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From: irata@zork.roc.servtech.com (The Pornmeister)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: CLASSIC PORN 1- The Family Swap - Chapter 1
Date: Fri, 15 Sep 95 09:33:57 GMT
Organization: The recesses of your mind.
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If you like this, I'll post more...


CHAPTER 1

        Jennifer Armstrong stretched the entire length of her young full
body across the open coverlets of the large double bed, spreading her arms
over the pillow and touching her hands lightly to the headboard behind. She
yawned and smiled softly, turning her pretty face to the half-drawn blinds:
a stream of morning sunlight shone through, crossing the lush mohair carpet
and describing a dancing arc of brilliancy on the young woman's firm
smoothly curving thighs.
        Her long blonde eyelashes fluttered momentarily as she slowly awoke
from a long night's sleep. It should be at least ten o'clock, she thought.
Dave, her husband, must have gone out for his game of golf before she had
even stirred, and her brother and sister were probably at the beach by now,
so she would have the house to herself until late afternoon. The girl
brushed her long satiny blonde hair away from her face, letting it fall in a
cascading cushion behind her finely sculpted neck. She gazed down abstractly
at the thin sheet partially shielding her body from the slight breeze
blowing through the open window and sighed. It had been more than three
years since she had seen Sandy and Ellen, her sister and brother, and they
had changed more than she had imagined was possible during that time. When
she had arrived at the large luxurious ranch-style house with Dave yesterday
afternoon, she was shocked to notice the difference: her sister's body had
blossomed into the fulsome curves of young woman-hood, and her brother's
boyish frame had taken on the muscular angularity of the young man he had
actually become. She wasn't sure whether she liked the transition they had
made from awkward adolescence to youthful maturity, yet she knew their
growing up was inevitable. She raised herself in bed, toweling the
bedsheet across her large smoothly uplifting breasts, a slight frown
creasing the smooth peaches-and-cream complexion of her face, as she made an
effort to thrust her disturbing thoughts away.
        She was being silly, she knew. There was no reason to be upset with
the natural process of growing up that was both frightening and wonderful;
her own young body with its full breasts and voluptuously rounded hips was
fair testament to that, she thought with a quick self-satisfied smile. Her
high-set, widely-spaced breasts whose rose-tipped nipples clearly showed
through the thin fabric of the covering sheet had gone through the same
process of maturing as Ellen's were going through right now, and that change
from girl-child to young woman should be considered perfectly natural.
        Jennifer looked down to the sheet tapering over her slender girlish
waist, and her thoughts were confirmed by the mental vision of her own body.
It was marvelous, yet somehow disconcerting, she mused, how it would
attract admiring attention from the most discriminating men--and envy from
women. The line of the sheet spread over the flat plane of Jennifer's
stomach and across the rounded firmness of her hips down to her gently
swelling thighs, as though indicated by the soft pencil line of the artist,
the smooth arc of her calves graduated into this delicately formed ankles,
completing the luxuriantly provocative picture of sensuous young femininity.
        She pushed the sheet away and stood up from the bed and walked naked
across the plush white carpet to the window. Now the sunlight struck her
body in its full stark whiteness, highlighting the blonde triangle of pubic
hair of her loins and glowing radiantly on the ivory-toned skin of the
girl's naked thighs. She raised up the blinds and looked into the backyard
that was peacefully secluded from the view of neighboring houses by a high
row of thick green hedges. Flecks of light played on the mirror-still
surface of the large kidney-shaped swimming pool, dazzling brightly in
Jennifer's hazel eyes and accentuating her evenly sculpted facial features.
        Yes, all of this would be hers for the entire day, she thought, and
she felt a sense of relief knowing that Dave, her husband, would be out of
the house along with her sister and brother until some time that afternoon.
She needed the rest after the intense socializing of last night. They had
arrived at four the preceding afternoon, and had spent the evening talking
with her brother and sister. It had been a long exausting trip by station
wagon from Virginia and Jennifer really hadn't felt up to the family party
that had inevitably developed, nor had she been assured that her parents
would have approved of Dave's way of indulging Sandy and Ellen with bourbon.
Bill and Martha Jackson had taken off for a vacation in Europe shortly
before Dave and Jennifer's arrival, and the Armstrong's visit to the
luxurious Connecticut home had been planned as both a family reunion and a
way of looking after the two teenagers without going through the difficult
and embarrassing process of hiring a baby-sitter for the children who, after
all, were young adults themselves.
        "I think you'll find the children more mature than you might
expect," Jennifer's mother had written a month before, "but in many ways
both Sandy and Ellen need the kind of guidance I think you can give them.
They are hardly adults, and you are well aware, I'm sure, of the problems
that your brother and sister's generation are confronting. Jennifer, you
escaped the temptations of marijuana and free sex, but I'm not sure that
Sandy and Ellen have done the same."
        Jennifer had found the letter perplexing. Had her mother meant to
say that Sandy and Ellen were actually experimenting with such things? It
was of course entirely possible, yet she couldn't face the possibility
without feeling unnerved; it didn't seem probable that either her brother or
sister would be foolish enough to go off the deep end like that. In her
mind, they were still innocent young children. She had noticed a change in
the way Sandy had regarded her when she had entered the house yesterday
afternoon, but she had rationalized his flirtatious manner as a symptom of
his growing awareness of sex as he approached masculine maturity. What had
disturbed her was how Ellen had hugged and kissed her own husband whom Ellen
had never met before, pushing her hips close in to Dave's loins as though
she had discovered a lost lover rather than having been introduced to a
brother-in-law. Jennifer knew she was being foolish yet she couldn't help
feeling uneasy at the way her sister dressed, with her sweaters so tight you
could actually see the outline of the girl's nipples, naked and bra-less
beneath the tightly pressing cashmere fabric. But again she knew she was a
victim of sibling rivalry, and if she wished the summer vacation to be a
success, she would have to push such thoughts out of her mind.
        The distant ringing of a bell reverberating down the hall from the
living room awakened her from her thoughts, yet in the intensity of her
musings it seemed a great distance away and not part of reality at all.
Suddenly she realized it was the doorbell and after several moments of
waiting and hoping whoever it was would go away and leave her to the
intimacy of her thoughts, she resignedly turned from the window, threw on a
robe and walked down the hallway to open the door.

                                 *   *   *

        "Mrs. Armstrong, I presume," the smiling face of a tall blonde
teenager confronted her with an abruptness that startled the young woman
momentarily.
        His eyes blatantly traced the contour of her throat down to the
cleavage of her breasts under the thin robe.
        Jennifer pulled the robe close, unnerved by the lewd stare that
didn't pull away from the smoothly undulating curves of her body, so evident
beneath the light covering material.
        "Yes...uh, are you a friend of Sandy's?" she managed,moving back from
the door.
        "Yeah," the youth said, exposing a pair of crooked discolored teeth.
"But actually a real good friend of Ellen's."
        "Ellen's not here. She's gone to the beach with Sandy and won't be
back until this evening," Jennifer said with more coldness than she had
intended.
        Jennifer looked at the boy's thin pock-marked face, then stared past
him to the street. A child pedaled past on a tricycle; a bird lit on a
low-hanging branch behind the boy's head.
        "Mind if I step in for a cup of coffee, Mrs. Armstrong?"
        She flinched at hearing the boy using her name. Evidently, Ellen had
told him of her visit, she thought, and for some reason she felt anxious at
the way he had casually addressed her. "It won't take but a minute. After
all, lady, I am your sister's boyfriend."
        Jennifer stood limply aside and let him pass into the living room.
        "I take my coffee black, Ma'am," he said, slouching down on the low
danish-modern sofa.
        "I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name," she said, folding her
arms uncomfortably over her voluptuously full breasts as the boy continued
staring obscenely across at her.
        He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. His face colored
slowly, and then he said: "Chuck. Chuck Miller, and you're Jennifer," he
smacked his lips and withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket.
"Yeah, Ellen's been tellin' me a lot about ya. Bet ya didn't recognize your
baby sister, did ya? Oh I tell ya, she's grown a helluva lot since then, yes
Ma'am."
        Jennifer went into the kitchen and plugged the coffee pot already
filled with water and grinds from breakfast into the wall socket behind the
stove. She heard Chuck Miller shuffling about in the next room, the sound of
music suddenly blaring from the stereo set, and she felt another surge of
irritation at the boy's uncouth manners. She couldn't understand how her
sister could have chosen this repulsive teenager as a boy friend. Tall and
skinny, with a pock-marked face scarred from severe acne, he was in no
manner the match for Jennifer's sister whose youthful good looks far
outclassed the stumbling awkwardness of the Miller boy. There was something
disconcerting about the way he had stared at her at the front door, not
removing his eyes from her barely clad body whose gently swelling contours
pressed against the sheerness of her robe; but again she reprimanded herself
for projecting her own insecure feelings onto the boy who might have been
simply oblivious to the fact that he had disturbed her so much.
        "I'm sorry, but this is a bit warmed-over," she said, more
cheerfully, as she returned to the living room with two cups of hot coffee
and some rolls set on a tray.
        "It'll do just fine," he said, and bent his frame to the cup and
saucer she had set on the coffee table in front of him.
        For the first time Jennifer found her own gaze focusing on the boy's
body, as though his lewd glances at her provoked a kind of obscene magnetic
response in herself, and she blushed over when she realized that her eyes
had lit on the bulge of the boy's genitals beneath the rough tight-pressing
material of his jeans. Chuck looked up at her, catching her glance, and
smiled.
        "Y'know, I didn't realize that Ellen had such a goddamn sexy
sister!" he laughed heartily, the cup jiggling in his hand.
        Jennifer felt her face color over again. She pulled the flimsy robe
tighter around her waist and sat down in the arm chair across from him,
crossing and uncrossing her legs uncomfortably as her sister's boyfriend
continued staring relentlessly at her.
        "How long have you known Ellen?" she tried to find a subject that
would distract the almost repulsively rude boy from his obvious fascination
with her young body.
        He said flatly, "Met your sister at a beach party last July. First
thing I saw coming at me from down the beach was this little sexpot poured
into a tight black bikini, those big tits bobbing and that sweet li'l ass
swinging, and you know, Mrs. Armstrong, I just got too goddamn hot and
bothered." He shook his head and stared meditatively out the living room
window. "She's good, Mrs. Armstrong, too goddamn good...but now I see that
sorta thing kinda runs in the family."
        Jennifer recoiled in her chair. Chuck's clouded blue eyes danced
merrily, a wide uncontrolled grin expanding his cheeks. "But I guess ya
haven't had the chance to see all that's happened to Sandy and Ellen," he
cleared his throat, and passed his eyes over her gracefully crossed legs.
"Bet ya can tell a lot has changed since you've been gone."
        It hasn't been anything that I might not know about?" Jennifer
asked, her curiosity whetted.
        Chuck Miller pushed back his thick mop of greasy blonde hair from
his forehead. "Nothing," he said, and slapped his hand against the flat of
his thigh. "I mean, Mrs. Armstrong, Christ, all ya gotta do is use your
imagination!"
        A thin line of perspiration beaded on the boy's upper lip. He was
obviously disturbed by the way she had pursued the subject, and now she was
unsure whether he wanted her to know what kinds of things her sister and
brother had been doing, or if he just wanted to drop it.
        "Tell ya the truth, Ma'am," the Miller boy said, stubbing out the
butt of his cigarette in an elaborately sculpted ceramic ashtray. "It ain't
the sorta things ladies should hear about!"
        Jennifer shifted uneasily in her chair. An apprehensive chill swept
down the length of her spine as the pale face of her sister's boy friend
turned to her. It was just a feeling, she knew, and she couldn't justify the
nature of her slowly building fear although she sensed a quality of evil, or
perhaps merely a lingering taint of immorality in that young face that
should have been innocent and pure in its youthfulness, but which appeared
strangely old beyond its years. "I really...I don't understand wh-what you
mean," she stuttered.
        "Well," he drew out the single syllable of the word, sighing as his
eyes casually took in the shape of her firmly-set breasts that swayed
slightly as Jennifer turned to him. "Parties, stuff like that, Mrs.
Armstrong."
        "But Chuck, that doesn't seem unusual."
        "Sandy and Ellen," he scratched his head and twisted nervously on
the sofa, "They're not just goin' to parties. They organize 'em. Sorta like
orgies, if ya get what I mean."
        "Good Lord, th --that's impossible!" she said in a high-pitched
voice. She couldn't believe what she had just heard, and she watched the boy
in shock as he stood up from the sofa.
        Chuck Miller thrust his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
"Well, Sandy and Ellen, they're really close. Y' might say, Mrs. Armstrong,
that they like doing things together. Not exactly orgies, mind ya, that's
too strong a word, but pretty near it."
        "You know, Chuck, I think you're just making all this up," Jennifer
smiled. "I don't believe a word you've said. I should know my own sister and
brother, and they're just not like that."
        I suppose," he chuckled. "But they, well they do things your mom and
dad wouldn't approve of."
        "Tell me, Chuck, does it have anything to do with marijuana? You can
be open with me. After all, I'm only a few years older than yourself."
        The sight of Ellen's sister clothed in only the thin blue robe that
showed the sensual outline of her smoothly uplifting breasts had clearly
excited him, and he clenched his fist over his chest, fighting within
himself over the lust that was building in his adolescent body, and trying
to suppress the bulge of his cock between his legs from becoming too
obvious. "Yeah, that's part of it," he regained his composure somewhat. "But
ya can't let your parents know about it. Geeze, Sandy and Ellen'd kill me."
        "Well, it's certainly the kind of thing teenagers are going through
these days," she said philosophically.
        Chuck Miller looked relieved. He moved across the carpeted floor and
sat down on the end of the sofa closest to her, propping his feet on the
coffee table and lighting another cigarette. Jennifer watched him
uncomfortably, wishing that he would leave so that she could begin the day
as she had planned. She had to admit to herself that she was not too shocked
at what he had told her. She was not so ignorant about the goings-on of the
generation only a few years her junior that she was completely unaware of
the dangers of marijuana smoking or the promiscuous activities that many
young people were taking part in to be overwhelmed by this new information
about Sandy and Ellen. She did find it difficult to imagine how her sister
could have gotten involved with the Miller boy whose coarse manners and
crude way of talking left everything to be desired. He just didn't seem to
be her sister's type, but she reminded herself how things had changed since
she had graduated from high-school. Teenagers were a lot more open in their
attitudes towards drugs and sex, and, like it or not, she thought
reflectively, their free-swinging, life-styles demonstrated this.
        "Damn, y'know, I never imagined Ellen had a sister as pretty as you
are, Mrs. Armstrong," the boy said, breaking her disjointedly from her
thoughts.
        Jennifer looked up.
        "I mean," the Miller boy said, standing from the couch and pivoting
onto the floor in front of her. "Ya got a body that'd turn anybody on,
especially a guy like me!"
        Nervously, Jennifer pressed back the long sweep of her honey-colored
hair that curled over her neck, pushing it out behind her back. The boy
suddenly stood directly in front of her, his face contorted into an
expression of lust, his eyes, that reflected the glare of sunlight coming in
the curtained windows, beaded on her loins.
        "What ya doin' married, Mrs. Armstrong? Good, God, ya know ya could
go places with a goddamn body like that!"
        She flinched when he rested his hand on the back of her chair. She
could see the slight swell of his balls filling his jeans and the
protuberant bulge of his hardness pressing tightly against the blue denim.
        "Good God, you're ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "I've never met
anybody like you before!"
        "That's what everybody says, Mrs. Armstrong. That's just what your
sister said when she first met me. 'Chuck,' she says, 'I never met anybody
like you.' But I ain't as bad as all that. I mean, was I being forward, I
mean am I being forward sayin' I like a pair of big tits like yours?"
        "Damn it! You're obscene!" Tears of outraged humiliation flooded her
eyes. "Perhaps Ellen likes to be treated like this, but remember, young man,
I am not my little sister!"
        She rose from her chair, but the boy's hand gripped the back of her
robe, catching her in mid-movement and spinning her around towards his face.
Jennifer twisted from him, swinging the flat of her hand into his cheek and
he fell back, his hand rising to the smarting blow. Jennifer's robe had come
completely undone in that terrifying moment and she quickly pulled it shut
over the large upstanding mounds of her breasts that jostled just inches
from his face.
        "I guess I better go," he said dumbly.
        Jennifer nodded.
        "I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Mrs. Armstrong," he
apologized. "It was that goddamn robe. You shouldn't be walking around in
something as naked as that."
        Looking down she noticed that the front of her robe had come open
again, disclosing the deep cleavage of her widely-spaced breasts. One nipple
protruded lewdly to the side, its rose tipped firmness completely exposed to
Chuck Miller's obscene gaze.
        Quickly, she thrust her hand to her chest, pulling the light blue
cotton over her lust-inciting nakedness. She caught a glimpse of herself in
the full length mirror that hung over the sofa: her long blonde hair fell in
a brightly shimmering halo around her face, appearing slightly mussed from
the struggle with the boy; her robe was a bit daring, she realized, noting
the curve of her hips that pressed tightly in a gently undulating line
against the loose fabric. She turned to her sister's boy friend, attempting
to think of something to say that would soothe the tense situation, but
nothing came. Even if he had tried to seduce her, it was clear that he had
been provoked by her sensuous appearance, and she was partly to blame for
all of this. Still, she thought, there were limits and he had boldly
transgressed them, having assumed that Jennifer was as loose with her
affections as her sister.
        The boy turned from her and pushed through the open screen door.
Jennifer Armstrong looked out the living room window as her sister's
boy friend walked across the front lawn and slid into his sportscar parked
in front of the house. Then she turned away from the harsh glare of the sun
and faced the empty room. An odd odor filled the air, smelling familiar and
yet strange to her sharpened senses, more like the odor of dying flowers --
but no that wasn't it, it smelled like something human, something resembling
the scent of bodies worked up to a fever pitch of excitement, which was
clearly the odor of human lust.