Learned upon knees

Lucy Powell, her energetic daughter and effeminate son, stared up at the three phalluses hanging in front of them. None looked particularly clean or appetising, but all three had by now realised there was no real alternative out of this situation. Mrs Powell loved her husband dearly, but was well aware that the chances of him leaping into some heroic rescue attempt were close to zero. It was probably for the best… if he did try, he would almost certainly only end up getting them all killed.

She was a practical woman… and not one particularly wrapped up in pride and morals. Even back in the city, with Bill scraping away his railway clerk earnings to save for this endeavour, she’d helped out by earning a few coins on the side. It turned out bored and bitter men would pay quite well to give the wife of their colleague or subordinate a few pumps in an alleyway. She didn’t think her husband had had any idea, even when she’d been waggling her legs in the air on a dumpster underneath his little desk’s only window. He was just a man so set on these little daydreams of his, and so detached from the dirty truths of reality. While she was a good daughter of a family in good standing who had always found she rather liked wallowing in those messier corners of society. She had married Bill because he’d never even thought to ask around about certain… rumours and reputations… which had chased her from her youth.

In the here and now, Lucy glanced to either side at the twins now dragged into this predicament with her: Jane was staring at the fleshy thing swaying an inch from her nose in abject fascination. The mother had no doubt that particular offspring had inherited some of her own inclinations… and would see this as nothing more than an exciting new adventure after months of abject boredom. She hated to think it aloud about her own child, but that minx was a born little cocktease and would almost certainly have ended up in this kind of situation sooner or later anyways. Sam on the other hand… Mrs Powell studied the face of her son, mistaken once again for a member of the opposite gender. He had always shown more of his father’s absentminded reverie, seeming perpetually lost to any sense of place and self. Yet there had been that trouble at the church, with the handsome young pastor… the very reason they had finally decided that now was the time to drop sticks and leave all that behind.

Reaching out to both of them, she guided their soft hands to the shafts of these hard men. It really was better they learn the way of the world now, with her… than off behind some locked door alone. Glancing up at the lead stranger, who she herself would soon be swallowing, Lucy recognised the smirk of a man used to getting his own way. He would take advantage, and continue to do so… but not waste **** if it wasn’t needed. There was some security in a bastard like that. With gentle encouragement she set the spawn of her loins to their work: waking up the sensitivities of these dangerous strangers. She showed them how to cup and fondle the testicles, letting the pillars above swell and rise to full prominence. Neither teen baulked or questioned, guided as they were by the strongest voice in their lives. Even when Mrs Powell leaned forward and presented her tongue, lathering it slowly up each side of the old man’s cock.

Bill watched his son and his daughter follow along with his wife’s debasement. All three laying lips and lingua to the genitals of vagabonds. A queasy, sinking feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach; one that he wasn’t sure would ever shift again. Yet… there was nothing he could do. He was frozen. Paralysed by the sense of his own inadequacy and the glint of gunmetal on those loosened belts. Even as he stared, Lucy turned to glance at him. As if checking in on how he was doing, even as she and the twins were the ones demeaning themselves so. Her beauty showed no hint of blame or anger at him. No expectation that he should be anything more than who he was. She turned back to her task and sucked in the swollen head of another man’s penis, taking it between her lips as casually and confidently as she approached any other chore of the household. Bill Powell roiled internally as he felt his own loins stir in response. Rising and beginning to throb beneath the counter at the sight of his beloved dedicating herself to the pleasures of another. It was a betrayal from his own soul and body which he just could not equate, yet also could not deny. How could he possibly move forward from this, knowing he had grown turgid at such a vision? What snivelling devil of a man was he?