Sister's Pimp

                                         Sister's Pimp - Chapter 19

       As I drove back home I went over what had transpired between Martine Calvert and myself. It was fairly apparent that under the right circumstances she would join the organization. Figuring out the right circumstances would require lots of input from mom and perhaps Megan. Then it struck me that there was so much going on these days that what I had originally planned to become my organization had already begun to transform into something quite different. Megan had started me thinking when she demonstrated that sex tape she'd made featuring Ruthie and her daughter. What if I created a group, perhaps run by Megan, which would involve our female clients as well as their offspring? Could I sell such a concept to the right party or parties and develop an international market? What about expansion? It seems that every client I had knew someone who also needed our services, but had to wait in line just to be put on the waiting list. Then there was the issue of mom and Megan to handle as well.

       The more mom changed from a caterpillar to a butterfly, the more intense my feelings for her became. I utterly and absolutely loved to fuck my mother. I could fuck my mother all day and all night if she'd let me. As far as I was concerned, we were a perfect match in bed and the other places where we did more kinky things. Now there was all sorts of competition for that great looking ass her surgeon had just provided to go along with her new tits that were a solid 38DD, and her rejuvenated twat, tight as could be, that belonged on a teenager, not a woman in her forties. A few more nips and tucks, some extra flesh here and there, and mom would be perfect. Here she was, a woman who knew every trick in the book when it came to sucking and fucking either sex, who was built like a budding porn star. What else could a man want?

       That led up to the issue of my sister, also a budding porn star with a good head on her shoulders. What about Megan, who like her mother was undergoing a metamorphosis? With another couple of years under her belt, garter belt that is, taking on ten or fifteen clients a day plus special outcall servicing at more well-off clients' places, Megan would be a fuck monster supreme, and all mine if I played my cards right. Who knows, maybe at that point I'd retire and leave the operation to mom or her new friend, Martine? Then I could devote all my energies to fucking my sister bowlegged day and night until we got too old to fuck, maybe in fifty or sixty years. Don't get me wrong; I'd keep Megan working to stay in shape and perhaps learn some new tricks to use when she had to handle me, her best client and most severe critic. A nice dream, but a little bit unrealistic even for me to consider.

       Mom and Megan were busy turning tricks at a rapid rate, so I headed for my office in the back of the house and got to work on the numbers. I was so engrossed that the arrival of the cops and the arrests of mom and Megan along with half a dozen clients was history before a couple of cops opened my door and announced they were arresting me for running a brothel. That sure put a hitch in my immediate plans. Two hours later the three of us were bailed out of jail after being processed. The lawyer was sure that none of us would get any time, but our business was in shambles. Mentally I was kicking myself for not having done something about all the traffic into and out of our house. Now it was probably too late. Once we reached home there was a council of war to decide what was best for us.

       Any thoughts of nailing Megan or mom went out of my head, which was just as well. Our cash reserves would probably handle the lawyer's fees and the fines, leaving us almost flat broke. Then it hit me; instead of catering to the twenty dollar a pop types, we would concentrate only on our female, adult market. That would eliminate the police presence since we would be going to our clients, not the other way, which brought the cops out in force. This would take the pressure off Megan and mom as well, if Roselyn still was interested in servicing a better grade of clientele. Mom's eyes lit up and she grinned. Her only condition besides adding Martine to the mix was to be able to continue satisfying her steady clients. I frowned over that, but she persisted, telling me that what went on behind her bedroom door was her business, not the cops or mine. I made a mental note to beat the stuffing out of my mom the first good opportunity that came my way. She was getting a little out of hand, even if I still wanted to nail her to the mattress every chance I got. It looked like she was getting me addicted to her tight asshole, even as I angled for a shot at my sister's butthole.

       When I suggested that Martine's first assignment would be to handle the Klunder females, Megan heaved a sigh of relief and mom looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. I guess she had already talked to her new friend and bedmate about this challenge. I'd been having some thoughts about the other three ladies, and was ready to put them into practice as well. Basically this was an incest issue with all three. All they needed was a better division of labor. There were seven hard cocks at their disposal if they knew how to deal with their hang-ups. I'll bet they'd jump at the chance to have some strange but safe cock pumping away inside their cunts and assholes on a regular basis. I'll bet princess Tonka wouldn't mind being manhandled by some new cowboys with some new ideas about making her tell where that mine was. Come to think of it, Mrs. Bross probably would love to be gangbanged once or twice a month by the seven studs, yours truly and perhaps a few of mom's adult clients plus the ladies that might be interested in a little walk on the wild side too.

       Mom spent the better part of a day convincing Ms. Calvert of the benefits that would accrue to her by joining my organization as a specialist and freelancer, if that was what she wished to be. By the time she got back home it looked as if Roselyn had been run through the wringer from both directions. Any chance of ass fucking mom went out the window the moment I laid eyes on her. She was depleted with a capital D, but was not too tired to brag that Ms. Calvert wouldn't be getting out of bed until the middle of tomorrow if she was any judge of her condition when she finally left. I'd been busy pitching the new plan to my clients and it had been received quite well by two of them. Karen Bross was still not fully recovered from being gang raped, and was in no mood to contemplate being fucked bowlegged by an army of hot young studs. She'd need some TLC from mom or perhaps Megan, before I talked to her about that idea again.

       Of even more significance Pat Carmody, bless that awesome body and her fabulous daughter, Carly, had given me a lead that made everything else we'd done to date pale in comparison. She had arranged for me to meet with the "bridge" ladies, a quartet of ex-wives that played cards once a week. All were in their late thirties or early forties. Two were already divorced, one was a widow and the other was separated from her husband who had taken up with a girl who was just out of high school and a tramp to boot. She was a failed member of the Fukalot summer camp program aimed at rehabilitating tramps and sluts headed for a life of disrepute. All the bridge ladies were lapsed Catholics who had one thing in common, their father confessor, a radical priest who believed in the old adage of spare the rod and spoil the wife.

       Going to confession once a month and telling him the most outrageous things about their private sex lives was their entertainment prior to the monthly bridge session. All were very sure that the good priest could pick them out of a crowd with no difficulty at all, even if everyone was wearing a mask. They would be the ones standing while the others were seated comfortably. Outrageous confessions led to outrageous penances, dealt out by the good father in the privacy of his quarters. Each lady would arrive, disrobe from the waist down, then bend over and do her level best to grab her ankles. Failure to hold this position while he administered her penance with righteous might and thoroughness only added to the number of stripes that decorated her bare bottoms. At the end of each session there would be this odor, or was it aroma, of pussy juice that had dribbled from between the penitent's set of fat cunt lips. By bridge day there would be four sets of swollen buttocks criss crossed by deep welts from the three-foot long rattan cane he employed.

       Considering that the bridge game averaged at least four hours and most times barely half a dozen hands were actually dealt and played meant that there was plenty of hanky-panky going on between the foursome. Each was subject to careful examination of her well-whipped hindquarters that included fondling, ardent kissing, nibbling and tongue bathing. The latter activity always drew the most sighs and moans, prelude to the more serious activities that took place afterward in the privacy of the bedroom furnished for that purpose with various lotions, gels and ointments, each guaranteed to significantly elevate the libido of the user in concert with the vibrators and dildos that were also pivotal to the success of the bridge game.

       Each bridge lady had children. Mary Connors, who had been widowed some number of years previously, had delivered six children in the first eight years of her marriage. She was a buxom, pretty, dark haired woman who possessed a bottom that made her confessor positively salivate whenever it was bared for her penance. Her face and figure belied her forty years. Mary's first child, a boy, came when she was just nineteen. This was followed by another boy, three girls and her last at twenty-seven, a third boy to balance the Connors brood. Currently all six of her children were staying at home with her. Upon the death of her husband when she was thirty-five, Mary came under the discipline of her oldest son, Ian, who proved to be a stern taskmaster despite being only sixteen years old. It was he who decided who should be considered as a suitable partner for his widowed mother. All suitors were found wanting, and after two years Mary settled back into just being a mother, obeying Ian in all things.

       In the period in which she was seeing various candidates, Mary had on occasion offered up her charms as part of the process. This did not sit well with Ian who took offense and began punishing her for this unacceptable behavior. At first it was spankings administered with her fully clothed, skirt up, but her panties still in place. Over time her spanking became more embarrassing as first the panties came down, then the other clothing was discarded as well for her chastisements. Worst still the other children were now able to watch as Ian spanked their mother's firm, rounded bottom until it glowed.

Almost against her will, Mary became sexually excited whenever her manly son spanked her bottom for some indiscretion. Ian was well aware of his mother's reaction to his discipline, and finally took advantage of it after one rather lengthy session that left Mary Connors sobbing. That evening he paid a visit to her bedroom and was welcomed with a pent up passion that nearly overwhelmed him. It didn't take long for the others to realize that Ian had totally assumed the role of Mary's husband. A year or so later her second son made it a threesome, and Mary was delighted over the attention she was now receiving from her two studly offspring.

       These days her two older sons are kept quite busy disciplining their three sisters who have become known far and wide as the Connors whores. Ranging in age from fifteen to seventeen, this trio has cut a swath through the male population of the local high school. Along the way they've taken on a few of the male teachers, very discreetly of course, and in the case of the youngest girl, Marian, her home room teacher, a spinster in her thirties. The teacher has a wonderful collection of sex toys and has used everyone at one time or another on her provocative and very disobedient student. Marian seems to thrive on the discipline she receives from all those trying to make her into a young woman that any man would want to take as his wife.

Mary has even threatened to have Marian confess to her own priest in hopes that his form of penance will move her in the proper direction. Secretly Mary is hoping that one day she and Marian will find themselves naked and bent over in the old priest's private quarters, their bare bottoms taking twenty of the best apiece, with more to follow if they don't obey his urgings to offer up their imperfections to a higher power and beg for mercy and forgiveness.

       The youngest member of the bridge club is Claire Graves, thirty-six and very well built, with a face that at best can be described as strong. She is the most recent divorcee, only a year since settling matters with her rather selfish and less than honorable partner of eighteen years. Their union produced three children, her son, now seventeen, and two daughters, thirteen and fifteen. Her situation is almost a mirror image of what Mary Connors experienced after her loss, except much shorter in duration. Only recently has her son assumed his dominant role, complete with regular corporal punishment at the slightest infraction of his rules. He has avoided to date having sex with his mother, but he avails himself of his sisters at every opportunity and they seem to accept it as their lot.

Fortunately Claire was able to have the family doctor install IUDs in the two girls, which eliminated her major concern that they get pregnant. Ralph, her son and master, often threatens to have her provide sex for his friends both male and female. So far his threats have been just that, threats, but she lives in fear that sooner or later he will become her pimp. She will be forced to have sex for money, which he will use for his own needs and purposes. The other bridge ladies are quite sympathetic to her situation, but loathe interfering in a family matter such as this. Naturally this is not a matter she discusses with her confessor, who tears up her bottom at every opportunity.

       

                       (To be continued - rolf palsy)