Incest/Taboo Dig a Pony

"As a matter of fact, he couldn't help but notice. When I have my outfit on, it pushes these babies up and out like you wouldn't believe. There isn't a man out there that wouldn't admire them. Is your interest simply prurient, or is there some other reason you ask?"

"That weasel told Marge and me that we had nice tits, too. He must tell every woman that when he see their tits," reasoned Sue. "Now I wonder if he's full of shit, or if he really does like my tits."

"What the goddamn hell difference does it make?" I demanded as I began to pace the room. "All three of you were in a sexual relationship with Tyler, yet none of you realized it? Is that what I'm hearing?"

"I never said Marge and Sue were pony girls," corrected Bianca. "I doubt Tyler had the time or inclination to bother with them when he had me in his stable."

"Oh yeah?" snarled Sue. "He was fucking me in the ass all the time. He loved how tight it was!"

"I was sucking his cock every chance I got!" insisted my wife proudly.

"Only after he fucked my ass!" retorted Sue with an evil grin. "He told me it saved him having to take a shower."

I managed to grab Marge as she lunged for Sue. I thought I had caught her in time, but when I hauled her back next to me, she had a major portion of Sue's blouse in her hand.

"I'm sorry, Sue," managed Marge as she, Bianca and I stared at Sue's exposed breasts.

"That's okay," responded Sue as she placed her hands to conceal her ample melons. "They're probably all over the internet by now anyway. Tyler probably posted our illicit affair on some of those pay sites and made a fortune off my tits and ass."

"I never thought of that," admitted Marge. "I'll probably be getting calls from random guys wanting one of my amazing blowjobs. I don't even know the going rate."

"What in hell is wrong with you three?" I asked as I shook my head in disbelief. "You don't know that Tyler posted anything to the web. Hell, you don't even know for certain that you had any sort of sex with him. The only thing we can be sure about right now is that Sue has seriously nice tits.

"Bianca, you said that your outfit made your tits stand up and out. How do you know that if you have no memory of ever being with him in that way?" I asked since I had been considering her statement ever since she had made it.

"If you must know, Steve likes me to pretend to be his pony. He likes to train me, ride me, feed me treats, discipline me, you know what I mean. We're adults and what we do in our home is no one else's business," insisted Bianca defiantly.

I took a slow pull on what was left of my now warm beer as I considered the situation. The women wandered into our bedroom in search of a top Sue could wear home. Things just didn't add up.

I had known Tyler for fifteen years. He was a quiet guy. He had his own consulting business and worked from home. That would have given him the opportunity to have kinky sex with every one of the ladies in our group, but it seemed way out of character for what I knew about him.

I trusted the guy. We all did. In fact, he kept the keys to most of our homes since he lived in the community and worked at home. It wasn't all that unusual for one of us to call him and ask for a favor during the day. It could be anything from letting the cable guy in to helping the kids when they forgot or misplaced their house keys. He was always willing to lend a helping hand.

I just couldn't see him drugging or hypnotizing at least three women into being his sex toys. I was a bit pissed at Detective Cook for suggesting it. On the other hand, what other explanation could there be? Cook claimed to have videos of Tyler living his fantasies with at least three married women, one of whom was my wife.

I began to wonder if the other wives in our group believed that they were involved sexually with Tyler. The common denominator seemed to be Detective Cook and his crazy assertions about blowjobs, ass fucking, and pony girls. The odd thing was that all three women actually did those things with their husbands, or so they claimed.

With so many people in the community being questioned by Detective Cook, the residents in our neighborhood seem to withdraw into themselves. It was apparent that the killer was not only still at large, but quite possibly one of our neighbors. Social events became nonexistent. Residents stopped taking walks in the evening and most people made their children play inside.

I was due to take a week's vacation when Ralph Johnson called me on Sunday afternoon. "Dan, I hate to ask you this, but I'm in a bind. I'm going to put the house on the market and I need a little help cleaning out my tools and stuff. I rented a storage unit from Cube Smart over by the mall. The reason I'm calling is my back went out yesterday and I can barely walk.

"Grace and I are supposed to meet with the realtor on Tuesday and we want to get rid most of the clutter. I plan to place a lot of my stuff in a small storage unit until we find a new house closer to Grace's new job.

"I remember that you always took the first week in April off to start your garden and do maintenance on your house. Would it be possible for you to come over tomorrow and sort out my stuff and take the items worth keeping to the storage unit? I'd pay you for your time and you can use my pickup to haul everything."

"Sure, Ralph," was my immediate reply. "I'll be over first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe we can get it all cleaned up by noon or so."

"Was that Ralph Johnson?" asked Marge. "What did he want? Was he hoping I'd blow him since Tyler died and I must be desperate?"

My relationship with Marge had been more than a little strained since Tyler had been killed. She would frequently mention that she had oral sex with Tyler when the kids weren't around to hear it. It was almost like she was trying to make me angry enough to throw her ass to the curb, and she had me considering it. If it hadn't been for the kids, I probably would have done exactly that.

"I'm going to help move Ralph's tools and other valuables to a storage unit so they can get the house ready to sell," I explained. "He knew I always take time off the first week in April, so he asked me to help him tomorrow.

"It may be hard to believe but not every man wants you to blow him. At least they wouldn't admit it to your husband. You and Tyler had something special going."

"Dan, it wasn't like that! He drugged or hypnotized me into that stuff. I've never knowingly cheated on you in any way. I never would. I just hope they catch the killer pretty soon. Waiting for the other shoe to drop is driving me crazy," admitted Marge. "I hope I never see that Detective Cook again."

"Has he been asking you more questions?" I demanded.

"He's been making a point of showing up in strange places when one of the wives in our social group is out and about. I saw him in the grocery store three days ago. Bianca told me that she ran into him at the mall last week while Sue keeps seeing him at the coffee shop near her work.

"He asked me if I remembered anything more about blowing Tyler and a couple of even more personal things," admitted Marge.

"He asked something more personal than giving blowjobs to a murdered friend?" I repeated in amazement.

"It was pertaining to Tyler's death," explained Marge. "He wanted to know if I swallowed every time Tyler came, or if I ever let him cum all over my 'nice firm tits', his words, not mine."

"He asked that? What did you tell him?"

"I told the truth. I always swallow, but I'm sure that if Tyler told me he wanted to cum on my firm tits, I would have been happy to oblige. I'm an unselfish lover," stated Marge proudly.

"You told Cook that? What in hell is wrong with you? You don't remember even being alone with Tyler, never mind swallowing his spunk or letting him shoot his load on your firm tits!" I exclaimed.

"Thanks for the kind words about my girls," beamed Marge. "You like them, Cook likes them and Tyler literally got off on them."

When Marge moved her admiring eyes from her tits to my face, she suddenly stopped smiling. "I mean he probably loved to cum on my tits if we did what Cook has the video proof that he claims."

"I'm going to help Ralph cleanout his clutter tomorrow. I want you to make an appointment to see someone about your memory lapse and your eagerness to believe that you and Tyler were having an illicit affair," I insisted.

"You, too? Sue said that Bill was making her go to a psychiatrist because he feels that she's developed a strange anal fixation on Tyler. Maybe we can get a group rate or something. I'll get her doctor's name and number from her and call tomorrow."

I was at Ralph's at eight o'clock the next morning. It didn't take me long to determine that just cleaning out his garage would take the better part of the day. It was early afternoon by the time I had carted enough stuff away to be able to open his trap door to the attic over the garage. It was one of those doors on springs that unfolded when you pulled the string down that was tied to it.

With more than a little trepidation, I climbed up the ladder and looked around. Ralph said he was going inside to lie on the couch and he was taking a cold beer and a bottle of Tylenol with him. I had suggested it wasn't the best combination for a sore back, but he felt that he was self-medicating just fine.

I was pleased to discover very little junk had accumulated in Ralph's attic. I stepped onto the plywood nailed across the joists and turned on the overhead light. The first thing I noticed was a laptop sitting in a far corner. It was open and the monitor showed movement.

I moved closer and quickly made out Grace in what appeared to be her bedroom. As I watched, Ralph gingerly walked into the room and approached his wife. To my surprise, I was able to hear him speak as clear as day. He reached for Grace's shoulders and slid her robe off and let it drop to the floor.

Everyone knew that Grace had a large rack, but I was still amazed at the amount of tit flesh the woman possessed. They were very large, yet they seemed to defy gravity.

"I need a quick tit fuck," insisted Ralph.

"What about Dan?" asked Grace as Ralph began mauling her amazing tits.

"He's working on the attic now," responded Ralph. "He'll be busy for a while. Now wrap those puppies around my cock and get me off."

"I don't think it's a good idea with one of our friends in the house," responded Grace, although she made no effort to stop Ralph from taking a nipple into his mouth and nursing like a starving baby.

"Don't tell me that you want him to tit fuck you, too? I'm trying to get past Tyler shooting his load between the twin peaks, but there'll be trouble if you try that again," shot back Ralph as he pulled his mouth off his wife's left nipple.

"I told you that Tyler never touched me like that. He never saw my breasts and certainly never slid his cock between them. Why do you believe that detective over your own wife?" asked Grace.

"I don't know. Maybe it's because he's seen the video and told us about it while asking me questions which suggested he may believe that I killed Tyler out of jealousy," responded Ralph curtly.

I was no expert on women, but as I watched the anger on Grace's face, it quickly occurred to me that Ralph was not going to be getting any. Not surprisingly, Grace bent over, grabbed her robe and disappeared into the bathroom. Ralph grumbled something and lurched back through the open doorway. Ten seconds later, the monitor went dark.

The entire thing was really strange. Ralph didn't even do email. He hated computers and refused to use them. Either Grace or Ralph had forgotten that they had placed a computer in the attic that was capable of recording their bedroom activities, or they didn't know of its existence. The latter seemed more likely.

That was when I saw a small tag with my name! It was the laptop I had given to Tyler almost a year ago. I had purchased a new one after struggling with my old laptop for years. It ran Windows XP, which Microsoft had stopped supporting. I told Tyler that I was going to throw it out one night at a party, and he asked if he could have it. Later that week I erased the hard drive and gave the machine to him. I remembered how much that simple gift had delighted him. How did it wind up in Ralph's attic?

Suddenly the screen lit up and I saw Ralph walking into his kitchen. He carefully took two beers out of his refrigerator and wandered to the garage door. The screen went dark again.

I decided to explore the files on the laptop out of curiosity. Within seconds I was watching video of Ralph sliding his cock between what looked like pillows, but were actually Grace's mammoth breasts. I was still watching it when I heard Ralph call my name. I shut down the file and grabbed some stuffed toys to carry down.

I had no idea what to say or do about the situation, so I decided to say nothing, at least until I could get a better handle on what was actually going on. By this time, I had a pretty good load on Ralph's pickup. I drank the beer he offered and once we finished our brews, I hauled another load to his storage unit.

I made it home that afternoon around four, so I had an hour to kill before Marge came back from work. I strolled over to my garage refrigerator and took out a Bud Light. I almost shit my pants when a person behind me suddenly spoke.

"Could I have one of those while we have a little talk?" asked that damned Detective Cook.

I swung around in surprise and stared at him. How in hell did he suddenly appear in my garage? I never saw him outside when I pulled into the driveway and the garage was empty when the door went up.

As I moved my eyes to the driveway to see his department issued Ford parked a short distance behind my car, he reached out and plucked the unopened beer from my hand.

Shrugging, I grabbed another one and sat down on the stool I keep in my garage for times like this. Cook opened his brew, took a long pull and plunked his fat ass down on my workbench.

"What the hell kind of bullshit have you been telling my wife?" I demanded once my brain overcame the shock of having Cook in my garage.

"I guess that depends on what you classify as bullshit," chuckled Cook. "You can't argue that she has nice tits, or that she gives great head, so maybe you're referring to her blowing the late Tyler Robinson."

"That's a good place to start," I snapped. "Why in hell did you plant the idea that she's been blowing Tyler? She doesn't remember doing anything even remotely close to that."

"Cheating sluts never admit it to their husbands," pointed out Cook as he indicated he'd finished his beer and would like another. Being a good host, I went to my refrigerator and took out two more and handed him one. My first one was only half gone, but I wanted to be sure I kept one in reserve in case he drank the rest of the twelve pack.

"You can't call Marge a cheating slut without proof," I argued, if somewhat weakly. "She doesn't remember having anything to do with Tyler and I believe her."

"Sure you do," chuckled the infuriating Cook. "I made it all up. I never saw the video that shows her topless and sucking cock to beat the band. I never saw that little birthmark by her nipple. I didn't see Robinson pull her head down so she could suck harder and swallow his entire load."

The damn guy seemed too confident to be wrong about it. How would he know about Marge's birthmark if he hadn't seen her topless in a video? It was upsetting as hell.

"Tell me. Did you know your wife was blowing one of your friends?" asked Cook as he placed his empty bottle on my bench. He then reached over and grabbed the extra beer I had planned on drinking and twisted the cap. "Did you kill Tyler Robinson in a jealous rage?"

"No!" I practically yelled at the miserable bastard. "I didn't know it because it never happened!"

"You deny that Robinson was killed?" asked Cook in surprise.

"I know he was killed, you miserable fuck! Marge never blew him. She'd never do that."

"I think you did know. In fact, everyone I've interviewed knows that your wife swallowed Robinson's cock, that he fucked Sue Jackson in the ass, that he rode Bianca Landers like it was the Kentucky Derby, and he really loved sliding his cock between Grace Johnson's enormous knockers!" insisted Cook.

"How in hell could people know that, unless you told them, you miserable prick?" I demanded.

Cook signaled that he had another dead soldier in his hand, so I angrily grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and handed it to him. He nodded his appreciation.

"Hey, don't take it out on me because Robinson was getting all the pussy and tits he could handle at the expense of his friends. How about I show you a nice set of tits that aren't your wife's? That should help take the sting out of being married to a fucking tramp," placated Cook.

"Well, I do like seeing tits," I admitted. "What have you got?"

"Don't tell anyone I let you see this, but I have a video of Robinson giving the Johnson to the Johnson woman's big tits," whispered Cook conspiratorially as he turned on an iPad he had carried with him. "Look at the hooters on her!"

I watched the video he showed me for about ten seconds before I turned to Cook in amazement. "You have got to be the dumbest son-of-a-bitch in the fucking world. That's a video of Ralph Johnson's Johnson between his wife's tits, and that isn't even the half of it!"

"Now you're telling me that you know what your friends' cocks look like?" laughed Cook. "You're the dumb bastard. You should prefer going to the electric chair before admitting to being a damn fag cuck! Unless you have some proof, I'm sticking with the theory that this is Tyler Robinson's dick."

"That's the other half of the story," I chuckled. "Tyler Robinson was a black man. The cock in the video is white!"

"Shit!" blurted Cook. "Nancy Robinson is white. Are you sure her husband was black?"

"Come on, Cook! We played cards and even went on a few trips together. He was a really good guy and he was black. I'm quite certain."

"That takes me back to square one," lamented Cook as he went over and pulled out a beer and then offered me one. "Have you really seen Johnson's Johnson, or did you just make that shit up?"

"That's kind of a weird story," I admitted. "I was helping Ralph move some tools and stuff to a storage shed when I found a laptop in his attic. It used to belong to me and I had given it to Tyler."

I suddenly had an idea. "Where did you get the videos showing various wives from our group doing all that kinky shit you claim to have seen?"

"I searched Robinson's laptop and found the short clips. I just assumed he had taped women in his home. I used to do that all of the time until... well. Never mind. Why do you ask?" was Cook's next question.

"Were there any clips of Nancy Robinson on his laptop?" I asked as I tried to shake the thought of Cook's bedroom videos.

"Yeah, there were a few with her. In them, she was being spanked by some big black guy before he fucked the shit out of her. I don't usually watch interracial porn.

"Wait! Could that have been her husband?" asked the incredibly sharp detective.

"The laptop I gave him was set up in Johnson's attic, apparently recording intimate moments. There was also a camera in the kitchen, now that I think about it. Tyler had keys to the homes of his friends. I wonder if he planted cameras and recording devices in them?"

I felt my gut lurch as I suddenly realized that Tyler had a key to my house! What if he had set up cameras in my house? I rushed over to the rose bushes and vomited until there was nothing left in my stomach.

"I don't like to give advice, but you really should cut back on your drinking," offered Cook as he finished the last of his beer and pulled out yet another. "You're going to kill those rose bushes."

I wiped my mouth and hurried into my kitchen and began looking around in a bit of frenzy. Cook followed me in and watched as I pulled appliances out and unplugged them. Then I began running my hands along the top of the cabinets.

"If you're looking for more beer, there's some left in the refrigerator in the garage," suggested the detective. "Your clock is an hour off. Did you forget to set it when the time changed?"

I turned to find the detective pointing to a small clock sitting on a little nook by the doorway to the living room. I rushed over and unplugged it. Then I spun it around in my hand as I studied it closely. There it was! A tiny optical devise was mounted in the face of the clock!

I ran back out to the garage and looked around. I tried to imagine where I would hide something I didn't want me to find it. The obvious thing was to check out what little attic space I had over the garage. I had to move some stuff out of my way, but I was finally able to pull the steps down and climb up. I immediately saw a laptop pushed into a corner and went over to investigate.

I jiggled the mouse and it came to life. I played back the most recent file and saw myself in the kitchen looking around as Cook came into the room and pointed to the clock! I pulled up a much older file only to see Margie giving me a world class blowjob.

"They are some seriously nice tits!" came Cook's voice from behind me. Startled, I jumped to the side and smacked my head into a rafter.

"That's the same video I have of your wife blowing Robinson," observed Cook just as the owner of the cock in the video sat down on the bed, revealing my entire face.

"It looks like Robinson was secretly taking videos of at least several friends," I observed. "He had keys to most of our homes. If he made secret videos of his own wife, he might have a camera planted in his kitchen."

"Yeah, like I want to learn the recipe for tuna casserole," dismissed Cook. "Why in hell would anyone want to hide a camera in a kitchen? That makes no sense."

"It's the room where most family decisions are made. Guests often sit around the kitchen table and socialize. Sometimes people get shot to death in their kitchen," I added.

"Well, fuck me!" managed Cook as he rushed to climb down from the attic. "Come on! You're going to help me search Robinson's place!"

It only required a few minutes for us to reach the late Tyler Robinson's home. Cook pressed the doorbell and then paced back and forth as he waited for someone to answer.

Nancy Robinson eventually appeared at the door. She was wearing a robe and her hair was wet. It appeared that she had just been in the shower. Seeing Cook, she pulled her robe tighter to her body to make certain Cook had no free shots.

"I'm too busy to even think about your tits," assured Cook as his eyes kept darting to the garage. "I already have the video, anyway. Would you mind if Daniel and I had a look around your garage, Ma'am?"

Nancy barely managed a nod before Cook was off the step and headed for the garage. The overhead door was open, so we went in and looked around. Cook led the way to the attic door in the ceiling and tried to open it, but he was too short to reach the cord to pull it open. He even jumped a couple of times, although the laws of physics were against him. The best he seemed to accomplish was to stand on his toes.

I offered to open it but he stubbornly refused to allow me. He flushed a deep red when Nancy stepped in, reached up and pulled the folding stairway down for him.

I was worried that the steps would fail under his weight, but they held as he actually seemed to scamper up the ladder. I followed him once he had stepped onto the attic floor, relieving the stress on the wooden rungs. By the time I stepped into the attic, Cook had a laptop open and was staring at the screen.

"What do you see?" I asked as I approached his location.

"Not a fucking thing! I don't think it works," was Cook's response.

I reached down and wiggled the mouse and the screen came alive. I pulled up the files and opened the oldest file that had not been named. Cook and I stood side by side as we watched in high definition as Tyler walked into the kitchen and opened the door for whoever had been banging on it. I recognized Van Butler as he pushed his way into the kitchen. He reached into his jacket pocket as he cursed at Tyler for backing over his $400 bicycle that very morning. Then he pulled a gun and shot Tyler in the head!

"Holy shit!" croaked Cook. "We have our killer. Do you recognize the guy?"

"Yeah, it's Tyler's next door neighbor, Van Butler," was my stunned reply.

"Damn! I knew it," chuckled the detective as I just stared at him in stunned disbelief..

"The Butler always does it," explained Cook with a straight face.

"So that jackass didn't have videos of me blowing Tyler? He didn't even know that Tyler was black? The video was of me blowing you?" asked Marge as I tried to explain the stunning conclusion to the mur*er case.

"If it wasn't Tyler that fucked Sue in the ass, who was it? Did you see that video?" questioned Marge.

"Not yet, but I think I have an idea of how to access it," I answered with a smile.

"Oh! I bet you think Sue has a computer hidden by Tyler in her attic that recorded Bill pounding her ass? That would mean that pony girl Bianca might have a few photo finishes stashed in a computer in her attic!" chuckled my wife. "Maybe I could talk to Sue and Bianca about their little fetishes and see if I could master them. I owe you for not tossing my ass to the curb for blowing Tyler. Would you like to ass fuck your own pony girl?"
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