Chapter 59
Irma's Re-education

"Awright, Bitch," Pop resumed, now that he was thickening back up, "today's class in what's real an' what ain't is in three parts. Ya had the explanation -- now it's time for the demonstration!"

Irma looked up, confused. Sticking his horse-cock halfway down her throat and spewing semen into her mouth wasn't the main event? Pop was letting her do all the work this time, rather than jamming away; as a result, some sanity had returned. But she was STILL up the creek, buck- naked with a big black cock in her mouth and a choke chain around her neck. Arthur and Ms. Frick were STILL just looking on, letting Mr. Williams do whatever he felt like -- even helping in spots! The fugue state she'd been in at the height of the blowjob was fading, but the confusion over her motives continued, robbing her of strength. What if Mr. Williams was right? Even in general? Well, he had some things to prove...

"Awright, hands and knees. Time for the second hole." Pop backed out of Irma's mouth. Turn your big ass..." Pop pondered a minute, playing to both of his audiences, "this way, I think..." The position he placed Irma in, tugging her leash to control her, faced the couch at an angle, giving Arthur and Frieda a view from Irma's front right and the kids in the kitchen a view of her right rear.

Irma glared some, but she didn't fight things too much; the choke chain was a constant reminder of who had the upper hand. Her tormentor's voice sounded behind her, conversationally, "This is the demonstration. What is the purpose of a demo? Anybody? To prove you ain't jus' talkin' shit, for one thing. That would be most of what's happenin' here, now. We gonna do this doggy-style, Bitch, 'cause it's how ya do a bitch, and I don't hafta look at all them rolls you got this way. I got a view of your big ass from here to the fuckin' horizon, but that's maybe a good thing..." A finger probed her vagina, and she lurched in surprise -- a movement that stopped abruptly due to a tug on her leash. "Hold the fuck still!" her tormentor grated. "You know you're wet, Bitch? You're in fuckin' heat, here! Jus' goes to prove my point, don't it?" The finger slipped in, and Irma, mortified, realized that he was right. The invading finger wriggled around a bit more, then withdrew; the voice behind her murmured, "No call to do much to get ready..." -- and something the size of a telephone pole started nosing at her opening!

Frieda and Arthur had a fine view of the flow of Frieda's facial expressions, from surly to surprised to embarrassed and humiliated to shocked. Irma's eyes bulged and she let out a squawk, then turned her head and gazed wide-eyed over her shoulder.

Pop, grinning, was force-feeding Irma his length. It wasn't necessarily pleasant -- Irma wasn't THAT wet -- but he was deliberately making it an experience. There were a couple of additional factors, here -- Irma hadn't used her pussy in quite some time, for one -- but nobody was really looking at them. Pop's foreskin was helping him; where lubrication stopped between it and Irma, he could and did continue to slide through and challenge her inner lining using his own lubricated piston -- then he would back off a bit and push some more cock into Irma's little-used hole. The whites of Irma's eyes were showing all around the irises at this point; Irma's mouth was open, but all she could seem to get out was "Huh!" at every in-stroke. Pop just grinned at her, knowing that it was THE thing to do, psych-warfare. "As I was sayin'..."

Pop's cock had been huge in her mouth, but Irma hadn't connected that with the idea of a pussy-expanding experience! No one else -- not even that bastard Chase -- had ever actually bored her open. In reality, the difference wasn't that much -- and having gone unused for as long as it had, Irma's twat had tightened up some -- but it was a new experience. And it kept coming...

Ten inches exceeds the normal depth of most women's vaginal passages, and Irma was no exception -- so Pop's cock bashing into her cervix produced another eye-pop for Arthur and Frieda to see, followed by Pop's explanation, "Oops! Bottomed out! Gonna have to work a bit to stretch things..."

Irma snapped her head around again, and got visual confirmation; her tormentor wasn't mashed against her ass, he was working free, and she could FEEL the tip of his cock punching her insides! Glazed, she turned her head back to the front, just as Pop started working up to full strokes, "Ohmigod!"

Comparison of her current tormentor to Chase was an obvious jump for Irma; he was her last sex partner. Chase had been Arthur's boss for two and a half years -- and he was about as evil as they come. After spending a few months consolidating his position, he'd suddenly visited Irma at home one day. Chase loved to exercise control, and he could be smooth about it, or he could be rough; Irma was a fine target for several reasons. First, her weight problem led to low self-esteem. Second, there was Arthur, who wasn't rapidly climbing the corporate ladder and whose limitations and faults were things Irma tended to comment on in order to prop herself up. Since she believed in those limitations and faults implicitly, that belief was a lever...

Chase showed up at the door one bright morning at ten a.m., catching Irma doing housework in a housecoat. After an initial exchange of pleasantries, Chase delivered the sad news, "It's too bad I'm going to have to can Arthur -- he's such a diligent worker..." The ensuing tale of how Arthur had no spark, no growth potential, fed directly into Irma's preconceived notions; only later did Irma come to wonder why he showed up at her home to deliver this bit of bad news. At the time, though, she was looking to preserve her seat on the money train, and she fell right into Chase's trap. "Isn't there anything anyone can do?" And the rest was history...

Chase didn't use her often, but he would show up sometime during the week before payday every month and spend part of the day making her suck him and fuck him while abusing her with her physical issues and Arthur's nonexistent personality and intelligence failures. Irma developed a fine case of self-loathing that she transferred to Arthur -- who, after all, was the cause of the whole mess in her mind. Chase's more aggressive sexual style, married to the misconception that he was her savior, suffering Arthur's idiocy for her sake, made it easy to cut Arthur off, sexually; Irma conveniently forgot who was practicing infidelity, too, given her justifications for it.

Ironically, when Chase left -- one of his other victims managed to expose his web of deceit and he was quietly bustled out -- Arthur succeeded him in his management position -- but Irma never bothered to put two and two together.

The upshot of the whole deal was that Pop Williams wasn't breaking as much new ground as he might have; in many ways, he'd stepped into an old pair of shoes and taken Irma down a series of well-worn paths. As a result, the demolition of her anti-black prejudice (instilled by Chase, incidentally, partly by means of the holding up of one of Arthur's black co- workers as the individual more deserving of Arthur's salary) was given a rocket-assist by his adoption of means similar to his unknown predecessor. In short, Irma was somewhat used to being fucked and told what to think -- and she was being ROYALLY fucked!

Chase had been a bit better lover than Arthur -- more size, more aggressive, more controlling. That had ultimately made Chase right in all things and Arthur an idiot. Pop had come in like gangbusters, and he had the equipment to back it up; when his cock hit bottom in Irma he was rolling over her -- physically and mentally -- like a freight train!

"I dunno jus' how to deal wit' you, Bitch, you bein' some kinda cross between a pit bull an' a pot-bellied pig like ya are..." Pop grunted. "Guess I'll jus' pound on ya 'til ya howl..."

For most people, the look on Irma's face as Pop got into his stride would have been priceless; her mouth was open, and she was gazing at the couch arm through wide, sightless eyes. Irma's whole attention was on her incredibly full pussy and the pneumatic drill made of flesh that was widening and deepening it. Pressure and pain -- except for the intermittent flashes when Pop bashed her cervix again -- were fading to something else; Irma was conditioned to enjoy sex while suffering pain and humiliation, so there were no barriers to the pleasure that began to roll in.

For Arthur, though, the view was painful. He knew that look, and he knew that it exceeded anything he had ever managed to extract from Irma; now, fresh atop the admission that he'd been cuckolded by his old boss, he was watching Irma with a different man, and although he had passed on several opportunities to stop it, watching the whole thing and realizing that Irma was going to reap satisfaction from the act hurt.

And Irma already was drawing pleasure from Pop's pounding. His thick tool was ironing her entire channel, and even though he wasn't balls deep, his swinging nuts swung between the chubby outer lips of her sex and slapped her clit as he hit bottom on every stroke. Pop dragged the huge, cellulite-pocked, shivering moons of her ass toward him on every stroke, and every stroke it got easier and Irma got more cooperative. Looking at her old man, he felt bad, but the plan was in place and he was makin' it happen... Irma started making little whining grunts at every stroke, and the look on Arthur's face told Pop all he needed to know about where she was... "Shit, Bitch, you even grunt like a pig!" Pop half-expected the comment to shut her up -- but, if anything, Irma got louder... About two and a half minutes in, Pop felt her pussy tighten up; a few strokes later, Irma threw her head back an howled, "Oh, GOD!" and started shaking like a leaf -- or maybe a big bowl of Jell-o.

That triggered Frieda; she could contain herself no longer. She came forward and circled the rutting pair, examining the act, the junction between the black man and the white woman, the motions, touching each of them here and there -- not sexually, necessarily, but compulsively. She got down on her hands and knees to look, and circled to watch the play of expression on Irma's face as she chased a second orgasm, then looked up to watch Pop's concentration as he continued to pound Irma in a manner that Frieda had never before witnessed.

Returning to Arthur, she murmured, "I never did that. Is it the position? Hubby always lay on top of me..."

"I'm sorry?"

"She's getting something... primal from this -- I can feel it. Is it because they're doing it that way?"

"Oh." Arthur sighed. "No, it's not about position -- at least, not as long as you can actually complete the act. The position you're talking about works, too. It's about -- oh, I don't know -- being properly equipped, physically and mentally."

"I see..."

Arthur scratched his head. "We're a fine pair; you've never experienced orgasm, and I'm not very good at producing them..." He looked away at the rutting couple before them.

Frieda sensed the darkness, the pain in him. "You're being too hard on yourself. There is more to whatever went on than you understand at this point, I think. As for this," she waved at Pop and Irma. "We bought into this without realizing, maybe, just how it was going to be. He's not trying to take her from you; he is just trying to subjugate her, pull her teeth so she cannot hurt anyone."

"I know. But she hasn't been mine for a while. I've been hers, sort of -- a possession, a beast of burden, somebody to bring home money. But that's been it, for a long time."

They were interrupted by the onset of Irma's second orgasm; Irma turned vacant eyes to the ceilng and moaned, "Oh God! OhgodohgodohgodohgodOHGOD!! OH!! GOD!!!" throwing herself manically back at Pop.

Pop grinned, grunting as he continued to thrust through her climax, "Awright, you be takin' it all, now, Bitch! Now we goin' for puppies! Put your head down, Bitch -- I wanna feel your pubic bone!" Irma did as she was told, laying her head on her forearms. Pop picked up the pace, "Awright, this time, I'm gonna shoot in ya! You're gonna have twins from old Pop ta push around in a baby carriage with Mary's kids!"

Having gotten that out, Pop looked up and made a throat-cutting gesture of denial, pointed at Irma's head and then whirled a finger beside his ear in the universal gesture for craziness -- but it really wasn't anything Arthur wanted to hear. "I think... I need to go sit down somewhere," he said faintly.

Pop made urgent motions at Frieda, who collected Arthur's arm before he could wander off and brought him around -- something only possible because Arthur was beyond resistance. Pop took Arthur's arm and gave him a shake. "Don't run off -- I need ya for the ass-end of this. We'll fix things then so you get a leg up on her ass again, okay?" Arthur nodded, but there wasn't a whole lot of belief in him.

Meanwhile, Irma started the final approach to her third orgasm of the session. Pop's pounding had stretched her to the point that now he was getting the whole length of his cock into her -- and bashing her clit with more than just his balls. Add the tilt when he instructed her to drop her head to the floor, and he was dead on her most sensitive spot -- and it was thoroughly effective! "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!! Oh!! Oh!!! Oh!!! OH!!! OOHH!!! O GAAAAAWWWDDDD!!!!!!!" Irma screeched as the waves poured over her.

Pop was in there, swinging, "HERE COMES THEM PUPPIES, BITCH!!!" he yelled, and proceeded to grind himself into her, adding little thrusts to the mix.

Irma rode out her climax and basically collapsed as Pop withdrew; she had been lifted higher -- and dropped lower -- than she ever had before. Add a little physical abuse and a lot of psychological trauma, and she was washed out.

Pop waved Frieda over and handed her the leash. "If she moves, either haul on this or sit on her -- I need to talk to Arthur, here." Waving Arthur after him, he headed for the dining room.

"Awright, it's like this. I didn't cum in her; I ain't Superman, and I can't do three in an hour, so I jerked her chain. Now we're gonna move on to Phase Three. I'm gonna teach her a lesson -- an while we're at it, we're gonna remind her who's on top at your house. When I get goin', I want you ta circle 'round front an' get you a blow job. Git mad and fuck her face; teach her a lesson! She'll remember it later, an' you'll make some ground..."

"I'll... think about it."

"You should, Man. She owes ya. Might even fix things." Pop lifted the cover off the butter dish in the center of the table and collected a chunk, then grabbed some napkins from the napkin holder. "Let's git started."

Irma roused a bit when she realized that someone was playing with her ass. She waved a hand back there, trying to bat whatever it was away -- and got a swat on her left ass cheek for her trouble. "You awake, Bitch?" her tormentor's voice sounded behind her. When she didn't reply immediately, she got another swat, "Pay attention -- I'm talkin' to ya!"

"Yes!" she croaked.

"Good." Pop started dabbing butter around Irma's brown pucker. "Now we to Phase three, where, havin' proved my point, I punish ya for bein' a bad bitch!" He laid the napkins on Irma's lower back and greased up his middle finger, then without further ceremony poked it as far as he could up her ass. "Any ideas how I'm gonna do that?"

"AWP!" Irma's eyes popped at the unwelcome invasion, and she tried to crawl off -- but Pop was holding the leash looped around his left forearm. "Don't fuck around!" he cautioned, "My hands are greasy! You get caught up in that thing and I might be real slow getting' you out!"

Irma stopped and concentrated on trying to find a way to move that Pop's finger couldn't follow -- but she wasn't that flexible. Pop pulled the finger, and she breathed a sigh of relief -- but it was so he could go to two, she found out a moment later. "Please...!" She begged.

"Sure, sure, gimme a minute..." Pop deliberately pretended to misunderstand while he greased his dick with his left hand. "I know you're in a hurry to get your ass poked and get it over with..."

"Wha...?" What her tormentor had just said barely sank in before something large and blunt made its presence known at her sphincter. "Noooooo!"

"Oh, yes, Bitch! Now's the time when you pay for all the shit you caused!" Pop tightened up on Irma's leash so she couldn't escape and began forcing his cock -- rock hard in anticipation of this event -- through the stubborn door to Irma's colon!

"AAAAAAA -- URK!" Irma lunged forward and the collar clamped down on her neck, restricting her airway and causing her pain from multiple points -- and, of course, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"Hate to say I told ya so..." Pop said, matter-of-factly. "I'll lookit fixin' your collar when I'm in all the way. Meantime, I guess you better not do that again, huh?" He jacked up the pressure on her abused anus, "Ya know, it'll go faster if you're headed this way instead of bein' headed that way! Hold still and back up!"

But Irma couldn't do that -- she lacked the will to override the pain. Her virgin asshole was on fire, being ripped to shreds! That telephone pole of a cock... She had no problem visualizing Pop's violation of her protesting anus. Meanwhile, she was panicked, choking...

"This be takin' some time," Pop announced. "Mebbe you should ask you old man for some help? I'd be real nice, if I was you..."

Arthur! Yes! Looking around, she managed to get her husband's visage to swim into view and beseeched him, croaking, "Please!"

"Whatcha gonna give him?" Pop taunted. "I'd at least offer him a blow job, if I was you, after all he does for ya... It's probly the least you could do..." Pop turned his eyes on Arthur.

"Yes! Yes! Please!" Irma croaked. Spots were beginning to appear before her eyes.

"Up to you, Man..." Pop said, waiting.

Arthur strode forward and started wrestling with the collar. "Push on the tines, there, and it'll release," Pop instructed. Arthur did so and the collar loosened with a slight pop. Irma collapsed forward, her lungs pumping like a bellows.

Pop hauled on the leash, tightening it again. "Git your ass back in the air, Bitch!" The collar didn't close far before Irma was scrambling backwards, kneeling up. "Better!" He realigned his cock and again started forcing it in through the out door.

"Aaahhh! God! Stop! Please!" Irma croaked.

"Ain't no stopping this piece, any more than there was the other two. Shit, this one's where I get even! You expect me ta back off that?" Pop grunted. Irma's anus slowly flowered open, continuing to fight its rear guard action in vain.

"You're killing me!" Irma squealed.

Pop tugged on the leash. -- not enough to tighten it -- just a reminder. "You ain't seen what I seen," he replied. "I could stick my arm up that muthafuckah to the elbow, and you'd be okay after a while... You need to shut the fuck up. An' I DON'T see you suckin' off your old man, yet! That'll keep that fat mouth of your busy..."

"Uuh..." Irma, reminded, looked up at Arthur, her expression a clear entreaty to be let off the hook.

But Arthur had taken Pop's advice, and let slip his anger. The potency that his shame and humiliation had robbed him of came back with it, and he presented Irma with a full-fledged hard on. "How many of these have you given away to others?" he grated. "Time to start catching up!" Chastened, Irma opened her mouth.

Pop, who had paused momentarily to let things on the other end settle out, resumed the attack -- and Irma, caught off-guard, lurched forward. The result was Arthur hitting the back of her throat on no notice, causing her to choke. This demanded a withdrawal -- but to do that meant impaling herself on the hot poker in her ass! Survival brings its own imperatives, however; Irma backed up, coughing. The coughs caused her colon to spasm, and she ended up taking in two inches of Pop's probe in the process! Pop chuckled. "Mebbe you oughta choke her again!"

"Maybe!" Arthur glared down at Irma; clearly, the worm had turned! "Suck!" Irma, eyes on her husband's face despite the pain being inflicted on her more than ample ass, set to work on his erection, eyes watering.

Pop was deliberately making his effort less than pleasant, and Irma tried to scream "OW! OOH! PLEASE! IT HURTS!" but what came out around her husband's cock was a succession of emphatic moans, "MMM! MM! MMM!! MM MMM!"

Pop grinned at Arthur sarcastically and said, "I think she likes it!" He continued jamming away, once again gaining purchase from the extra layer provided by his foreskin.

The look this comment generated on Irma's face was priceless, but everyone was busy, so it went without comment. Her ass was on fire, and Arthur wasn't being any too gentle with her mouth, taking her by both sides of the head and ramming himself in and out, grunting, "Come on, show me how you do it..." She was choking, and her ass was shredded and no doubt bleeding -- and trying to handle both at the same time had her taxed to distraction!

In an effort to get SOME control over SOMETHING, she put her hands on Arthur's hips. Arthur couldn't decide whether he like this or not, but Pop advised, "Let her work. If she fucks up, slap the shit outta her!" Irma heard him, and when Arthur released her head, she made certain that he could tell the difference. "Of course, you may wanna get in there occasionally to let her know what's good and what ain't..." Pop added. He was mostly inside her now, and moving back and forth in short strokes, opening things up for more serious abuse. "Awright! I'm gonna git mine, now, Bitch -- you make DAMN SURE your ol' man gits his! Thirty minutes with your fuckin' ass an' I KNOW you been fuckin' up by the numbers for YEARS an' you owe him PLENTY! You got me?" Pop swatted her ass with a buttery hand, HARD!

"MMMMMMMMMM!!!!" Irma wailed, redoubling her efforts, watching her husband's glaring eyes and angry features.

Frieda had backed off to a neutral corner; the violence level was up there a bit too high for her comfort. She continued to watch -- the sex act in front of her was an amazing spectacle, something she'd heard about vaguely but never hoped to witness. But she was happier distancing herself from the more aggressive aspects.

Pop started digging in, driving, going for his cum, finally -- bumping Irma with every stroke, making her go "Mmph!" around Arthur's cock. But he had one more trick up his sleeve, and he intended to play it if he could... He'd extracted about as much intense pain from pounding her ass as he could; now, he could tell that she was conforming to him and the pain was banking, settling back to a burn. She didn't need his whole length to get the job done and neither did he, so he worked a hand past his groin and into her drippy slit, finding her clitoris without much of a problem. That done, he started working it between two fingers, adding a new dimension to her perceptions of the act.

Arthur saw the move, and saw Irma's eyes pop. Pop grinned at him and winked. Now, bent over her back to work the hand, he hissed, "Yeah, that's right, Bitch! Slut that you are, I'm tearing your ass up -- an' I'm gonna make you ENJOY it!"

The idea hit Irma between the eyes -- was that possible? Her tormentor said it was -- and Arthur's hard grin said that HE thought it was... The hand working her nub was giving it too much attention to ignore, and the pain was mostly gone... The telephone pole in her ass was starting to feel a LOT like a telephone pole in her pussy... Oh, Gawd! It WAS possible!

Arthur grabbed Irma's ear, giving it a tug, "Hey! Suck, or I'll have him put his fist up your ass!" He wanted to slap her, but he didn't want to interfere too much with what Pop was doing. Irma went back to work, diving on him, and Arthur started to feel a familiar tickle at the base of his cock. "Better! MUCH better! I'm gonna bury this thing -- don't you spill a drop!" Arthur let his orgasm come to him, enjoying it fully, glorying in unaccustomed power over his partner. He cupped his hand behind Irma's head, stuck his glans in the opening of her throat, and started pouring ejaculate into her!

Irma was stuck. She tried to swallow, and something happened; Arthur went even deeper! She wanted to gag, but really couldn't get the whole thing going; apparently, it was too late for that. She could feel the pulses from Arthur's semen delivery system on her tongue, but she couldn't taste anything -- obviously, it was going right down her throat! Dazed, she couldn't really digest how she felt about that...

"Breathe through your nose, ya silly bitch!" Pop admonished her. He didn't want her passing out or getting any too distracted. Arthur staggered back and Irma took in a big gulp of air, hacked a couple of times, and settled down, looking confused, drool pouring out of her. "Have her clean it off," Pop recommended. "Get some more fun out of it..." Arthur nodded and waded back in, allowing Irma to nurse on him.

It was time to finish this freak show. Pop got seriously back to work, both fucking and working Irma's clit, and in a few moments her hips started to dance. Pretty quick, she was going to go off again, and Pop was going to rub it in -- but first, there was one final item... Pop looked directly at the kitchen door and waved his unused arm.

"That's our cue," Stick grunted, standing up. Mary nodded. She wasn't really sure she wanted to do this to Momma -- but then, she owed the support to Poppa and everyone else... Teddy stood and followed.

Irma had tunnel vision. She was well beyond her limits -- but there was another orgasm coming -- a different orgasm, made of new, strange stuff, but an orgasm, nonetheless. She was sucking on Arthur's cock -- which really wasn't softening up that much -- while she got pounded and rubbed, pounded and rubbed...

Pop hissed in her ear, "Hurry up and cum, ya silly bitch, so I can unload in your big, fat ass! Gonna give ya a black cum enema to match the load makin' puppies in your old, sloppy cunt! Can ya feel 'em in there? Can ya? Makin' puppies?"

"Ooog! OOOG! OOOOGG!!" Too much imagination put Irma right over the edge! Her pussy spasmed, her ass spasmed -- and Pop got that last little bit he needed, and HE spasmed, pouring semen deep into Irma's colon! "That's it, Bitch! Suck me dry!" Pop jizzed three shots into Irma's rectum, pulled out and shot two more over her back for good measure, then picked up the napkins and wiped off his cock and his hands.

Arthur backed off, and Irma collapsed, rolling onto her side, gasping. "Well, Bitch, congratulations! You're a three-hole whore! Say it! Say 'I'm a three hole whore'!"

There was no fight left in Irma. "I'm a three hole whore!" she gasped.

"Say 'I'm inferior to everybody'!" Pop prompted.

"I'm inferior to everybody!"

"Say, 'I want half-black grandchildren'!"

"I want half-black grandchildren!"

"Now roll over and say it again!" Pop directed.

Irma rolled over, to find Mary, Stick, and Teddy standing over her. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, looking at her daughter, then said, "I want half-black grandchildren."

Mary eyed the wreck of her mother for a moment, then replied quietly. "Only about half of them will be, at this rate. Teddy's kids will be white. I hope that's all right..."

Irma started bawling.

Late lunch at the Pinkersley's was done casually in the TV room. Charlotte arranged seating with herself on one side of Claudette and Ted on the other and deliberately distanced a bit in a separate armchair. Charlotte led off, "So, Princess, wasn't breakfast interesting?"

"Well, I leaned a few things," Claudette replied carefully. "I have to say the attitudes and the behaviors that you ascribe to this... issue you say I have seem a bit far-fetched."

Ted's eyebrows went up; Charlotte, the only one to notice, smiled gently. "You think we're going overboard? Being over-protective, perhaps?"

"Well, it certainly seems like it..."

"I see. What about your behavior at breakfast, Dear. How would you characterize it?"

Claudette thought about it. The conversation had gotten racy... After everyone left, she and Ted had had sex at the table -- but Mom and Daddy probably didn't know that... "Well, things got a little racy..."

Charlotte sighed. "Princess, one part of the problem here is that when it's all said and done, some of the most outrageous things seem perfectly reasonable to you; remembering them, you tend to paper over details that others might find particularly memorable. THAT's why you need a keeper!"

"Oh, Mom -- you're exaggerating!"

"Am I?" Charlotte smiled crookedly. "Let's see, shall we?" She clicked on the TV and queued the VCR. "You see, I had this problem, too -- I really didn't take things seriously until presented with them graphically. Knowing this, your father and I took the liberty of taping our breakfast conversation for later viewing..." Charlotte shut up at that point; the VCR was running.

Claudette watched; obviously Mom felt there was something to be learned by this. The first couple of minutes were pretty boring; after all, she'd lived through them that morning -- but after that... It got more and more embarrassing. She'd basically undressed at the breakfast table, more and more aggressively pursued Ted's cock -- actually sucked it! Oh, God! Mom and Daddy were still sitting at the table when she hopped up and started fucking Ted! Daddy stood right there and talked to her while she was...! By the time it was over, Claudette was cherry red, leaking tears of embarrassment. "Shut it off! Shut it off!"

Charlotte got up and went to cuddle her daughter. "There, there, Dear. You really HAD to know... It all seemed pretty reasonable at the time, didn't it?"

"Uh huh," Claudette sniffled.

"And later? A few minutes ago, you didn't think you had anything to be concerned about, did you?"

"No..." Claudette choked out. "I remembered the sex, but I thought we waited..."

"We paper over such things," Charlotte related. "You had to actually SEE it to realize that you edited it to get rid of the more embarrassing parts..." She sighed. "Obviously, you're not alone -- did you see the tail end, there?"

"What do you mean?"

"This." Charlotte rolled back the tape to the point where she got up to stand over the couple. "There! See that?" Claudette watched her father deliberately fondle her mother's naked breast -- right there at the table, with Ted sitting there! Of course, she and Ted were already fucking... "Ted was right on top of things," her mother related. "He noticed that I was losing it and called in your father... If your father hadn't been there, we'd both be rationalizing having shared Ted at the breakfast table -- and perhaps mother-daughter sex..."

"Omigod!"

"THAT's why you need a keeper, Princess. Do you understand now?" Charlotte asked. "That's why I need a keeper, too -- and it's why I run the business and your father limits himself to running me -- I'm a full-time job..." She nodded at Ted. "Ted has already proven himself; this morning was a case in point. Neither of us sees anything unreasonable in initiating sex ANYWHERE with a man who smells right -- but Ted knows the difference, and can even tell when one of us is slipping."

The caution light was on for Claudette; she eyed her new lover closely. "But Ted is a bit of a shark -- what's in it for him?"

Her mother chuckled, "Aside from the fact that he can have YOU whenever he wants? However he wants? Wherever he wants? That's power, Dear. Besides, I'm sure he's smelling more blood in the water than that..." Ted nodded warily. "We discussed this some at breakfast; those attributes will be of benefit to both of you."

A thoroughly sober Claudette eyed Ted. "The last time I put my welfare in his hands..."

"... You survived," Ted finished. "And that wasn't a given, going in. Actually, the LAST couple of times went better than that, I think..."

Charlotte smiled crookedly. "Second thoughts?"

Claudette grimaced. "No, I have to trust my instincts in this. The controllable ones."

"It doesn't benefit me to smear you, Honey," Ted murmured. "That would be stupid, and would interfere with both our goals. I can avoid that temptation." He rose. "I need to leave; even MY folks start wondering, eventually. Give me a kiss?"

Claudette rose. "I'll see you to the door."

"Come back, after," Charlotte called. "We need to talk further."

"Shit, even I know THAT fuckin' pair!" Roland grunted. They were on their third stop, shadowing the Staffordshire Farms truck -- something fairly simple to do, since their deliveries to the larger groceries were always smaller than Staffordshire's. They could come late and leave early -- or come early and just hang out... No one had twigged, yet. At every stop, the pattern repeated itself; the truck arrived, two or three guys who had no business unloading a truck appeared out of nowhere, one box went away, and someone in the store hierarchy got a wad of cash.

Nate nodded. "I guess the reason why we don't get a lot of shelf space in the bigger stores is becoming clear..."

"Yeh," Draper agreed. "Stores get some free labor and a chunk of cash; dope dealers get paid off in drugs. Regular supply chain. Everybody's happy."

"Anybody keep a list of who's who?" Roland asked.

"I got it," Nate replied, "And I know who to give it to."

"Cops?" Roland asked.

"Nah. I know somebody who knows somebody up at the headquarters. They'll want to make a buck off this," Nate replied.

Roland shook his head. "Wondered how the fuck y'all just wandered in..."

"Yeah, well... Bet you see a nice bonus..." Nate left it at that.

"THAT wouldn't fuckin' hurt!" Roland said feelingly.

It took twenty minutes to get Irma's emotions under control and get her back into her clothing. It was decided that Mary would escort her home, as it was generally felt that she needed some support. There was still some serious role-play going on -- Pop and Arthur held themselves aloof and would not accept apologies, allowing Mary, Teddy, and Stick to become her sources of sympathy and support. Finally, she was out the door. Pop flopped in a chair. "Awright, I think her attitude is adjusted. Mebbe that wasn't the way, but it worked..."

Things stopped there, due to an unexpected interruption; Rose walked in. "Husband, what did you do to that woman? I just saw her getting into a car... What's that smell? Thurnock Williams, I smell SEX!" The end of this piece of dialog found Rose hovering over her husband with her hands on her hips.

"Uuhh..." Pop, totally in control of things for the past hour or so, was suddenly thoroughly derailed.

Rose turned to the other adults present, "All right, SOMETHING happened here -- what was it?"

Pop sighed. "Been like Peyton Place in here. Lemme start at the startin' place..." He nodded at a chair. "Best sit down -- it's gonna take a while."

Rose parked herself in a chair. "Go on..."

Arthur whispered to Frieda, "I don't envy him when he gets to the part where..."

"No kidding!" Frieda giggled, despite herself -- probably from tension.

Rose glanced around, but Pop wasn't off the hook. She stared him down until he kicked it into gear. "Well, ya heard the early crap, an' ya know what set me off. An' ya know I collected everbody. Well, I got to the bottom of things, my way, an' found out that some things we heard was true, an' some was false..." Rose turned an eye on her son for a moment, but returned her attention to Pop, who saw an excuse to stop explaining... "Uh, that's Teddy. Woman over there is Miz Frick -- Frieda?" Frieda nodded. "That's Mary's old man -- name's Arthur. This is Rose, my wife -- Stick's mother."

Rose nodded all around, but that was it -- Pop didn't escape. After suffering under the glare for a bit, he continued, "Upshot is this: Stick and Mary are fuckin' -- we got a demo." Rose raised a finger, but held it back -- best to get it all... "Teddy an' Mary are fuckin' -- more'n we were led to believe." Rose favored her son with another glare. "Tough nut to crack was whether Teddy an' Stick were fuckin' -- turns out they are..."

"WHAT?" Rose was up out of her chair.

"HOLD IT!" Pop roared.

Rose turned to Pop, turned to the boys, turned to Pop -- and sat back down. "Nobody's dead here..."

"Yeh." Pop nodded. "When it was all said and done, I bought in. Goes kinda like this -- ever hear of bisexual?"

"Not really," Rose replied. "Sounds like a cop-out."

"Uh, Arthur?" Pop wanted to shift things, if possible. This was an open door...

Rose eyed him. "I thought you was tellin' this..."

"Arthur explained it the first time. He's got a better handle on shit."

Rose swung her attention to Arthur, who took up the explanation, "Sexual orientation isn't, uh, black and white -- forgive the pun. It's a continuum, with shades of grey. There are a lot of factors... Basically, it is a tolerance thing; someone who is really gay can't really get into a relationship with someone of the opposite sex, and someone who is really straight can't get emotionally involved with someone of the same sex. But there is a lot of area in between. Girls who aren't lesbians can still enjoy lesbian sex, and boys who aren't gay can enjoy sex acts that are gay in nature. When you look at it, except for actual intercourse, most of the other stuff we do for one another can be handled by a member of either sex..."

"So getting butt-fucked don't make you queer?" Rose asked.

"Would it make YOU queer?" Arthur responded.

Rose flashed a glance at Pop. "I guess not."

"Culturally, we have a big thing about this with males -- and it has more to do with dominance than anything else. You can't be top dog in your group if you're on your knees before someone else. Boys have to protect their position in the pecking order, so that kind of thing is basically out -- and they bend every effort to ensure that they don't appear approachable. Thus, we have homophobia. In other cultures, males hug -- even kiss -- as acceptable heterosexual social behavior -- but not in this country."

Arthur paused a moment, while Rose absorbed all this. When he got the nod, he continued, "As an aside, the barriers aren't so high for females -- in some cases, males encourage it, and certainly without the discovery that they can become emotionally involved with another woman, homosexual encounters between females are peccadillo, by comparison. But boys have to be circumspect, or they're ruined, socially. Are we good thus far?"

"Go ahead." 'When do we get to the important parts?'

"Sexual experimentation occurs, anyway -- many times, it's between siblings, because of the trust involved. Or good friends. It goes on on both sides of the aisle, and it is usually early on, when they are just discovering that their equipment has pleasurable uses. Usually, they conduct a couple of experiments, gain some confidence with their sexuality, discover the opposite sex, and move on."

"You saying they discover boys first? Girls discover girls first?" Rose asked. "I didn't..."

"Well, many don't. It is only one scenario. You probably played doctor with a boy... Or you watched someone else..."

"Okay, okay..." Rose didn't want to go there.

"Boys who have homosexual experiences early tend to have them in an atmosphere of equality, before the pressures over social status become important -- and it all gets tucked under the rug as those pressures take effect. Boys who first experience homosexual sex later are more likely to be polarized into one of two groups. The first group is those individuals generally called tops -- they accept sexual favors from other males as a tribute, an enhancement of their status. They control their relationships. They may accept sex equally readily from males or females, or they may prefer one or the other -- and they may get a power trip from dominating another male. The second group is submissive, for one reason or another. Generally, they perceive themselves as having no shot at the upper end of the pecking order -- maybe they are weak, or sensitive, or merely do not have the proper skills or the will to use them. They are called bottoms. They will submit to a top, giving him the gift of their sexuality -- and usually accepting either protection or a validation of their lowly position and self-image in return."

"And?" 'Jeezus! Psychological bullshit...'

Arthur sighed. "This is all a range, as I said before. But Teddy is a bottom, who started sex late in the game. He's quiet, none too strong, kind of lightly built, intelligent, sensitive... Being a jock was out. Girls weren't interested. So he started experimenting with homosexual sex in places where it was possible to do it anonymously."

Arthur waved at the boys. "Enter Stick, who isn't doing any better romantically, but who has a different personality and drives. How much sex had you had before Prom Night, Stick?"

'Shit, I'm in enough trouble...' "Couple a' bad blowjobs from Beulah Tyrone..."

"So then you get a GOOD blowjob..."

"Yeh." Stick's eyes were hooded.

Arthur turned to Rose. "Do you begin to see?"

"Some." Rose wasn't liking it.

"Enter Mary -- literally five minutes after these two hook up," Arthur continued. "Mary had been considering 'reforming' Teddy for a while, but he was scared to death of her. Right, Teddy?"

"Yessir."

"Stick's friend Nate had just collected Mary's girlfriend Nora, which suggested an alternate option to Mary, too -- and she picked up the vibe, which gave her blackmail material on both boys. How am I doing, Stick?"

"Battin' a thousand," Stick muttered.

"Mary's mother and I gave her what amounted to a palace over the garage, and her mother had set a policy of looking the other way while Mary searched for boys -- a policy I was not in agreement with, by the way," Arthur continued. "But it provided the three of them with peace and quiet and an opportunity to compare apples and oranges -- so by the end of the night, both Stick and Teddy had experienced their first girl."

"How do you know all this?" Rose asked.

"I caught them, soon after," Arthur replied. "That night, nobody made any promises. They decided to experiment seriously, one on one and as a group until something fell out. But nothing fell out -- each of them cemented a relationship with each of the other two. Mary couldn't choose between them early on because she ran the risk of choosing wrong -- but the boys are very different, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and she found that she couldn't choose between apples and oranges. Teddy suddenly had two people who accepted him for what he was -- one male and one female. Being gay didn't seem like the only route any more, but there wasn't any reason to give up activities that he'd learned to enjoy -- especially since he was being cherished and protected by both of the others. Stick had two sex partners, both of whom looked to him for leadership and protection and each of whom offered something different in the way of sexual experience."

"Okay, so they're all wrapped up in each other. How queer is Stick?" Rose asked.

"Not very," Arthur replied. "If it weren't for the emotional bond, Stick could walk away at any time. Stick is acting as a top in this relationship, and he accepts more than he gives, from a sexual standpoint. I'm sure, for instance, that he doesn't get excited around guys. Stick see's Teddy as being almost feminine, I think."

"Look, is he sucking dicks? Is he taking it up the ass?" Rose asked. 'How am I going to cover this with the girls?'

"Stick?"

Stick shrugged and glanced at Teddy, who had his head down. "Action's all going the other way. Mr. Nally's been rubbin' my nose in shit, while he gets us down to it. But things ain't changed, really. I'm not gonna want it in the ass, and Ted don't care about that, anyway. But, yeah, I suck dick. One dick. His. 'Cause he deserves to get it done. An' you know what? He's gonna get it more often in the future!" He glared at his mother.

Rose sat still for a moment, then looked at Pop. "I'm back to being surprised that he's still here."

Pop shrugged. "I come up satisfied that what he says is true -- an' I was impressed that all three of 'em was busy coverin' his ass. Last, I seen that Mary knew all about it and wasn't jealous or anything. The cock suckin' came hard -- and all three of 'em was in there swinging, trying to keep it buried. And when it came out, the first one to say anything was Mary -- takin' the blame for it!"

"What would SHE have to do with it?" Rose asked.

"Mary twisted Stick's arm because he wasn't giving Teddy anything back in the relationship," Arthur supplied. "Since then, I think they all realize that there are other dimensions where Stick is providing support -- but from a pure 'have you done so and so' point of view, the damage was done."

"But they cain't continue like this, can they?" Rose asked.

Arthur shrugged. "I guess it depends on how much support they get."

"Oh." Rose turned back to her husband. "And you made up your mind, how?"

"I'm gonna let 'em be. Shit, that wasn't the main event..." Pop shut up, realizing that he'd just blown his chance at distraction.

"Well, Husband, let's talk about the main event! All I was worried about was how Stick avoided being strung up!"

"The main event was neutralizing my wife," Arthur supplied. "That didn't look any too promising. Your husband's method of attitude adjustment... wouldn't have been my first choice, but it had the virtue of being effective."

Rose turned back to Pop, and Pop started tap dancing. "Well, uh..."

"Husband?"

"She was still on the race kick and the sex kick, and made some Black Superman comment, so I..."

"You didn't!"

"I made a bet with her."

"And the bet was?"

"I bet her that my dick was longer than Arthur's, there. If she won, I'd make Stick leave her daughter alone."

"And if you won?"

"I turned her every which way but loose."

Rose turned to Arthur. "She actually agreed to this bet?"

"Yes. Your husband offered to take my feelings into account in the matter, but Irma was on a roll and insisted that I should have no say in the matter."

"Did he bet even?" Rose asked.

"He spotted me three inches."

"Then what happened?"

"She lost of course. Then, realizing her mistake, she tried to weasel out. She said some unkind things to me during the initial phases, though, and your husband appeared to have a plan, so I left her to her own devices," Arthur replied.

Rose turned to her husband. "You had sex with this man's wife? In front of him?"

"Yeh."

"Let me guess: you ran that game you hit that fat girl in the bar with the night I met you."

"Uh, basically. We tuned it a bit."

Rose turned to Arthur, "That couldn't have been nice for you. That thing can backfire, you know! She could end up believing that crap and start chasin' bruthuhs!"

"I'm aware of that," Arthur replied. "Given that she informed me in the heat of the moment that she had already been unfaithful for some time, there is some question whether that is even an issue."

"I got him into it at the tail end," Pop interrupted. "Gave him a shot at gettin' some respect back from her."

"You've had a lousy afternoon," Rose said to Arthur, "haven't you?"

"Yes. But it... seemed justified. I'm pretty sure it worked."

Rose turned on her husband. "And YOU slept around on me!"

Pop raised his hands. "It wasn't for fun! Did you SEE her? No offense."

"None taken," Arthur intoned.

"I suppose your son saw all of this?"

"Enough..."

"Mama," Stick piped up. "I seen it, but Pop's right -- it was the thing to do at the time. It took all the starch outta her."

Rose's eyes swept to Teddy. "Is that also your opinion?"

"Yes, Ma'am. It was the finest piece of psych warfare I ever saw!"

Rose turned to Frieda. "The males are unanimous. What about you? Was the whole thing justified?"

"It was... very violent at times," Frieda replied. "But it was also impressive and effective. I don't know much about these things, but I felt good enough about it at the time not to interfere."

Rose drew herself erect. "Husband, I can't overlook this. Something will have to be done, even if it WAS the thing to do! I have an idea..." She turned to Frieda, "Can you take the boys back to your house? We need to handle this in privacy."

"Certainly."

"Boys, go with Frieda. Stick, give us a call in a couple of hours."

"Mama, you're not talkin' divorce, or anything?"

"No, Boy. I'm just thinkin' of giving your father a dose of his own medicine. Run along." Rose waved to Frieda, who headed for the door, the boys trailing her.

Arthur got up. "I should be going, too."

"I wish you wouldn't," Rose replied. "Punishing my husband will be a lot harder if you do."

"Sorry?"

"Two people been hurt by this thing, whether it was good or it wasn't -- you and me. Time we put the shoe on the other foot."

"You don't mean..."

"I do. Do you have any problem having sex with a black woman?"

"No..."

"Good! HE can watch! Let's go! Come along, Husband -- I'M doing this in a bed! OUR bed!"

Arthur looked at Pop, who shrugged. "She told me one time she'd do somethin' like this if I fucked up. I'm thinkin' it's fair, if that's the end of it. I TOLD ya I'd owe ya... Le's jus' keep it in the family, huh?" Arthur shrugged and followed Rose out.