Bill Lorde propped on his elbows, grinding away at his wife’s insides.

Amanda Lorde lay underneath, wincing and whispering, ‘I love you’ in between kisses and her approaching climax.

“Oh God… Oh God,” Bill strained as he nestled his head next to Amanda’s and their sweaty bodies reached a simultaneous peak of release.

When the deed was done, he rolled off and they lay panting; turning their faces to each other and sharing a toothy grin. Amanda lowered to rest on her husband’s hairy chest and he massaged her scalp through her bobbed brown hair.

“Mmm, that feels good,” she said.

“Better than what we just did?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She rose to ogle him with her bottom lip curled under her teeth.

“My feelings are so terribly hurt.” Bill closed his eyes and shook his head. Amanda’s response was laughter.

“I wish it could stay like this for one more night.” He became serious and then sighed. “Typical of her to pull this garbage.”

“Oh come on, Bill.” Amanda sat up and turned to him.

“No seriously. Why is she coming at the exact same time I’m taking vacation?”

“Honey, I am not going through this with you again. She’s our daughter and sh–”

“Correction, your daughter.” Bill leaned up on his elbows and lifted his brows.

“We’re married so that makes her yours too.”

“Right-riiight, step-daughter. Look, once she isn’t in my way, I could care less.”

“Jesus Christ, Bill, can you at least try for me? Your wife? Try to get along with my kid? Your step-kid?” She jabbed his sternum.

“The day that happens is the day my hair grows back.” He pointed at his thinning crown. The sides and behind were still adorned with silver and black locks that stretched to the middle of his neck.

“Hey, I’m not arguing about this anymore. Let’s get some sleep alright? We got a long day tomorrow. Her flight’s coming in at two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah-yeah,” Bill grumbled and reclined.

***

The following morning, while Bill watched Dog Day Afternoon and Amanda wiped down the kitchen countertops, the doorbell chimed.

“Expecting anyone?” she asked.

“No. You?” He glanced over his shoulder.

“No.”

“What time is it? We didn’t forget to pick her up, did we? That would be really unfortunate.” Bill pouted and focused on the floor.

“Oh stop that,” Amanda replied and checked her cell phone. “It’s only eleven o’clock.”

“Alright-alright. I’ll see who it is.” Bill crawled out of his couch like a labouring monster and peeped through the peephole. After an eye-roll, he unlocked the door and there stood a young, wiry woman whom he almost hurt his neck to look down at. A blonde in a tube top and daisy dukes surrounded by suitcases and teal shopping bags with stiff handles.

“Hello… William,” said the young woman.

“Hello… Francesca.” Bill stood stop sign straight, blocking the entrance. The taxi-cab at the end of the house’s walk-path beeped the horn and sped off. In turn, the petite young lady waved at it with a smile.

“Frankie, is that you, baby?” Amanda hollered from the kitchen.

“It’s me, mom!”

Frankie rushed past Bill and was lifted into a spinning embrace by her mother.  Much distance didn’t have to be covered as kitchen and living room were practically one with there being minimal separation – unless you count the white, marble kitchen peninsula. The rooms ran parallel to each other and so did the staircase of which the bottom was in line with the house’s entrance.

“Can you get those bags, sweetheart?” Amanda nestled a cheek against the top of her daughter’s head.

“Sure, why not?” Bill replied with a deadpan expression but relaxed it upon his wife’s icy gaze. Two trips later, all luggage was retrieved and set on the living room floor.

“Why didn’t you let us know you were coming earlier?” Amanda held the sides of Frankie’s face.

“Yes, why didn’t you?” Bill echoed at a lower temperature.

“Because…” Frankie flared her nostrils at him but smiled when looking over to her mother, “…I wanted to surprise you.”

“But, honey; having to pay for a cab?” Amanda brushed yellow strands behind Frankie’s ears.

“Saved gas; not complaining over here.” Bill pointed a thumb towards himself.

“William…” Amanda’s stolid response caused him to put up a palm and sit on his couch to re-commence watching Al Pacino’s performance.

“Don’t worry, I’m good, mom. I’m good.” Frankie turned around and folded her arms. “Is this all he does nowadays?”

“Not that I have to explain myself in my house, but if you must know, I’m on vacation.” He refused to pry his gaze away from the running film.

“Mom, you didn’t tell me he was gonna be on vacation.”

“Well, baby, he had this approved for months now,” Amanda said. “You only told us you were coming a few days ago.”

“God, this is so lame.” Frankie rolled her eyes and loosened her jaw.

“You’re not going to be here a lot anyhow,” Bill piped in. “You can go and be a public nuisance just like when you were in high school.”

“This bullshit again,” Frankie whispered and resumed speaking at a higher volume, “You know what your fucking problem is?”

“Enough! Stop! Just fucking stop!” Amanda thundered.

Bill and Frankie trembled; directing their focus to her.

“I am not going to have you two bickering and arguing and pissing and moaning in my ears for an entire fucking month. Bill, you’re too old to be acting like this. Frankie, you’ve grown past being that irresponsible little girl you used to be – or at least I hope so.”

They both hung their heads.

“Be at least agreeable for me alright?” Amanda pleaded. “At least try. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” the offenders whispered.

“I asked if you can you do that for me please?” Amanda repeated with more bass.

“Yes,” they stated with more conviction.

With that, the two adversaries stayed out of each other’s way as much as possible and only exchanged basic pleasantries for the remainder of that day.

***

An evening – not to mention the next morning –without second-degree murder was a miracle, but Bill had no intentions of letting this charade go on for much longer. Mother and daughter had left earlier – Bill gladly let his wife have the Jeep Grand Cherokee for the day – to attend the mall and both were under the belief he would be gone upon their return.

“Nice moustache-goatee combo,” Frankie said when leaving earlier. “You actually look less wimpy.”

“Nice dress,” he replied. “Past the knees, wow. You actually look less slu–”

“BILL!” Amanda barked.

Aiming to end this situation before it progressed, he rifled through her belongings in the hopes of finding marijuana – Still illegal in Jagged Edge believe it or not. Three years ago was when last such a discovery was made.  The resulting blowout was a strained relationship between mother and child for several months.

A gamble was made on the chance of history repeating itself, which would mean peace for Bill and the true vacation as it should unfold. Being too caught up in this fantasy however, left him unaware of approaching footsteps in the hallway and their surrounding chatter. He rushed into the nearest closet and slid it across slowly, leaving a thin aperture to peek through. Three young men strolled in behind Frankie who stood chest-high to all of them. It was reminiscent of an old cartoon where the smallest person bossed about the bigger goons as she took the lead.

The shaggy-haired white guy slapped her backside and she giggled.

The Latino guy wrapped her blonde locks around his fist and her mouth gaped.

The black guy squeezed her neck and she licked her lips.

What played out raised Bill’s eyebrows as Frankie knelt between her companions. Pants dropped and she stroked off two cocks while sucking the third.

“Sleeping around already,” he whispered.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” she told her Latino guest.

“Shiiit, girl,” he replied gaping at the ceiling.

“We ain’t done this shit since high school,” said the black guy as Frankie stroked his glans slowly.

“Now this is a motherfucking reunion, right, fellas?” asked the white guy as she rubbed his faster.

High-fives were exchanged between everyone, leaving Bill in a bewildered state.

“They were doing this in high school? Why am I not surprised? Wait, did they do it in this house?”

Sucking and handjob stroking took place on this theatrical presentation to an audience of one. Frankie sucked her Latino schoolmate with vigour, then replaced him with the black one, gagging as she couldn’t go balls deep. Their white companion beat his erection on top of her head, causing strings of hair to fly up around it.

“This… is something else.” Bill stared awaiting the next act.

The white guy lifted her by the arm-pits, bent her over the bed and pulled her yoga pants down. He knelt behind her and slurped loud enough for even the neighbours to possibly hear.

“Fuuuck,” she murmured.

“Damn, son,” said the black gentleman. “Yo, remember when he couldn’t eat pussy for shit?” He turned to his Latino comrade.

“What was it the last time? ‘You’re, hopeless, shoo. Shoo!’,” the Latino replied and they both laughed.

“Hey fuck you, alright.” The white guy pulled away from Frankie’s pussy. “I’ve been practicing, screw you, all.” He laughed as well.

“When you’re finished sucking each other’s dicks, can somebody man up and fuck me please?”She gave them a sleepy stare, crawled onto the bed and left her rear elevated as an invitation.

Fuelled by lust, the trio played a quick game of rock, paper, scissors and took their respective positions.

The black guy stood on the bed in front of her and she sucked.

The Latino guy slipped under her and she sat on his cock.

The white guy parted her petite buttocks and she pushed back to accept his offering.

Each orifice’s ability to please could be interpreted as equal by the most experienced consumers of smut. In a few instances more was exhibited depending on who was filling which one at the time. Frankie’s oral adoration of the black fellow’s pole was as detailed as a Renaissance painting. Careful laps and tongue flicks along the shaft and balls. Aggressive gags and dirty talk being their decadent accomplice.

“You love how I suck this cock, don’t you?” Her bloodshot eyes watered.

“Ye-yeah. Fuck, Frankie.” He winced and clasped the nape of his neck with interlocked fingers.

His Latino counterpart pumped her pussy from below, holding her waist which was so slight, his fingers almost touched.

Open buttocks accepted the white fellow’s girth with little resistance. Veins bulged as he eased in and out of her asshole which was housed by small, rounded cheeks.  Large she was not, but Frankie’s was anything but lacking. ‘Small, not flat,’ was a saying she used to repeat.

Multiple switches were made by the trio, and arguments started when holes were occupied longer than they should have. Bill remained focused on the action ahead and not so much his tented slacks below. Eventually, he pulled them down, allowing his excitement to spring about in celebration of its release.

“Never could stand you but...” He grasped his cock and pumped. “...this is better than dirty movies.”

Louder moans vibrated from Frankie’s throat as each sausage sawed her three sloppy orifices. Each contender inched closer to their end and her spasming lower regions tipped them over that precipice.

“Oooh shit.” The Latino guy emptied into her bottom and grabbed her shoulders while stiffening his body.

“I’m about to nut.” The black man contributed his load while licking her stiff brown nipples.

Next to finish was the white guy who shuddered into her throat. More of that occurred in the closet as Bill’s member tensed and spilled thick cum onto the ground. However, in his climatic seizure, he kicked an ill-placed box and immediately froze.

“The hell was that?” asked the Latino gentleman.

The trio gawked at where the noise originated from, and then at Frankie, while Bill’s heartbeat went into overdrive.

“Hmmm,” she said after a long pause. “Probably stuff tumbling over that I didn’t put away properly. Anyways, you all gotta go.”

“Damn, girl,” said the black guy, “Not even a glass of water?”

“I milked your frigging cocks, that wasn’t enough?” Frankie snapped.

“Jesus, he was just joking, Frankie,” said the white guy.

“Yeah, why you acting like that?” asked the Latino.

“Know what,” she said, “Get out.” She dropped to a standing position on the floor, backing the closet and pointing towards her door.

“Least let us wipe up and shit before we bounce,” the black guy suggested.

“I’m not saying it again.” Frankie’s buttocks clenched and relaxed in Bill’s view as she continued pointing.

“Alright, fuck it,” said the Latino guy. “Let’s go, man. I don’t know why she’s tripping.”

Pants entrapped legs once more as the three confused gentlemen made their exit and Frankie slammed the door. The objective was completed and the need for their presence was no longer required in her mind.

Plus, she had some tidying up to do.

The yoga pants and tube top strewn across the floor were thrown into a nearby basket. Her bed made up to its pre-sex state and now it was time for her shower. However, she smirked and glanced over to Bill’s location, rendering him unable to move. Why was she staring over there? Or was it that she was staring at him?

“Come on; leave, you little tramp.”

The usual post-orgasm clean-up didn’t take place, for Bill dared not move an inch.

“If I so much as breathe too hard, she’ll know I’m in here.”

She traipsed towards the closet, tilted her gaze and turned to the main exit, advancing in that direction. A slow exhale relaxed Bill’s body and he stared at the floor, pinching his eyes shut. However, when he looked up, the Bifold doors flung open and there stood Frankie with a wide-eyed glare and her body tensed.

“What… the FUCK are you doing in here?”