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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Subject: "A Husband's Hobby" Chapter 6
Date: Mon, 16 Jan 2006 15:43:34 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/husbhob.html
A Husband's Hobby
Chapter 6
When Mark Jenkins returned to the staff cabin after an extra-
long afternoon of hiking around the perimeter of Lake Devonshire
with his twelve teenage campers, he was ready to flop into bed and
sleep for a day. But this evening was the mid-week campfire out
by the water, and he knew that as soon as dusk fell his young
charges would be anxiously waiting to be escorted down to the
lakeside for the twice-weekly event. The camp-wide get-together
would last until well past the normal bedtime hour, and Mark
anticipated being up until midnight. Holy Christ, Stu really
likes to keep them going, he thought as he turned the handle to
the bedroom door.
At first glance, he thought his beautiful young wife was just
asleep, and he leaned down to shake her gently by the shoulder.
"Natalie, wake up, honey ... I'm back ..."
But the lovely brunette did not stir.
"Hey, baby, come on now ... We've got the campfire tonight,"
Mark said, a little louder this time. He pushed her over so she
was lying on her back, and it was then that he saw the nearly
empty wine bottle cradled in her arms like a baby. "Oh, Jesus,
Nat!" he exploded, carefully removing the bottle from her grip.
"Have you been drinking?"
The question was meaningless, he knew. His wife's face was
flushed and her breathing was raspy and uneven. Slowly, her dark
brown eyes flickered open and she stared unseeingly into the
worried face of her husband. Gradually she was able to focus
clearly on him, and her expression became a sardonic, loose smile.
"Well, well, well ..." she croaked throatily, "if it isn't my
darling hushband! How are you, darling hush-husband?"
"I'm fine," he replied quickly, "but I'd like to know what
happened to you ... If you were bored in the afternoons, Natalie,
you could have taught another class!"
The brunette's features wrinkled in concentration as if she
was trying to understand the meaning of her husband's words.
Bored ... afternoon ... teach another class, she repeated mentally
in her wine-drugged brain. The phrases seemed to echo
meaninglessly in her mind as her lips unconsciously formed them
over and over again. But finally she smiled broadly in sudden
recognition. "Bored?" she asked, with a husky, cracking laugh.
"Me? Why should I be bored?" She paused and regarded her husband
inquiringly, a tentative, mocking smile twisting the corners of
her mouth. "I've got the most lovely waysh to shpend my
afternoons ... The most gorge-gorgeous young boys!" When Mark
merely sat down on the edge of the bed in curious silence, Natalie
was prompted to go on. "Well, my God, Mark ... You know you sent
them over to fuck me ... God ... I knew all about it, all the
time. And I can tell you, my darling hushband, I sure was hot ...
God, was I hot, just like Shtuart said ... right, Mark? You agree
that I'm hot?"
A long, raucous laugh broke from her limply working red lips
as she looked at her husband viciously. "I knew, I knew, I knew,"
she chanted, as if to torture him by letting him see her bawdy
drunkenness. "Stuart told me all about it ... the pictures ...
the photography lesson ... I'm not shtupid, you know, Mark. I
knew about what you were doing ..."
The handsome young husband could only stare incredulously at
this woman who was supposed to be his wife. From what he could
make out of her disjointed sentences and meager explanations,
Natalie had apparently learned of his arrangement with Stuart
about getting the pictures. But his former college buddy had
promised not to let on that the photos were for him ... Mark had
wanted the pictures as a private experiment in his own therapy,
and he hadn't wanted to frighten or annoy Natalie by asking for
them outright. Now he stared at the drunken shell of his
beautiful wife, and his eyes searched hers for further
explanation. "Natalie," he said softly, "talk slowly, honey, and
tell me what's bothering you."
"Bothering me?" she repeated derisively. "Nothing's
bothering me! I'm having an absolutely great time here at
Weatherly-Mucks Camp for Cocks ..." She looked expectantly at her
husband for his reaction, but his face was calm, immobile. Almost
immediately, the young teacher sobered up, struggling to a weak
sitting position against the head board of the bed. "I mean ... I
mean," she said, making a conscious effort to collect her
thoughts, "Stuart was taking pictures of me, Mark ... bad pictures
... naked. I couldn't t-tell you, because ... because I was
embarrassed. And yesterday --- God forgive me, Mark --- yesterday
Stuart took those six boys up there to ... to rape me, just so he
could take those awful pictures ..."
"Oh, honey, I know," Mark said softly. "I'm sorry, Nat ...
I'm sorry if they ... hurt you ..."
"You know?" the brunette asked rhetorically. "If you knew,
then why did you ...? Mark, do you know what Stu told me? He
said he was taking those pictures for you ... why? Mark, why did
he say that?" Her face became a mask of confusion as she looked
deeply into her husband's face.
"He said it because it's true, Nat," the handsome young man
said quietly, his head bowed in humility. "I didn't want you to
know, honey ... I'm sorry ... oh, darling, I'm sorry I did this to
you, but it was the only thing I could think of ... I swear I
didn't want to hurt you, and I made Stuart promise to see that
nothing bad happened to you ... Sweetheart, tell me you understand
..."
"But I don't understand, Mark," the young woman said
earnestly, her intoxicated fog seeming to part, letting her clear
lucid thoughts come through. She glanced toward the wine bottle
where Mark had set it on the floor by the bed, and she remembered
the reason she had drunk it. "Why did you want Stuart to take
those terrible pictures of me? Why didn't you take them yourself,
if you wanted them?"
"Honey, I thought --- do you remember when we went into
therapy at the sex clinic?" Natalie nodded. "Well," Mark
continued, "when they told us to act out our fantasies, I have to
confess, I didn't want you to hear mine."
Her husband's confession struck a chord of recognition in
Natalie's own heavily-laden mind, and she nodded sympathetically.
"Neither did I, Mark ... I didn't tell you about my obsession with
---"
"No, wait, Nat, let me finish," the biology teacher cut in.
"I have to tell you the whole story. I've always had visions of
you getting it from two guys at once --- or three guys --- and I
would be one of them. And then I'd picture you with a nice young
boy --- like a student or something --- and you'd be beating him
off, or sucking his cock ... Christ, honey, it gives me a hard-on
just to think about it! So, when we came up here, I knew old Stu
was a wild one in college, so I asked him if he could, well, you
know, get me some pictures of you with some of the young kids
around here ... two or three at a time. I thought if I looked at
the pictures, and knew that it really was you, well, shit! Shit,
our problem would be over in no time."
Natalie's jaw dropped to her chest and her eyes opened wide
in disbelief. "You're kidding!" was all she could manage to say
at first, but after she looked at Mark's earnestly honest face,
she smiled broadly and happily.
"Mark, darling ... Oh, Mark!" she cried, tears running down
her cheeks. "You won't believe this, but before I married you, I
used to dream about the young pupils in my classes ... I used to
think about sucking their cocks and letting them fuck into me.
But I never did it. And when we went to the clinic, I was too
ashamed to admit that those were my fantasies, and now ... now
you're telling me that you have the same ideas! It's too
incredible!"
The muscular young husband leaned forward and hugged his wife
tightly to his firm hard chest. He pulled the black curls away
from her ear and whispered suggestively, "Christ, baby, I can tell
it'll be all right from now on ... I can just feel it in my cock!
And I've arranged a little surprise for you, darling, and you're
going to love it all the more, now ..."
The two married lovers fell back into the mattress entwined
in each other's arms, and they lay there together clutching and
stroking at each other's flesh all through the dinner hour, and
almost past dusk.
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