"Aw," Sandra said, running her hand over the front of David's pants. "You don't need to fuck her, David. What do you need with Shari when you can fuck me?"
"That's why I wanted to fuck Shari," David sneered at his sister. "I know I can fuck you anytime I want. But I don't live with Shari. I can't fuck her all the time the way Mike and I fuck you, Sandra."
"You're just jealous," Mike said to his sister. "You don't wanna let us fuck anybody but you."
Shari managed to get her panties on, but when she put her dress on, she found that it was torn so badly she couldn't cover herself.
"My mother is gonna be pretty mad," she said to them. "She won't like it because you tore my dress."
"You better not tell on us, Shari," David threatened, raising his fist. "You tell on us and you're gonna get it!"
"That's right," Mike agreed, supporting his brother.
"You get us in trouble, Shari," Sandra said, still showing her jealousy, "and I won't ever play with you again."
Shari watched them disappear into the grove. She stood where she was for a long time, trying to think. She knew her mother would question her about her torn dress. She had twigs and leaves in her hair and her body had dirt on it. Maybe she could sneak in the house and take a bath before her mother saw her.
She started home, winding her way through the scented orange trees. She could still feel that nice feeling between her thighs and even her nipples tingled hotly. Shari found herself giggling.
CHAPTER TWO
"What happened to your dress, Shari?"
Shari had entered her house through the rear door, trying to sneak through the wash room and down the hall to her room without her mother seeing her.
She turned and saw her mother in the doorway leading to the kitchen. "I… fell, Mom," she lied.
"Fell?" Joyce stared at her daughter. "And tore your dress just by falling? What were you doing, climbing trees again? And you have dirt and leaves all in your hair."
"I gotta take a bath," Shari muttered and ran down the hall toward her room.
Joyce watched her daughter, a frown on her face. She did not believe that story for a minute. A dress would not be torn in that manner by a fall.
Joyce felt exasperated again. Ever since her husband had passed away, she had been struggling to raise her daughter and son as best she could, along with keeping the orange grove up. The task was almost too much for her, and she often thought of selling out and moving into the city. There would be enough money from the sale for them to live for years if she was careful. Joyce didn't like living way out here, away from neighbors. When her husband was with her, she loved it. But now she had no one except Shari and Bobby.
She wanted to enjoy herself, go out and meet people, preferably men. The word 'men' always startled Joyce. But she was honest with herself. She was intensely sexual and was constantly horny. There were no men out here for her to meet except for the transient laborers, and she wanted nothing to do with them. What men there were had wives and families, and she wanted nothing to do with that sort of situation.
She turned back to the kitchen where she had been juicing oranges. There was something wrong, she felt, but if Shari didn't come to her about it, she could not help her. She had never interfered with her children, always waiting for them to approach her. It was possible her daughter had torn her dress by falling, but somehow Shari did not act as if that was what had happened. For one thing, Joyce had seen that unusual glow in her daughter's eyes.
She finished with the oranges and washed her hands. Then she went to her daughter's room and, with Shari still in the tub, she examined the torn dress. There was a long rip from the hem all the way to the waist, and the front of it had been torn all the way down, too. Carrying the dress, she went to the bathroom and entered without knocking.
Shari, sitting in a tub full of bubbles, looked up at her mother. Joyce saw that the glow was still in Shari's dark eyes. She sat on the toilet with the dress in her hands. She gazed at her daughter until Shari dropped her eyes, and her sudden flush was not missed by Joyce.
"Okay, honey," Joyce said in a quiet voice. "Tell me how this happened. And I don't want any made-up story, you hear me?"
"Mom, I told you. I fell," Shari insisted.
"And I said I didn't want stories," Joyce said firmly. "Look at me, young lady!"
Shari lifted her eyes shyly. Joyce saw that warm glow in them, saw the excitement that her daughter still felt. She knew immediately what had happened. She had felt the same feeling too many times herself.
"Stand up, Shari," she demanded, dropping the torn dress to the floor. "Stand up and let me look at you."
Shari slowly stood in the tub, bubbles clinging to her naked body. She felt no embarrassment about being naked before her mother. There was no shame concerning seeing each other without clothing on. They didn't allow Bobby to see them, of course, but they had seen each other many times.
"Get out of the tub," Joyce said, taking the towel. She dried her daughter's body as Shari stood on the floor. Joyce felt Shari tremor beneath her hands. When she had all the soap bubbles off, she looked at Shari's nakedness critically. Joyce was on her knees, facing Shari. She looked over the small, flawlessly shaped tits, down the flat stomach, and for a brief moment gazed at the curling dark hairs of her pussy. Then Joyce leaned a bit closer, reaching a fingertip forward.
"You're scratched, Shari," she said.
"Where?" Shari asked, looking down.
"Open your legs."
Shari parted her thighs, and her mother probed at a scratch very close to her cunt, perhaps half an inch long. The cut was superficial, but the location was like a bright, exploding light.
"How did this happen?" Joyce asked.
"Mom, I told…"
"That's enough, Shari," Joyce said sharply. "You tell me how this happened, and I want the truth, young lady."
"I-I can't, Mom," Shari stammered. "I can't tell you."
Joyce looked into her daughter's face. "All right, Shari. Did one of the men grab you?"
Shari shook her head. "Oh, no! That wasn't what…" Shari began to cry.
Joyce stood up and drew her daughter against her body, hugging her tightly. "There, there," she murmured. "You don't have to cry, darling. You weren't hurt, were you?"
"Oh, no!" Shari sobbed, holding her mother's waist tightly. Then she blubbered out the story. "And they said they would beat me up if I told on them," she finished.
Joyce held her daughter, feeling a weird excitement coursing through her. What her daughter had just told her sent bubbles of pleasure racing throughout her body. Although she was such a horny woman, she still felt strange that she could feel this way about what had happened to her daughter.
"They raped you," she said quietly.
"No they didn't, Mom," Shari insisted. "They didn't rape me. They just made me take my clothes off and then David fucked me. That's all."
"And Sandra fu… did it to Mike," Joyce asked. "And you watched it, Shari?"
"Y-yes," Shari sobbed.
Joyce felt a tingling heat between her thighs, and she thought she would come just picturing what her daughter told her. Her cunt swelled inside her panties and she became extremely wet. Her mind began to work, and she smiled as an idea formed in her mind. It would work, she knew, because she could threaten the kids with exposure.
"They won't harm you, darling," she said, caressing her daughter's naked back. "Don't you worry about a thing. I'll handle those kids."
"What are you gonna do, Mom?" Shari asked, feeling protected.
"Get dressed and come with me," Joyce said in a husky voice. She left her daughter in the bathroom and went outside to the small shed where they stored tools and various equipment.