Tight. Then “*ow*” again, not caring who knew and this being only the beginning. Sex vedio And again. They’ll have changed the names and would deny everything, having since destroyed their notes. Pushing. George and Maggie, the girls knew, would never really get over themselves. “Did you fake?” asking their mother, regarding the home movie, the orgasms. Breadth. Dry. The nightly news was flickering in the corner when Maggie stepped robed into their bedroom without knocking and handed her daughters a quart jar of what looked like spoiled egg whites; globules hovered throughout and it was still hot and gross with life. He felt better. Though more was expected, the girls still started at the first sharp cracks – no voices yet, just the irregular flat smacks of big flesh; the girls knew of the paddle and the handcuffs – and then the spanks coming steadily, faster, and finally their mother’s calls for more, demanding, as aggressive as was their father’s swing of the wood. The girls’d remark ‘good?’, smirking, and George’d just say, “yes. The nightly news was flickering in the corner when Maggie stepped robed into their bedroom without knocking and handed her daughters a quart jar of what looked like spoiled egg whites; globules hovered throughout and it was still hot and gross with life. “I’ll supervise” she consented, and Maggie confided in them things that even the video didn’t reveal, and
