Everybody else was assigned a room and told to return to the bus at a
time specified for supper. In the meantime the manager scurried around,
looking for another bed. He came back looking unsure of how his news
would be received.

"The best I can do is provide a mattress and linens" said the harried
innkeeper. "I realize it would amount to little more than a pallet on
the floor. I'm sorry, but there's nothing else I can do."

"Don't you have a roll-away or something?" asked Claire.

"I'm really sorry, but they're all taken," said the man. It became
obvious that he had put more people in some rooms than the fire code
allowed, but wasn't willing to admit it.

Claire looked at her children and Coach Bondurant. "What do you think?"
she asked helplessly.

Chuck said, "I'll sleep on the floor. It's no big deal."

The manager fidgeted. He made it obvious he had other things to do.

Claire, used to being in charge of things, said, "OK, we'll work it out
somehow. Let's just get in the room before somebody else comes along
and takes it." She gave a dark look at the manager, who just shrugged
his shoulders.

"Of course we'll give you a discount," said the manager.

"I would hope so!" barked Claire.

When they got to the room a motel worker was already dragging in the
mattress that would go on the floor. It was only a double.

"We can't fit two people on that!" complained Claire. She remembered
what it had been like in college, when she and Denny had shared such a
bed. Back then it had been romantic, but this was a different situation.

Once again it was Lori who suggested a solution.

"Look, Bobby and I could fit on that. His stinky feet will hang over
probably, but then they won't be under the covers where their smell
will keep me awake." She grinned as her brother gave her a gentle
shove. "There's plenty of room in the big one for two people to sleep
and not run into each other."

Claire wasn't overjoyed about this fix. "Couldn't Bobby and the coach
sleep in the big bed?" she asked.

"Mom," said Lori with exaggerated patience. "You wouldn't be
comfortable sleeping on the floor and you know it. Bobby and I can
share the little bed. Like coach said, it's no big deal."

"But still, you two would have to be right next to each other," said
their mother.

"That's OK," said Lori. "He's not so bad."

Chuck spoke up. "How about if Bobby, and your mother and I slept in the
queen? That would leave the smaller bed for Lori. Bobby could sleep in
the middle."

Bobby laughed. "I like you coach, but not that much. I don't think I
could sleep rubbing up against a man. I mean Lori's my sister, but I'd
rather bump into her than a man."

And so it was decided. There would be a male and female in each bed. By
then it was time for supper and they didn't have time to argue about it
anymore. Claire couldn't even think about it as she tried to get
through the pandemonium of feeding in excess of fifty kids, while
busloads of kids from other schools competed for available seats and
food.

By the time the screaming kids piled out in the motel parking lot and
began to straggle toward their rooms, Claire was so tired she didn't
care who she slept with. She and Lori claimed the bathroom first.
Claire sat on the commode while Lori showered and they talked about
things in general. Then Lori dried her hair while Claire stood under
the warm water. That water suddenly started going cold and she had to
shut it off as she got goose bumps all over her body. She got out of
the shower and dried off hastily, putting on the silk pajamas she'd
brought to sleep in, not dreaming she'd have to sleep with anyone.

She looked up to find Lori staring at her. "Aren't you going to wear a
bra to bed?" asked her daughter. Claire looked in the mirror and saw
that she hadn't dried her body all that well and the cold had spiked
her nipples again. They were making two damp points in the thin silk of
her pajamas.

"I hate to wear bras to bed," she complained.

"Well Coach will love you in that outfit," said Lori.

"Coach will be gentleman enough to ignore me," said Claire.

"I wouldn't bet on that if I were you," said Lori. "I can't believe my
own mother looks sexy in pajamas!"

Claire looked at Lori, who was wearing a white T shirt and panties.
Claire could see her daughter's dark nipples through the shirt.

"You don't have much room to talk," she said. "You aren't wearing a bra
either, and you don't look so shabby yourself in that. Surely you
aren't going to let coach Bondurant see you in just panties."

"I thought I'd be staying in a room with girls, Mom. I didn't bring
things to wear for bed around men!"

"Well you can't just show a strange man your panties," said the mother
in Claire. "Wait here."

Claire went into the room and asked the two men if either of them had
an extra pair of boxer shorts or gym shorts that Lori could wear. Bobby
dug through his suitcase and pulled out a pair which he threw to his
mother.

As far as Claire was concerned, the shorts didn’t help all
that much. Her daughter was growing up and was beautiful.

"You're still going to make their eyes bug out in that outfit," she
said.

Lori laughed. "This old thing?" She giggled some more. "Coach will be
so busy looking at you he won't even notice I'm there."

By the time Lori had helped her dry her hair and pull it back into a
pony tail, Claire's nipples had softened and weren't so pronounced. She
felt much better about going out into the room, where she planned on
getting under the covers as quickly as possible.

She wasn't prepared for the change in temperature between the bathroom,
with its fogged mirror, and the cool of the main room. By the time
she'd taken five steps into the room her nipples were again proudly
poking out.

Lori was almost correct. When the two women walked into the room, both
men looked at them. Chuck's eyes were, in fact, riveted on Claire,
though he glanced at Lori, too, several times, his eyes looking like he
was at a tennis match. He settled for looking at the ceiling. He and
Bobby had been watching TV. He stayed in his chair and told Bobby to go
on and take his shower.

"There's no hot water left," warned Claire. "It ran out in the middle
of my shower."

The men took it like men and dashed in and then out of the shower
quickly. Both wore gym shorts and T shirts to bed.

It was odd being in bed with another person at all, much less a strange
man. Claire's emotions, which had already been on high alert, built
even more. She couldn't sleep. As she lay there trying not to make any
noise in the semi-dark, her eyes adjusted to the light from the parking
lot coming in through the thin drapes over the motel windows. Her mind
flitted here and there, remembering things. She could feel heat
emanating from Chuck, even though there was a chaste fold of blanket
gathered between them. It took her ten minutes to realize she
was...horny.

It took her ten more minutes to realize she wasn't going to get to
sleep unless she did something about it.

Ever so slowly, she slipped her right hand down her stomach and under
the waistband of her silk pajama bottoms. Her senses were heightened
and anticipation made her tense as she felt the first strands of her
pubes on her fingertips. She almost couldn't suppress a sigh as her
finger split her labia, which were stuck together with the proof of her
excitement, and her fingertip slid onto her engorged clit. She spread
her legs automatically and her right leg bumped Chuck.

She froze.

Listening, she realized she could hear the smallest
sounds—Chuck’s slow breathing, the rustle of bed
clothes from the makeshift bed her children were in, as they moved in
their sleep, voices from outside somewhere, and the sighing of air as
the wall unit under the window tried to pump warm air into the room.

Hearing nothing that caused her to believe she'd be discovered, Claire
pressed with her index finger on the little bump that was her ticket to
sleep. She rolled her fingertip in a circle, playing with the
protrusion, and felt the thrills shoot through her that always came
when she mauled the little lump of flesh. She went slowly, enjoying the
way her passion built as she played with herself.

She was perhaps halfway to her orgasm when she heard Lori's almost
silent whisper.

"Bobby! Not now! Mom's right there!"

Claire froze again. Very slowly she turned her head. Her hair was in
her face and she was afraid to lift her hand from under the covers to
remove it. She could see through one eye the heap of covers that were
her children. It was moving. There was a little sighing moan that was
in a voice too deep to be her daughter's.

"Please?" came Bobby's voice in a whisper.

"You'll wake up Mom," came the whisper of her daughter. "You want her
to know what we do?"

"Nooo," moaned Bobby. "We won't wake her up if we're careful. You know
how hard she sleeps. Pleeease? I'm sooo horny."

What Bobby was referring to was the fact that, most nights, Claire took
a sleeping pill. Her work was demanding on an emotional level, and the
pill ensured that she'd get a good night's sleep to face the next day.

But this night she hadn't taken the pill. She hadn't thought it would
be necessary.

There was silence, broken by the sound of what was most likely a kiss.
It sounded like a long, wet kiss. Claire couldn't believe what she was
hearing. Her own children? Kissing? And quite likely more than that?!

Lori's voice still came in a whisper, but it was a breathy one, as if
she were breathing hard. "Do you have a rubber?"

"In my suitcase," was Bobby's equally breathy reply. "But I can't get
up and get it. It would wake her up for sure," he moaned.

"Mmmmm that feels good," sighed Lori. "But you know we shouldn't do it
without a condom."

"Wouldn't you like something more than just my finger?" he whispered.

"We shouldn't do it without a condom," repeated Lori. Now it was
obvious that she was breathing hard. Claire could hear her deep rapid
breaths in the quiet of the room.

"Just this once?" pleaded Bobby.

"You always say just this once," said Lori.

But Claire could hear in her voice that Lori was going to let her
brother do it. She was going to let her brother slide his stiff young
prick into her teenaged pussy, where it would spurt long sticky ropes
of his potent teenaged sperm into her womb.

Chapter Two

Claire tensed the muscles in her abdomen and took a breath, preparing
to sit up and stop them. But she froze when her hand got caught in her
pajama bottoms. She was astonished to find that she had continued to
rub her clit as the scene unfolded beside her.

Then she thought about the uproar that would result if she yelled.
Chuck would surely wake up, and then she'd have to explain to him what
was going on. She relaxed and pulled her hand out of her pajamas, her
mind racing. What should she do? Her head turned and she felt light
headed as she saw the lump that was the covers under which her children
were supposed to be sleeping move. It humped up as Bobby obviously
climbed on top of his sister.

Again she took a breath to yell ... scream ... do SOMETHING. But she
couldn't embarrass the children in front of the coach, not to speak of
the embarrassment SHE would feel, too. She realized she was still
holding her breath and let it out in a whoosh.

"What was that?" whispered Lori's voice.

Claire had a flash of inspiration. If she got up and went to the
bathroom, they'd stop. Then she could make noise...toss and turn...like
she was having a hard time getting back to sleep. If she did it long
enough, they'd surely give up this crazy idea.

Lori's voice came again. It was a drawn out "mmmmmm" sound that Claire
recognized as having made herself, on numerous occasions when Denny's
cock had slid into her pussy. Bobby groaned softly too. He had
obviously just pushed his hard adolescent penis into his sister's
pussy. Claire saw the covers move as Bobby thrust hard into Lori.

Claire sat up. She flung the covers off of her legs and swung her feet
toward the children. The covers stopped moving and Claire heard both
her children gasp. Claire stood up and padded around the bed and into
the bathroom. She stood there in the dark for a minute until she
realized they would expect the door to close and the light to go on.
She closed the door. They had stopped. Her plan was working.

Claire almost didn't remember to flush the toilet. She stood in the
bathroom, ears straining to hear anything that might come through the
door. It had been useless, though, and, with a start, she realized she
didn't know how long she'd been in there. She turned off the light and
went blind immediately. Opening the door, Claire put her hands out and
stepped, groping in front of her, into the room. She knew roughly where
the space was between the beds. She had to go around the one she and
Chuck were sharing—he was on the side closest to the
bathroom—and she bent over to feel for the edge of the bed.

Her hands fluttered along the covers and onto Chuck's feet. She jerked
them away instantly, then reestablished contact with the bed and worked
her way around it. Her eyes still hadn't adjusted to the dark, so she
couldn't see the lump that had been her son on top of her daughter.

She didn't hear anything, though.

She slipped back into bed, trying to make enough noise to frighten her
children, but not wake up Chuck.

It almost worked.

As she settled onto her side, so she could see the children when her
night vision returned, Chuck rolled. His arm draped across her body and
his hand fell to the bed beside her left breast. Claire tensed up,
getting ready to rebuff this man's obvious pass at her.

She felt Chuck's hot breath blow against the back of her neck in a long
drawn out sigh. He stopped moving.

Claire realized she was holding her breath again. She let it out slowly
and tuned her body to feel what Chuck's was doing. The only real
contact between them was his arm draped across hers. He was breathing
deeply and slowly. He must have just turned in his sleep.

But now Claire had a problem. If she moved, she'd wake him up for sure.
She was, for all intents and purposes, trapped.

Slowly, her sight returned to her and she looked at the mattress on the
floor. They were still now. Her plan had worked. Strangely comforted by
Chuck's arm draped over her, she drifted into a troubled sleep.

Claire's eyes snapped open perhaps an hour later. There had been a
noise of some sort. Chuck was fully spooning her now, his breath still
slow and soft in her hair. There was a female whimper from the pallet
next to the bed. Claire could see quite well now, from the light coming
in around the drapes that were not completely covering the windows.

The lump in the covers over her children looked much too tall to have
been made by only one body. And it was moving.

They were doing it again!

Claire lay there helplessly as she heard Bobby assure his sister that
their mother was asleep again, and heard the quiet mewling sounds that
communicated that Lori was having a wonderful time.

Then, to her dismay, she heard the little grunting sounds from Bobby's
throat that she somehow knew meant his penis was
spurting…inside Lori...without a condom to contain it or
protect Lori from pregnancy.

Claire didn't know what to do. She was used to making momentous
decisions at work every day, decisions that had the potential for
changing the world. But in this situation she felt helpless. She knew
she should have stopped them. On the other hand it was obvious this
wasn't the first time this had happened. How long had they been doing
this?

She heard Bobby's whispered "Thank you," and Lori's answering "I love
you." It sounded so heartfelt and real, just like she and Denny had
spoken to each other in moments of intimacy.

Claire couldn't believe the warm feeling in her own abdomen. It was
just too strange and bizarre. She felt a tear in her eye break free and
roll down her cheek. She couldn't decide if it was because of what her
children had just done...or because of the sudden loss she felt because
she didn't have that kind of intimacy in her life anymore.

Exhaustion finally claimed its hold on Claire's consciousness and she
fell asleep.

She woke later, having a dream about a man's hand cupping her
breast...a strong man's hand. It felt good. She smiled at her dream and
drifted back to sleep.

Claire woke to see brighter light coming in around the blinds and
drapes that covered the windows of the room. The first thing she
thought of was that Chuck's arm was still over her, pinning her to the
bed. Then she felt his hand—his strong, manly
hand—cupping her left breast. He was still breathing slowly
and deeply, asleep.

She moved and he snorted, his hand closing tighter on her breast. Then,
Claire heard his breathing cease, and there were two tentative little
squeezes, as he realized just where his hand was and what it was
cupping.

The hand darted away from her and he lifted his head.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Claire had just remembered what she had seen and heard the night
before—her children…making love.

"It was an accident," she whispered back. "Don't worry about it."

Chuck rolled away from her and out of the bed. As he headed for the
bathroom Claire looked at him. The front of his shorts was tented
outward. Denny's penis had been like that in the mornings. He had
called it his "morning wood." Quite often, when he came back from the
bathroom on those mornings, it was still hard. He loved to fuck in the
morning.

Claire realized her pussy was wet. Her emotions, which had abated
during sleep, surged again.

==========================

It was a rough day for Claire. She dressed in a khaki blouse and skirt
outfit she thought was cute, and she was right. All day men stared at
her, whether they were adults or young men her son's age. The fact that
she now knew her son was sexually active made her look at those young
men in a different light. Each of them, she realized, had the capacity
to climb between her legs and scratch the itch that she had felt all
morning and couldn't seem to suppress. At one point she went to the
girls' bathroom and locked herself in a stall, masturbating frantically
to ease her desire.

But all that did was get her hotter.

She was tense all day. It didn't help that she was around Chuck most of
the day, helping him with the record keeping and running errands for
him. She caught herself looking at his trim, athletic body. It was hard
and she just KNEW he'd be good in bed. She shook her head, trying to
shake those thoughts from her mind. He was her son's coach! And,
despite there only being five years between them, she couldn't help but
look at him as much younger than herself.

"What am I thinking?" she berated herself.

She tried to keep an eye on her children too. Every time she saw them
together—which was more often than she would have thought
before last night—they were smiling, happy children, as
normal looking as all the others around them. They didn't hang on each
other, but they didn't avoid each other either.

They just looked...normal.

By contrast, there were other kids who bickered and fought. In most
cases it seemed like the normal everyday interaction of teenagers who
were in competition with each other. She noticed one boy—a
redhead—and a girl with long blond hair, who were angry with
each other about something and acidic in their statements to one
another. The blond, at one point, was hanging on another boy when a
brown-haired cheerleader girl stalked up and pushed the blond away. The
brunette yelled at the redheaded boy.

"Tell your slut sister to stay away from my boyfriend!"

The redhead waved a hand. "She doesn't listen to me. What do you expect
from a slut anyway?"

"Well THAT brother and sister don't cuddle in bed...that's for sure,"
Claire said to herself. She couldn't help but compare those angry
siblings to her own loving children.

It bothered her.

She wanted her children to love each other...but they loved each other
TOO much.

Didn't they?

And it didn't appear to hamper their performance either. Bobby played
well and helped the team win their first game. Lori was the picture
perfect cheerleader, exhorting the spectators to yell and chant and
celebrate each positive aspect of the game. She was bright and happy
and full of vim and vigor.

Claire realized she was slumping as she watched her daughter. "I might
be full of energy too if I'd gotten my ashes hauled as well as it
looked like YOU did last night," she muttered to the girl who couldn't
possibly hear her.

"Say what?" asked Chuck, turning to her.

"Oh!" she blushed. "Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

"Tell yourself hi for me." He grinned. "And mention to yourself that
you look really nice today."

He looked back at his team as Claire blushed even more. She was horny
the rest of the day.

==========================

That night after supper, Bobby and Lori wanted to go socialize with
their friends. Curfew wasn't until nine, so Claire told them to have
fun. When they bounded out of the door she wondered what form that fun
might take.

"You're really good with your kids," said Chuck, looking up from his
playbook. "I mean you've raised great kids."

Pleasure flushed through Claire at the compliment. It was replaced by
fear that Chuck would somehow find out someday the secret she had
discovered the night before.

He closed the book and slid it under the mattress. "We'd better go see
what the kids are doing," he announced.

Claire jerked, thinking of just her kids...and what they might be doing
somewhere. Then she realized he wasn't talking about HER kids.

"Yes," she said.

They went together, moving along the hallways, stopping at the rooms
listed on Chuck's sheet. In all cases where the door was closed, only
boys or girls were behind it. And, in all cases where they found boys
and girls together, the door was open as the rules required.

They found Bobby in one room, playing Texas Hold Em. Lori was in
another room where boys and girls were dancing to loud music.

Claire didn't know whether to be happy or not. She was beginning to
think she had dreamed the whole incident. Her children acted so normal
she couldn't accept that there was something wrong with them.

Claire and Chuck spent an hour chatting with various kids and being
flirted with. Claire noticed that a lot of the girls got all goo
goo-eyed when the coach talked to them, unconsciously thrusting their
breasts out, or playing with their hair, making little grooming
motions. At the same time she felt the eyes of the boys on her. It was
an almost palpable, caressing feeling and it didn't help her horny
state.

By the time they got back to the room Claire felt like she needed to
change her panties.

Chuck went into the bathroom and got his shower first, since there had
been no hot water the night before. He came out in his shorts, his
shirt in his hand. Claire had been lying propped up on the bedspread,
reading a book she'd brought along and she looked up, over her reading
glasses. She felt a flutter in her pussy. He was a hunk. No doubt about
it. His chest was heavy with muscle and her fingers played with the
pages of the book as if they were stroking those muscles.

Chuck had been running his hand through his damp hair and saw her
looking at him. He held the shirt up in front of his naked chest.

"Sorry," he said. "I was thinking about the game." He pulled the shirt
over his head as Claire stared at his flat, muscled abdomen.

Chuck smiled. "I wanted to thank you again for coming along. I really
couldn't do this without you."

What went through Claire's mind was something else he really couldn't
do without her...or at least without a woman. She felt her face get hot.

He didn't notice. "And I wanted to apologize again for what happened
last night. I really don't make a habit of groping strange women in
bed."

Claire remembered the feel of his hand on her breast. It had been a
long, long time since she'd felt that. Her face got hotter. She tried
to dismiss the feeling.

"Forget it. You probably don't make a habit of even SLEEPING with
strange women in your bed." It didn't come out quite like what she'd
thought it would. Her classification of the bed as "his" made her pussy
flutter again.

"Well," he said, reaching under the mattress for the play book, "you're
right about that. I haven't had time to do anything except teach and
coach. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that when a beautiful woman
shows up next to me in bed that something like that might happen."

His casual mention of her beauty came off unlike a canned pickup line
and Claire's reaction shocked her. She felt warmth in her nipples and
her pussy was suddenly wet.

"Maybe we should assign a couple of the kids to keep an eye on US," she
tried to joke. "There hasn't been a man in MY bed for over ten years."
It had come out as a joke, but it didn't sound like it to Claire's ears.

She blushed furiously. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I shouldn't have said that,"
she stammered.

"No problem," he said simply. "Not that I believe you or anything." He
sat down and opened the book.

Now what had THAT meant? wondered Claire.

The door opened and a cheerful pair of siblings came rushing in,
laughing and talking about their friends. Claire tried to keep reading,
but her eyes strayed to Bobby as Lori dashed into the bathroom,
slamming the door and crowing that she was going to use all the hot
water again.

Bobby pulled off his shirt and Claire was jolted to realize that her
son was in awfully good shape too. He wasn't as heavily muscled as
Chuck, but the muscles were all there, in the same places. Bobby bent
over and dug into his suitcase. Whatever he found was small, because
when his hand came out it didn't appear to be holding anything, even
though it was cupped. Bobby shot a look at his mother, whose eyes
appeared to be on the words in the book. He wandered over to the bed he
shared with his sister and sat down. Claire saw his hand dart under one
of the pillows. When it came out it was obviously empty.

Claire felt her pussy squirt again as she realized what he must have
just hidden.

When Lori came out of the shower she was dressed as she had been the
night before, in only a T shirt and borrowed boxers. She skipped across
the room and dove into bed, getting under the covers. Claire looked up.

"Are you OK, Mom?" asked Lori. "You look kind of tired or something."

"I'm fine," said Claire. She couldn’t help but imagine what
Lori's face looked like as her brother prodded her with his prick. She
shook her head.

"Are you sure? Are you sleeping OK? Did you bring your pills?" Lori's
voice held nothing but care and concern.

"I'm fine, Lori," said Claire somewhat irritably. "I'm sleeping fine,"
she lied. It occurred to Claire that maybe she SHOULD take a sleeping
pill. Then, at least, she wouldn't be awake when her children had sex,
like they obviously planned on doing again tonight. What little SNEAKS
they were! she thought to herself. And Lori's obviously false concern
about her mother sleeping well! Why did her young, beautiful daughter
get to have wild and glorious sex while Claire just had to lie there
horny? It wasn't fair!

Bobby came out of the bathroom. He was dressed exactly like he'd been
dressed the night before. But this time Claire couldn't help but look
at him differently. This time she knew he was...sexually active. Her
little boy was...a man. At least in that sense. She looked at him for
the first time, as a man. His chest was broad, she noticed. How could
she have missed that before? And his arms and legs were muscled.
Suddenly, in her head, she heard again his voice—her little
boy's voice—whispering in the night, "I'm so horny." Her eyes
dropped to the front of his shorts. She jerked her eyes away instantly,
ashamed to be looking at her son's manhood, but that brief glimpse drew
her eyes back again like a magnet, despite her wish not to look.

He must be HUGE! she thought to herself as she stared at the lump under
his skivvies. It almost looked like he was wearing a cup under them,
except for the obvious contour of a thick penis pressed against a pair
of immense balls. When had her son developed THAT kind of equipment?

Again she jerked her eyes away and blushed. How could she stare at her
own son's penis? She looked up to see him smile at her—just a
son smiling at his mother. Why, then, did she feel that emptiness that
she'd felt the night before...that lack of intimacy that she was
suddenly craving?

Claire felt panic welling up in her as she realized her nipples had
spiked. She got up and went to the bathroom. She got in the shower and
turned the water as cold as she could stand it. It didn't help though.
She moaned a soft sound of discontent and, to avoid thinking of her
son's bulge, she intentionally thought of Chuck's hand on her breast,
his own penis shoved gently against her buttocks. She shivered and
turned the water to a warmer setting. Then, with a gasp of surrender,
she shoved three fingers into her pussy as she jerked and rubbed,
trying to have an orgasm. She managed to get a little one, but it
wasn't really satisfying. When she came out of the shower and toweled
off, she realized she hadn't brought anything with her to change into.

She cracked open the door.

"Lori?" she called. "I forgot my pajamas. Would you get them for me,
please?"

Chuck's voice came softly. "They're already under the covers. I'll get
them. Where are they?"

"In my suitcase," she said. As she waited she realized he'd have to
move her scanty feminine panties to get to the pajamas. She leaned her
head against the door and sighed at how that made her feel.

A muscled arm came through the door. Her silk PJ’s were
hanging from the hand at the end of the arm.

"Here you go," came his deep voice.

When she came out of the bathroom Claire knew her nipples were still
spiked. This time it wasn't from the cold. It was because she needed to
be fucked. Admitting that to herself didn't do any good. She wanted to
cover her breasts, but knew that would only make it more obvious. Chuck
was back in his chair again, the book spread open on his lap. He looked
up at her and his eyes devoured her figure in the thin pajamas. She
knew that look and it didn't help her mood. She was used to dismissing
those looks—ignoring them and acting in a cold and
professional manner to deflect them. But she couldn't push the feeling
away this time. At least he didn't say anything.

Claire was glad he hadn't. If he'd said anything even remotely
connected to sex she would have flung off her pajamas and demanded he
take her then and there. And her children would just have to deal with
it! She fell into bed and buried her face in her pillow.

It was going to be a long night.

Oddly, she fell asleep quickly. But she dreamed.

She dreamed of her son, who came to her saying he had a "boo boo." He
pulled aside a loincloth he was wearing and his mammoth erection
strained up. There was a small spot on it where he'd caught the skin in
his zipper.

"It hurts, Mommy," he said. "Kiss it and make it better."

In her dream Claire did a lot more than kiss it and make it better. She
made it go all soft.

She woke with a start. She was lying on her side, facing the children
again. There was movement in the bed across from hers. Movement and
moaning.

"Oooo you got the kind with bumps on it," cooed Lori. "I love that
kind."

Claire looked to see her son's naked back, the covers down to his
waist. Under him was her daughter's naked chest, her breasts white in
the darkness. Bobby leaned down and suckled at one dark tip on top of a
white mound. He rocked gently.

His head raised back up. "Are you sure she took the pill?" he whispered.

"She told me she had them and that she was sleeping fine," came the
answer.

"Good," he whispered. "’Cause I'm about to cum, but I need to
go a little faster."

Lori's hands came under the blanket, where Bobby's ass cheeks were, and
Claire watched as her daughter pulled her son's prick into her.

Bobby groaned softly and froze on top of his sister.

Lori's voice came, louder than it should. "I feel it Bobby...the damn
rubber broke!"

"I'm sorry," he pleaded, still rocking on top of her...still spurting
her full of creamy white sperm. "I had to put it on in the dark."

"We have to stop this," came a hiss from Lori. "You're gonna knock me
up for sure!"

"I said I was sorry," he said softly.

There were small sounds, though, as of little kisses, indicating that
Lori wasn't quite as upset as she sounded.

Claire felt something akin to pain as she realized she was a lonely
woman. Broken rubbers were no concern of hers, because she had no man
at all.

Chapter Three

Somehow Claire got back to sleep, but again she dreamed.

This time it was a dream about her daughter, who walked into the
kitchen, her belly enormous, as if it held more than one baby.

"Morning, Mom," she said brightly.

In her dream, Claire turned to her daughter and said, "It looks like
there's another one in there this morning."

"Yeah," sighed Lori. "Bobby fucked another one in me last night. I
think that makes four. I may have to have a  c-section."

They were interrupted by Bobby, who came strutting into the kitchen
stark naked, his lusty huge erection straining out into the air in
front of him. It was the size of a fire hydrant and was red and angry
looking.

"Morning, Mother," he said grinning widely. "Are you ready to make your
morning baby?"

Claire looked down at her dream belly, which was just as gravid as
Lori's was. She screamed...

And jerked awake. The bed shivered. Everyone else was still sleeping.
She hadn't screamed out loud.

What's WRONG with me? she cried in her mind. She staggered out of bed
and went to the bathroom. Closing the door she turned on the light and
leaned on the sink, staring into the mirror. Her face looked haggard
and drawn. She splashed some water on her face. The cool of it felt
good.

She turned to her travel case, which she had put in the bathroom
earlier and opened it. She got out a sleeping pill and swallowed it.

Claire didn't dream again that night. But when she awoke it was to
multiple sensations. She didn't know why she had awakened just then.
She was still horny. And, she was cuddled up to Chuck, her head on his
shoulder, her hair covering her face. She had twin feelings of her
hand, lying on something soft...cloth...with something firm under it.
As she thought about where her hand had to be, she realized it was on
his morning erection. At the same time she felt his fingers on her
wrist. She felt him lifting her hand...moving it...letting it fall on
his flat, hard stomach.

She lifted her head. "I'm so sorry," she half whispered, her eyes
filling with tears. "I took a pill...I had dreams...I'm so sorry," she
began to sob quietly.

"Hey," he said into her hair. "Take it easy. It's OK. I just didn't
think you'd want to wake up and find your hand...there." He kissed her
hair. "Don't cry."

She felt better for knowing that he hadn't removed her hand because he
didn't want it there. She felt worse because she knew she wasn't going
to be able to control her urges.

"Thank you," she said. "But I don't know WHAT I want anymore."

His fingers went back to her wrist and lifted her hand again. Amazed,
she felt him return it to the lump of stiffness under his shorts and
drape it over his erection.

"There," he said. "All better?"

Claire felt her fingers curl around the stiff column of flesh before
she could stop them. She squeezed gently before sliding her hand
upward, off his hard-on. In the process her hand slid under his shirt,
onto his hot skin.

"We don't even know each other," she whispered, feeling much better for
having been able to take her hand away from what she wanted to feel.

"We can get to know each other," he suggested.

"I'm almost afraid to get to know you," she responded. "I'm already
about to let you do something I swore I'd never let a man do again."

"That's a good thing," he whispered back. "That means you're making
progress...working through your issues."

She couldn't help but smile and tried to pinch his skin. It was
surprisingly difficult to get anything between her fingers. She ended
up tickling him instead.

Chuck jerked and batted at her hand, clamping his on it and stopping
her. He rolled slightly as he let go and her hand slid to his side.
There were no love handles there. The hand he'd used came to her hair
and whisked it away from her face.

"I'm going to kiss you now, Claire," he whispered.

"OK," she surrendered. It was an instant, unthinking surrender that
made her feel better somehow before he even touched her.

It was a kiss to write home about. Neither of them cared about the
morning breath, or the teenagers in the bed on the floor next to them.
They just felt each other through their lips and experienced it.

Claire reluctantly pulled away from his lips. "What about your
girlfriend?" she asked.

"What girlfriend?" he replied. "I'm too busy with teaching and football
to have a girlfriend."

He kissed her again and she pressed her body against his, her arms
going around him, pulling him tightly against her. Despite her raging
emotions her passion surprised and even scared her a little.

When it was over Claire buried her face in his chest. "I'm in so much
trouble," she said. Her hand slid to his buttocks and inside his shorts
to grip a glute.

"I'm the teacher," he whispered back. "Why don't you let me decide
whether you're in trouble or not."

She removed her hand from his shorts and put it on his chest. "Not now.
Not yet. Not with the kids here. I can't."

He took her hand and kissed her fingert