The Tortured Tourists
Chapter 15
When the elder Flemings returned to their suite, they both
deeded to shower again. Ever since their visit to the Salon
farmhouse, the whole family seemed to be unable to bathe enough.
As she watched her husband towel himself Ann wondered if the
bathing obsession might not be a subconscious desire each of them
had to wash away some other fixation.
She climbed into the shower he had vacated it had taken her
longer to undress~and tried to asks her own feelings. Had she
been able to break the morbid train of thoughts the last time they
poured into her mind? Yes, but it hadn't been easy.
She'd gone in to wake Tommy this moming, and found that he
was in the shower. On the way out, she noticed the dampness on
his sheets. As she leaned over and the magnetic semen scent rose
to stir her, she bent down and started to lick the meager remnants
of the boy's dream.
She'd pulled herself away and walked unsteadily from the
room. She'd beaten it. But it took several minutes of deep
breathing exercises to get up the ambition to join the others at
breakfast.
She climbed out of the shower and toweled herself dry, then
put on the robe she'd brought in with her. Chuck had gone without
his, but he would sleep naked, anyway, and probably was in bed
right now.
But he wasn't there when she went in. She moved around the
suite until she found him, standing just inside Darla's door,
looking at the sleeping girl. Sleeping in the raw, like her
father.
Fleming stood a moment after she spotted him, then he
silently closed the door and turned. He was startled to find Ann
so close.
"She's a pretty big girl to peep in on at bed check, isn't
she?"
"Maybe so," he replied. "But something about her's been
worrying me. I just can't put my finger on it."
"The thing about her that worries me you'd better not put
your finger on!" Ann answered. "Would you mind explaining that?"
"We were married before I was as old as she is, now. And she
has yet to get interested in one boy enough to go steady. After
the wild stirring her juices got, she's going to be hot-pantsed as
hell until she starts getting laid regularly. I see enough of me
in her to know that."
"That's it," Fleming said. She's been fidgeting around a lot
since we got back in the hotel. Can't sit still. And I remember
now that I got the impression she was rubbing herself under the
table at breakfast. Does it get that bad?"
"Not usually," Ann laughed. "But I know what's causing that
particular discomfort. She told him about the bites Darla had
gotten from Guiyesse, and explained that they were healing now,
and very itchy.
"For crying' out loud! You never told me about that when it
happened."
"I suppose there are a number of things that happened at that
place which we haven't discussed in detail around the dinner
table. Some of them might well be left alone. But I'll compare
notes with you here in the privacy of our bedroom."
"Okay. For openers, what do you think about Le Boeuf?"
"I think that I hope he doesn't get caught."
"That's not what I mean, Ann. And you know it. Why did
Darla stick up for him so strongly before he saved you from
Guiyesse?"
"I think that she has the knack of sensing when people are
basically right or wrong good or bad."
"Too bad her clairvoyance didn't extend to sensing the extra
key Le Boeuf had made in Marseilles and kept on him."
"That's your opinion. Darla and I both think that he had
good reason to have that extra key made, and we're glad he did!"
"Why did he do it, then?"
"Because, if you believe the initial premise that he told the
truth about Gerault's having something on highland Darla and I do
--it's a short step to believe that he could expect anything from
Gerault, including locking up Le Boeuf in those cuffs. He just
prepared himself for the possibility."
"Well, your judgment of him --or Darla's might be proved by
his stopping on his way to freedom to save you two. But how about
his deserting his comrades in crime? Does that make him look
goody
"It surely does If he'd been forced to go along with
Gerault's operations, then finally decided to get away from
Gerault once and for all, he wouldn't turn loose the very man
whose sadistic tendencies he hated. And he'd stop on the way out
to prevent similar tortured"
"Okay. Really, I'm sort of playing devil's advocate about
all that. I'm just as relieved the Moroccan's still free. But I
wanted to be sure it wasn't just Darla's overzealous approach to
French civil rights, or because she was hypnotized by his enormous
cock, or something"
"What is it about you men that makes you uncomfortable when
you think a woman likes sexy things? "You think a monstrous cock
is so sexy?"
"No. You were the one to suspect Darla of being hooked on
the Moroccan's equipment. Remember? I'm trying to find out why
such a fascination should bother you, if it were true."
"I'm not sure that it would. Look, why this Battle of the
sexes' approach? I think I'm pretty liberal single standard and
all that."
"I'm going to see if you are. For a long time, you've made
it clear that you like to eat my pussy. You've almost made poems
about it. You're always telling me how the smell of my cunt
excites you, and how you like the taste of it. Now, you didn't
expect me to be upset about it, did you? Didn't you think that
perhaps I should accept it as a compliment a token of your overall
feelings for me?"
"Naturally! So ..."
"So, Mr. Single Standard, for years I've tried to get you to
go off in my mouth, and I've succeeded only a few times. So, tell
me why the objection. Especially since I happen to be crazy for
your cock, and I love the smell of your semen and the taste of it
in my mouth. So do you think less of me now that I've admitted
that, or will you accept it as a compliment?"
Fleming was nonplused. He looked at his wife with a crooked
grin, and scratched his head.
"I know this is silly, but it takes some getting used to. I
do see what you're driving at: The old bit about a man wanting a
hot pants mistress or party girl, but a wife that's a virgin. Not
exactly that, because you know I'm glad you love to screw.
"Maybe it's part of Momism, something that's got us
believing, subconsciously, all our lives, that you females the
nice ones, the ones we marry, and our daughters, and all are
somehow better than men belong on pedestals, and all that. And
while we can love the cream that flows out of your gorgeous
pussies, we are repelled by the semen we ejaculate, and don't want
to 'contaminate' you with it. "But you know, it is silly. If you
like what comes out of me when you've excited me and made it come
out, it should be exactly the same as the thrill I get from making
you cream your panties and then enjoying the smell and taste of
your hot little cunt, flowing all over for me. Honey, I'm getting
horny! Did you start this conversation, or did I?"
"I don't care who started it. Are you horny enough to let me
steal your precious juice from you? I want to eat you, Charlie
Fleming!"
"Jeez! What the hell are we waiting for? I've got a hardon
that won't quit."
"I know. I've been watching it. I've been sitting here
creaming my nightie over it. In another minute I'm liable to suck
your balls right out through the end of that gorgeous thing!"
"Ha! I've got a picture of you killing the eggs that lay the
golden goose!" He turned pale. "Oh my god! The pictures! we
never got those dunned photos they took of us. How in hell could
I have forgotten about them?"
"Because you were worried about your family's physical and
emotional condition. That's what drove the blackmail bit out of
your mind. But us girls took care of it for you. They're all
just little bitty pieces floating in the sewage somewhere "You're
a doll. What would I do without you?"
"Like hell I'm a doll. I'm a real, live female, and the
question is what are you going to do with me?"
"Well, what I had planned will be delayed a little. That
photo thing scared away my bone."
"I think I can take care of that," said Ann.
