The Answer

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He was in the shower when the phone rang. Cullen had just gotten home, and Tom barely heard the phone over the noise of Cullen's "music." He ran out, naked and wet, and grabbed the phone just in time.

"Krets residence, this is Tom. May I ask who's calling?"

"Mr. Krets, we've got the results of those tests. Would you like to hear them now?"

His eyes lit up and his stomach filled with butterflies. "Yes, tell me now please."

"Well, we tested the uh... heh hem... the substance on your wife's underwear, and it came up as a 100% match to your wife's DNA."

"Oh God, I was right then? What about the semen?"

"Uh... yeah. Well, we had some difficulties figuring that out, and even when we thought we cracked it, we're not sure. It's kind of puzzling. The semen was a close match to your own DNA, but also closely matched your wife's DNA. And the semen was mixed in with the other substance, indicating that the two substances mixed, which we figure is from the act of sex. So uh... how long did you say it was since you and your wife had sex?"

"It... it's been years. At least 13 or 14 years, if I remember correctly."

The voice on the other side was silent for a half a minute, then it said, "Then sir, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Krets, do you have a son?"

Tom's jaw dropped, and he couldn't talk.

"Mr. Krets? Are you there?"

"Y-yes. I'm here."

"Do you have a son?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Do you have any other children?"

"No."

"Then Mr. Krets, I think your wife and your son are--as goes the current slang--doing the nasty together."

Tom dropped the phone and his head and began to weep. He couldn't believe it! He picked up the phone and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sure. You might want to find out for yourself, though, if you want."

"Thank you. Thanks. I'll go see. You might have made a mistake."

The other voice said sadly, "Yes, we might have. Good bye, sir."

"Bye," he said, and hung up the phone.

When he pulled himself together a little, he went into Cullen's room to see if he was in there. Nothing. So he checked the restroom. Ditto. Then he set his ear against the door of the bedroom he and his wife shared. He did not like what he heard. He heard Camille moaning with pleasure and telling Cullen to "do it to (her) harder!"

Tom looked in the keyhole and was disgusted at what he saw, for he saw his wife and his son in bed together, naked and fucking. He saw Camille's breasts heave as she was rocked by orgasms stronger than anything Tom had ever been able to give her. Her cum was spraying all over everywhere, on top of the plastic sheet that was laid on top of the bed.

Then the ultimate blow to Tom's sense of ethics was when, after they both came strongly, Cullen moved positions and began to lap up the cum out of his mother's cunt. He was giving her a thorough job, too. So Tom finally couldn't stand it anymore, and he opened the door and screamed, "You fucking incestuous WHORE! Child RAPIST! How COULD you, Camille!?!?"

Camille and Cullen both jumped so quickly at Tom's yelling that Cullen choked on his mom's cum and fell to the floor, gagging and gasping. Camille pulled a top sheet over herself and sat up, glaring at Tom.

"How dare you! You, who call yourself a husband! You never seemed interested in sex after Cullen was born, no matter how strongly I hinted that I wanted some! You mistreated Cullen and expected him to grow up faster than he could, and you've kept a tight leash on the both of us! If you want to blame anyone for our affair, blame yourself! Your controlling ways have kept me from any kind of sexual pleasure, and masturbation was getting boring. You kept Cullen from seeing any girls, and you made me work nights! So you shouldn't be surprised that in our desperation, we clung to each other.

"Cullen and I love each other, Tom, and I hate you! Cullen was the only good thing that came out of this marriage! I would've divorced you, but I was afraid your manipulative ways would give you custody of Cullen, so I held my tongue. What do you say about that, Mr. Ego?"

Tom, full to the brim with fury, grabbed a lamp off of the nightstand and made to hit Camille with it. But just in time, Cullen kicked him in the nuts as hard as he could. Tom went down like a rock, but swung the lamp, and hit Cullen in the back, bruising him. Cullen knocked the lamp out of Tom's hand and away from his reach, and then the two males--father and son--started punching, hitting, kicking, and biting each other.

It was a long struggle, and might have lasted for hours, but Camille grabbed the wooden bar in the closet that held the clothes up, pulled it out, and cracked Tom on the head so hard that he went limp immediately. Blood ran from the wound, and they checked to see if he was alive. He was not.

Camille and Cullen held each other tight, and cried in each others' shoulders for hours. They were finally rid of the terror that had brought them into each others' arms, and didn't know what to do next. They would just have to wait.


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