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A love simple and pure.

Now the underwear.

She took two pushpins from the shelf and walk across the room to the far wall, where on another shelf, in a place of honor, sat her childhood doll, Marie Antoinette. Her head was placed between its legs. Next to that was a dildo. An ancient family heirloom, cunningly carved from ivory by her foremothers, and inscribed with dark images and spells. Pinned to the wall above both where eleven pairs of men's underwear. After she'd added the latest to her collection, she picked up an ink quill and in black letters scrawled above them, "JASON". Stepping back, she looked the all over, running a hand down one of her braids and absently tweaking her nipple as she did. Twelve now. Almost thirteen. That was a good number.

She turned on her heel and went to her closet to get her bathrobe. As she slipped it over her shoulders, she pondered if Pugsley had been spying on her last night. She suspected he had. She was certain she'd caught of glimpse of his eyes in the wall two nights earlier. And she knew he had peeped on their parents. She didn't really care. She'd never tell him, but the thought of his watching from the shadows somewhat turned her on. Besides, she'd get him back. She always did. As she went out of the room she paused to scoop up the remaining clothes from the floor. Heading down the hall to the bathroom, she stopped and dropped them down the shoot leading to the incinerator.


As Wednesday was adding to her collection, Pugsley was just waking up. He'd fallen asleep sprawled half on and half off his bed, and he opened his eyes reluctantly. His body ached viscously. When he moved, he felt his sore, chafed member half glued to his thigh by crusted cum. He was quite familiar with these conditions. He had masturbated twice while watching his sister fuck last night. Then he'd come back to his room done it again while reviewing his own collection.

He rolled off the sheet and lurched onto the hardwood floor, yawning loudly as he did. His room bore all the traits of a typical fifteen year old boy, mountains of dirty clothes on the floor, an over flowing wastebasket though there were some unusual additions. A collection of small animal skeletons lined a bookshelf in the corner. Mounted on the wall by the bed were dozens of Traffic signs, baring warnings like "STOP", "RAIL ROAD CROSSING", "BRIDGE OUT" and "SLOW CHILDREN". On the other wall, were hundreds of vintage pornographic posters. There were black and white stills of woman in lingerie, flappers from the roaring twenties exposing themselves, sexy half naked pinups. They started on the floor and crept up the sloping wall to the ceiling.

At the foot of the bed, half hidden by the clutter was an open trunk. Inside were stacks and stack of magazines and photographs. He'd been acquiring them gradually over the years since he was twelve. In there were classic bondage and fetish depictions. Whips, paddles, dildos and more. All manner of perversion was on display. Many were antiques. A large number were of members of the family. Over the years many Addams' had posed for erotic artwork. His absolute favorites though, were collection of 1964 Dark Desires magazines, featuring Mother Addams. Those had been what he'd gone to last night.

He stretched and ran his hands through his short sandy hair. As his eyes drifted across the posters on the wall down to the open trunk load of filth he found himself recalling last night and he snickered to himself. His aching cock began to stir and he sat back down on the foot of the bed and began to fish through the stacks. His minds eyes flickered with images. Wednesday's face twisting in pleasure while a pumping cock pounded into her. His mother on her back, her legs on father's shoulders, screaming as he plowed into her. He himself was still embarrassingly a virgin, but he'd seen more in the way of debauchery than those twice his age.

He had just selected a magazine and was laying it out over his lap when his head perked up at the sound of the door down the hall closing.

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