Though he was clearly enjoying every second of it, Carl looked surprised and perhaps a little unnerved by her vigor. Let him fear her. No, she didn’t have a perfect body or even a nearly perfect one, but damn it, she was going to fuck Carl like he’d never been fucked.
She pounded herself against him, not letting his cock escape, waiting for him to beg for mercy.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “I’m almost there again!”
Melanie reacted to this news bulletin by picking up her pace even more.
She got a leg cramp.
“Oh, God, just a few more seconds…I’m almost there…”
Melanie knew that this would be an overwhelmingly inconvenient time to dismount, so she continued her wild thrusting, as the pain in her leg intensified with every passing moment.
“I can’t hold back any longer!” shouted Carl.
My leg’s gonna fall off! My leg’s gonna fall off!
He came, spurting inside of her with amazing force. She took a few seconds to enjoy this sensation, and then raised herself off of him, got off the bed, and hop/limped around the room, cursing.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fuck!” Melanie replied.
“Should I have pulled out? That wasn’t exactly presented as an option.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Melanie bent over and massaged her leg.
Carl sat up. “I’ve never had that reaction before.”
“Leg cramp,” Melanie said through her clenched teeth.
“Ah, that’s much better than what I was thinking.” He got out of bed and helped her massage the muscles. Before too long the pain had subsided.
“Sorry,” said Melanie. “It was a bad one.”
“I guess I should have asked about birth control a lot sooner.”
“No, I had that covered. Actually, if you average out the two years I spent on birth control pills that had nothing to control, this was one expensive fuck.”
“Then we’d better try to get our money’s worth. In a little while.”
* * * * *
In a little while, Melanie was bent over the bed as Carl thrust into her from behind. She came twice before they climbed onto the bed and did it from the side. He brought her to a third orgasm as he reached around and worked her clitoris with his thumb.
A little while after that, he hovered over her, fucking her mouth, while she kept her hands on his waist to ensure that he didn’t plunge too deep. When he was near his release, she made him scoot back and rub his penis between her breasts until he came.
They took a short break.
After the break, they decided that they liked doing it doggy-style with Melanie bent over the bed, so they tried that again. It went well.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter Thirteen
Carl and Melanie woke up, kissed for a while, and then headed for the showers. They entered the mattress room, where Julian lay naked on the floor, asleep, with Dawn snuggling next to him.
She opened her eyes and groaned. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice a ghastly croak.
“About eight in the morning,” Melanie replied. “What time did you go to bed?”
“Oh, fuck, who knows? Feels like ten minutes ago. There’s coffee in this place, right?”
“Lots of it.”
Dawn ran a hand through her severely messed-up hair. “Is there a wheelchair, too? I could use a wheelchair.”
“I’m sure we can dig one up. I’m going to want a full report, by the way.”
“Same here. Oh, since you have bare feet you’ll want to watch your step.”
Melanie and Carl showered, kissed, dried each other off, and got dressed. Dawn, or the zombie that looked like Dawn, joined them halfway through the process, and they left the harem together to enjoy a hearty breakfast.
* * * * *
With a few cups of coffee in her, Dawn was much more alert, and sat there in the kitchen eating her ham and cheese omelet with a dreamy look on her face.
“We need to go out and do something,” Melanie said. “All of us together. Maybe a museum or something.”
“Wild orgy last night, high culture today,” said Dawn. “Sounds good.”
“I’m serious.” Melanie turned her attention to Carl. “You guys can’t just hang around the harem all day. That’s no way to live. You need to get out there, experience what the world has to offer.”
“Look who’s talking,” said Dawn.
“Zip it, slut.”
“I don’t know that the other guys are exactly the museum type,” Carl remarked.
“Well, tough titties on a platter. I’m in charge here, and dammit, we’re going to a museum.”
Carl frowned. “Did you really just say ‘tough titties on a platter?’”
“I did, and I’ll say it again. Carl, you notify the troops, and I’ll make sure the limo is ready. It’s time for a good old fashioned social outing.”
* * * * *
The doorbell rang.
Rupert looked through the peephole and then opened the door. He didn’t bother to conceal his grimace at the sight of Penelope’s daughter, Gretchen, who wore a genuinely appalling green blouse. Sometimes Rupert wondered if anybody knew how to dress these days.
Gretchen stepped past him and glanced around the foyer. “Is that bitch here?”
“No, ma’am, the bitch is not here. That would explain why my phone call began with me telling you that your cousin had left with all eight of the men.”
Gretchen glared at him. “Unpleasant little shit, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. Show me the tapes.”
* * * * *
“Dude, what is that?” asked Stephen, tilting his head.
“I think it’s a dog,” said Dennis.
“It can’t be a dog. It’s green and has seven legs.”
“I think it’s a symbolic dog.”
“Symbolic of what? Somebody who can’t draw for shit?”
“Shhhh,” said Melanie, as an elderly museum patron shot them a dirty look. “Use your indoor voices.”
“You losers just don’t appreciate art,” said Leo. “That dog represents man’s best friend in an era where man don’t deserve a best friend. It’s green because of humanity’s crime of envy, and the extra three legs are because the artist had some extra paint lying around.”
“You guys really need to behave yourselves,” said Melanie. Dawn had already caused problems by fucking Julian and Stephen in the ladies’ room, and Melanie was determined that they were going to have an educational afternoon. “Don’t make us withhold pussy tonight.”
Melanie realized that she’d said that far too loud. She quickly moved down the hall before she could see what kind of look the elderly patron was giving her.
“A lot of my paintings are better than the green seven-legged dog,” Carl pointed out.
“Of course they are. You should start hitting up some of the local galleries. I mean, you’re good enough that you could be making a living at this.”
Carl shrugged. “Maybe I will.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“Who knows,” he said. “Maybe I’ve got a new career ahead of me.”
* * * * *
“You guys really need to be thinking about your future,” said Melanie, as the ten of them sat in the museum cafeteria eating really bad hamburgers. “You can’t do this kind of thing forever. Your looks and your virility aren’t going to last forever.”
Stephen looked very disturbed by this revelation.
“I want all of you to name something you want to do with your lives besides be a harem sex slave. Leo?”
“I’m already a bartender,” Leo said. “I guess if I had to quit the sex slave business, I’d just go back to doing that full time.”
“See how easy that was?” Melanie asked the rest of them. “What about you, Nate?�
��
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. You’re good at spatial organization, right? Perhaps you could be an architect or something.”
Nate brightened up. “I do like designing homes in my mind.”
“And architects make good money.”
“I’ve been saving most of my money. I guess I could go to architect school. It might be fun. At least I could tell my parents what I really do. They think I’m a cowboy.”
“You should do it,” Melanie encouraged. “Julian, what do you want to do?”
“I’d love to be a singer.”
“Really? Let’s hear you sing.”
Julian launched into a rendition of something that might possibly have been “Satisfaction” or just an impression of somebody clearing their throat for a really long time. The group stopped him out of consideration for their future ability to hear.
“Maybe you need to think of another option,” Melanie suggested.
“I also like to cook.”
“Cooking! Cooking’s a great career choice! You need to take cooking classes. Maybe you and Nate could carpool as he goes to his architect classes. Stephen, what about you?”
“I’m happy right where I am.”
“Yes, but where you are can’t last. There has to be something else you want to do. Let’s hear it.”
“There’s nothing.”
“Sure there is. You’ve got a hidden desire.”
“Well…”
“Tell us. We won’t laugh.”
“I want to be President of the United States.”
Everybody stared at him.
“Good. That’s a good one,” said Melanie. “Nothing wrong with being ambitious. And if it doesn’t work out, you can always govern a large city.”
“Nah,” said Stephen. “I’m not interested in that governing crap. I just want to be President.”
“Okay, well, that’s fine. Maybe your looks and virility won’t fade and you’ll be set for life. Keith?”
“Ma’am, I’d like to teach young children the importance of physical fitness. It’s often overlooked in our society, where kids spend far too much time playing video games and watching television, and I think I could really make a difference, ma’am.”
“Great! And, see, if Stephen becomes President, he could appoint you the leader of some physical fitness cabinet or something.”
“Ma’am, I don’t really think Stephen is going to become President, ma’am.”
“Well, still, this is about keeping our options open,” said Melanie. “Who’s left? Ben?”
“I guess I could be an architect, too. I bitch a lot about the way parking lots are designed, and maybe it’s time for me to do something about it.”
“Excellent, excellent. You know, nobody here has said massage therapist, and I think that’s definitely something any one of you could do for a living.”
“If I were a massage therapist, could I pick my clients?” asked Dennis.
“I’m sure you could.”
“Because I’ll do it for beautiful, sexy women such as you, milady, but I don’t really care to touch hairy, nasty men.”
“I think that could be arranged, once you’ve established a reputation and built up a client base. You may need to be certified, I’ll have to check. But, see, you all have great career potential ahead of you. Why not reach for the stars?”
“What about Carl?” asked Dawn.
“I want to be an artist,” he admitted. “I take that back. I am an artist. I just want to do it for a living.”
“That sounds pretty girly,” said Julian.
“Bite me, Julia Child.”
Julian gasped in mock outrage, and then they all broke out laughing.
They toured the rest of the museum, briefly losing Julian, Stephen, and Dawn as they fucked in another bathroom, and then took the limo back to the mansion.
* * * * *
“Oh, hi,” said Melanie with surprise, as she walked into the dining room to find Gretchen seated at the table. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“It’s hard for me to feel like company in my own mother’s house,” said Gretchen. “I hope you’re enjoying it.”
“Look, Gretchen, I know you’re upset, and I know it’s unfair, but I can’t help what Aunt Penelope said in her will.”
“I can.”
“What are you talking about?”
Gretchen smiled, though it darkened her features rather than brightening them. “Why don’t you have a seat, cousin dear?”
Melanie pulled out a chair and sat down.
“How was yesterday evening? Recreational?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then let me refresh your memory. You fucked eight guys last night.”
Melanie felt her stomach plunge. “No, I didn’t.”
“Okay, fine, get technical about it. The fact remains that you and your tramp friend engaged in some pretty shocking behavior.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is my business. It was bad enough when my mom did it, thinking I was too stupid to know about it, but now I’ve got you doing the same thing in my house.”
“It’s not your—”
“It will be. I’ve got the whole thing on tape. Every perverted second of it. I’ve seen your flabby ass from every angle. I’m surprised I didn’t puke.”
“Where the hell did you get the tapes?” Melanie demanded.
“Rupert set up the hidden cameras before you moved in.”
“Okay, so he made tapes,” said Melanie with a much more casual attitude than she actually felt. “So what? You gonna sell them on the Internet? Boost your income by getting into the pornography business?”
“That’s an idea. But, no, I was thinking that I could hold on to the tapes for safekeeping, and you could get your skanky self out of my house. Otherwise I release them to the media.”
“You think the media cares? I’m not a celebrity.”
“I think they’ll care that you’re keeping paid sex slaves in your house. Prostitution’s illegal, you know. I know my mom tried to cover it with complicated paperwork, but I’m sure my lawyer and I can prove that it’s all bullshit. You might even do a little jail time. And if not, I think it’s a good enough story to attract plenty of attention. Harems aren’t exactly commonplace these days, and you certainly don’t see a lot of dumb bitches inheriting them from their aunts, even if that was all a load of crap.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mom didn’t leave you the harem. She was fucked up, but not that fucked up. I convinced Rupert to keep the guys around, to tell you and them that Mom had wanted you to inherit her harem. I have to admit, I figured somebody as lonely and homely as yourself would end up slutting herself out to one of them, but I never dreamed you’d invite a fucking friend and let them all have a go at you. My tapes prove that your house is a hotbed of illegal activity, and that should be enough to get the terms of the will overruled.”
“Secret tapes made in my house wouldn’t be admissible in court.”
“They would if they were your tapes that just happened to be found by your butler. I’m sure the judge will have no problem believing that somebody who’d fuck eight guys at once would tape the whole thing to watch over and over.”
Melanie didn’t know what to do. She felt physically ill.
“Get out of here,” she said quietly.
Gretchen pushed back her chair and stood up. “I can see that you need some alone time. Think about it, though. I’ll be back tomorrow. Try to keep your panties on until then.”
She gave Melanie a heartless grin and then left the dining room.
Melanie just sat there, listening as the front door opened and closed.
A moment later, Rupert entered. “I trust everything has been worked out to your mutual satisfaction?”
“You piece of shit,” said Melanie.
“Yes, ma’am. I don’t believe I’ll be providing
anymore services until the new owner takes over, so if you don’t mind I’ll be taking my leave.” Rupert walked off without waiting for a response.
Melanie stared at the table.
I’m not going to cry, she promised herself.
But she did anyway.
Chapter Fourteen
“But I love the harem,” Dawn insisted. “It’s my favorite place in the world! You can’t take it away from me! I’ll hold my breath until I turn blue!”
“It’ll be okay,” Melanie assured her. “Just breathe into that bag like I showed you.”
Dawn held the brown lunch bag to her mouth and breathed deeply in and out to keep herself from hyperventilating.
* * * * *
“Whoa,” said Stephen. “That sucks.”
The men sat in the main room of the harem, fully clothed and looking glum.
“There’s gotta be a way we can fight this,” said Leo. “We’ll follow Rupert home, break into his house, beat the shit out of him, and steal back the tape.”
“I’m sure Gretchen has a copy, too.”
“Okay, so, we follow Gretchen home, break into her house, you and Dawn beat the shit out of her, and we steal back the tape.”
“They could have copies hidden anywhere,” said Melanie. “And I don’t even know where Rupert is staying. Maybe we could fight it in court, but think of the humiliation.”
“We can’t let her get the house,” said Julian.
“Look, this all had to come to an end sometime,” Melanie explained. “This was sooner than I wanted, but like I said, you guys need to go out and make something of yourselves. Nate, I want you to apply for architect school first thing tomorrow morning. You too, Ben. Julian, I want you to sign up for some cooking classes. Stephen, start working up an election campaign.”
“Should I be a Democrat or a Republican, you think?”
Melanie stood up. “I’m sorry that this happened, but in a way, it was inevitable. Maybe not inevitable that my bitch of a cousin would be secretly making tapes of our sex festival, but inevitable that I’d be standing here telling you that it was all over. I’ll miss the mansion, and I’ll miss the food, and I’ll especially miss seeing your naked asses, but I intend to look beyond this, get out there, and live life to its fullest.”
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