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From all outward appearances, suburbia maintains the strait-laced middle-class look that belies the social ferment behind closed doors.
There is the secret use of drugs, fed by the marijuana syndrome. There is the river of alcohol flooding from door to door under the euphemism of social drinking. Then, of course, there is the advent of swinging and illicit sex. All in the spirit of good clean fun… But where does the fun stop and the degradation begin? When one excess leads to another — and another — to what? When the children set as a pattern for their own lifestyle what already is the norm at home?
This is the story of a young widow, Sheila Kane, and her twin sons, John and Bobby. It is startling as a mirror of a way of life behind closed doors. No facade. No regrets. Indeed, for them it is the norm.
The norm… For the Kanes, yes. And how many other families like them?
A novel of fiction for entertainment. A page from our restless society as food for serious thought.
Sheila Kane walked briskly into the tiny bedroom on the second floor of her home. Moving quickly across the thickly carpeted floor, she threw open the heavy blue drapes. Sheila turned around and nervously brushed back her long blonde hair, smiling at the tall, black-haired man who had followed her up the stairs. She could sense that he was becoming more interested in her big tits and firm ass than he was in the room.
“It’s not exactly the White House, but it is cheap,” Sheila said, feeling torrents of hot blood fill her spongy cuntlips in spite of every attempt to calm her snatch down. She almost groaned with delight as she felt her pussy membranes slowly stretch and throb.
Stop it! Sheila screamed to herself as she curled her fingers into her palms and dug her fingernails into her sweaty skin.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.
Note: This story is the same as catalog number TB-2026 in the original publications (a duplicate).