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From: Incest Man <incestman@graffiti.net>
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Subject: story: "A Husband's Hobby" Chapter 6
Date: Sun, 14 Jan 2007 17:41:14 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/husbhob06.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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