Apparently Frank's ravishing wife Carol wasn't enough pulchritude for him, because the sly insurance agent was using more than his golfing finesse when he entertained his "clients" on the country club golf course. When Frank's disillusioned spouse learned of her husband's extracurricular techniques, the titillating blonde made up her own rules- She drove the pros wild with her educated hole in one!
Chapter One
Carol Anderson was savoring the unadulterated joy of her "post-dispersal" coffee, as she called it. The children, Pam and Jack, had departed in their usual meteoric fashion for parts unknown. Frank, sturdy, calm, undemonstrative husband that he was had given her his usual absent-minded peck on the cheek and muttered something about an important client before gathering up his attach� case and driving off. The soft summer breezes through the kitchen window stirred a wisp of blonde hair and cooled Carol's neck pleasantly, the peace and tranquility of the moment seeped deep into her bones and she inhaled the aroma of coffee made just the way she liked it. Now that the house was empty, she let the modest robe she wore slide open, freeing one smooth, well-turned leg and letting the fresh air brush the bare skin above the top of her shorty pajamas.
"Good morning. Anyone home?" Carol stirred herself to reply. "Come on in, Marje. The coast is clear."
Marjorie Greene wrestled with the back door, finally managing to wrench it open with a powerful jerk. "I thought Frank was going to fix that sticky door," she commented as she helped herself to a cup of coffee.
Carol indulged in a wry smile. "He was going to do it last weekend," she answered, "but an important client had to be entertained on the golf course."
"Oh," Marje murmured as she settled into a chair. "Again, huh?"
Carol sipped her coffee. "Not again; as usual. Or maybe I should say still. How's Paul?"
Marje shrugged. "As usual, he forgot the mail and the garbage. He gave the cat the dog's food and gave the dog the salmon loaf I was saving for the cat. I have to put his underpants on top of his razor and leave them on the toilet seat. That way he does remember to put them on and to shave. I tell you, it's such fun being married to a college professor."
Carol smiled and leaned back to stretch. The motion made her robe fall completely open, displaying her barely concealed full breasts. "At least you get to see your husband."
"Yeah. When I married a college professor, I thought I was marrying a quiet, placid, reserved gentleman. My somewhat bruised thighs prove otherwise."
"Again last night, huh?"
Marje shook her head, her red pony tail swishing from side to side. "Not just last night, but this morning, last night, and yesterday noon. Do you know what he did yesterday noon?" Marje didn't even pause for an an answer, but rushed on, as usual. "He bombed into the house at twelve-thirty. I was out in the kitchen with the dishwasher running, so I didn't hear a thing. The first thing I know, he's stark-naked and grabs me around the waist. I just had time to turn the burner off under the teapot before he carried me out of the kitchen like he was Og the Cave Man. He plunks me down on the dining room table, pulls my skirt up and my panties down and takes me right there."
"With no warm-up at all?" Carol gasped, feeling her own belly tensing with excitement at the thought.
"What warm-up? He doesn't need a warm-up," Marje replied.
"I mean for you," Carol explained.
Marje colored slightly. "Well, to tell you the truth, I don't really need much of a warm-up. Besides, when he grabbed me in the kitchen, he kind of managed to get my titties with one hand and my pussy with the other."
"Oh," Carol muttered. After three years as Marje's neighbor, Carol was relatively immune to the other woman's unabashed language. "Well, any time you're too tired to take on Paul, just send him over here. I could use him."
"Good old Frank the Feeble, huh?" Marje observed.
"It's not that." Carol bristled slightly, then shrugged. "Or, maybe it is. Hell, you know how it is with Frank. He works so hard. When he gets home he can hardly stand up himself, let alone make anything else stand up."
Marje sipped her coffee. "Well," she observed, "there are the weekends."
Carol shook her head. "What's a weekend? During the week he's selling policies in the office. On weekends, he's selling them out on the golf course." Carol brightened at a thought. "Except tomorrow, by God."
"So what's with tomorrow?" Marje asked.
"Our anniversary," Carol replied.
"Oh, boy, good luck! If Paul ever remembered our anniversary, I think they'd better have a heart-lung machine standing by," Marje said.
Carol's lips tightened with resolve. "Oh, Frank'll remember our anniversary all right. I stuck a note in his brief-case, pinned one on the sun visor of the car and stuffed another one in his shoes. And, I made him promise me this morning that he would not play golf tomorrow, no matter what."
Marje toyed with the tip of her pony tail, studying it for split ends. "Sounds like you covered all the bases. I wish you luck."
"He won't get away this time. And to clear the decks, I got the kids off to a beach party that'll last all day and half the night," Carol noted smugly.
"Sounds like you've got everything lined up all right. You sure trust your kids a lot."
Carol shrugged. "If I can't trust them by now, there's not much hope. I've done my best to teach them right from wrong."
"Seems awfully young to me, but then I don't have any children," Marje noted.
"Jack's fifteen, and Pam is thirteen, and these days, that's not all that young. Besides, I know who they're going to be with."
Marje glanced over her shoulder at the clock. "Hey, it's exercise time."
The two women got up from the table and made their way down the stairs to a basement playroom. As Carol switched on the television set, Marje dragged a pair of gym mats out into the center of the polished tile floor.
"Wow, he is really a hunk of man," Marje observed as the set displayed a short, astonishingly muscular, man. He was selling a patented exercise machine which resembled a medieval torture device.
Carol studied him as she slipped off her robe. "Not my type," she noted.
"Fiddle faddle," Marje denied. "There's no such thing as types when it comes to sex. A man is a man."
"When you're as desperate as I am, I guess you're right," Carol agreed reluctantly as she settled down on one mat.
Marje had also doffed her robe, revealing a pair of brief lace panties and an overly full bra. Her red pubic hair showed as a slightly darker color through the white lace. As she settled on the mats, she cast a quick glance at her exercise partner. "I really don't see how that husband of yours can prefer a nine-iron to you."
Carol glanced down at herself. Her breasts were large and firm, matured through nursing two children. The shorty pajamas she wore she had chosen the night before in the vain hope that Frank might not be too tired. The dark circles of her nipples could be seen through the filmy fabric. The panties were transparent, and concealed nothing. "I keep trying, Marje, but he's immune to everything these days."
Marje could sense Carol's misery. "I'm sure he won't be tomorrow. And meanwhile, maybe Muscular Mike there will help sublimate your urges."
Following the instructions being given over the television, Carol and Marje bent to their task with vigor for several minutes. Carol found herself working up a heavy sweat as she bent and twisted her torso in time to the beat being counted out by the instructor. She was panting heavily by the time he called a halt to take time for another sales pitch.
"Darn it, this bra binds too much," Marje complained. "Do you mind if I take it off?"
Carol shrugged. "Why should I mind? We're consenting adults."
"Don't tempt me! You're a very desirable woman, Carol Anderson," Marje replied as she reached back and unfastened her bra. The straps slipped down her arms and she tossed it into a corner. Her breasts seemed to swell happily at their release from confinement. The globes were milky-white, crowned with small pink nipples.
Carol brushed a wisp of hair back from her face. "Back to work, Marje," she stated, settling down on the mat. She and Marje had been over this ground before, and it no longer disturbed Carol that her neighbor was sexually interested in her. In fact, Carol reflected, it was a good thing somebody was. Frank's preoccupation with his business was ego shattering. If it hadn't been for Marje's occasional allusions to Carol's sexual desirability, Carol was certain she would have long ago given up on the exercises.
As she labored at the calisthenics, Carol found herself sweating heavily. The top to her pajamas, skimpy as it was, kept slipping and interfering with her movements. Finally, in disgust, Carol stripped it off.
"Now you're getting into the spirit of things," Marje commented, her breasts heaving as she panted for breath.
"Dam top kept getting tangled up," Carol observed defensively. The air
in the basement did not seem so warm now, and she felt her nipples stiffening slightly as a draft from the open window high up on the wall brushed past her. For some reason she felt she had to defend removing the pajama top to her neighbor.
"Mmmm, you look good enough to eat," Marje observed, boldly studying Carol's big breasts. The tan line from the halter top that Carol usually wore was plainly visible. Her skin was tanned only slightly, to a golden hue, while her breasts were pale white. Her nipples were large and dark in color, providing fitting caps for the full maturity of her bosom.
"Oh, Marje, really," Carol protested, blushing slightly.
"No kidding," Marje went on, "if that husband of yours doesn't work out, just let me know. I don't have any silly prejudices that restrict me to just men."
"So you've told me, often," Carol observed.
"Oh, oh, here come' the tough ones," Marje noted as the instructor reappeared on the screen, accompanied by a girl that was built along lines as feminine as his were masculine. "These panties of mine have got to go for this series." Unabashedly, Marje stripped off her one remaining garment.
Carol found her eyes being drawn to her neighbor's nude body as if it were a magnet. The red-haired girl was small and very shapely. Her skin was freckled slightly, and she had no bikini marks at all. "You're not bad-looking, either, you know," Carol observed.
Marje grinned and arched her back, sticking her breasts out boldly. "I thought you'd never notice," she retorted. She obviously enjoyed the admiration she was receiving from Carol. "Any time you want to sample the wares, just feel free."
"Don't you get enough from your husband?" Carol asked.
"I can never get enough," Marje observed. "I discovered that after Paul got me properly broken in on our honeymoon."
The redhead stretched out on the mats in compliance with the directions being given for the man's part in the exercises.
Carol joined her, trying to keep her eyes from Marje's red snatch. Dutifully, Carol took the part of the woman in the exercises. For the next few minutes the two women worked their muscles against each other, pulling and stretching as they did so. Despite herself, Carol found herself studying Marje's lithe body as they worked, and fires were beginning to percolate slightly in Carol's belly. Mentally, she shook her head, denying the urges she felt building in her gut. I'm not, she thought firmly to herself, that desperate yet. The hunger in her belly violently contradicted these thoughts and she felt her pulse accelerating beyond what could be attributed to the exercises.
After five more exhausting minutes, the instructor made his final pitch for the exercise devices and signed off, with what Carol regarded as a disgusting amount of enthusiasm. She lay wearily back on the mats, sweat pouring off her body, her ribs heaving.
"Whew, I don't know how that stud stays so calm and relaxed after work outs," Marje panted. "It's about all I can do to make it home afterwards."
"Ohh, do I ache," Carol moaned softly. "I think every one of my muscles is sore."
Marje finally managed to sit up, mopping the sweat off her forehead with the back of one arm. "When are you going to air-condition this house anyway?"
Carol rolled her head on the mat. "Frank was going to do it last spring. But..."
"But he had to play golf with a client," Marje finished the sentence for her. "You know what you are? You're a golf widow."
"Oh, it's not that bad," Carol denied.
"It is so," Marje retorted. "When was the last entire weekend you spent with Frank?"
"Well, let's see. Last Christmas we went to his mother's house for the weekend."
Slowly, Carol rolled over and struggled to her feet. "Okay, you're right. I'm a golf widow," she acknowledged. "Maybe a hot shower will take the ache out of my muscles."
"Can I join you? I hate to go home all sweaty," Marje said as she got up.
"Sure, come on." Carol led her friend upstairs to the second floor, pausing to get fresh towels out of the linen closet.
Marje casually made use of the toilet as Carol was adjusting the water temperature in the shower. "What I want to know is, what are you going to do about it?" Marje prodded.
Carol shrugged wearily and stripped off her filmy panties. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess."
"Oh, that is great. Just give up without a fight."
Carol stepped into the shower and reached for the soap. "Maybe I'll be able to get to him tomorrow. He used to be more interested in me than any set of golf clubs. I haven't lost my shape, so I should be able to get through to him."
Marje joined her friend in the shower. "I'll bet you won't even see him tomorrow. I just bet he'll tell you that he's got an important client he just has to play golf with, and you won't see him all day."
"Oh, no, he wouldn't do that," Carol denied.
"I'll bet you a lunch downtown that he will. Now, give me the soap and I'll do your back," Marje retorted.
"I'll take that bet," Carol replied. The hot water sluicing down over her bare body was relaxing her sore muscles. She luxuriated in the feeling of Marje's slick, soapy hands over her back, kneading the muscles. As Carol relished the pleasant sensations, she felt doubts beginning to stir in her own mind about the bet she had just made. Resolutely, she pushed down the thought that Marje might be right. The thought popped right back up again as she recalled the number of similar promises her husband had broken. "But they weren't on our anniversary," she muttered.
"What was that?" Marje asked as she soaped lower.
"Nothing. Hey, what are you doing?" Carol asked as she felt Marge's hands soaping and kneading her buttocks.
"Washing you," Marje replied, continuing to massage the full, rounded masses.
"Oh," Carol answered, her voice quivering slightly. Something about the way Marje was working her fingers into the crack between the buttocks touched deep feelings in Carol.
"You really do have a magnificent body," Marje commented as she probed into the valley of Carol's ass.
"Thank you," Carol replied. Why am I letting her do this? she thought as she felt Marje probing. Instead of resisting the other woman's invasion, Carol found herself spreading her legs slightly to allow more access. As the red-haired woman's fingers, slick and soapy, probed and pried, Carol felt the fires of her passions increasing.
"Turn around," Marje commanded, her voice husky and unsteady.
Like a robot, Carol obeyed the command. She looked down into Marje's intense blue eyes and felt herself sinking deeply into them. "What are we doing?" Carol whimpered softly as Marje began to soap Carol's full breasts.
Marje paused for a split second and held out a bar of soap. "Washing each other off, of course," she replied in a shaking voice.
Moving as if some outside force had taken control, Carol began to soap her friend's curvy body, starting with the neck and shoulders and working her way down Marje's chest. As Carol began to soap and squeeze Marje's full, firm breasts, Carol felt the nipples stiffen in her hands. Carol's own breasts were feeling full, tender, abused and hot all at once from Marje's attentions. Fires Carol had almost forgotten existed were building as she weighed, squeezed, rubbed and massaged Marje's big breasts. Carol felt her chest heaving with excitement. Finally, Carol could bear it no longer and threw her arms around the small red-haired girl, crushing her tight with passion. As they pressed together, Carol felt Marje open her legs to admit one of Carol's thighs. Understanding, Carol lifted her leg, grinding her thigh against Marje's pussy. At the same time, Carol spread her own thighs to capture one of Marje's. The touch sent a blaze of passion through Carol, making the world swim. For a long moment the two women stayed locked together under the pounding rush of steaming water.
Finally, Marje gently pushed free of her neighbor. "Let's get out of here so we can do things properly," the redhead said hoarsely.
Fumbling in her haste, Carol turned off the water and pulled the shower curtain back. "The bed. No, it'll get wet. Downstairs, the gym mats," Carol gasped hoarsely.
Naked and dripping, the two women dashed downstairs and tumbled together in a tangle of arms and legs on the mats. Their lips met in a grinding, open-mouthed kiss, exciting, demanding and promising all at once. Their legs interlocked and tangled, each girl grinding her pussy against the other's thigh. Carol was barely aware of the chill of the water drying on her as she tasted Marje's mouth. Carol's tongue dueled with Marje's as it once had, long ago, with her husband's. All thoughts of Frank were driven from Carol's mind as she mashed her full breasts flat against Marje's curvy, softly cushioned chest. Carol felt a climax approaching, driving her last tiny, lingering doubts before it. All at once it burst over her like a tidal wave, making her juices burst forth to drench her pussy and Marje's driving thigh. At the same time, Carol could sense Marje's building climax, and drove her own thigh upward into the redhead's snatch. Marje's arms tightened around Carol like steel bands, and Carol knew Marje was feeling the same joyous blast of pleasure overwhelming her. They clung together as Carol's passions slowly declined, leaving her limp and exhausted.
"Now I'm going to need another shower," Marje muttered as she fought to regain her breath.
"Oh, my God," Carol whispered softly, "what have we done?"
"I don't know for sure," Marje panted, "but I hope we do it again."
"I feel sick," Carol replied.
"Hey, don't take it so hard." Marje tried to calm her. "It's not all that bad."
Carol rolled away from Marje and huddled miserably in a ball. Frightened, Carol tried to shrug off her friend's solicitous hand. "Don't touch me!" she wailed.
Marje ignored the protest, stroking Carol's back gently with tender fingers. "If you think this makes us Lesbians, think again," the redhead said softly. "I've been doing things like this for years, and I still love to make it with Paul."
"It was horrible," Carol stated.
"Was it really?" Marje asked, still gently stroking her friend. "I didn't think so at the time, and neither did you. It's just that you're so frustrated and horny that you'd take any port in the storm, and I bet you will again."
"Go away," Carol ordered, a little less surely. Marje's gentle strokings were not only calming Carol's fears, but raising remnants of her passion.
Instead of moving away, Marje brushed Carol's hair aside, and nibbled tenderly at her neck. Carol felt ripples of excitement spreading through her from the nipping touch of Marje's lips. The first nip from Marje's teeth sent a blaze of fire through Carol, making her groan helplessly before the building passions.
"It's not wrong," Marje murmured softly, and Carol found herself wanting to believe her. "There's nothing wrong about it," Marje went on softly, her breath puffing in Carol's ear.
"Please stop," Carol whispered pleadingly. The next touch of Marje's lips on Carol's throat drove her reservations away. Carol found herself rubbing her thighs sensuously together and flexing her crotch muscles. "Oh, God, don't stop," Carol whimpered.
As the redhead's lips moved down over Carol's chest, Carol took stock of every incredible sensation being stirred. She even noticed the feathery touch of Marje's pony tail. Carol reached for Marje's breasts, and lifted and fondled first one soft mass, then the other, making the nipples harden.
Marje's lips found Carol's breasts and began to suckle first one nipple then the other, sending waves of excitement through Carol's body as the big tits stiffened and hardened. Carol's head rolled with passion as her excitement grew under the gentle stimulation of Marje's exciting mouth. Carol pinched Marje's nipples, bringing a gasp of excitement from the redhead.
With her free hand, Carol reached down to her aching cunt and pressed and rubbed it as Marje's mouth continued to work. The feel of a heavy breast in the palm of her hand gave Carol additional excitement. Now, her passions aroused, the thought of making love to another woman was increasing, rather than decreasing, her excitement.
Marje's lips left Carol's breasts and moved lower. For a few moments Marge traced a zigzag line down Carol's belly to her navel, and paused, tongue dipping into the little hollow. The touch sent an electric jolt of pleasure through Carol, causing her to increase her own activities with Marje's full breast. Finally, not satisfied, Carol squirmed her head beneath Marje's chest, and her mouth took possession of one of Marje's full breasts. Desperately excited, Carol tried to suck as much of the large breast into her mouth as possible.
Marje's lips left Carol's navel, and began to work lower in a series of nipping kisses, and Carol knew exactly where the other woman was headed. Excited beyond words, Carol writhed and shifted in an effort to make Marje's path easier. The first touch of Marje's lips in Carol's pubic hair set her awash with flame. She found herself tracing a similar path with her lips down Marje's softly rounded belly. Carol's eyes could see only Marje's skin, then the first wisps of red curling pubic hair. Lower and lower Marje moved on Carol, and Carol moved lower and lower, finally, with the tip of her tongue, sensing the hair-covered slit of Marje's pussy. Hesitating a second, Carol's fears were driven from her mind by the first poke of a tongue into her cunt. Compelled to reciprocate by lust and gratitude, Carol tongued Marje's pussy open, tasting the metallic flatness of the other girl's already copious juices.
As Carol pushed through the folds of flesh with her tongue, she felt Marje's own explorations bearing fruit as she probed Carol's vagina. Carol wrapped her arms around her friend's hips, dragging Marje's pussy down. Carol mashed her jaw into the bush of hair, her mouth sucking and seeking the juicy tissues. At the same time, Carol drove her hips upward, driving her pussy against Marje's eager mouth. The redhead seemed to understand and began to almost chew Carol's excited flesh, sucking and tonguing Carol's pussy until Carol felt herself climax once, and then again. As she came the second time, Carol redoubled her efforts on Marje and felt the other girl's juices pour forth in a flood with first one climax, then another.
For long minutes the two women chewed and sucked at each other, and were racked by a series of simultaneous, ever-building orgasms. Finally, exhaustion and passion almost drove consciousness from Carol, leaving her unable to move. With a happy cry, Marje completely collapsed on top of Carol, forcing Carol to struggle to free her face from Marje's crotch in order to breathe. Panting from exhaustion, Carol struggled to get her breath as she was pressed flat into the mat. Finally, she succeeded in levering the other woman's body off of her.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Marje finally managed to ask between breaths.
Carol shook her head. Finally she found her voice. "No, it wasn't so terrible. I just hope I have something left for Frank tomorrow."
"Don't worry; you'll be better than ever. But don't count on Frank. You're going to buy me one very expensive lunch on Monday."
"I don't think so," Carol denied. Wearily she struggled to her feet. "Let's get a shower. And no funny business this time."
"Who, me?" Marje asked innocently as she got to her feet.
Half an hour later, Carol was alone in the kitchen, cleaning up the last of the breakfast dishes and loading the dishwasher. She refused to let her mind dwell on the recent session with her neighbor. Finally finishing the task and turning on the dishwasher, Carol decided on a nap instead of dusting as she had planned.
Chapter Two
"Good morning, Mom."
Carol turned her cheek to accept her daughter's dutiful kiss. A mound of bacon was draining on a folded paper towel, and Carol was busy keeping the scrambled eggs from sticking to the skillet.
"Morning, Mom, sleep well?" asked Jack.
"All right, thank you. How are you and Pam getting to the beach party today?"
"Ben Paulson will pick us up in an hour."
Carol dished up the eggs, picked up the bacon and distributed the plates at the table. "Did you make your beds?"
"Yes, Mother," Pam answered wearily.
As Carol worked at the sink, she reflected on the rapid growth of her children. It seemed barely months ago that they had been learning to read, and fighting over stuffed toys. Now Jack was turning out to be as long and lanky as his father, shooting upward at a rate that made clothes seem to shrink from day to day. Pam, on the other hand, had gone abruptly from a gawky, skinny tomboy to a curvy beauty with the same soft blonde hair that Carol was proud of. Pam's breasts had blossomed into large, firm, pink-capped mounds that rivaled her mother's. In just a few months the girl had gone from begging for a padded bra to battling to avoid wearing any bra at all. This morning the thirteen-year-old's breasts were bobbing and weaving under her thin blouse, plainly unrestrained by any undergarment.
"Pam, I think you'd better at least wear your bathing suit top to the beach," Carol suggested gently.
"But, Mom, none of the girls wear bras except to school," Pam protested.
"I don't care what the other girls do; you wear a bra," Carol stated firmly. "You're bigger than the other girls, for one thing. And besides, you're not going swimming topless, are you?"
Pam looked shocked. "Mother! We'll change at the beach."
"Just the same, you wear a bra this morning," Carol said in her no-nonsense tone of voice.
"Yes, Mother," Pam agreed reluctantly. "What are you and Dad going to do today?"
"What do you think, silly! It's their anniversary," Jack interjected.
Carol blushed slightly. "Never you mind what we're going to do today."
"Mom, I wish you'd remind us of your anniversary," Pam protested. "I try to remember, but never do. Now it's too late to get you a present."
Carol chuckled. "The best present you can give me is to drink your orange juice, go put on a bra and clear out for the day."
"Yuk, I hate orange juice," Pam protested, then made a face as she downed the glass of juice quickly.
"Whoops, there's Ben," Jack said as a horn blasted impatiently outside.
In a second the two children ran out of the kitchen. Before Carol could call Pam back for her bra the kids had scooped up their beach bags, shouted good-byes and dashed out the door. As it banged shut behind them, Carol heaved a sigh and began to fix a big breakfast for herself and Frank. As usual, he had been late the evening before, arrived home to a cold dinner, worked late into the night over the new policy, and fallen into bed too tired to even kiss her good night. Carol had carefully shut off the alarm before she had dropped off to sleep, resolving that whether he wanted to or not, Frank was going to get a full night of sleep for a change.
As she worked, she felt little tremors of excitement flickering through her belly. Certain that she had Frank to herself at last, her mind skipped and jumped from one erotic daydream to another. At one time Frank had been a good lover. So good, in fact, that Pam had arrived a year earlier than planned. As she fried more bacon, Carol reflected that in those early years of marriage, Frank had known more ways of turning her on than now seemed possible.
Leaving the bacon in a low oven to keep warm, Carol decided to check on Frank before going further with breakfast. Opening the bedroom door quietly she peeked inside. Frank had tossed off the covers and, nude as usual, was sprawled on his back, snoring softly. Stretched out, he looked taller than his six feet. He was lean and trim, without an ounce of fat. A shaft of sunlight sneaking through the curtains spotlighted his groin. His cock was half-erect as he slept, making Carol quiver slightly with excitement. Moving silently so as not to awaken him, Carol decided it would be wise to add a little icing to the cake she was prepared to offer him, and slipped into the bathroom. Checking her well-scrubbed complexion and fair hair critically, she decided that while not necessary, a little make-up would not hurt her chances in the least. Carefully, as if she were preparing for an expense-account night out, Carol made up her face. A few quick flicks with the comb restored her hair to its usual casual arrangement.
As she reached for the perfume the sleeve of her robe caught the plastic cup and it dropped into the sink with a deafening clatter. As she froze, she heard Frank begin to stir. Moving quickly, she put on her perfume and, after a final quick check, she opened the bathroom door. Frank was just rolling over and reaching for his watch on the bedside table.
"Good morning, darling," Carol greeted him softly.
"G'morning," Frank grunted, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand. He peered at his watch and seemed to jerk awake, then checked it again. "Good God, the time," he groaned.
"What's the matter?" Carol asked, her blood freezing at his tone.
Scrambling, Frank turned to check the alarm clock, as if not believing his watch. "Oh, my God, I've got to hurry."
A horrible premonition swept over Carol. "Frank, relax; it's Saturday," she said, desperately hoping he had only forgotten what day it was.
"I know, I know," he muttered as he searched under the bed for his slippers. "I'm supposed to be at the golf course in half an hour."
"Frank, no" Carol cried, her voice breaking. "You promised."
He passed her on his way to the bathroom, barely sparing her a glance. "You look different this morning. Didn't you sleep well?" he asked.
The bathroom door shut in her face. "Frank, it's our anniversary," she protested loudly through the door.
"I can't hear you Honey," Frank shouted over the sound of running water.
A sick feeling of hopelessness grew in Carol's chest as she faced the unresponsive door. "Frank, you promised you wouldn't play golf today."
The door opened and Frank shot past her without a glance. "I'm sorry, Honey, but the boss arranged it last night. I promise I'll stay home tomorrow."
Carol fought back tears. "Tomorrow we have to take Jack to a baseball game."
"Well, then, one day next week. Where's a clean undershirt?"
"In the second drawer of the bureau, where they always are," Carol snapped. "Frank, it's our anniversary," she reminded him for the second time.
"Happy anniversary, Hon," he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Have you seen my golf shirt?"
"Third drawer," Carol replied automatically. "Frank, please ..."
"Gotta hurry, Honey." Frank buckled his belt and headed for the door. "I'll talk to you tonight. Better not wait dinner, though; this guy plays slow and then likes to drink after the match."
"Frank?..." Carol asked one last, futile time as he hurried down the stairs. On shaking, miserable legs she stumbled after him, reaching the bottom just in time to see him dash out the back door, his bag of golf clubs rattling on his shoulder. The final slam of the door behind him stripped Carol of the last bit of strength in her legs, and she sank weakly to her knees on the hall carpet. She tried to call him one more time, but her voice caught in her throat, emerging as a hopeless sob as she began to cry. For a long time she knelt in the hall, tears streaming down her face. Finally, the smell of the bacon roused her and, fighting to see her way to the kitchen, she opened the oven door.
"Ouch, goddamn it," she swore as she burned her fingers on the plate, then reached for a potholder. Moving woodenly, she set the dried-out bacon on top of the stove. Lost and dazed, she wandered aimlessly out of the kitchen and into the beautifully furnished living room. Sinking down on the couch, she stared blankly into space. All her plans for the day had been demolished in a few brutal moments, and she was unable even to consider what to do with herself now. With everyone gone, she found herself shivering from the terrible emptiness of the house. Finally she moved.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, and the sound of her voice in the echoing house only reminded her more of her loneliness. "I've got to do something," Her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace caught her attention as she stood up. Her tears had streaked make-up down her cheeks, producing an Indian war paint effect that was ludicrous. Relieved at having something definite that needed to be done, she headed upstairs to the bathroom. In a few minutes she had removed the telltale tracks down her cheeks. A cold washcloth reduced the redness of her eyes from her crying. Checking her reflection critically in the mirror, she decided not too much showed.
Still wearing her robe and pajamas, Carol busied herself with straightening up the kitchen. Frowning over the waste, she dumped the cold, hard bacon in the garbage. Resolutely, she refused to contemplate the empty day facing her. With less success, she tried to ignore the hungry itch in her groin. For weeks she had been looking forward to their anniversary, and the session with Marje the day before had done nothing to reduce the hunger Carol felt for her husband. She was going over the top of the stove with a rag for the third time when her mechanical moves were interrupted by a soft tap at the back door. Tightening her robe, she went to answer the door.
Standing on the porch was a handsome youth Carol thought looked vaguely familiar.
"Mrs. Anderson, I'm Mike Santucci, a friend of Jack's."
"Oh, yes, Mike," Carol replied as she tightened the belt of her robe self-consciously.
"Jack said you were putting in a fish pond in the backyard and needed someone to dig the hole, remember?"
"Oh, yes, of course, I'm sorry. Why don't you come in?"
"No, thanks, Mrs. Anderson. I was going to do the digging tomorrow, but I can't, so I wondered if it would be all right to start today."
Carol thought for a second. "I don't know why not. Do you know where it's supposed to go?"
"I think so. Jack said there were stakes and string marking the spot."
Carol pointed past him, feeling the hot rake of his eyes over her chest before he followed her finger. "Right in the back corner there, by the garage. Do you need tools?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I'm afraid so," Mike replied.
"You'll find everything you need in the garage. Just set the sod aside in the shade, will you?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Sorry to bother you," Mike apologized.
"That's quite all right," she reassured him. The memory of his dark, flashing eyes and curly black hair lingered in Carol's mind as she closed the back door. Shaking her head, she went back to giving the kitchen a thorough cleaning. After finishing the cabinets and beginning to work her way down the counter toward the sink, the heat of the sun streaming through the window began to get to her. Deciding there was little harm in it, she stripped off her robe.
Reaching the sink finally, she was rinsing out the washcloth for the last time when she happened to glance out the window. Mike had stripped off his shirt, and his darkly tanned torso glistened with perspiration as he swung the pick to break up the hard earth. The flexing of his muscles awakened new fires in Carol as she studied the youth. She recalled that he normally played football at high school, and took on jobs such as this one to build his strength in the off-season. His Levi's were tight, hugging his well-muscled legs and thighs. His hips were trim and masculine, his waist narrow. As he bent to pick up a large rock, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged. Carol found herself panting slightly as she studied the healthy youth. He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead with one forearm and she caught a glimpse of his handsome profile. His chest was heaving slightly from his breathing. The rippling of his muscles as he moved easily, again swinging the pick, made Carol's breath catch in her throat.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, trying to tear her eyes away from the boy. She again bent to the sink, but her eyes kept returning to the youth. Finally, she threw the washcloth down. Gathering up her robe, she went upstairs and tried to put Mike out of her mind as she made the bed. Instead, she found herself standing at the window, staring down at him as he worked. His youthful masculinity made her tingle, made her nipples stiffen with interest. He faced her now, and her eyes continually strayed to the bulge at his crotch. She knew if he looked up from his work he would see her at the window in her almost transparent pajamas. The thought that he might look up made Carol's breath catch in her throat. She was disappointed when he failed to do so.
"He's young enough to be your son," Carol muttered to herself angrily. The thought merely excited her further. "It's insane," she muttered, trying to turn away from the window, but failing. She tried to think of her husband, and immediately felt a flash of anger. "It would serve him right," she said, not aware she was speaking out loud. Moving mechanically, she went back downstairs. Her hands were shaking as she reached into the liquor cabinet for the gin. She tried to tell herself that she was mixing the gin and tonic because she was thirsty. The smooth taste of the gin that quickly seemed to steam through her veins made even that rationalization unnecessary.
"Don't want to scare the boy away," she muttered, going back upstairs for her robe. She tied the belt loosely, then went to the back door.
"Mike," she called out in a voice that seemed to choke her, "you'd better take a break and come in out of the sun for a while."
The boy leaned on the handle of the shovel, panting slightly. "I'm all right, Mrs. Anderson."
Mentally cursing his reserve, Carol argued. "You won't be if you get sunstroke. You'd better come in for a drink."
"Well ..." Mike hesitated.
"Don't worry. You're more likely to get the pool done if you don't pass out from the heat, believe me," she assured him, trying not to show her nervousness and desperation.
"I guess you're right," he finally agreed, leaning the shovel up against the garage wall. As he approached the house, Carol began to panic. Then the gin she had drunk, combined with the desire that the sight of the youth kindled, calmed her down. She seemed to be outside herself looking in, and her mind clicked like a computer.
"We've got some soft drinks in the basement playroom, if that's all right," she suggested.
"Thanks, Mrs. Anderson; that's great," Mike said. His eyes brushed casually across her chest. She found herself searching for some way to prevent any possibility of failure. "Go ahead downstairs. I'll bring glasses and ice," she suggested, her cunt itching with excitement.
"I'm kind of dirty," he remarked, looking at his soiled hands.
"There's a bathroom down there if you want to wash up," she told him hurriedly. After he headed down the stairs, Carol hastily rounded up two glasses and filled them with ice. Before taking them downstairs, she dug into the liquor cabinet and added two shots of vodka to each glass. The clear liquid looked exactly as if some of the ice had melted.
She got to the playroom with the glasses to find Mike standing in the center of the room, gazing around. "Gee, this is really nice down here, Mrs. Anderson," he said.
"Thank you. Why don't you sit down while I get the drinks? Is ginger ale all right?"
"Fine, thanks very much." Mike wandered around the room, then sat down on the couch.
Carol fought to keep her hands from shaking as she poured the ginger ale and carried the glasses to the couch. She burned inwardly as she felt the youth studying her as she walked. She knew a large stretch of bare leg flickered in and out through the front of her robe. Setting the glasses on the low coffee table, she sat carefully on the couch a discreet distance from the youth.
"Boy, this is the best ginger ale I ever had," Mike said, making Carol flinch, afraid he could taste the vodka. She relaxed when he went on. "It really was hot out there."
Carol gulped, trying to quell her nervousness. "I'm glad you like it. I was afraid you might collapse from the heat. You were really sweating." She fumbled for words, trying to find something to say. "I guess that ground is pretty hard."
"Yeah, work like that can really make you hot," Mike said.
Carol had the insane idea that he knew exactly what he had just said, that the double meaning was intentional.
"I . . . I understand you do a lot of work like this," she said.
"A bit," Mike acknowledged. "It keeps me in shape, and I can always use the money."
Carol could feel the vodka warming her, and sipped her drink anxiously. Mike had finished half of his already and leaned back, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. One of his hands was near Carol's back and she thought she could feel it. She glanced at his well-muscled chest. Young as he was, he already had a few wisps of black hair there.
Carol got jerkily to her feet. "Gee, let's have some music," she suggested inanely. She felt his eyes on her as she went over to the combination radio-record player and switched it on.
The music of a local pop station blared out suddenly, making her jump. Keeping her back toward Mike, and pretending to adjust the set, Carol loosened the belt of her robe and arranged the neckline so it was more open. She whirled suddenly, making the robe flair out, which showed off her shapely legs. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt certain the boy would be able to hear it. A new, sexy roll seemed to take over her hips as she returned to the couch. Mike stared goggle-eyed at her partly open robe, and Carol pulled her shoulders back to better display her full breasts to him.
"Sh . . . sure is nice of you to invite me down here, Mrs. Anderson," Mike stuttered, unable to tear his eyes from her bosom.
"It's my pleasure," she assured him. "How's your drink? Need any more?" She made a show of bending down to look at his half-full glass. Resolutely, she refrained from looking up at him, knowing that her robe was falling away from her breasts, knowing that he could see her dark nipples through the filmy pajama top.
"N . . . no thanks," Mike replied. "M . . . maybe I'd better be getting back to work now."
"No . . . no," Carol almost shouted, then softened her voice. "What's the rush? The fish pond can wait. It's awfully hot out there." Moving carefully, she rounded the coffee table and sat down close to him. She cast a furtive glance at his crotch. Despite his crossed legs she could see the beginning bulge. Her senses flamed at the feeling of power she felt over the boy. As she looked at him, a brief memory of her husband flashed through Carol's mind and she furiously brushed it aside. It was Frank's fault she was this way now, she thought angrily. Deliberately she crossed her legs, causing the robe to fall open more and bare one long, shapely limb all the way to the thigh. As she did this, she leaned back, arching her spine Her neck trapped Mike's arm against the back of the couch.
"Mmmm, it's hot," Carol murmured, feeling Mike's stare.
"Y . . . you're a beautiful woman, Mrs. Anderson," Mike whispered hoarsely.
Carol rolled her head and peered at him through slitted eyelids. "Thank you, Mike, but I prefer to be called Carol."
"Cer . . . certainly, Mrs. An- I mean, Carol,"
Mike stuttered. His eyes were huge as he stared at her.
"Whoosh, it certainly is hot today," Carol ad-libbed desperately. "This robe of mine is just too warm. I think I'll take it off. You don't mind if I take off my robe, do you?"
"Not at all," Mike replied, his voice breaking.
Carol stood up, and self-consciously walked over to an old hall tree, untying the robe as she went. Keeping her back to the boy, she removed the robe and hung it up. She could feel his eyes burning into her back, studying the globes of her barely concealed buttocks. Gritting her teeth with nervousness and excitement, she turned to face him. The music caught her attention, and she began to dance to it. "Dance with me, Mike," she ordered softly, holding her graceful arms out to him. He staggered to his feet and moved to join her in the center of the room, stumbling slightly over the edge of the gym mats as he did so.
Carol was boiling as she subjected herself to the youth's scrutiny. She might as well have been naked for all the cover the pajamas gave her. Her nipples were hard and pointed against the silky fabric, the material slipping across them with every move.
The music ended and they both stood frozen in place. Carol looked deep into the youngster's dark, flashing eyes, her invitation and challenge obvious. With a gasp he took a step forward and grabbed her, his strong arms crushing her against him. His lips bore down on hers in a ruthless kiss, and she opened her mouth to his driving tongue. His hands roamed over her back as they kissed, and she pressed her groin against his. His bare skin felt hot and slick as she gently scratched his back with her carefully manicured nails. Her passion flamed higher and higher as the kiss went on and on. She was gasping and breathless when he finally broke it.
"Oh, yes," she hissed as he nipped at her neck with his teeth. She collapsed onto the mats, dragging him with her. As they sank down they separated slightly, and his hands moved along her rib cage until his thumbs were pressing the swell of the base of her breasts. Carol leaned backwards away from him, giving him full possession of her big womanly mounds. As his hands crushed the masses of flesh, her nipples peaked sharply, boring into his palms as he massaged her through the pajama top. Her fingers sought and found the tie at her throat and pulled it. She spread the silken fabric back, completely baring her chest to him. As he took possession of both her breasts she shrugged the pajama top off entirely. She was ablaze with passion now, and grabbed the boy by his shoulders, and pulled him down on her. As his weight crushed her to the mat, his lips found her ear and nibbled at it, sending new jolts of pleasure through her. She growled deep in her throat, thrilled that he was as good a lover as he looked. As his passion increased, he got better and better.
Finally, he tore himself away from her. Carol lay on her back, arms spread, relishing his study of her. He reached for her panties and she lifted her hips, letting him tug the filmy garment down her shapely legs. Naked before him now, Carol lay totally open to his study. She looked up at him hungrily as his fingers fumbled with his belt. He tore his pants down, tangling them around his feet.
His shorts went next, and his big, strong cock leaped into view, hard as iron as it stood out from its bush of black pubic hair. As he tumbled to the mat beside her, one hand reaching for her breasts, the other her cunt, she took the big staff in her hand, measuring it with her fingers. For seconds that seemed like hours to her they felt each other, one of his fingers driving deep into her moist and ready channel. He knew exactly what he was doing when he pressed her onto her back and knelt over her.
"Take me," she hissed, spreading her thighs wide for the boy as he settled between them. His cock drilled into her cunt, its first touch bringing a gasp of joy to her lips. Inch by inch he drove into her, panting heavily as he did so. He tried to support his weight with his arms, but she dragged him down, reveling in his weight mashing the air from her lungs. As he drove deeper and deeper into her, his youthful vigor and enthusiasm made her blaze even hotter.
When he drove to his full depth in her, their pubic bones crushed her clitoris between them, sending a new, exciting wave of pleasure blasting through her. Then he began to piston in and out. Carol was so horny that she climaxed immediately, searing waves of joy rolling over her, wringing a cry from her lips. And still the young boy pounded at her, their flesh slapping together in an ageless, joyous rhythm. Faster and faster he slammed into her, raising her upward toward another orgasm until, with a final, powerful jolt, he drove into her one last incredible time. As his cock began to twitch and spurt, hosing her guts with his cum, she climaxed again, her cunt spasming around his pulsing rod as unspeakable pleasure engulfed her.
For a long time they lay in a heap, panting, until Carol had to gently roll him off her. His cock was still hard in her cunt, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him inside her. A proud smile played across his lips as he studied her.
"You're quite a man," Carol acknowledged.
"And you're quite a woman," he replied.
Carol squeezed down on his cock with her cunt. "This wasn't your first time, was it?"
He chuckled deep in his throat. "No, Ma'am," he answered, and made his cock twitch inside her. "And it isn't the last, either."
"Oh," Carol gasped at the feeling of his rod jerking slightly inside her. "You're not done yet!"
"No, Ma'am," Mike replied, beginning to move again. He moved slowly now, just slipping his cock in and out of her a fraction of an inch each way. He was arrogant in his youthful power and stamina.
Carol gasped as he moved in her. She could feel every tiny motion of his prick, and a new climax began to grow in her gut, spreading flames through her belly. Ever so slowly he moved in her, and Carol spread her legs wide, welcoming his deepest penetration. His teeth flashed in a fierce grin as he began to stroke harder and harder into her.
Carol could feel the juices of their first coming drying between the cheeks of her ass as her next climax built. Faster and faster Mike moved, driving Carol higher and higher until she climaxed again, and then kept on climaxing as he continued to slam into her. Finally he slammed into her one last time, and Carol felt steaming jets of sperm shoot high into her for a second time. Her climax shot even higher until she almost blacked out. She felt his spurtings dying away inside her, then felt his cock begin to shrink. All efforts to keep him in her were futile. His cock wilted completely, and Carol's own muscles betrayed her by squeezing the limp mass out. Tears of loss trickled from under her eyelids.
Limp and exhausted, she sprawled nude on the mats as Mike got up. She opened her eyes and looked up at the youth. He almost seemed to sneer at her as he pulled his pants up and fastened them. She wanted desperately to say something, to explain to him, but the words caught in her throat.
"I gotta get back to the fish pond, Mrs. Anderson. Thanks for the ginger ale."
As he left the playroom, Carol rolled over on her belly and began to sob softly.
Chapter Three
An hour later Carol dragged herself to her feet, managed to gather up her scattered garments, and stumbled upstairs. She felt grubby and soiled, as if dirt from Mike's hands had rubbed off on her skin. A long shower failed to get rid of the sensation. As she dressed, her stomach still churning at what she had done, Carol could hear the rhythmic thunk of the pick, punctuated by an occasional hard metallic click when it struck a stone in the hard, dry earth. She pointedly avoided looking out the window, but could not erase from her memory the sight of the dark-complicated youth standing over her, his limp cock glistening with their combined juices.
As she wandered hopelessly down the stairs she found herself praying for her husband's return. The feeling that if Frank were to come home now, everything would be all right surged through Carol. Then her heart sank, when she remembered that he was not coming home until late evening, and nothing she could do would change that. The only time she had tried to reach him while he was golfing she had been repeatedly rebuffed by the country club's telephone operator. When she had protested about this to Frank, he had supported the club policy. He'd left no doubt that when he was out golfing, she was not to disturb him.
Carol settled numbly on the couch in the living room, still aching from Mike's pounding, youthful drives. She felt his cum oozing from her vagina, soiling her clean panties. For the first time in her life, she had been unfaithful to her husband. The thought left a sour taste in her mouth. She tried to tell herself it was all Frank's fault, but her own moral sense kept her from believing this. Her parents had been strict in their religion, and Carol, although rarely attending church, held to their beliefs. They had stressed honesty, fidelity, and family loyalty above all else, and what Carol had just done was a rejection of all these teachings. Silent tears again began to trickle down her cheeks. Fear that Mike might return and demand still more from her increased her misery.
Hours later Carol roused herself, suddenly realizing that the sun had set while she had cowered on the couch, staring into space. The silence from the backyard was the only reassuring note in the darkness as she went around turning on lights. As each bulb sprang to life it seemed to drive back some of her misery and helplessness, and Carol found herself almost running through the house, turning on light after light. She controlled her near panic before she started upstairs to turn on more lights. Calmer, she decided to check the basement playroom for any signs of Mike's visit.
The radio was still playing, and Carol turned it off before surveying the room. Instead of the pleasant, comfortable playroom, Carol now saw a chamber of horrors. Her eyes were drawn repeatedly to the gym mats in the center of the floor. An accusing, damp stain marred the surface of one mat. Desperately, Carol struggled to turn it over in order to hide the mark.
Panting with the exertion, she checked the room again. Satisfied with everything else, she picked up the two glasses, which were smudged with fingerprints and contained the melted remains of the drinks she and Mike had shared. She turned her back on the room and retreated upstairs.
After carefully washing out the glasses and putting them away, Carol forced herself to eat a sparse meal. She had no illusions as to how Frank would react if he found out what she had done. His background had been nearly as puritanical as hers, and he would be furious if he ever found out.
After making another check of the house for any evidence of Mike's visit, Carol sat down to wait. The emptiness of the house seemed to press down on her threateningly. The quiet residential street on which they lived had little traffic, and every car that passed brought Carol to her feet. Finally, the sound she recognized so well made her heart stop. Fighting to control her shaking hands and behave as if everything were normal, she got ready to greet Frank.
The back door banged as it was jerked open. Carol turned toward it abruptly.
"Hi, Honey, I'm home," Frank shouted. His clubs crashed to the floor as he slipped the strap of the golf bag from his shoulder. "Man, what a helluva golfer that guy was," he continued, his voice too loud and too slurred to be natural.
Forcing herself to walk rock steady on legs that were threatening to fold under her, she moved toward him. "You've been drinking," she said, trying not to sound accusing.
"Sure, I been drinking," Fran agreed. "In fact, you might say I'm drunk." He lurched slightly. "Not that I am, you understand. You just might say that I am."
"I'll get you some coffee." Carol tried to brush past him.
"Hey, wait a minute. Aren't you gonna kiss me hello?"
He grabbed her, and Carol let him drag her into his arms. She stood stiff and wooden, unresponding, as he pressed his lips against hers. He had always disgusted her when he was drunk. His breath reeked of stale alcohol. Finally he released her, unaware of her lack of response.
"How'd the game go?" she asked mechanically as she made the coffee.
"Great, just great," Frank replied, stumbling slightly as he sat down at the kitchen table. "Boy, that coffee'll taste good. Jeez, could that guy drink. But, I sold him, by God, I really sold him."
"Really?" Carol plugged in the pot.
Frank sprawled in the chair, arms thrown wide. "You are looking at the next partner of Hunter and Hunter, insurance agents. Hey, Honey, don't we have any instant coffee?"
"You know you can't stand the stuff." She felt numb now, no fear, no regrets, nothing. Frank had come home drunk before from golf matches with clients, but nothing like this.
"Oh, yah, that's right. Where was I? Oh, yeah. I sold old Collins the biggest damn policy you ever saw. I knew he was a good prospect the minute I met him. 'Course he was drunk as a skunk when I got his okay on the deal. But, it'll stand up all right. I got his old John Hancock right on the dotted line."
Carol busied herself with half a dozen unnecessary trips to set out cups, sugar, cream, spoons and napkins. "That's good," she observed dully.
Frank lapsed into a drunken, reflective silence, staring at the table with blurry eyes. Carol sat down and studied him carefully. His hair, usually combed neatly, was mussed, the straight brown strands hanging down over his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. A slight sunburn showed under his tan, giving him a healthier glow than usual. Even in this state, Carol had to acknowledge that he was as handsome now as the day they had met. Sadness and a feeling of loss for those long-ago carefree days filled her.
"I'll get the coffee," she told him gently, her voice husky.
After three cups of strong, black coffee, Frank had settled down slightly, but was still drunk. "Boy, am I bushed," he finally commented, pushing his cup away.
"If you wait just a moment, I'll come upstairs with you," Carol said, gathering up the cups and putting them in the sink.
Leaning on each other, they made their way upstairs and into, the bedroom. After closing the door behind them, Carol let Frank draw her into a crushing embrace. The alcohol was still strong on his breath, and Carol had to fight the urge to turn her head aside when he kissed her. His lips were soft and sloppy on her mouth, and his hands roamed suggestively over her back.
"Hey, Honey, let's celebrate," Frank muttered, his hands gripping her full buttocks.
Some rebellious portion of her personality wanted her to push her husband away, wanted her to deny him, because of his drunkenness, his thoughtlessness, and her satiated lust. Instead, she gave in, slumping weakly against his hard chest.
"Let's get you out of those clothes," he told her, his voice still slightly slurred from the alcohol. His fingers fumbled at the fastenings as he undressed her. She looked down, and could see the bulge of his already half-erect cock. Standing before him as a slave did her master, she let him strip her, then crushed her to his chest. As he kissed her, she told herself she should be feeling something. Instead, she felt nothing as his hands pawed over her naked body. His lips traced sloppy kisses over her ear, then down he side of her neck. Normally these kisses would set her afire in seconds, but this time there was nothing. Dutifully, she tried to fake passion for him.
Breaking the embrace, he guided her to the bed and pushed her down on it. As she lay there, looking up at him, he began to undress. Some trick of her mind kept reminding her of looking up at Mike earlier in the day. Carol tried to respond but failed as she watched her husband undress. His cock was hard and stiff, spearing outward from his groin like a lance as he stood over her, his eyes feasting on her naked body. Finally, he bent over and his lips again bore down on hers. One of his hands rested on the slight mound of her belly, then slid lower. As his fingers brushed through her pubic hair, seeking her slit, Carol remained unmoved, but continued to feign passion. Dutifully, she opened her legs to his probing finger. As Frank probed her channel her tissues felt sore and abused from Mike's ravaging of them. Mike's and her juices lubricated the path for Frank's finger as she felt him force it into her.
The bed sagged as he lay down beside her, and her body rolled toward him slightly. Frank drew her close, and Carol felt the scratchy bristles of the hair on his chest against her tender nipples. Her hand sought and found his big cock and stroked and encouraged it the way she knew he liked. Finally he pressed her onto her back and climbed over her. As he settled his body between her spread thighs, she guided his cock to her cunt. In his usual fashion he began to stroke into her bit by bit. As he did, Carol rocked her pelvis and matched him stroke for stroke. As his cock drilled deeper into her vagina, Carol compared him with Mike and found Frank wanting. Where Mike had been young and impatient, her husband was dull and plodding as he pistoned into her belly. She forced herself to pant in simulated passion as Frank quickened his moves, driving into her harder and harder. He began to climax, and Carol felt nothing, even as he shot off into her. She clamped down on his cock with the muscles of her vagina in an attempt to stimulate herself. There was no result save to force his already wilting prick out of her.
"Oh, I love you," Frank muttered in her ear. He planted gentle pecking kisses on her cheek and throat as she stared at the ceiling. It was almost as if he were obeying to the letter instructions in a sex manual which said women like a show of affection after making love. Finally, his limp cock driven from her, he rolled off her to his own side of the bed. As he began to snore, Carol lay wide-awake, staring blankly at the ceiling.
She was still awake hours later when she heard a car pull up in the driveway. The window was open a crack, and Jack and Pam's voices could be heard bidding someone good night. Carol did not have to check the time to know it was exactly one o'clock. Jack had learned quickly, and was teaching his younger sister, that a deadline was an inflexible rule they had to obey. The few times he had been late had resulted in painful restrictions.
"Shhh, they're probably in bed," Jack shushed Pam loudly enough for Carol to hear him as they made their way to the back door.
Pam's whispered reply was cut off as the door slammed behind them. Frank was snoring softly beside her, and she felt an irrational flash of irritation at his obliviousness. Carol wondered what the beach party had been like, and resisted the urge to get out of bed and join the children for the snack she knew they were having. Instead, she lay sleeplessly in bed.
Eventually she heard the soft tread of the youngsters on the stairs. They were giggling and talking softly until there was the characteristic squeak of the third step from the top, when Jack hushed Pam again. Quiet footsteps passed the door, and Carol strained to hear. For some reason she wanted to hear the children talking, as if their youthful chatter could somehow put her right with the world. She heard them both enter Jack's room.
Through the wall separating her from the children, Carol could hear only a mumble of voices, which frustrated her. There was the squeak and rattle of a window being raised, and some trick of sound bounced Pam's voice off the garage and into the bedroom where Carol was.
"Man, what a party," Pam enthused. "I mean, like it was really groovy."
"You liked that, huh?" Jack asked, sounding mature and casual.
"And how!" Pam exclaimed.
"Keep your voice down, will you!" Jack cautioned. "Man, I thought I was going to faint this morning when Mom went after you about your bra."
Pam giggled. "I thought I was rather cool when she made that crack about swimming topless."
"Well, there wasn't any topless swimming during the day," Jack observed.
"Yeah, but when the moon came up, we didn't even have bottoms on," Pam retorted.
"First time you've done that, isn't it?"
"Uh-huh, sure was," Pam said tensely. "I'm glad you warned me before we went. It was real spooky as it was."
"I told you nothing would happen, didn't I?"
"Yeah, but I didn't really believe y ou," Pam replied. "I thought when you got together naked with a guy, all sorts of things happened, which they did. But that didn't happen."
The turn that the conversation in the next room had taken froze Carol in her bed. Her sweet, innocent children had been to what sounded like an orgy. She strained her ears to hear more.
"So what did happen when Ben got you off alone?" Jack asked.
"I'm not going to tell," Pam said, suddenly turning coy.
"Aw, come on, why not?" Jack urged her.
"What happened with you and Linda?" Pam asked in retaliation.
"If I tell, will you tell about Ben?" Jack countered.
"Maybe."
"I'm not going to tell about Linda unless you promise to tell about Ben," Jack insisted.
"Okay, I promise. Now, spill it."
There was the sound of Jack's bed squeaking as someone lay down on it.' "Boy, I'm tired," Jack said. Evidently Pam threatened him. "Okay, okay, I'll tell."
There was a short silence, and Carol held her breath, waiting for her son to begin his story.
"Well, you know nothing really got going until the sun was down," Jack began.
"I know that," Pam told him, disgusted.
"Yeah, well old Linda didn't want to skinny-dip in the first place. She's kind of shy. I had to pour a couple of beers down her before she'd loosen up. Man, she sure looked good in that bikini of hers. Finally, after the sun was done, she agreed to go in the water with me. By then, half the gang was already in the surf. We waded out until it was about up to her waist, and sat down. She still didn't want to strip, even when I kept telling her how great it felt. I had to take off my suit to get her started. I took it off and handed it to her so she could be sure, but that wasn't enough. She had to feel me just to make sure I was naked. Man, her fingers touched my pecker and it was the greatest feeling ever." Jack paused for a moment and the bed squeaked a little as he shifted his weight. "Finally she agreed to take off her top and give it to me. I made her let me give her a quick feel to check. When I got a handful of one of her tits, I thought she was going to faint right there. Her little nipple was as hard as a rock. After a little bit of squeezing, she got warmed up enough to take off her bottom and give it to me. She wouldn't let me feel her this time, even though I let her touch me again."
Pam giggled slightly. "Look at your pants. You're getting another hard-on!"
Carol flinched at the language. The realization that her thirteen-year-old daughter was using language that Carol herself didn't like to use was a jolt.
"I get hot just thinking about it," Jack admitted. "Anyway, the water felt great. I told her we didn't want to be carrying the suits around while we were swimming, and took them up on the beach. Then we swam out beyond the breakers and sort of drifted around. We got in a water fight and that gave me a chance to get my hands all over her. Gosh, her skin was soft and smooth. She let out a yelp when I got my hand up between her legs. Then she wrapped herself around me like an octopus. My prick was as hard as a rock, of course, and was trapped between her belly and mine. The way we rubbed together, I came right then."
"Right in the water?" Pam asked.
"You'd better believe it. When she felt me squirting up against her belly, she grabbed me tighter and squeezed her tummy against me even harder. She got one of my thighs between her legs and rubbed her pussy up and down like blazes until she came, I guess."
"What do you mean, you guess?" Pam asked.
Jack sounded confused and embarrassed. "Well, I mean I think she came. She started to pant and gasp like crazy. She was working so hard, I damn near drowned. Then she sort of held her breath and squeezed me real tight for a long time."
"She came all right," Pam reported, sounding very sure of herself. Eavesdropping, Carol realized that Pam, young as she was, knew full well what a climax felt like. Carol's heart was in her throat as she digested this, wondering if Pam had gone as far as it sounded.
"After that we were pretty tired, so we got out of the water. She didn't mind being naked now. I think it was the first time she'd ever played around with a guy like that. We dried each other off, and that got me excited again."
"So I see," Pam noted.
"Shit, these clothes hurt when I get a hard-on," Jack commented. "So, take'em off."
"Well, maybe I will." Jack sounded only slightly hesitant.
"I don't mind," Pam said, a slight quiver in her voice.
Listening breathlessly in the next room, Carol heard the bedsprings squeak again. There was a rustle of cloth and the sound of Jack's buckle being unfastened, then a thump as something hit the floor.
"There, that's better," the boy stated as the bedsprings squeaked again.
"Gee, you're big," Pam said.
"Now, where was I?" Jack went on, almost succeeding in sounding nonchalant. "Oh, yeah. After we got dried off we were both pretty excited, so we lay down together on one of the towels and played with each other. She fingered my cock and I petted her breasts until she was real excited. She found the right spot on my prick to really drive me wild."
"Where's that?" Pam asked breathlessly.
"Right under here," Jack said, evidently pointing the spot out to his sister. "Anyway, I talked her into letting me kiss her tits. I sucked her little nipples and sort of bounced them around with my tongue. Hey, what are you doing?"
"I'm uncomfortable in my clothes," Pam replied, and Carol heard the rustle of clothing again being shed.
Carol tried to make herself get up and stop what was happening in the next room, but her curiosity foiled her attempts to get out of bed.
"Oh." Jack's breath caught slightly. "So anyway, I was kissing her tits, and that got Linda real hot real fast. She took my hand and put it down between her legs so I could pet her pussy. I was just gonna rub it like, but that wasn't enough for her. She lifted one leg, leaving herself wide-open to me; then she guided one of my fingers inside her. That really got her going. It felt hot and slippery-sticky in her. She was squirming and wiggling her cunt against my hand, making my finger slide in and out of her real fast. All of a sudden she came and got my hand all wet. I must have had my finger in halfway to her bellybutton."
"Wow," Pam whispered.
"After she got through coming, she kind of went to work on me with her hand, squeezing and stroking my prick. I was hot as a pistol then, and in just a second I was coming all over her hand." Jack stopped talking, evidently almost out of breath.
"Gosh," Pam breathed. "That must have been something."
"And how," Jack agreed, his voice choked. "What happened with you?"
"Pretty much the same thing," Pam admitted, "but I didn't let Ben put his finger in me."
"Why not?"
"I was scared. He wanted to put his thing in me, too, but I wouldn't let him. I'm still a virgin."
"So'm I," Jack acknowledged. "Going all the way's a scary idea."
Carol breathed a sight of relief at these admissions, then mentally kicked herself. Her children had done everything but screw. It was only a matter of time until they would.
"Gosh, I'm hot again," Jack said.
"S ... so do something about it," Pam stuttered. "Ben made me jack him off, but I couldn't see anything."
"Want me to do it so you can see?" Jack asked, obviously excited.
"Yeah," Pam breathed, her voice shaking.
"Okay."
Carol stopped breathing as the bedsprings in Jack's room began to squeak rhythmically. She suddenly realized she'd heard that sound before, late in the night, but had never stopped to think what might be causing it. The springs squeaked and there was also a faint, sticky, slapping sound. Faster and faster the squeaking came until suddenly it stopped and there was a long silence, finally broken by a deep sigh from her son. Carol felt her heart start beating again, and let the breath she had been holding whoosh from her lungs.
"Gosh, look at that," Pam breathed softly.
"Y . . . yeah," Jack sighed. "Quite a show, isn't it?"
Carol grimaced as she lay next to her husband, frustrated at being unable to see what was going on. She suddenly realized that she herself had never actually seen a man come. As many times as she had made love, Carol didn't know what it looked like when a man came.
"I better go to bed," Pam said. "See you in the morning."
There was the sound of Jack's door opening and closing softly. After a few minutes the light shining against the garage went out.
For a long time Carol lay awake, mind whirling as she tried to sort out the scattered pieces of her life. In one day she had seduced a friend of her son and been unfaithful to her husband. And now she had been brutally forced to realize that the children she had thought were so young and properly brought up knew as much, if not more, about sex than she did.
"What can I do?" she moaned softly. She started to turn to her husband for help, but his totally unresponsive back was toward her, offering no encouragement. She suddenly realized just how far apart she and Frank had grown when she couldn't dare to wake him. It seemed to Carol as if she were lying with a stranger instead of her husband of sixteen years.
Carol's world was crashing down around her in ruins. Nothing was real any more; nothing had any meaning. Her mind spun as she tried to find a point to anchor to in the chaos. At last, exhaustion came to her rescue and she fell into a troubled sleep. Jack's story of the beach party echoed through dreams of Mike sneering down at her desperately hungry, naked body. Exhaustion finally obliterated these mad dreams.
Chapter Four
Totally numb, Carol managed to get through the rest of the weekend without revealing just how shattered she was. The children had been wholly engrossed in their own lives, and Frank, good old proper Frank, had made only a passing reference to how tired she seemed. She had brushed off his mild concern by promising to rest more during the day.
Carol felt much older than her thirty-four years Monday morning as she sat at the kitchen table nursing her coffee. The family had scattered as usual, leaving Carol in echoing silence, her mind blank.
"Good morning," Marje called from the back fence.
"C'mon over, Marje," Carol invited, trying to put life into her voice.
"Hi, how's the coffee supply?" Marje was as enthusiastic as usual.
"Help yourself," Carol told her listlessly.
"Thanks. How was the weekend?"
Carol shrugged.
"Oh-oh," Marje said as she sat down, "let me guess. You owe me a fancy lunch." Carol sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Don't take it so hard. He loves you, you know."
"I don't know," Carol said, sighing. Her feelings suddenly swelled upward in an unstoppable geyser. "Oh, God, it was just awful," she blurted out, dissolving in tears.
Marge sat stunned for a moment, then got up and pulled Carol into her arms. Carol fell into the welcome haven and bawled. After a few minutes, Marje guided Carol into the living room and settled her on the couch. As Carol tried to hold back her sobs, Marje got the bottle of brandy, poured a glass, and forced Carol to choke it down. The fiery liquid blazed down Carol's throat and warmed her belly.
Marje watched her friend closely and finally broke the silence. "I think I know exactly what happened."
"No, you don't," Carol denied, still choking on her sobs.
"Let me take a wild guess," Marje countered. "You were unfaithful to Frank."
Carol was caught by surprise. "How'd you know?" she gasped.
Marje shrugged. "Believe me, you were ready for it. All I'm doing is putting two and two together. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the sequence went something like this. Just when you were getting good and warmed up by your daydreams, Frank woke up and had to dash off to the golf course, right?"
Carol nodded mutely.
"So there you were, at home, alone, home as a Texas steer, and furious at Frank for breaking his promise. Right?"
"Uh-huh," Carol agreed, sipping the brandy.
Marje made a face indicating a sudden thought. "I saw that healthy young stud at your back door. He's the one, right?"
Carol nodded miserably.
"Well, at least you had the sense to pick a live one for your first shot at infidelity," Marje said approvingly.
"Marje, what a thing to say!"
"What's to say? Look, if you're going to get a little on the side, what's the sense in messing around with low-voltage stuff?"
Carol abruptly got up from the couch and went to get more brandy. "That's not the point," she protested. "I was unfaithful to my husband."
"So what's to be unfaithful to?" Marje shot back. "When was the last time he was a real husband to you?"
"Frank's a good husband," Carol protested.
"Bullshit."
"Marje, he is a good husband," Carol retorted. "He's a good provider, and he is faithful to me. I think. And I do love him."
"He's a good provider, you love him, and you think he's faithful. Oh, boy, that's a great basis for a marriage." Marje almost sneered.
"Well, what more is there?" Carol asked.
"How about a little companionship? What about being a friend and confidant? And I suppose it's too much to ask for a little love, affection, and consideration?" Marje replied.
"Oh, Marje," Carol sighed. "I don't know."
Marje softened her tone. "Look, don't get me wrong. All I'm trying to say is that it isn't the end of the world if you're unfaithful to your husband."
"It's not just that," Carol admitted, "though that's bad enough. It's the kids, too."
"What's the matter with them? One of them got a social disease?"
"Marje!" Carol exclaimed.
"So what's wrong with the kids? They're the healthiest children I've ever seen."
"They're growing up so fast," Carol replied.
"Yeah, kids have a way of doing that," Marje said wryly. "Been doing that for at least the last billion years."
"Oh, Marje! It's not just that. You think I'm a clinging mother or something," Carol said.
"Huh-uh," Marje denied, shaking her head. "If anyone in the neighborhood is going to be a Jewish mother it'll have to be me. I'm the only one who qualifies."
Carol had to smile at this. "You're too much."
Marje grinned back and chewed mischievously on the tip of her pony tail. "Feeling better?"
Carol grinned weakly. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Good. Now, tell Mama Marje all about it."
"Well, you were right about Saturday. I'll take you to lunch today."
"Oh, fiddlesticks, that's not necessary."
"No, a bet is a bet. And you were right about the rest of it, too. I was furious at Frank, and boiling hot." Carol went on to tell of her seduction of Mike.
"Wow, sounds like a real stud," Marje said. "Next time he comes around, let me have a shot at him."
"Marje! What about Paul?"
"What about him?" Marje asked with a grin, and shrugged. "How's he to find out?"
"Don't you ever get enough?" Carol asked.
"When it comes to sex, I told you, I can never get enough," Marje said. "Anyway, what's this about the kids?"
"Remember I sent them off to that beach party? You were right to worry about them. I should have."
"A real wild show, huh? What happened; did Pam get raped?"
"Darn near," Carol admitted. "It was a real orgy."
"How'd you find out? Did they tell you?"
Carol admitted to her eavesdropping and told Marje what she had heard. Finishing the story, she sipped the last of the brandy. "What should I do?"
"What's to worry about? I thought it was something serious. The kids are both still virgins, and they seem to know what they're doing," Marje said practically.
"At the rate they're going, they won't be virgins much longer."
"True, true," Marje admitted. "But I've always thought virginity was an overrated commodity. I mean, like I sure didn't miss mine when I lost it. In fact, I've always thought I gained quite a bit."
"But what if Pam gets pregnant?" Carol asked worried.
"Pregnancy is an avoidable state, you know," Marje said dryly. "Put her on the pill."
"At thirteen? And what about VD?" Carol protested.
"If they're old enough to mess around the way they have been, they're old enough for the Pill," Marje stated firmly.
"There's still VD," Carol insisted.
"There's also penicillin," Marje retorted.
"But I don't want my daughter sleeping with every kid in the neighborhood," Carol protested.
"Uh-uh, double standard." Marge waggled a finger in Carol's face. "That's a no-no today."
"Okay, I don't want Jack shacking up with every hussy in school, either."
"I don't know what you think you can do about it," Marje said practically.
"I don't, either," Carol admitted miserably.
"You want to know what I think?" Marje asked diplomatically.
"What?" Carol replied, surprised at Marje's tone.
"I think it's about time you had some faith in the upbringing you've given those children."
"I never brought them up to go to beach parties like that one on Saturday," Carol protested.
"Of course not," Marje agreed. "But I don't think you even considered parties like that a possibility when you were raising Jack and Pam."
"But I did try to teach them right from wrong."
"And you think what they did is wrong," Marje said. "Evidently, they think differently. What you have taught them is to think differently. What you have taught them is to think, which is at least as important. And, you've taught them to choose their friends wisely. Those things taken together should be enough."
"I don't know," Carol said. "Maybe you're right."
"Of course I am," Marje stated emphatically. "And now that we've disposed of that problem, let's tackle the case of the inattentive husband. I know a little something about the subject."
"What do you mean?" Carol asked.
"I had exactly the same problem with Paul."
"You're kidding!" Carol gasped.
"Huh-uh, I kid you not. After we'd been married about five years, he got his head buried in some real deep archeology stuff and a couple of coeds. Our whole marriage damn near went crash."
"What did you do?" Carol asked hopefully.
"What didn't I do? you mean. I used every dirty, underhanded, sneaky trick in the book. One problem I had that you don't was about twenty extra pounds. I dieted, took up archeology, and blew a wad on a new wardrobe, including coveralls and boots."
"Coveralls and boots?"
Marje chuckled. "Yep. And when he started off on his usual summer digging expedition, I invited myself along. A couple of coeds that were planning on wiggling their fannies for A's were the most unhappy little girls you ever saw. Especially when I turned out for the first day's digging in a bikini that would have been banned in the south of France."
"Oh," Carol murmured.
"Didn't quite get through to Paul the first day, so I had a little go with a male grad student; then things changed. I've never let Paul get away from me since. For example, how many times in the past year have you had a headache come bedtime?"
"Never," Carol answered firmly. "I always let him have me when he wants me."
"And you always respond, I suppose."
"Well, I try to," Carol admitted.
"Never mind." Marje got up. "If you're buying me lunch downtown, that gives us a perfect excuse for some shopping. Oh, and one more thing. If you're not getting it good from your husband, why should you turn down a free offer?"
"Marje!"
"Think about it. Now, let's get dressed for some shopping."
As she changed for the outing, Carol wrestled with what Marje had said.
Throughout the shopping trip and lunch, Marje continued to batter at Carol's puritanical defenses, leaving her completely unsure of herself by the time they returned home. A note on the refrigerator in Jack's handwriting informed her that the children would be a little late for dinner, and that Frank was working late. Carol felt a flash of irritation. Everything she had bought had been, under Marje's direction, chosen with Frank in mind.
Muttering curses under her breath, Carol stomped up the stairs. Tossing the packages on the bed, she stripped off her clothes. It was another hot, sunny summer day, and even the air-conditioned stores had been uncomfortable. Restlessly, Carol dug out the new purchase she was most unsure of. Slipping into it, she posed in front of the full-length mirror. The outfit was a bikini Carol regarded as being scandalously brief. The cups of the bra were a soft, clinging fabric barely strong enough to support Carol's full breasts. As she studied herself in the suit, her nipples peaked sharply for some reason and were plainly evident through the thin material. The bottom of the suit was cut so low that it exposed a few wisps of pubic hair.
"Maybe it'll be better when I shave," Carol muttered to herself. The fabric hugged her mound of Venus tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination. Carol dug out the razor she used on her legs and made a few quick passes over her belly, pushing the edge of the suit down and shaving under it to make sure no hair would show. Finishing, she stepped in front of the mirror to survey the effect. The suit still seemed indecent in its brevity and the way it clung to her. In the back, a little of the cleavage between her buttocks showed above the suit's bottom, and it had a tendency to bunch up between her buttocks.
"Very nice, very nice indeed," Mike Santucci said from the doorway, his voice making Carol whirl around in shock.
"Mike, what are you doing here?" Carol gasped.
The youth leaned negligently against the doorframe. "It's hot again, Mrs. Anderson. I didn't think you'd mind if I got a ginger ale."
Carol tried to still her fears. "The soft drinks are in the basement, Mike."
The youth smiled. "I know it. But I didn't think I should have any without letting you know."
"It's quite all right." Carol suddenly remembered how provocatively she was dressed and tried to cover herself with her hands.
"Shucks, Mrs. Anderson" don't spoil the view," Mike said, grinning.
"I think you'd better get out of here right now," Carol ordered, her voice shaking.
"What? And miss out on this show? You must be kidding."
"I'm warning you. My husband will be home very soon, Mike."
"Huh-uh, untrue, Mrs. Anderson. I read the note on the refrigerator, too." Moving slowly, he stepped into the bedroom. He was bare to the waist again, his heavily tanned torso gleaming with sweat. As he moved with the easy grace of an athlete, his muscles flexed and rippled, riveting Carol's gaze.
"Le . . . leave me alone, Mike."
Wordlessly, Mike shook his head. His dark eyes bored into hers, making her melt inside. She dropped her gaze, trying to escape the power he exuded. Her eye was caught by the bulge in his pants and her breath caught in her throat. His hand took her chin and tipped her head back. Hypnotized, Carol froze as his lips descended on hers. The first touch sent a jolt of fire through her, and she felt herself responding despite her best efforts. As she melted into his strong embrace, his rough hands went around her. Carol felt her will to resist dissolving under the incredible heat of his embrace and kiss.
"You're a lot of woman, Carol," Mike whispered.
"Please, stop," Carol pleaded weakly. In response, his fingers stroked her back, his callused hands scratching her tender flesh. She tried to resist and pull back, but fell deeper into his trap. He smelled masculine, of sweat and the earth. Her head was nestled in the curve of his shoulder and neck as he stroked her back. Carol's knees weakened, her pelvis sagging in against him. She could feel the bulge of his cock through his pants.
"Let me look at you," Mike said, pushing her away from him. His fingers brushed over her, from her throat down to her chest, where his hands measured and weighed her full breasts through the flimsy top of the bikini. "You're beautiful," he murmured. "Take off your top."
Even as she tried to shake her head in denial, her hands reached behind her back for the simple buttons. In a second the top was loose. She dropped her arms and stood before him, head hanging. The bra clung to her breasts until he reached out and removed it, slowly sliding the straps down her arms. When her breasts came into view, her large nipples were sharp and alert before his gaze.
Dropping the bra, his fingers pinched and pulled Carol's nipples, making them almost painfully stiff, sending jolts of passion shooting through her.
Standing paralyzed before him, Carol pulled her shoulders back, offering him her breasts. "Oh, God," she moaned as her passions blazed higher with every touch of his fingers.
She stood, helplessly frozen, when his hands released her breasts and moved lower. Carefully, the youth rolled the bottom of her suit down over her full hips, slowly stripping her of her last covering. As the air reached more and more of her exposed skin, slightly stirring her pubic hair, Carol fought for breath. In a second the bikini was down around her ankles and she stepped out of the tiny garment, lifting first one foot, then the other. Totally nude, totally at the young man's mercy, Carol stood before him. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears of passion and shame trickling from beneath her closed lids. Carol felt as if her entire body were afire with passion.
"Strip me," Mike ordered softly.
"What?" Carol asked, dazed.
"Strip me," Mike repeated, a little louder.
Mutely, Carol reached for his wide leather belt and struggled for a second with the buckle before managing to undo it. The button and zipper of the pants went more quickly, and she tugged the tight garment down over his trim hips. To slip the pants down his legs, she had to kneel before him. His cock was erect and ready under his Jockey shorts, a massive pole tenting out the thin garment. Numbly, Carol eased his shorts out over the incredible staff and pushed them down his legs.
As she knelt before him, his cock bobbed in front of her face. She felt as helpless before it as a rabbit in front of a cobra. A tiny voice deep inside her was pleading with Carol to stop, but it was drowned out by her passion. Without his asking she reached for the big prick and gripped it with her hands. The purple head seemed to beg for attention, and her mouth was drawn to it. Slowly she sucked it in, a kiss she had never granted to her husband. Carol began to suck the big cock gently, drawing more and more of it into her mouth until she gagged.
"Enough," Mike gasped, pushing her head away.
Eyes pleading, Carol leaned back, looking up at Mike. His strong hands reached down, gripped her arms, and lifted her from the floor as if she were a feather. He tumbled her on her back on the soft bed, and she spread herself for him.
"Take me," she pleaded, and Mike complied, bearing down on her, his red-hot cock drilling into her slick channel. The first driving thrust blew Carol's mind to fragments, sending her shooting to a tremendous orgasm before the youth was an inch into her cunt. As he continued to drive farther and farther in, she roared toward another orgasm. She felt as if his impatient, youthful cock were tearing her wide-open. The room whirled and dissolved around her, leaving only that incredible poker pistoning in and out of her belly, in and out in a rhythm as old as time itself. She felt him quicken his pace and matched him, lifting her pelvis, grinding her pussy against him, her thighs gripping his muscular hips as he drove into her. The bed protested louder and louder as the youngster rammed his bulk into her. He began to come, and his hips moved in quick, hard, brutal strokes with every blast of his cock. His cum scaled her guts with every shot, wringing still another orgasm from Carol's tortured vagina, leaving her gasping for breath, struggling to remain sane in a world engulfed by passion and pleasure. Exhausted, he collapsed on top of her.
Finally the swarthy youth rolled off her, his now-reduced cock slipping from her. He lay next to her on the bed, one hand gently cupping one of her full breasts.
"You're quite a woman, Mrs. Anderson."
"I think," Carol said dryly, "under the circumstances you could call me Carol again." She looked deep into his dark eyes. "You're quite a man, Mike. Why did you come here today?"
Mike made a face as he toyed idly with one of her nipples. "I could say it was to work on the fish pond, couldn't I?"
"You could, but it wouldn't be true, would it?"
"No, it wouldn't. I came back because of you."
"You know I'm married, and that I love my husband," she told him.
"I know," he acknowledged. "But it doesn't matter. It's not important."
"But it is important," Carol said. "Love is very important."
"But this isn't love," Mike replied, tugging at her nipple, making Carol gasp. "This is fucking, something entirely different."
"Oh," Carol said, beginning to understand, feeling a surge of disappointment. "You don't love me."
Mike smiled, but not cruelly. "No, Ma'am, I don't. But you're a good fuck."
"Then fuck me again," Carol said. "Fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before."
"Yes, Ma'am," Mike agreed willingly. His hand traced a demanding path down her belly to her cunt, his finger prying knowingly into her eager channel.
Carol's passion flared to life again. Feeling totally wanton, completely debased, she spread her thighs for him, welcoming his rude intrusion into her cunt. As he brutally felt her up, she reached for his slowly rising cock with one hand and milked it to life, building its strength quickly until it filled her hand with its still-sticky length. It felt hot and hard in her hand, a red-hot ramrod ready to bore into her. The afternoon sun spilled into the bedroom, pinning Carol to the bed, its hot rays increasing her passion. This was the bed she shared with her husband, and the thought made lust and revenge boil higher in her gut. She rolled and twisted her hips as Mike bored his finger up her cunt. She gripped his big cock hard with her hand, her thumb stroking over the head.
Finally, Mike got up, tearing his hand from her cunt. Brutally, he grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her on her back to the edge of the bed, leaving just half of her hips on the mattress. He levered her legs up, bending her knees, driving her thighs up against her breasts. He stepped forward and his ready cock found her gaping cunt, slid inward, and he jammed full length into her with one stroke, making Carol cry out with shock, pain and passion combined. The tearing ache of his driving stroke vanished in a wash of pleasure as he screwed his cock around inside her by madly twisting and rolling his hips. Then he began to stroke in and out, pistoning his hips, his flesh smashing violently against hers, his balls swinging and slapping up against her ass with each violent stroke, until Carol began to come, a gush of juices spilling from her cunt and pouring down her ass. And still he drove into her, making her come again and again in a screaming, roaring series of shots into her belly. As his cock geysered into her, he collapsed on her legs, folding them tightly against her chest, bruising her breasts with her own thighs as he forced her into a tight ball on the edge of the bed.
He held her there while she milked the last oozing drops of cum from his cock with her cunt. Finally the tremors died to a whisper, and Mike let her roll on her side, and tumbled to the bed next to her. For a long time all they could do was fight for breath.
Finally, his cock drained and flaccid, he pulled away from her. As he stood up, Carol rolled onto her back, limp and exhausted. Too tired even to try to cover herself, she lay sprawled on her back, her pussy chilled with their drying juices, as he gazed down at her. She felt his hard, masculine stare, and it excited her, even in her weariness. She didn't move as she heard him dressing and leaving the room. When she was sure he was gone she got wearily to her feet and staggered to the shower to sluice away the sticky cum on her belly and thighs.
Exhausted to the point of collapse, she fell onto the bed, still nude, and dropped off to sleep.
Chapter Five
"Frank, I want to learn to play golf," Carol said to the back of the newspaper across the table from her. As usual, her total view of Frank at breakfast consisted of his fingers holding the paper.
"That's nice, dear," Frank murmured in response. , Carol cursed softly under her breath. "I said, I want to learn how to play golf."
"I heard you. You said you want to learn to play golf."
"So, say something," Carol urged.
"Like what? Okay, you can learn to play golf," Frank said, still buried in the paper.
"Will you teach me?"
"Huh?"
"I said, will you teach me?" she repeated.
"Me? Why me?"
"Why not you?" Carol prodded.
Frank reshaped the paper after turning a page. "I really don't think I have the time to teach you."
"Oh." Carol sighed. "I guess you're right." Her plot to regain his interest crashed down around her ears in ruins.
"Why don't you sign up at the country club for lessons?" Frank suggested.
"Think they'll take me?" Carol asked dully.
"Uh-huh, I think so. They just hired a new pro. I imagine his schedule is wide-open right now."
"What about equipment? Won't I need clubs and stuff?"
Frank turned another page. "Nope. They'll rent you everything you need until you get started. That way you can buy what suits you best."
"Oh, okay," Carol agreed, not really caring.
"Gotta run, Honey," Frank said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
After he left, Carol sat sipping her coffee, her mind wandering. The children had left early on a bicycling expedition up into the hills, leaving her alone to enjoy the peace and quiet of the morning. Unfortunately, the peace and quiet was becoming oppressive to Carol.
"Good morning," Marje hailed over the fence.
"C'mon over, Marje," Carol invited.
Marje managed to win her battle with the back door and poured herself some coffee. "You know, it's nice you don't mind my drinking your coffee," Marje said as she settled into the chair vacated by Frank.
"Why's that?"
Marje sipped the steaming liquid. "Because I have never learned to make a decent cup of coffee. The few times I tried, Paul threatened to use it either to preserve some of his archeological relics, or to remove corrosion from them; I forget which." Marje surveyed Carol critically. "Do I detect just a hint of discouragement?"
"Yeah." Carol sighed. "I struck out again. I tried to get Frank to teach me how to play golf."
"So what happened?"
Carol made a face. "He said he didn't have the time, and told me I should sign up for lessons at the country club."
"So what's wrong with that?" Marje asked.
"I don't really want to learn how to play golf. I was just hoping I'd get to spend some time with Frank that way," Carol said.
Marje twisted her face into a comical expression, indicating deep thought. "Well, why not take lessons? After you've learned how, then maybe Frank will play with you. At least play golf with you, that is."
"It seems like so much work."
"What's work? Besides, you might even find out you like golf. And it does offer some chance of getting back together with Frank. You do want to get back together with him, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Carol retorted. "What makes you think I don't?"
Marje grinned wickedly. "I saw that young stud leaving your house again yesterday. From the smile on his face and his exhausted walk, I'd say you did it again."
"Boy, did we ever!" Carol admitted.
"At least this time you don't seem to be coming apart at the seams because of it," Marje observed.
Carol played with her teaspoon. "No, I guess not."
"What's he like in bed?" Marje asked, excited. "Oh, Marje, honestly."
"No, really, what's he like? He looks like a fantastic stud."
Carol found herself smiling at Marje's enthusiasm. "He is."
"So don't just sit there. Talk already," Marje said impatiently.
Dutifully, Carol told of her wild pounding by Mike the afternoon before, leaving out no details. As she talked, she found her excitement surging upward again, making her squirm restlessly in her chair. Across from her, Marje's mouth was hanging half-open, her eyes sparkling with interest. By the time Carol had reached the description of how she undressed Mike, she could feel a demanding itch deep in her cunt. She paused for breath.
"Don't stop now," Marje urged. "What happened?"
Gulping, Carol went on with her story, the itch in her cunt increasing as she did so. Marje was slumped back in her chair now, her hands busy under the table. Carol tried to deny to herself what her neighbor was doing, but failed. As the itch in her own crotch grew to irresistible proportions, Carol let one of her hands steal down to scratch it. The first touch of her fingers through her flimsy, filmy panties made her gasp with pleasure.
"Just keep talking," Marje gasped, her mouth hanging open with excitement.
As she kept talking, Carol felt the crotch of her panties growing damp from her excited juices. As she described the first pounding fuck Mike had given her, she began to squeeze her excited tissues through the cloth. Finding this unsatisfactory, Carol slipped her hand under the waistband of her panties. Her fingers sought and found the slit of her cunt and began to milk and mash the juicy tissues. The button of her clitoris was demanding special attention of its own, and she trapped it between her thumb and forefinger, twisting and rolling the juicy little bud. Her voice was squeaking and jerking as she told her story.
Across from her, Carol could see Marje collapsing into a quivering mass as a series of climaxes engulfed her. Carol noted with some strangely observant comer of her mind that the tall, cylindrical pepper mill was missing from the table. Marje's right arm was moving and jerking rhythmically. Carol had an insane urge to look under the table and see just what was going on, but her own passion-weakened muscles wouldn't let her. Instead, she went on with her story.
As her self-induced climaxes built in intensity with every stroke of her hand, Carol found it harder and harder to talk. Her voice choking up, the struggle to squeeze out the words merely increased her excitement, making her climaxes even better. Finally, just as she reached the end of her tale, talking became too much for her, and her voice rose in a howl of pleasure. Arching her back, Carol slid out of her chair, jerking with passion. She slipped under the table, sending her chair crashing backward as she did so. As she lay there, her muscles quivering and jerking from her orgasm, Carol saw that Marje had indeed taken the pepper mill. Her red-haired snatch formed a perfect nest for the big black rod, and Marje was happily pistoning the big cylinder deeply into her oozing cunt.
For a long time, Carol lay on the, floor, struggling to regain her breath, her fingers buried in her juicy cunt. Eventually Marje withdrew the pepper mill from her cunt and helped Carol up.
"Wow, that was a hell of a story!" Marje exclaimed.
Carol was still panting and could only nod.
"So with a stud like that on the hook, who needs a husband?"
Carol shook her head weakly. "Oh, Marje. You know I still love Frank. He used to be a great lover. And besides, there are the children."
"True," Marje admitted, "there are the children." The redhead thought for a moment. "So anyway, what's wrong with learning to play golf?"
Carol shrugged wearily. "I don't really want to play golf."
"But if you learn to play golf," Marje observed, "then maybe you can manage to get invited along to play with Frank."
"Oh, Marje, he's a good golfer. He wouldn't want to play with me when I've just learned."
Marje shrugged. "Maybe not. But on the other hand, he might need a woman along to help his sales pitch sometime. Why not be available?"
Carol thought this over. Golf did seem to provide the one possibility of getting close to Frank again. And, if nothing else, it would fill some of the achingly empty hours. In the past few days Carol had realized just how dull and unrewarding her life was becoming, now that the children were more independent. "You know, maybe you're right," Carol admitted.
"Of course I am," Marje enthused. "And besides, I hear they've got a new golf pro at the club that is a living doll."
"Oh, Marje. Sometimes I think you have only one thing on your mind."
"I do, I do," Marje said enthusiastically. "And if my husband didn't keep me so busy, I'd take on the whole town."
"Marje, how many men have you had?"
The redhead shrugged. "I don't know. Never counted. Never more than four at one time, though."
"Do you have any now?" Carol pried.
Marje smiled. "Of course I do. But I'm not going to tell you how many or who."
"I didn't think you would," Carol admitted. "I just wanted to know if you practice what you preach. What about your husband; is he faithful?"
"Powerful Paul, the Pussy Pounder? Are you kidding? He's discreet, but I know he has at least one lover on the string," Marje admitted.
"Doesn't that bother you?"
Marje shrugged. "It did before I got on the bandwagon. Now I'm kind of pleased that others find him as good as I do. Why?"
"I was just wondering how I'd feel if Frank were unfaithful," Carol said. "Oh, well. If I'm going to sign up for golf lessons, I'd better get organized."
"No exercises today?" Marje asked.
"Golf will have to do."
"Okay, see you later," Marje said, letting herself out the back door.
Before she went upstairs to dress, Carol loaded the dishwasher and turned it on. The pepper mill coated with Marje's juices caught her eye. Making a face, Carol washed it before she left the kitchen.
An hour later she was in the Pro Shop at the country club, gazing in wonder at the incredible variety of clubs, golf bags, shoes and other accessories.
"Yes, Ma'am, may I help you?"
Startled, Carol turned abruptly, and found herself looking into a pair of alarmingly direct gray eyes. "Y... yes, I think so," she stammered, beginning to notice more of the man she was facing. His face was unlined, smooth, and beautifully tanned. His tight shirt hugged a well-developed chest and torso and his biceps bulged even in relaxation. The sum total was a picture of compact power.
Carol firmed up her voice. "I'd like to sign up for golf lessons."
The young man smiled, showing a row of even teeth. "Right this way," he said, leading Carol over to the counter. As he turned, Carol noted the easy grace of his moves. His pants were tight, hugging slender, muscular hips. He reminded her of Mike, and she colored at the thought.
"How much do you know about golf?" the man asked.
Carol dragged her mind back to the subject at hand. "Absolutely nothing," she acknowledged.
"I see. Oh, I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm the new assistant pro, George Maclntyre. Why don't you just call me George?"
Carol took his hand and felt a jolt of electricity from his firm, no-nonsense grip. "I'm Carol Anderson."
"The only thing we have to offer is private lessons, Mrs. Anderson. I assume that's what you wanted," George went on.
"Oh, yes. Private lessons," Carol said, trying to regain her equilibrium. George had an unsettling effect on her.
"Is there any particular time you'd prefer? My schedule is wide-open right now."
"Oh, you'd be my teacher?" Carol found the thought upsetting and exciting at the same time.
"Yes, Ma'am. How about early in the morning?"
George suggested. "That way the course isn't too hot or too crowded."
"All right," Carol agreed, trying to slow her pulse.
"Fine. Now, what day of the week would you like?"
"Oh, are the classes only once a week?" Carol asked.
George chuckled. "Yes, Ma'am. You're kind of eager to learn."
"Well, yes, I am," Carol replied. "How long do you think it will take?"
George shrugged, studying her carefully. His direct gaze up and down her body made Carol uncomfortable, as if she were naked in front of him. She fought the urge to cover her breasts and crotch with her hands. "I imagine you'll be able to hack your way around the course after about four lessons," George said. "You look fairly athletic."
"A month," Carol computed. Her heart sank.
"I suppose we could make an exception in your case, Mrs. Anderson," George said. "How would twice a week suit you?"
Carol felt a surge of relief. It would halve the time required. "Could you? That would be wonderful."
"Fine." George smiled, his teeth flashing. "Why don't we make it Tuesdays and Thursdays?"
"That would be fine."
"All right, I'll put you on my schedule for an eight o'clock starting time on Tuesdays and Thursdays," George said, writing in the large schedule book on the counter. He finished and straightened up. "I assume you don't have any clubs or golf shoes of your own."
"No, I don't. My husband said I could rent what I needed at first," Carol said, trying to calm herself.
"Certainly." George checked his watch. "Look, I'm free for the next couple of hours. Why don't we get you measured for what you need? Then we can start your lessons today."
"Oh, well, I don't know," Carol stammered, unsure of herself.
"The sooner you start, the sooner you'll learn," George observed practically. "Unless, of course, you have another commitment today."
"No, no, I don't. Let's start today."
Gauging her height with his eyes, George again made Carol uncomfortable with his directness. He selected a set of clubs and handed her one with a roundish wooden head. "Now, let's see how these fit you." Letting her hold the club, he studied her for a moment, correcting her stance slightly. "Those are fine," he decided. "Now, let's get you some shoes."
The thought of the strong young man playing with her feet upset Carol slightly. "I have sneakers at home," she said.
George chuckled, a warm, masculine sound in the empty shop. "They're fine for tennis, Mrs. Anderson, but for golf you have to have golf shoes. Right this way."
Chastened, Carol followed him to the corner of the shop, where shoeboxes were piled high. Following his directions, she sat down and let him remove one of her shoes. The touch of his hands on her foot seemed to bum. She regretted not having worn stockings or socks.
"You'll want some athletic socks," George said, after measuring her foot. He selected a pair from a box and pulled one on her, his fingers brushing her calf. "I'm going to give you new clubs and shoes. If you decide to buy them the rental you pay will be applied to the purchase price."
"Thank you," Carol acknowledged, fighting to control her feelings.
George pulled a box down from a high shelf. "You have a nice, small foot," he observed as he slipped the shoe on.
"Thank you," Carol said again, striving to keep her voice steady as the young man fastened her shoe.
"Now, walk around a little and see how it feels," George instructed.
Awkwardly, Carol stepped around the shop, the strange shoe feeling peculiar. She was relieved to find that it fit perfectly. She wasn't sure what might happen if George continued to fondle her feet. "They're fine," she told him.
"Wonderful. Why don't you slip on the other one while I tend to some things? Then we can go out on the practice tee for your first lesson. Just put your shoes in the shoebox and I'll keep them behind the counter. Later, you'll want to rent a locker for your things."
Relieved at being left alone, Carol changed her other shoe and tried to calm herself down at the same time. George was handsome, and he knew it, she decided. Oddly, this did not make him obnoxious or conceited, but exciting and appealing. He exuded a masculine, animal sexiness mixed with a aura of power that seemed to set the air around him shimmering. The thought of being close to him sent a wash of heat over Carol.
Fumbling, she packed up her shoes and took the box to the counter. George took the box from her and set it out of sight.
"Let's go, shall we?" He picked up the heavy bag of clubs as if it were weightless, his muscles bulging as he did so. He seemed to sense Carol's nervousness and carried on a reassuring line of chatter as he led the way to the tee.
Selecting a club from the bag, he let the canvas and leather container drop to the grass. "We'll start with this one. This is a wood, or a driver," he began. "A set of clubs consists of three of these, numbered one, two and three. Then there are the irons and the putter, plus one for the sand traps."
"Sounds complicated," Carol said nervously.
George grinned his white grin. "Don't worry; you'll catch on quickly. All I'm going to do today is how you how to hold and swing the club. See how my hands are?"
Carol studied the grip on the club. His fingers were laced together in an unbelievable tangle. She laughed nervously. "It looks painful."
George smiled. "It isn't. Here, I'll show you." He proceeded to demonstrate the interlocking of his hands step by step. "Now, you try it," he said, handing her the club.
Awkwardly, Carol tried to interlace her fingers the same way he had.
"No, no," George said gently. "This way."
The touch of his fingers against hers sent a shock into Carol. Through buzzing ears she managed to listen to his directions as she let him guide her fingers on the handle of the club. After she got the feel of it, he told her to try to do it herself. Awkwardly, she again tangled her fingers.
"Let me show you again," he said, guiding her fingers around the shaft. After getting them properly interlocked, his hands seemed to linger on hers. He suddenly looked at her, and Carol felt as if his direct gray eyes were drilling into her skull, seeking out her innermost thoughts.
"Got it now?" he asked, breaking the mood.
"I .. . I think so," Carol stuttered. She let go of the club and again tried to grip it correctly. Despite her confusion, she managed to approximate what he wanted.
"That's almost right," he said, touching her hands again, slightly changing the arrangement of her fingers. That same shock jolted Carol again when he touched her. He let go and Carol tried to slow her breathing.
"Now, your stance," George directed, bending down and taking a club from the bag. "Feet apart, about like so, weight evenly distributed. Bend just a little at the waist."
Carol eyed his stance, then tried to duplicate it, feeling incredibly awkward as she did so.
"Very good," George said approvingly, "only don't spread your legs quite so much."
His statement about spread legs mentally staggered her. Through ringing ears she dimly heard him guiding her as she rearranged her feet. Carol was painfully aware of the long, shapely expanse of tanned leg that showed below the hem of her short, casual skirt. She stared at the club she was holding.
"Now, the two most important things about your swing," George went on, "are to keep your head down, eyes on the ball, and to keep your left arm straight. Like this."
Wrenching her eyes up from her club head, Carol watched him as he slowly and easily swung his club in a graceful arc. His entire body moved in one fluid, graceful motion as he repeated the swing. Insanely, Carol found herself watching his crotch instead of his head and arms as he swung the club. She managed finally to tear her eyes from the bulge at his fly and study the two points he had emphasized.
"Now, you try it," George instructed.
Feeling clumsy and graceless, Carol resumed her stance. Awkwardly, fighting to keep her head down and her left arm straight, Carol brought the club back over her head, then down and around. It missed the grass by inches, instead of clipping it neatly as George's had.
"Not bad," George told her. "Try it again, slowly."
Still feeling awkward, Carol swung the club again. This time the head thumped the ground, tearing up a small patch of sod.
"Here, let me help," George said, pressing the sod back in place with his toe. He moved to stand behind her. When his arms went around her and took her wrists, Carol froze, feeling as if she were touching a live wire.
Gently, George shook her wrists. "Loosen up; you're terribly tense," he said softly. His breath puffed warmly in her ear, and Carol felt her knees weaken.
"S . . . sorry," Carol managed to stutter out, her senses swimming. She tried to tell herself she was not becoming a sex maniac.
"Now, it's a smooth, easy, even motion, like this. Just keep your head down and your left arm straight," George directed. His hands pulled on her wrists, and Carol let him swing her arms up and back, striving to keep her head down, her left arm straight, and her mind on the lesson. The warm pressure of George's body against her back made this almost impossible. She knew that with his head over her shoulder George could see down her blouse, clear to her waist. As her arms swung upward, she thought she could feel the hot bulge of his cock against her buttocks. As they reached the top of her swing and started downward, Carol knew she could. His breath on her neck was a blowtorch setting her afire.
After the follow-through, George hugged her even more tightly. "Let's try it again," he said, his voice husky and suggestive.
This time he tucked himself so closely to Carol that all thoughts of golf were driven from her mind. His strong hands gripped her wrists firmly, and his muscular, tanned forearms, sprinkled with golden-blonde hairs, brushed hers, sending goosebumps up her arms. His chest pressed against her back and she could feel the flow of his muscles as he moved. His cock was definitely hard, probing into the crevice between her buttocks. As they finished the swing, he pressed still closer to her, his muscles tensing and trapping her tightly against his body. He felt boiling hot to Carol as they held the finish of the swing a few seconds longer than was necessary.
Carol pulled free gently, lowering the club. She was aflame with desire, her jaw muscles almost locking with excitement. "I think I could use more private instruction," she grated out, her eyes burning into the gray eyes of the golf pro.
"Right this way," he said, taking the club from her and slipping it, handle first, into the bag. Gathering up the bag, he gently propelled her toward the Pro Shop. Trying to appear casual, they hastened to the shop. Slamming the door behind them George twisted the lock and turned the window sign to "Closed", then pulled down the shade.
As he turned away from the door, Carol threw herself into his arms, her lips seeking his, her hands clutching at his muscular back through his tight, thin shirt. Her lips opened and her tongue speared into his mouth. The power of her lunge drove him back against the door with a clatter. Responding to her passion, he swept her off her feet, mashing her against his chest. His tongue tangled and dueled with hers, driving hers back into her mouth. Carol tried to melt down in his arms, pressing every inch of her body tightly against him.
Lifting her as if she were as light as a feather, he sat her on the display case. He reached up under her skirt for her panties and tugged them down as she raised her hips. With her skirt pushed up around her waist, the glass of the case was like ice on her buttocks. As his powerful hands captured her breasts through her blouse, Carol reached for his cock. Tearing his fly open, the freed his prick from its prison, stripping the foreskin back with her fingers to expose the sensitive pink head. The buttons of her blouse yielded quickly to his impatient fingers and he shoved the garment down her arms. As she shrugged out of it he was already reaching for the catch on her bra and loosening it. Her breasts leaped outward toward his grasping hands. Throwing the bra away, Carol grabbed for his cock and milked it. His first excited juices were glistening over its head and she smeared them around with her fingers.
For long, tantalizing minutes they played with each other. Finally he lifted her from the counter and lowered her to the floor. Carol's skirt was still up around her waist. She spread her legs, the spikes of her golf shoes scraping the floor. The floor was hard and cold against her bare buttocks and back. George lowered his muscular body down on her, smashing her flat against the icy floor. His cock found her cunt and he began to piston it into her. Carol dug the spikes of her golf shoes into the floor, raising her hips to accept his hot, demanding drives into her cunt. She came quickly with a tearing orgasm that stripped the breath from her lungs. George drove deeper, his strong ringers gripping and squeezing her buttocks. As he slammed into her, skinning her bare back along on the floor, one finger pried between the cheeks of her ass. The first touch at her anus sent a new blast of fire through Carol. As he rammed his cock into her harder and harder, he pried the tight ring of muscle open, driving his finger into her rectum, sending her rocketing to another, higher climax.
The sound of their flesh smacking together echoed back from the gleaming golf clubs racked on the walls. A wild kick from one of Carol's legs sent a box of golf balls flying, the white spheres ricocheting wildly around the room. A bag of clubs went over with a crash and George began to come, geysering gobs of semen into Carol, triggering still another orgasm for her, their mingled juices pouring out from around his cock until they splashed on the shiny floor.
Carol gradually returned to the reality of the hard floor bruising her shoulder blades and buttocks as George's weight bore down on her. "Off, please," she managed to grunt, pushing at him gently.
A little awkwardly, he arose from her, his cock dripping with cum. Reaching down he helped her to her feet and she collapsed against him, exhausted. As he pulled up his pants, Carol retrieved her clothes. Not looking at him, she dressed quickly.
Looking outside without raising the shade, George made sure the way was clear. As he showed her out, he asked her, "Eight o'clock Thursday then, Mrs. Anderson?"
She turned and looked at him, a slight smile on her lips. "Eight o'clock Thursday, George. And thanks for the lesson."
He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the sun. "My pleasure, Mrs. Anderson." He closed the door softly as she turned away.
Chapter Six
"Boy, do I ache. Paul was home all morning yesterday. How was the lesson Tuesday?" Marje asked, settling down at the table with her coffee.
Carol shrugged. "Okay, I guess."
"Okay you guess. Is that all you have to say? What's the new instructor like? I heard he's absolutely out of sight," Marje bubbled. "Come on, give. What's he like?"
"Well, he's not tall, and he's not dark," Carol commented.
"Ah-hah, but he is handsome!" Marje almost squealed. "I knew it, I knew it. Come on, what's he like?"
"He's a good instructor," Carol went on carefully.
"Ah, but at what kind of instruction? That's what I want to know."
"Why Marje, I didn't know you were thinking of taking up golf."
"Golf my aching butt. Who cares about golf? I've heard his 'personal instruction' is absolutely the most."
"I wouldn't know about that," Carol replied innocently.
"The hell you wouldn't. Come on, give."
"All I'll say is that the reports are true," Carol finally said. "I don't really have time to tell you more. Besides, the last time I got clinical about the whole thing, you messed up our pepper mill."
"When's your next lesson?" Marje asked, ignoring Carol's comment.
Carol glanced at the clock. "In about half an hour."
"Wow. You don't waste much time, do you?"
"Nope. If I'm going to get at Frank, I've got to learn his game quickly." Carol got up from the table. "I'm sorry I have to run. Look, if you want to, stick around. The kids are still asleep but they should be down soon."
"Thanks. That way at least I can enjoy your coffee," Marje said. "Any messages for them?"
Carol started to shake her head, then thought again, and said, "Yes. Tell them that after my lesson I'm going shopping, so I won't be home until dinner time."
"What's with Frank?" Marje asked before Carol could escape.
"Nothing." Carol paused, checking her reflection in the hall mirror. "Absolutely nothing. He barely knows I'm alive. He was working late last night, and he's going to work late again tonight."
"So what are you going to do?"
Carol sighed. "I don't know yet. I want him back, but how do you compete with a fifty-thousand-dollar, full-term, double indemnity policy full of legal double-talk?"
"This is a problem," Marje admitted. "Have a good time."
As she drove to the country club, Carol told herself that this time the lesson would be strictly golf. She blamed Tuesday's incident on her being caught unprepared. Today, she would be ready for those incredible gray eyes and that compact muscular body and she wouldn't let them affect her.
Half an hour later she was being studied by the penetrating gray eyes of George Maclntyre.
"Ready to go, Mrs. Anderson?"
"Any time, George," Carol replied, melting into those eyes again. She wanted to pull back, deny him, but her frustrated needs and desires drove her on.
He gave his flashing grin. "Fine. Let's start out on the practice tee and see how you do at hitting a few drives."
"Okay," Carol replied, hiding her slight disappointment well. Angry with herself, she reminded herself the main purpose of her presence was to learn golf, and try to regain her husband's attention.
The air was crisp and clear as they went to the tee. Carol teed up a ball under George's direction. Carefully, she took aim and tried to remember the swing he had shown her. Her first mighty swipe topped the ball, sending it dribbling slowly across the clipped grass.
"I think you'll find it easier to hit the ball if you keep your eyes open," George observed dryly.
A blush of" embarrassment bumped Carol's cheeks. "Right." Again she teed up the ball and took her stance. This time she connected with the ball and it took off like a rocket, slicing viciously off to the right into the woods bordering the course.
"Better," George acknowledged. Carefully he tried to explain what she had done wrong, then teed up another ball for her. "Now, don't try to kill it," he cautioned. "You aren't Arnold Palmer, you know. You're a woman."
"Well, I should hope so," Carol retorted. Through a stroke of fate, her next shot flew straight and true.
"Wonderful," George applauded. "Now, let's do it again."
For half an hour he coached her as she slammed ball after ball down the range. By the time they were done her shoulders were aching.
He seemed to sense that her muscles were painfully sore. "Let's take a break. If you try any more today, you'll be too exhausted. What I want to do now is show you how the other clubs are used."
Carol leaned on the driver, panting slightly. "Okay, teach away."
"Let's get a golf cart and head over to the first tee. It's easier to show you out on the course, if that's all right."
"Suits me."
A few minutes later, a drink in her hand from the just-opened bar, Carol was sitting in the golf cart, watching George tee up a ball. The gin and tonic she was sipping cut the dryness in her mouth and made her feel a little giddy.
Carol was feeling more secure in the presence of the young golfer. Throughout her practice drives, he had corrected her mistakes strictly from a distance, keeping his hands off her. His apparent lack of physical interest eased Carol's mind. Her eyes continued to measure his athletically trim body. She told herself there was nothing wrong in this, but a tiny warning voice inside refused to be stilled.
"Now, your three woods differ in the range and loft they give you," George explained. As he described each club he showed her how they differed. Finally he took up his stance, waggled the club experimentally a few times, sighted down the range and drove the ball straight and true down the fairway.
"Not many people," Carol commented as he guided the cart down the fairway to where the ball lay.
"Nope," he acknowledged, steering the cart casually with one well-tanned hand.
"I imagine it can be really empty in some parts of the course," Carol went on.
"Yep," George agreed.
Carol found his reticence reassuring. They reached the ball, and George got out of the cart.
"Now, after you get from the tee to the fairway, you have a decision to make based on the distance you want your next shot to cover. If you have a very long shot, you might want to use one of your woods. On the other hand, if you want to make a shorter shot, like here, you'd choose the appropriate iron."
Carol nodded, dutifully trying to absorb what he was saying as he showed her the differences between the various irons. Her eyes kept wandering over his muscular, well-formed body.
"Don't worry about trying to remember all this right now," he told her. "I'll give you a sheet that tells about the uses of the various irons and woods. I just want you to get some idea of them right now." He selected a club and set up in front of the ball. Again his shot was straight and true, bouncing and rolling up to the green.
"Do you have many other students?" Carol asked.
"A few," he said.
"That's nice," Carol commented, feeling pleased for some reason.
George took her through the first three holes quickly and smoothly, pausing now and again to show her a new club or stroke. The course was deserted this early in the morning.
At the fourth hole, he teed up and took his stance carefully as usual. Carol felt drops of sweat beginning to bead her upper lip as the day rapidly warmed. George seemed impervious to the heat except where his back was against the seat of the golf cart. There he had sweated, making his shirt cling to his well-muscled back.
"Damn," George swore as his shot went awry, curving sharply off into the deep woods bordering the fairway.
"Oh, dear," Carol sympathized. "What do we do now?"
George jammed the club back in the bag and got behind the tiller of the car. "We go looking for it."
"How'll we find it?" Carol asked, studying the thick woods.
"I know about where it went," George said. He guided the cart to an almost invisible track into the woods. It was just wide enough for the little electric machine. He steered the small vehicle carefully and skillfully around the twisting curves of the path until they reached a dead end.
"I think it's probably over that way," George said, pointing into the thick of the trees. The area was completely deserted and isolated.
Carol swung her tanned legs easily out of the car. "Let's go look." A warning voice was screaming inside her, but a force she couldn't resist drove her on.
As she carefully picked her way through he underbrush Carol felt the dappled sunlight moving across her shoulders. Somewhere in the trees a mockingbird was trying out his repertoire. A thick carpet of dry leaves rustled noisily underfoot. The air smelled of summer and growing things.
Carol was a little giddy from the drink, and tripped on a tree root. As she stumbled, she reached out to balance herself and touched George's shoulder. The brief contact sent a jolt up her arm, making her jerk her hand back as if she'd touched a hot skillet.
"Do people ever get lost in the woods?" Carol asked.
"Not to my knowledge," George replied. "It's so pretty in here. Like the Garden of Eden."
"No snakes in the grass, though," George assured her.
"What a beautiful clearing!" Carol exclaimed when the woods suddenly opened out into a small grassy area about twenty feet square. "Do you think maybe your ball is here?"
"I wouldn't be surprised."
Something in his tone of voice made Carol turn back to look at him. Standing in the sun, he was stripping off his shirt, baring his muscular torso. His tan was uneven from his long hours of golf, ending where his sleeves began, and at the collar line on his neck.
"Wh . . . what are you doing?" Carol asked, suddenly afraid.
"What does it look like?" He tossed the shirt away, and, at the same time, kicked away his shoes.
"I think we'd better get back to the clubhouse," Carol suggested, her voice catching in her throat.
"First, we'd better look for my ball," George replied. He was unfastening his pants, tugging them down and kicking them away. His cock was half-erect in his shorts, making a bulge that attracted Carol's attention like a magnet. As she watched, he peeled his last garment off, and his prick sprang into view, pale white in the bright sun. His pubic hair was brown and curly around the base of the staff.
"I think I'd better be going." Carol fought to keep her voice steady as she looked around for a way out of the clearing. The instructor was blocking the only path through the thick underbrush.
"You weren't in any hurry the other day, Mrs. Anderson," George said, advancing on her, his erect prick leading the way like the lance of a knight.
"K . . . keep away from me," Carol stuttered. "What happened the other day was an accident." She backed away from him. "I want to learn to play golf, so I can play with my husband."
"We both know better than that," George argued gently.
"No, it's true. I love my husband," Carol said desperately. "And he loves me."
"Oh, yes, your husband. That would be Frank Anderson," George observed. "A husband straight out of the old school. Double standard and all that."
"What do you mean?" Carol asked, dodging aside as George tried to back her into a corner of the clearing.
"Do you really think he's golfing all the time he's here, Mrs. Anderson?" George continued his relentless pursuit of Carol, herding her toward the thick brush.
"Yes, I do," Carol shot back.
Suddenly George leaped at her, and Carol stumbled over a root, tumbling flat on her back. As she lay there, half-dazed, the golfer pounced on her, hands mashing down on her breasts. The sudden bruising pressure triggered Carol's passions abruptly.
"Stop it," she screamed hoarsely, battering at his chest with her fists, fighting her own passions as well as his.
"Relax, Mrs. Anderson; no one can hear you out here. You can't tell me you've forgotten Tuesday. You want this as much as I do."
"No, I don't," Carol denied. Even as she tried to fight, George pinned her arms with his knees. His fingers flicked open the buttons of her blouse and pushed it back. Carol could feel the fresh air brushing the bare skin not covered by the bra. She looked up into George's gray eyes and was nearly trapped by them again, but this time there was an animal gleam deep in them, that made her shy away. As the golf pro's muscular hands mashed her breasts through the lacy bra, Carol struggled feebly against his pinning legs. Her arms were beginning to ache and tingle painfully from the pressure.
"You're quite a woman, Mrs. Anderson,"
George whispered harshly. As he milked and squeezed her breasts, his eyes feasting on them, his teeth were bared in an animalistic smile.
"Stop it," Carol grunted, and managed to heave him half off her. She rolled to her knees and tried to crawl. His hand grabbed the collar of her blouse and she crawled right out of it, leaving it in his hand. He cursed and threw it away, then tackled her, rolling her over. His lips bore down on hers, and Carol, incredibly stimulated by the brutal treatment, felt her passion suddenly burst forth. Even as her lust roared higher, she struggled against his iron-hard embrace. His hands tore at the fastening of her bra and she felt it loosen. She broke away again, and he ripped the undergarment down her arms. Her breasts bounced free in the fresh air, her nipples hardening immediately. Before she could roll away he was wrestling with the fastenings of her tight shorts, then ripping them down her legs.
As furiously as she was battling him, Carol's passions continued to betray her. Now she knew she was going to lose the battle, looked forward to losing the battle. Naked, she rolled away from the golf pro, only to have him pounce on her again, driving the breath from her lungs.
"If you want me," she snarled at him, "you'll have to take me."
He growled like an animal and held her flat on the scratchy grass. His hands pinned her shoulders to the earth, his lips bore down on hers again, and his tongue pried her mouth open. She bit at his lips, only driving him crazier with lust until he wedged her thighs open with his knees. Carol's passions blazed high from the brutal treatment, making her want him more than ever. Her roaring desires drove every thought of fidelity from her mind as his cock sought and found her still-dry cunt. The tearing pain of his first brutal drive set Carol off like a rocket, driving her to a sudden fiery orgasm that sent a wash of juices pouring from her cunt.
His path well lubricated in a split second, George rammed his big cock into her so hard he drove the breath from her in a grunt. As he pounded into her to the hilt, Carol slammed her hips upward to meet his thrust. The slap of their bodies meeting rang through the woods, silencing even the raucous call of a bluejay. They pistoned at each other like wild animals, and Carol roared to a second climax, then a third. George began to come like a machinegun, quick, hard jolts of cum blasting into her as he lifted her hips clear of the ground, driving his finger up her anus as he did so, making her come even higher until the world whirled around her. For long seconds they held the pose, Carol's back and buttocks arched clear of the ground, her pelvis grinding unforgivingly against his, until their passions slowly died away, letting them collapse exhausted to the turf.
Fighting for breath, Carol felt his cock still in her gut, but slowly softening. She moved her hips restlessly, and was rewarded by only a slight surge before the tool began to shrink further. Finally it was gone, and the golf pro rolled off her, sprawling wearily on his back next to her in the sun. The sun was warm, but the breezes cool as they dried the sweat on Carol's body. Scratches and bruises inflicted by George's pursuit and wrestling were beginning to sting and ache as she regained her breath.
Something George had said at the beginning of the battle tickled Carol's memory. "What was that crack you made about my husband?" she asked, looking sideways at George as he lay on the grass.
He was still panting. "It wasn't anything."
"No, I want to know," Carol insisted. "You made some comment and I want to know what you meant."
Wearily, George rolled his head in dissent. "It wasn't anything, believe me."
Carol felt a flash of anger. "It was something, and you know it. Now, talk." She rolled to one elbow and looked down at him. She correctly took his silence for refusal. "Talk, damn you, or I'll scream rape to the manager of the club."
The instructor's eyes snapped open and he looked up at her. "You wouldn't."
"Like hell I wouldn't," Carol shot back. "And you just better believe they'd believe me. All I'd have to do is show them a few of my scratches and grass stains from this little romp and you'd be out on your ear so fast you wouldn't have a chance to pick up your final check. Now, talk."
George seemed to crumble slightly. "You think your husband plays a lot of golf, don't you?"
"Doesn't he?"
George shook his head. "Not as much as you think."
"But he's with clients," Carol argued. "Oh, he's with clients all right," George agreed. "The last one was a blonde war widow."
"You're lying," Carol snapped. "Why should I lie?"
"I don't know," Carol admitted miserably.
"What does he do if he doesn't play golf all the time?"
"Let's just say we aren't the only ones who've used this clearing," George replied. "Your husband is just as good at deliberately slicing a drive into these woods as I am."
"I thought that drive was awfully peculiar," Carol said. "You'd been driving straight as an arrow all morning until you reached this hole."
George smiled crookedly. "I'm getting pretty good at this shot."
Carol flopped on her back, staring up into the cloudless blue sky. "That bastard," she muttered, her anger lending strength to the words. "That unmitigated bastard."
The golf pro looked over at her, worried. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
"Christ, don't tell him I told you!" the golfer exclaimed. "He'd get me sacked in a second."
"Don't worry," Carol reassured him. An urge for revenge was boiling up in Carol's gut. She turned toward the young man and moved over him.
He grinned wearily. "I don't think I'm good for another go."
"Bull," Carol argued. Moving carefully she lowered herself toward him. Her lips touched his just as the tips of her breasts made contact with his chest. She felt her nipples tighten at the light touch and her lips worked demandingly at his. He responded with his mouth, and Carol swung her chest, making her nipples scratch across his chest. He had little hair there, but the touch of his skin was enough to set her breasts afire. His hands reached up to her shoulders, but she resisted as he tried to pull her down on him, finally breaking the kiss. His cock was still limp.
"Told you I was all out," he said regretfully.
"Over my dead body you're all out," she snapped. The urge for revenge was building in the only direction available, creating a ball of desire that threatened to explode in her gut. She reached for his limp prick, lifting the flaccid mass in gentle fingers. It barely moved in response as she carefully pulled the foreskin back from the pink head. It was still sticky with their combined juices as she toyed with it.
The golf pro lay on his back, his arms behind his head as she fondled his limp tool. "Believe me, I'm trying," he told her.
"Well, try harder," she urged. Nothing she did seemed to be working. Finally, in desperation, she lowered her head toward his groin. The first touch of her tongue to the tip of his prick made it jerk slightly, encouraging her.. She licked at just the tip very gently, tasting the mixture of juices still coating it. Slowly it raised its head, beginning to fill her hand. She continued to lick his prick, and a corner of her mind marveled at her willingness to do this. Early in their marriage, Frank had tried to get her to perform fellatio and she had refused angrily. Now, as she tasted the cock of the golf instructor, her passions flamed at the thought of what she was doing. Her own earthy lust and drive for revenge smothered any misgivings she might have felt.
"Go to it," George encouraged her.
More eager now, she sucked the stiffening prick into her mouth, playing with it with her tongue. It responded vigorously, springing erect in her mouth, filling her with its bulk. Passion welled up in her as she sucked the hot tool, making it burgeon upward and outward rapidly. The slurping sounds of her anxiously working mouth filled Carol's head, adding to her excitement, as did the heat of the sun on her bare back and buttocks as she knelt over the golf pro. Faster and faster she worked her head over the big rod, until finally it was stuffing her mouth to the bursting point, its tip ramming toward the back of her throat, making her gag slightly. Her cunt was awash with flame, her excitement growing as rapidly as the golf pro's. Carol could feel new waves of her juices sweeping down her passages, wetting the expanding folds of her tissues.
Finally, she could take it no longer and wrenched her mouth from George's now-mighty cock with a hoarse cry. The big rod glistened with her saliva and its own secretions as she climbed on top of the young man. Guiding his phallus to her cunt, she lowered herself, drilling his shaft upward into her belly. She was hot and ready for the huge instrument, and its welcome bulk rammed upward into her to the hilt. Their bodies mashed together, and Carol commenced to screw herself wildly on the golf pro. His hands reached up to mash and squeeze her breasts as she pistoned wildly up and down on him, rotating her hips for the greatest possible pleasure. She threw her head back, letting the hot sun burn down on her face as she squirmed and pounded him. Her climax roared near, then burst over her in a wash of flame and joy, making her grind her pelvis and cunt down on the staff until it began to blast upward, shooting wads of sperm against the end of her vagina, pressuring the thick fluid down around the big, hot mass, forcing it out into their tangled pubic hair with every pulse of his balls.
With a triumphant cry, Carol collapsed down on the golfer, her lips meeting his in an open, savage, soaking, tooth-clashing kiss. Her shuddering pleasure died away and she let every muscle in her body loosen slowly as her orgasm passed, leaving her weak and helpless.
Finally, the golfer managed to roll her off of him. As he gathered up his clothes and began to dress, Carol lay on her back, unable to read his expression against the glare of the sun. To her surprise, after donning his shirt he reached down to help her to her feet. Her exhausted muscles protesting, she scrambled up and tried to brush the grass off her. He helped by picking off the pieces stuck to her ass by their juices, then gathered her scattered clothing for her.
"Thank you," Carol said gratefully as she slipped the garments on. Her shoulders ached with stiffness as she wrestled with the bra, finally having to turn her back for his help in fastening it. In a few minutes she was ready. Her knees kept threatening to fold under her as she made her way back to the cart.
"I hope you meant what you said about not telling your husband, Mrs. Anderson," George commented as he carefully backed the cart out.
"Don't worry," she reassured him. "He'll never hear a thing from me. And as far as this little session today goes, you're safe, too. But him I'm going to tear him to shreds."
Cold fury filled Carol's belly as she contemplated Frank's infidelity. For months she had been patiently accepting his absences and disinterest, assuming it was due merely to overwork.
"What are you going to do?" the golf pro asked, plainly worried by the hatred in Carol's tone.
"I don't know yet," Carol admitted, tearing her mind from her thoughts of Frank's treachery. "But whatever it is, I'm going to enjoy it."
George dropped her off by the parking lot and headed the cart over to the Pro Shop. Carol noted that the young man's next pupil was an eighteen-year-old girl in an outfit so tight it was indecent. Carol smiled contentedly, knowing that she had totally drained the golf pro, making it impossible for him to take on the girl, no matter how hard the bitch tried. Carol's success at satisfying the young man tempered the fury she felt toward Frank. Forgetting completely about her shopping plans, she turned toward home.
After pulling into the driveway and shutting off the motor, she was surprised to hear loud music emanating from a partially open basement window, since Pam and Jack had had another bicycle trip planned. Stepping out of the car and moving toward the window, Carol's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her daughter giggling excitedly. Something made Carol move cautiously and quietly as she neared the window, bending down to peer into the playroom. Her heart stopped beating when she caught sight of what was going on.
Chapter Seven
From where she was, Carol couldn't see her daughter, but could only hear Pam's distinctive giggle. There was an excited tremor to it that was not normal. The sight that chilled Carol's blood was that of her son. He was dancing with a slender blonde whom Carol identified after a second of thought as the Linda he had been with at the beach party. Jack was stripped to the waist, and he was holding Linda firmly against him, his hands clutching her shapely little buttocks tightly. Linda wore only a skimpy halter and a tight pair of shorts.
"Oh, Ben!" Pam gasped, her voice coming from directly below Carol. Evidently Pam was on the couch that backed up against this wall of the cellar.
Carol struggled to her feet, her legs still aching from her wild session with the golf pro. She tiptoed around the side of the house and knelt down by a window that afforded a more complete view of the basement, including the couch.
Pam was adhering to one of the playroom rules that her mother had set out, in that she still had both feet on the floor. Her blouse was untucked from the waistband of her short shorts, and one of Ben's hands was busy under the thin cotton garment. Her head was tipped back, her mouth half-open with excitement as the youth massaged her breasts under the cloth. One of Pam's hands was massaging her boy friend's lap familiarly, her fingers tracing out an erect rod inside his pants.
"I've got to stop this," Carol muttered to herself. Her shaky legs and firm curiosity betrayed her, leaving her slumped against the side of the house, her eyes locked on the scene in the room below.
She wrenched her eyes from Pam and turned her attention to Jack again. Her heart stopped beating for a split second when she saw what was happening. Jack's fingers were toying with the buttons fastening Linda's halter, and the girl was leaning backward in his arms, looking up at him. Linda's eyes, blue as the sky, were flashing with excitement. Jack was sweating slightly, his mouth open as he fumbled with the two buttons. He released the first one, then paused, seeming to anticipate refusal of what he was doing. Instead, Linda rolled her hips against his groin, making him grin tensely. He found the remaining button and unfastened it in a second. The halter hung loose, clinging to Linda's small breasts, the straps slipping off her smooth, golden-tan shoulders as the back fell loose.
Her teeth flashing in an excited smile, the lithe blonde girl reached for the back of Jack's neck with both hands and pulled his head down to hers. Their mouths locked together in a passionate kiss, their cheeks and lips working as they sucked and tasted each other's tongues and teeth. Carol imagined her son's tongue probing inside her own mouth as she watched the kiss. The two children broke the kiss and Linda dropped her arms. The halter fell free, slipping down and off her arms, lodging between the two teen-agers where Linda's groin pressed against Jack's. Her breasts, pale white and flawless, were small hills on her smooth chest. Her nipples were tiny, excited, pink buds pertly-capping the small mounds. She threw herself into Jack's arms, grinding her bare chest against his, scraping her tits over his muscles.
A squeal from Pam jerked Carol's eyes back to her daughter. The girl's blouse was tangled up around her head as Ben tugged at it. Finally Pam wrestled her hair out of the neck of the garment, and Ben jerked it down her arms and threw it into a corner. Pam was not wearing a bra, and her full young breasts bounced slightly on her chest. As large as they were, they had no sag, no crease at their base. Instead, the firm masses stood out proudly. Her nipples were larger than Linda's, and darker. Ben's fingers took them and pinched and rolled them, making them harden even more, stiffening them into tight peaks. Pam let her head fall back to rest on the back of the couch, her mouth gaping open in passion. For a few seconds the thirteen-year-old abandoned herself to the young boy as he toyed with her boobs.
"Oh, yes," Pam sighed, loudly enough for Carol to hear as the records came to an end. None of the children seemed to be paying any attention to the record player at all.
Finally Pam lifted her head from the couch. As Ben cupped and played with her large boobs, she sought his belt with her fingers and struggled with the buckle. After releasing it she tugged the bottom of Ben's T-shirt up. He released her breasts for a moment to let her strip the garment off over his head. Quickly he grabbed for her breasts again and massaged them. She went then to the fastenings on his trousers. She seemed experienced at dealing with such things, quickly unfastening the waist and running the zipper down. Ben lifted his hips and let her press his pants down around his ankles. His cock formed a hard ridge under his shorts. Pam reached for the elastic and tugged them down.
Carol felt her own excitement growing as she watched her daughter stripping the boy. Carol's cunt began to burn, and she pressed her fingers to it to feel it through her shorts. The junction between Carol's legs was hot and steamy as she continued to spy on her children.
Ben's cock was as hard as a rock, impressively large for someone as young as he. His pubic hair was thin as yet, just a few tentative curling wisps of brown to frame his hard-on. Pam took the big tool in her hands and stroked it gently, appearing to croon over it the way she used to croon to her dolls. Her dainty thumbs played over the purplish head of Ben's cock, making it jerk slightly in her childish grasp. Meanwhile, Ben had released Pam's breasts, and his fingers were seeking the catch on her shorts.
"It's over on the side," Pam directed him, not releasing his cock.
His fingers fumbling, Ben found the button at her waist and released it. He had a little trouble with the zipper, then managed to get it down. The side of the shorts spread open, disclosing the side of a pair of lacy bikini underpants. As he tugged the tight shorts down over Pam's well-curved hips, she lifted her buttocks from the couch. He skinned the shorts down her smooth, shapely legs and she kicked the garment away. She pressed her thighs together, rubbing and twining her legs sensuously.
"Kiss my breasts," Pam said, her voice catching slightly with excitement.
As Ben bent to comply with Pam's request, Carol mashed down on her own cunt hard with her hand, sending a jolt of pleasure through herself. "This is insane," she muttered softly. "I should be stopping them." Instead, she continued to massage her pussy through her shorts, tearing her attention from Pam and Ben to see what Jack and Linda were up to. Carol gasped, and a wave of juices soaked the crotch of her shorts. Linda was kneeling before Carol's fifteen-year-old son, holding his pants for him to step out of them. The girl then reached for his shorts, which bulged with his erect cock, and tugged the elastic out over the head of Jack's towering instrument. It bobbed free in front of the young blonde's face as she pulled the underwear down his legs. Casting the shorts aside, Linda reached for Jack's cock with both hands, gripping its base. Her mouth moved toward its already glistening head and she licked it as if it were an ice cream cone. Jack's fingers laced through Linda's short blonde hair, guiding the girl's head as she began to mouth his organ, her lips sucking over just the head of it at first, then taking more of it in.
A sound from Ben pulled Carol's gaze from Linda back to the couple on the couch. Pam was stroking the boy's cock as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Meanwhile, he was reaching for the waistband of her panties. She didn't even pause in her fondling of the big tool, as she raised her hips to let him strip the lacy garment down her legs, baring her completely. As developed as her bust was, Pam had virtually no hair at all on her cunt. The full lips of her pussy were exposed to the air through the thinnest of blonde veils.
Her excitement weakening her even more, Carol sank down to sit on the grass outside the basement window. Moving carefully to avoid attracting attention, she spread her legs. Sucking in her stomach, Carol managed to slip her hand inside her shorts, but couldn't get her fingers to her cunt. Cursing softly, she unfastened the shorts, giving herself more room. She slipped her hand inside her panties, which were already soaked with her juices and with the golf pro's semen. She plunged one finger into her cunt and mashed down on her clitoris with her palm as she stared into the basement.
Linda and Jack had sunk to the floor, settling onto the gym mats. The blonde girl lay back gracefully, posing for him as he knelt nude beside her. She still wore her shorts-really chopped-off blue jeans. Jack unbuttoned the large copper button at the waist and pulled down the zipper. The shorts spread open, revealing filmy pink bikini panties. The lithe blonde lifted her hips, and Jack pulled the shorts down. They tangled around one of her ankles and she kicked them away, exposing her cunt through her panties as she did so. Jack's hands were clumsy now as he reached for the girl's last garment. The panties were tight, making him struggle to get them off her as she arched her back, lifting her buttocks from the mat. Finally he skinned the panties down her thighs and calves, and she kicked the tiny garment away, openly displaying her pussy with its light covering of reddish hair. Her inner tissues were glistening with moisture, swollen with passion.
Carol's hand was working hard at her cunt now, two of her fingers boring into her excited, wet vagina while with the heel of her hand she continued to stimulate her clitoris. Linda and Jack were fondling each other excitedly now, their hands exploring the most sensitive, exciting portions of each other's body as they lay on the mat. Linda wrapped one hand around Jack's solid cock and began to pump it.
On the couch, Pam was doing the same to Ben while he thrust a finger up into her cunt.
"Ouch, careful," Pam said. The youth eased his attack on her.
"Let me fuck you," he pleaded hoarsely, panting.
"No, not that. Just feel me."
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid," Pam admitted. "So am I, but I want you."
Pam shook her head. "No. Maybe someday, but not yet."
Carol felt a sort of relief at this brief conversation. At least Pam was still technically a virgin. For some reason, this comforted Carol.
"Jeez, I'm coming!" Jack cried, drawing Carol's attention. Linda was pumping his cock vigorously. He rolled his hips, timing the moves of his pelvis to her pumping hand, until suddenly he stiffened. His cock twitched in Linda's hand, and suddenly began to fountain, shooting pulses of white semen into the air. The wads of cum splashed back down on Linda's hand, and she pumped at him until his spoutings gradually died away.
The sight of her son blasting his sperm into the air was enough to make Carol come with a rush, further soaking her fingers with her juices. As Jack's coming died away, Carol looked over at Ben just in time to see him shoot a flood of sticky semen over Pam's hand. At the same time, Pam herself seemed to come, slamming her cunt against Ben's working hand, rolling her head with excitement. Carol came again, a ripping climax that made her battle to keep from screaming out loud with pleasure. Muscles betraying her, Carol fell sideways on the grass, her hand grinding her pussy as she climaxed. As she fell on her side, Carol's last glimpse into the playroom was of her son kneeling between Linda's thighs. The blonde girl was spread wide on the mats, and Jack's mouth was sucking eagerly at her cunt, his face buried in her crotch. Carol blacked out with pleasure as she writhed on the grass of her backyard.
A few minutes later she recovered enough to tug her shorts back into place and fasten them. Weakly she staggered to her feet and stumbled across the yard. Afraid her children would detect the wetness at her crotch and question it, and dazed at how she should deal with "their activities, Carol sought a refuge. The sound of Marje singing off key drew Carol's attention and she tapped softly at the gate between the two yards.
"Come on over, Carol," Marje called, breaking off her singing. "My God, you look like you've seen a ghost," she gasped when she caught sight of Carol. "Come on into the house and have a drink."
Carol let her neighbor guide her to a seat in the living room. Some corner of Carol's mind recorded the fact that Marje stuffed a pair of panties out of sight behind a sofa cushion.
"Here, drink this," Marje ordered, handing Carol a glass.
Not expecting brandy, Carol gasped and choked on the fiery liquid. She struggled for breath a moment, then sipped cautiously. The drink burned her throat and warmed her stomach. As a comforting glow spread through her, Carol slowly regained her composure. The happenings of the day seemed to press her down into the cushions of the chair, leaving her limp and exhausted, barely able to lift the glass to her lips.
Uncharacteristically, Marje managed to restrain herself, maintaining an anxious silence as she watched her friend. Carol was grateful for her neighbor's patience. Finally, feeling a little giddy from the brandy, but her pulse returning to normal, Carol tried to get her vocal cords working. Her first attempt resulted in a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again.
"Thanks, I needed that," she said gratefully.
"I haven't seen you so white since you bent the fender on your new car two years ago," Marje commented. "What gives anyway? I thought you were going shopping."
"Was I?" Carol asked. "I forgot completely." She tried to get her thoughts sorted out, but kept seeing her son kneeling between Linda's spread thighs, his face buried in her snatch.
"Now, what happened already?" Marje demanded. "You staggered in here as pale as a ghost, the crotch of your shorts so wet you look like you tried to douche without taking your clothes off."
Carol glanced down at the telltale moisture at her crotch. "Oh, dear," she moaned softly.
"Yes, oh, dear. What happened? Were you raped? Do you need a doctor?"
"No, no, I'm all right. It's nothing like that. It's Pam and Jack."
"Don't tell me something happened to them!" Marje exclaimed. "I thought they were at home."
Carol nodded. "They are, but they're not alone."
"Then who . . . Oh, I think I'm beginning to get a glimmering of what's up. Just right off the top of my head let me guess that Linda and Ben are with them. And assuming that I'm correct in that guess, let me go on to guess that they were not playing pinochle. Is that it?"
Unwilling to trust her voice, Carol nodded.
"Ah-hah. And to continue my superb deductive reasoning," Marje said, "you were spying on them."
Again Carol nodded.
"Well, so much for the mystery. Now, pardon my lascivious curiosity," Marje exploded, "but would you please fill in the details? From the looks of your pussy, they're quite something and I'd kind of like to get in on the fun if I can."
"Oh, Marje, it's terrible." With tears about to burst forth, Carol struggled to describe the scene in the basement. When she got to the part about Ben undressing Pam, her voice threatened to break completely, forcing her to take another sip of brandy. Managing to control her feelings, she hurried through the rest of the story, leaving nothing out.
Marje sat staring at Carol, her mouth hanging open with surprise and excitement. "Wow," she finally managed to breathe. "Those kids are something. But I don't understand. What's so horrible about it?"
"They're so young," Carol wailed. "They're my babies."
Marje shook her head. "They don't sound like babies to me. Sounds like adults could take lessons from them."
"What am I going to do?" Carol wailed.
"What's to do?" Marje asked."
"They're too young for this stuff," Carol protested.
"Carol, if they're doing it, they obviously are not too young," Marje retorted gently. "This is like walking or running. You can't tell them not to do it after they've done it."
"I can forbid them to see each other," Carol said hopefully.
"And what good would that do? They would either sneak around behind your back, or they might very well find other, less desirable, partners for their fun. And another thing, where would they wind up doing it? Do you realize that last year there was a wave of rapes in the lovers' lanes around here? It wasn't the boy friends that were doing it; it was a gang of toughs that terrorized the kids parking there. And the kids were parking in the deserted roads because their parents wouldn't let them get together at home."
"Oh," Carol replied, steadying down.
"Yes, oh. Now, you know Linda and Ben, don't you? They're good kids from nice families, unless I'm mistaken."
Carol had to agree. "True. But what if they go farther?"
"How much farther can they go!" Marje exclaimed."
"Well, they are still virgins," Carol said. "Just barely."
"Just barely," Carol acknowledged. "But what about the girls getting pregnant?"
Marje shrugged. "I told you before-give Pam the Pill."
"And what about Linda?"
"Give Jack the knowledge," Marje replied. "I don't think Linda's mother would take too kindly to you getting her the Pill."
"You mean talk to Jack about sex?"
"Isn't it about time somebody did? Ye gods, Carol, that kid's got more experience at fifteen than you do now. Hasn't anybody told him anything?"
Carol shook her head numbly. "Frank was supposed to, but I don't think he did." The thought of her husband surged through her. "And speaking of that bastard-"
"Hold it." Marje stopped her, holding up a hand. "I can see something new has erupted on that front. Let's finish, with the kids first. These mental gymnastics of yours are beginning to addle my brain."
Carol choked back her anger. "Okay, but let's just keep Frank completely out of this, the bastard."
Marje raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh? Okay. So who's going to tell Jack the facts of life?"
Carol took a deep breath. "I guess I'll have to."
"Think you can do it?" Marje asked.
"No, I don't think I can. What do you suggest?"
Marje thought for a moment. "I don't know. Let's leave him for a moment for a much more interesting problem. Who do you think should introduce Pam to the glories of intercourse?"
"What!"
"Well, you don't want her learning from some totally insensitive clod, do you? Jeepers, when I remember my first time, I sometimes wonder how I managed to go on for the second, it was so bad. Remember your first time?"
Carol nodded. "Yes. Frank went at me like a bull in the rutting season. It was awful," she admitted. "I guess it would be nice to spare Pam that. But it's such a final step and she's so young. Don't you think it could wait?"
"After what you saw in the basement, do you think it can wait?" Marje asked. "If you wait it'll be a rhetorical question. You'll be presented with a fait accompli, as the brainy people would say. I think you'd better consider the problem right now."
"I guess you're right."
Marje let Carol think for a few minutes before breaking in. "Well, got any candidates?"
Carol shook her head miserably. "I can't go volunteering my thirteen-year-old daughter's virginity. It's just too much."
"May I make a suggestion?" Marje asked. "I mean, will you promise not to throw that glass at me? It's kind of far out."
Carol eyed her neighbor suspiciously. "You're not thinking of your husband, are you? I know you both have your little affairs on the side, but I think my daughter is a bit much."
"Good grief, no!" Marje exclaimed. "I wouldn't let my husband within twenty feet of a juicy little morsel like Pam. I was thinking more along the lines of that young stud you have digging your fish pond."
"You mean Mike Santucci!" Carol exclaimed. "You've got to be kidding."
"Why have I got to be kidding?" Marje argued. "He's a good lover, isn't he?"
"Yes," Carol admitted grudgingly. "But Mike Santucci!"
"Vm not putting him forward as the only possibility. But you've got to admit he's got certain advantages."
"Like what?"
"Well, he's a known quantity for one thing. With virtually anyone else you couldn't really be sure just how good they might be as a lover. And, I assume since you two have gone at it more than once there's a certain amount of, shall we say, intimate communication between you?"
"Yes," Carol admitted.
"Just think about it for a while," Marje suggested. "It'll take a while to get used to the idea, I know. Now, what's this about Frank that's got you so steamed up?"
"That bastard," Carol swore furiously, her rage exploding.
"We'd gotten that far already," Marje replied dryly. "What makes you doubt the legitimacy of his birth?"
"That . . . that . . . that bastard," Carol sputtered again. "He's been playing around behind my back." She managed to sputter out the information she had pried from the golf pro.
"I wondered where he might be getting it if it wasn't from you," Marje said.
"Why didn't you say something?" Carol screamed.
"I don't think you would have entertained the idea," Marje replied. "Be honest. Would you have suspected it of good old proper Frank without eyewitness testimony?"
"No," Carol admitted. "I guess not." Her fury rose again. "But all the time I was pining around the house, waiting for him to come in from some damn golf match where he was supposedly selling insurance, he was out getting a fast piece from some little hussy."
Marje smiled. "Forgive me for saying so, but unless I'm mistaken, you've been getting a little on the side lately."
"Well, sure!" Carol shot back. "Frank didn't give me any choice, did he? Besides, it was accidental every time."
Marje shrugged, noncommittal. "World War Two was an accident, too."
"Really, it was accidental," Carol protested. "Take today, for example. When I went to the country club it was for a golf lesson, and that was all. But Frank left me so horny, when George drove into the woods and then attacked me, I just fell apart. But I tell you, it isn't going to be any accident from now on. By damn, it'll be deliberate as all hell."
"Do I detect a note of vengeance in your voice?" Marje asked.
"Damn right you do," Carol swore. "If my husband can go around banging every little piece of tail that drifts his way, why can't I?"
"Was I arguing?"
"No," Carol admitted.
"Could I make a suggestion? Take it a little slow and easy at first? Speaking from experience, taking on lovers is not exactly like buying shoes," Marje observed. "There are certain hazards involved. Also, how do you think Frank will react if, or rather when, he finds out?"
"How's he going to find out?" Carol asked.
"How did you find out about him?" Marje countered. "Besides, how will it be revenge if he never finds out?" She checked her watch. "Just think about it. Look, Paul's going to be home any minute and I'd better be ready for him. He's been lecturing on Neolithic Fertility Figures of Central European Civilizations, and that always leaves him horny as all hell. If you stay here, I can't guarantee your safety."
"Oh." Carol got up. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."
"Believe me, you're no bother," Marje assured her. "It's just that I have to clear the decks. Look, keep me posted, will you?"
"Okay, will do," Carol promised. She paused outside the back door of Marje's house and heard her calling out to someone just coming in the front door. Carol took a deep breath of the afternoon air, and her stomach suddenly growled, reminding her of a missed lunch. Praying that she'd find the house empty, she slipped quietly through the back gate. The house was reassuringly silent, and she hurried inside.
Chapter Eight
Frank allegedly worked late again that night, and Carol was so exhausted she was sound asleep when he finally came home. Somehow she had managed to get through dinner without revealing to the children that she had watched them that afternoon.
The next morning, Frank was buried in his newspaper as usual. Halfway through breakfast he suddenly broke the silence and asked Carol about her golf lesson.
Carol jumped as if she'd touched a live wire. "Wh . . .,what do you mean?" She cursed silently, reminding herself that he was fully as guilty as she.
"I was just wondering how you're doing. Learning anything?"
She took a deep breath, relieved that he suspected nothing. "Oh, I'm learning, slowly but surely," she replied. "I'm no Ben Hogan, of course, but I'm having a good time."
"Well, that's the main thing," Frank observed. He folded the paper, gave her a perfunctory kiss and picked up his brief-case. "Don't wait up; I'll probably be pretty late again tonight."
"Some special project on?" she asked innocently.
Frank didn't notice the slight acid in her voice. "Yeah, the boss has a special sales incentive idea."
"I see. Don't work too hard." Carol had to fight to keep her voice from betraying her.
Just after he shut the front door behind him, the children came clattering down the stairs.
"Hi, Mom." Pam gave Carol a peck on the cheek. Jack, as usual, scooped up the paper and turned to the sports section. His lack of attention at breakfast was inherited from his father, Carol decided grimly.
"Anything special on for today?" Carol asked casually as she dished up their breakfast.
"Nope," Jack said from behind the paper.
"Slow day today," Pam added.
Carol wondered how to approach her daughter, then decided on a frontal attack. "Pam, before you go dashing off anywhere, I'd like to have a talk with you."
The blonde girl looked up, plainly worried. "Did I do something wrong?"
Carol tried to smile reassuringly. "No, of course not. I just want to talk with you."
"Okay," Pam said, looking at her mother quizzically.
"Does that include me?" Jack mumbled around a mouthful of breakfast.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Carol said automatically. "No. You can go and do whatever you want."
He smiled in relief. "That's good. Think I'll go help Ben with his car."
"Well, wear your old clothes. I don't want you getting the ones you're wearing all greasy."
"Okay, I'll change." Jack bolted down the rest of his meal and went upstairs. Five minutes later he ran down the stairs and out the door. Without checking, Carol knew he had left clothes scattered wildly around his room.
"What'd you want to talk with me about?" Pam asked.
"Wait 'til I get some coffee," Carol said, stalling. She fiddled with her cup and the pot for a bit, trying to buy time. Finally deciding she could put things off no longer, she poured her coffee and sat down opposite her daughter. As she stared into her cup she could feel Pam's curious gaze.
"You're getting to be quite a shapely young lady, aren't you?" Carol finally observed awkwardly.
Pam glanced down at her chest. Her breasts were again unconfined by a bra, and the blouse she was wearing was too small. Her nipples were tiny peaks under the strained cloth. "Yeah, ain't it groovy?"
"Isn't it groovy," Carol corrected her. "I suppose you can regard it that way. I imagine boys are getting pretty interested in you."
"Are they ever!" Pam said enthusiastically.
Carol took a deep breath and plunged on. "I know it's flattering, but you know there are dangers, don't you?"
"What do you mean?"
Carol toyed with her cup. "I mean that girls are the ones who get pregnant. The boys don't have to worry about it."
Pam looked at her mother carefully. "You have to go pretty far to have to worry about that," the girl observed cautiously.
"I know," Carol replied. She eyed the thirteen-year-old very carefully. There was a self-assurance, a maturity in Pam's eyes that Carol had not noticed before. Carol reminded herself that at thirteen, her daughter knew more about sex than Carol had when she married Frank. Carol drew a deep breath and rushed on. "Pam, I ... I don't know for sure just how far you've already gone. I do know, though, that things today are a lot different for you than they were for me at your age. No, don't interrupt. As I just said, I don't know how far you've gone. One thing I'd like to know, though, is, are you a virgin?"
Pam was obviously impressed by the seriousness of her mother's tone. She didn't hesitate with her answer, nor reply with excessive vigor. "Yes, I'm still a virgin."
Carol gave a big sigh. "Good. Oh, I don't mean 'good you're still a virgin,' " Carol amended, "I mean, good, I'm talking to you in time."
"What do you mean?" Pam asked, puzzled. "You mean it's not good to be a virgin?"
Carol smiled. "It used to be a necessity in my day. However, it's neither good nor bad to be a virgin. Like a lot of things in this world, it's simply a fact. No, I'm just glad that I can give you a little advice and help while you still need it."
"I don't get it." Pam sounded completely confused.
"I'm not communicating very well, am I? I know you're going to lose your virginity sooner or later, probably sooner. I just wanted to tell you that with the right boy, it can be a wonderful experience, but with the wrong one it can be quite painful and unpleasant."
"I know," Pam said. "I've done some reading about it."
"You know what I'm talking about then. You've been seeing a lot of Ben, and he's a nice boy. But, he's very young and probably very inexperienced." Carol noted the agreement in Pam's eyes. "For those reasons, I don't think he's the one who should introduce you to sex."
"I see. Who'd you have in mind?"
The directness of Pam's question caught Carol off guard. She fumbled for words, and finally asked, "What makes you think I'd know of someone?"
Pam shrugged. "It's hardly a topic you'd bring up without having given it a lot of thought. I figured you had a candidate for the job."
Knowing Pam was usually turned off by her suggestions; Carol hadn't planned on suggesting anyone, though she had decided that Mike Santucci was the ideal person. The problem was to handle it in such a way that both he and Pam would feel natural about it.
"Mike Santucci is an awfully nice boy," Carol observed tentatively. "And I imagine he's experienced."
"Is he ever! Mike doesn't talk about his girls, but everyone knows. But he'd never be interested in me. He's eighteen."
Carol smiled. "Oh, I think under the proper circumstances you might be able to catch his interest."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, there's no reason you couldn't try to seduce him. You have the equipment."
Pam looked down at her bust. "I guess you're right."
"Once you get their juices flowing, men don't care how old you are," Carol observed. "But, think it over. I'm not trying to throw you into someone's arms. Now, there's one little problem."
"What's that?" Pam asked.
"As I said, girls do get pregnant, so you should have some kind of protection before you go roaring into bed with someone."
Pam suddenly clammed up, plainly upset. She fumbled with a spoon on the table, not meeting her mother's eyes. "Promise not to kill me?" she finally pleaded.
Puzzled, Carol agreed.
"I've been on the Pill for six months," Pam confessed in a rush.
Carol's heart stopped beating; then she leaned back in her chair and laughed. She managed to choke down her laughter, feeling Pam's eyes on her. "I should have known there was a reason for your sudden blossoming. I won't ask how you managed to get a prescription without my signature. I imagine someone stood in for me."
Pam nodded.
Carol sobered up. "I'm sorry; it's just such a relief. I'm not happy you went behind my back, but I guess you had your reasons. I hope you won't do it again."
Pam smiled Weakly. "I'm sorry, Mom. It's just that you've been kind of hard to talk to lately, and I was afraid you'd take it wrong. I got them just in case."
"Is Linda on the Pill, too?" Pam nodded. "Yes, why?"
"Just curiosity," Carol lied. "Now, get out of here before I start bawling for your lost youth." Pam got up from the table. Carol looked up and met her daughter's blue eyes. "Thanks, Mom," Pam whispered. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Carol said, fighting back tears. "Now, get out of here." Carol gazed fondly after her daughter as Pam went upstairs.
Carol took a deep breath, blew it out in relief and began to clean up the kitchen. After getting the dishwasher started, she got out the phone book and looked up "Santucci". There was only one listing.
"Mike Santucci, please. This is Mrs. Anderson." The woman who answered the phone had a thick accent. A few minutes later the boy was on the line.
"I'm sorry; did I wake you, Mike?" Carol asked.
"No, Mrs. Anderson. What can I do for you?" Mike asked, plainly puzzled and a bit worried.
Carol thought quickly. Mike's mother might be on an extension, so she had to handle this carefully. "You know the fish pond you've been working on for us, Mike? Well, I really think it needs a little more work. Would you be able to come over this afternoon?"
"Certainly, Mrs. Anderson," Mike agreed. He seemed to understand exactly what she was driving at. "What time should I come?"
"I'm kind of busy this morning," Carol replied. "How about two o'clock?"
"Fine. I'll be there."
After hanging up, Carol made a final pass at the kitchen, planning how to get Pam and Jack out of the way. She remembered that they had been interested in seeing a double feature downtown, and decided today was a good day for that. Humming to herself and quivering with anticipation, Carol bustled around the house straightening up. A ball of desire was flickering to life as she worked. All her reservations about cheating on her husband had been blasted to fragments by George's revelations. Carol was going to screw around now and planned to enjoy every minute of it.
By one-thirty, Jack and Pam were happily embarked on the trip downtown. Carol, her worries eased after the talk with Pam, was happy that Ben and Linda went along. Carol realized that she had been nagged by those formless worries of a mother for a daughter, and that now they were gone. In the few minutes before Mike was due, she straightened up the basement playroom, setting out glasses, ice and Vodka just in case it was wanted. Checking herself in the mirror, she decided against any make-up.
When she greeted Mike at the door, she was wearing a robe. Underneath, she wore the same daring bikini he had removed from her the last time. She had no excuse for the outfit, but needed none.
"Hi, Mrs. Anderson, what's the problem with the pond?" Mike asked. His smile was angled slightly by nervous bravado.
"Come in out of the heat," she invited him. "I thought we could discuss it downstairs, rather than out in the hot sun."
Carol's gut was aching with desire as she led him down to the playroom. She left him for a moment to turn on the radio. This time the station was of her choosing, one that specialized in pleasantly soft background music. She turned to find Mike awaiting her in the middle of the floor.
"Let me get rid of this robe," she told him, her voice husky and tense. She shucked off the garment and carefully walked over to hang it up, feeling his eyes on her. Every inch of her burned with excitement as she walked back to him. He was wearing a T-shirt of a wide-open knit, actually a net, that hugged his muscular, tanned torso. His pants were skintight, the growing bulge of his cock obvious at his groin. He stood like a Roman god as she walked up to him. She looked into his dark, burning eyes, and inside she burst into flame. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, moving against each other with a soft firmness that set both of them ablaze. His tongue touched her lips and she opened her mouth to it. He tasted as she remembered, warm and masculine. A slight aroma of garlic added incredible spice to the kiss and she inhaled excitedly. His hands were hard and strong on her back, scraping over her sensitive skin. The net of his shirt cut a pattern into her belly as they crushed together. For a long time she clung to him, feeling the incredible heat of his body against hers, thrilling to his muscular hardness.
Eventually, she pushed herself away from him, holding him at a distance as he tried to reach for her again. "Wait," she ordered. "This is just a good fuck, understand? No commitments, no love, no promises, right?"
Puzzled, he nodded. "Sure."
"I just wanted to make sure," she told him. "Now watch."
Slowly, she let her body begin to sway to the music. The clinging bikini hugged every one of her charms, displaying them to great advantage. She watched his eyes as they feasted on her incredible body, and the excitement in her expanded slowly. He took a hesitant step toward her and she pushed him back. "Just watch," she said again. She let her instincts take over moving her hips, legs and arms in sensuous patterns that came naturally to her, patterns as old as the first fertility rites. The bulge in his pants grew rapidly.
Without breaking the flow of her moves, she said, "Those clothes look uncomfortable. Why don't you take them off?"
He didn't answer, quickly ripping the shirt off, kicking away his shoes and unfastening his pants. In a second he was naked, his big cock free and swaying. The sight of his naked body set Carol afire with lust. She felt like an animal in heat as she danced for the youth. "Strip me," she said hoarsely, knowing he would understand. He reached for the bra and gripped the flimsy material between the cups. A single wrench of his powerful hand ripped the garment from her, the fabric burning her skin as it was torn away. She danced for him still, her breasts swaying excitingly free, the nipples as hard as rocks. He grabbed the waist of her panties and she braced her feet for the jerk. The last covering she wore disintegrated with one powerful pull.
He was as excited as she was, and bore down on her. She flung herself into his arms and he threw her to the floor. The rough fabric of the gym mats burned her buttocks as he drove her along them. His cock was as ready as her cunt and speared to the heart of her as she threw her legs wide to receive him. She sank her teeth into his shoulder as he pistoned his cock into her hot vagina. They were both too hot to wait, climaxing quickly together, Carol's cunt spasming around his cock, milking every last jet of sperm from him. The screwing was over in seconds, leaving them both panting for breath.
Finally, Mike rolled off her and lay on his back, hands behind his head. "You're a good fuck, Mrs. Anderson."
"Carol," she corrected him. She felt pleased, and still horny at the same time. "You're a good fuck, too."
For a while they lay side by side on the mats, rebuilding their strength. Carol rolled to her feet and offered the youth a drink.
"Just a ginger ale, thanks. No vodka this time."
She tunred on him, Surprised. "You knew?"
Mike shrugged. "You might have gotten away with less vodka. You must have had at least two shots in those glasses."
Shaking her head, Carol poured him a ginger ale and herself a plain tonic. Naked and graceful, she sank to the mat next to him and handed him his glass. He rolled up on one elbow and sipped his drink. His cock was half-erect, draped casually across one of his hairy thighs. He studied her carefully. "What makes you tick?" he asked eventually.
She looked into his dark eyes. "Let's just say I like a good fuck," she replied.
Mike shook his head. "From someone my age, I might accept that. But from someone from your usually uptight age, it doesn't ring true."
"Does it bother you?"
"No, just puzzles me," he observed.
"Let's just leave it that I like a good fuck then.
What makes you tick?"
"Hell, you're a beautiful woman. I'd have to be either queer, crazy or a damn fool not to take what you offer."
"Am I as beautiful as your girl friends?"
Mike nodded. "In a different way, you are," he acknowledged.
"Have you ever had a virgin?" Carol asked.
"Uh-huh, several times. Why?"
"Did you like it?"
Mike shrugged. "It's all right. You have to be careful how you treat them, though."
"And you know how to treat them?"
Mike looked embarrassed. "I don't know. I like to think I do. I've never had any complaints. Besides, if it isn't fun for them, it isn't much fun for me."
"That's an unusual attitude."
"Is it? It's just the way I am."
Carol set her glass aside and stretched out comfortably on her back. "Show me how you'd make love to a virgin," she challenged him.
"Right now?"
"Why not? I haven't been treated like a virgin in a good many years," Carol replied.
"Okay, why not?" Mike agreed. "First of all, I'd start out real slow, so's not to scare you. You know, a lot of kissing and stuff."
"Show me."
The Italian youth bent toward her, his kiss warm and soft, tender and undemanding. The first touch of his lips reminded Carol of those days long ago on the front porch of her parents' house. She tried to respond as she had then, nervously, tensely, bubbling with the thrill of discovery. Mike's lips moved on hers, and she felt her body responding in the exciting way it had so long ago. Even naked as she was, Carol was recapturing a part of her lost youth. His tongue gently touched her lips and she let him pry them open a tiny bit, let him taste her teeth, then met his tongue with her own. Slowly she let her mouth open to him, amazed at the young man's self-control and tenderness. Carol's heart began to flutter with excitement and her nipples stiffened slightly.
Mike moved carefully and slowly, one hand stroking her ribs reassuringly, his thumb just pressing against the base of one soft mound, making Carol simmer slightly. He was matching his moves to her passions, urging her onward ever so gently. Carefully, as if handling fragile china, he cupped her breast, squeezing it gently. Her nipple poked into the palm of his hand, and his fingers sought out the rosy bud. He tugged at it gently, sending a jolt of heat through Carol. He'd done all this without breaking the kiss. Finally he pulled his lips from hers and traced a nibbling line over her cheek to her ear. Then he breathed into its curves gently, and Carol dissolved into a helpless, quivering mass.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes," she whispered. She felt weak, powerless, as he gradually stirred her passions. Her hand had a life of its own and sought out his cock and wrapped around the hard mass. She pumped his prick gently as he traced a line of kisses down to her breasts. Taking first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth, he teased the little buds erect, then sucked at them. Carol's passions began to roar. She needed something at her cunt, but wasn't aware of his hand until it got there and cupped her mound, his finger probing between her legs. Her pubic hair was already moist with their juices, and his finger easily found her vagina, slipping inside so gently that Carol was hardly aware of its intrusion. Her cunt demanded more than one finger, and he seemed to sense it, slipping another inside, increasing Carol's joy. He played with her like that for long minutes, until her juices were pouring forth in a flood of ecstasy. Her hips began to roll restlessly with a life of their own, and Mike matched her moves with pleasure from his hand until Carol was near a climax.
He pulled away, and Carol looked up into his dark eyes, sensing his question and answering it with her own eyes. Slowly, as if he were stalking some terribly timid animal, Mike moved his body over hers, easing her thighs apart with his knees, lowering himself into place. With his hand he guided his cock to her vagina and nestled the head at her entrance. She jerked with joy as he gently moved it against her, increasing her passion skillfully. Then he slid the big rod inward, gently, just inside the lips, as if searching for the barrier a virgin would have. He carried the game to the hilt, ramming his hips forward quickly as if to burst the hymen quickly. Past the imaginary barrier now, he slowly stroked deeper and deeper into Carol, gradually stretching her cunt open with his big staff until he reached bottom. Once there, he paused, then began to piston in and out of her, slowly and gently at first, but ever quickening. He twisted his body to give Carol the greatest possible stimulation, and paid close attention to her feelings. He seemed totally devoted to raising her to a climax, and easily succeeded, leaving Carol gasping as her orgasm broke over her in a huge wave.
He froze until it died away, then began to move again. Keeping his moves gentle, he brought them both to a climax this time, leaving Carol exhausted and gasping as his cock jetted wads of hot sperm into her for the second time that afternoon. They clung tightly together as the waves of pleasure gradually subsided, eventually leaving them fulfilled and breathing heavily.
Still moving gently, he rolled off her, his cock trailing a sticky, gleaming string of cum across one of her thighs. "Like that," he told her.
"Beautiful," Carol complimented him. She was amazed that someone as young as he could be so incredibly skillful and experienced in loving. He made Frank seem as clumsy as a drunken elephant, and the golf pro a rank amateur. She dozed easily, pleased with the warm feeling of the boy beside her.
Chapter Nine
At the children's breakfast on Monday morning, Carol tried not to have an unusual tone in her voice as she said, "Pam, are you going to be home tomorrow?"
The young girl seemed to sense that her mother was driving at something special. "I didn't have any plans."
Carol felt a wave of relief. "I have a golf lesson in the morning, and I was hoping to get in some extra practice in the afternoon. Mike Santucci is coming by to work on the fish pond and I wanted someone home."
"Sure, I don't mind," Pam replied and gave a theatrical wink.
The children departed and Carol sat down to enjoy her coffee. She had just taken her first sip when Marje called over the fence.
"C'mon over, Marje. The coast is clear."
Marje gave a mighty yank at the back door and almost fell backward into the yard when the door flew open without resistance. Amazed, she tentatively opened and closed the door a few times. "What happened? Don't tell me Frank actually fixed this door!"
"Good grief, no," Carol replied. "I managed to talk Jack into doing it. Thank God for sons."
Marje poured her coffee. "Speaking of Frank, how is he?"
Carol shrugged. "Search me. You've probably seen as much of him as I have. He has breakfast here, but all I see is the back of the newspaper. And he sleeps here, but by the time he gets home, I'm sound asleep. The kids haven't seen him in two weeks, since they usually get up after he leaves in the morning."
Marje made a sympathetic face. "Sounds rough."
Carol sipped her coffee. "It's just as well. If I saw more of him, I'd probably clobber him somewhere along the line. If it weren't for Pam and Jack, I'd walk out on him."
"No hope for a reconciliation?"
Carol smiled bitterly. "How can I get reconciled with him when I never see him? Besides, I'm not sure I want to be reconciled with him. I'm having too good a time right now."
"Yeah, well, just remember what I told you about being careful. A lot of guys like to brag about their conquests, and that can really screw you up. Also, some guys aren't too terribly considerate about how they treat you after they figure you're an easy make."
Carol told Marje of the conversation with Pam and of the session with Mike. "So, I think I've got things set up for them for tomorrow afternoon. Mike and Pam will be here alone. Jack is going off with Ben, and I'll be at the country club."
"You mean you aren't going to watch?" Marje asked, surprised.
"Oh, I don't think I should watch," Carol replied, embarrassed.
"Phooey," Marje exclaimed. "Why not? She's your daughter. Don't you want to see that everything goes all right?"
"Well, yes," Carol admitted.
"So, go ahead and watch!"
"Well, maybe you're right," Carol said finally.
"I want a blow-by-blow description. Try the knothole in the fence," Marje told her. "Gotta run. Paul has the morning off and he'll be wanting some breakfast. See you." The red-head dashed out the door, slamming it behind her.
For the rest of the day, Carol puttered around the house, a feeling of anticipation about the next day fluttering in her belly.
The house was already deserted the next morning when Carol chose her outfit for her golf lesson. She began as usual; then a feeling of recklessness came over her and she stripped off both her bra and panties. For a top she chose a soft, clinging knit, sleeveless with a scoop neck. Instead of shorts, she settled on a short pleated skirt that came only halfway down her thighs. Loafers completed her outfit. She carefully checked her reflection in the mirror, pleased with the tan she was developing on her face and arms from her golfing sessions. When the golf pro hooked his drive into the woods on the fourth hole this time, Carol would be ready for him. Cool air brushed up her bare thighs and touched her already excited cunt as she walked out to the car. Her nipples peaked stiffly, pointing sharply through the thin material. The feeling of near-nakedness caused by her lack of underwear made Carol burn with excitement.
At the country club George took in her appearance without batting an eye. "G'morning. Let's start out on the practice tee, shall we?"
They quickly reviewed her technique with the wood; then he gave her lessons on the various irons. The lesson went easily for Carol, in spite of her nervous anticipation of what she knew was to come. She had decided to take Marje's advice and spy on Pam and Mike in the afternoon. Meanwhile, she found herself looking forward to getting out on the nearly deserted golf course with her instructor. Her nipples brushed the fabric of her top when she swung, making them bum and harden, sending little jolts of desire rippling through her. She could feel the skirt flare out around her hips when she turned, nearly revealing her pantyless state. Her rapid breathing was only partly from exertion when they moved over to the practice putting surface and George gave her a quick course in that phase of the game.
"I think you're ready for a full round of the course," he told her finally. Her heart leaped at the thought, and she felt the itch of desire building in her belly. "Unfortunately, I have another lesson, right now," George went on, and Carol's hopes sank.
"You mean I go alone?" she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.
"Oh, no," he reassured her. "No, you'll have a caddie with you to carry your clubs and help you. Come on." He led her over to where a tall, lanky Negro youth was leaning negligently against the Pro Shop. "Mrs. Anderson, this is Martin Lincoln."
"Pleased to meet you." Carol stuck out her hand as she studied the youth. His skin was nearly black, and he was extremely tall and slender. His clothes were tattered, a sweat shirt whose sleeves had vanished long ago, leaving frayed threads at his shoulders, and worn Levi's. He wore his hair in a bushy Afro.
"Hello," the black youth said.
"Martin is our best caddie," George explained. "He can give you all the help you need for now."
Carol tried to figure a way out of her predicament but failed. She hadn't anticipated this at all and was left floundering. "Well, if you think I'm ready for this," she muttered.
George smiled, encouraging her. "Believe me, you won't have any trouble at all. Just follow Martin's advice and you'll do fine."
Before Carol could reply, the golf pro walked off, leaving her gasping and confused.
Martin picked up her golf bag easily. "Ready, Mrs. Anderson?"
Carol took a deep breath. "I g . . . guess so." She was painfully aware of her inadequate clothing as she followed Martin to the first tee. She knelt carefully to tee up her first ball, avoiding bending over. Her hands were shaking as she addressed the ball and she had to take a deep breath to steady them before starting her swing. Overly cautious, the drive was short but straight, bouncing down the center of the fairway. The accuracy of the shot eased Carol's mind a little, but she could feel the frank, hot stare of the black youth as they walked down the fairway. She avoided conversation, fearful of developing any familiarity with the boy.
Through the first three holes, Carol played cautiously and well, avoiding Martin's eyes. The only conversation was when he recommended a particular club to her and explained the reason. His knowledge of the game and the golf course was all that George had said it was.
On the fourth tee, Carol felt herself tightening up again. The deep woods to the right drew her attention. Had her partner been the golf pro, she would have aimed her shot into the woods. With Martin Lincoln, all Carol wanted to do was avoid them. She swung awkwardly, stiffly, in her nervousness, forgetting half of what she had learned. The ball sliced off the face of the club. Her heart sank as the ball curved straight into the heart of the woods, almost exactly where George had driven his the week before.
"Oh, no," Carol wailed.
"Tough luck, Mrs. Anderson," Martin sympathized. His teeth flashed white in his black face. "Guess we'll have to go look for it."
"Couldn't I just use another ball?" Carol suggested.
Martin laughed. "That's against the rules, Mrs. Anderson."
"You're right." She handed him the driver. As they walked towards the woods, Carol reflected that so far, Martin had behaved admirably. The thought of entering the deserted patch of thick brush didn't agree with Carol, but she was a little more at ease with the youth since he had been so polite thus far.
He guided her to the path George had taken with the golf cart and they entered the narrow lane. The shade of the trees was a welcome relief after the hot sun, and Carol felt the trickle of sweat that had been sticking her top to her spine slowly dry as she cooled off a little. In a few minutes they were in the same clearing she had visited with George. She fought to keep her legs steady as she wandered around the clearing, searching for her ball. A gleam of white caught her eye, and without thinking, she bent over to see what it was. She was disappointed to discover it was a piece of paper, and stood up.
"You've got a nice ass, Mrs. Anderson," Martin said suddenly from behind her, making her whirl around. He was smiling broadly, obviously admiring her body.
"I th . . . thought I'd found my ball," Carol explained lamely, trying to brush his comment off. His eyes made her aware again of her lack of underwear. She was afraid and excited at the same time.
"Did you really?" Martin asked.
"M . . . maybe it's over here," Carol stuttered, trying to move away from the boy. He took a long stride and reached for her. "Stay away," she cried, suddenly terrified. She drew back the club she had been using to probe the bushes as if to defend herself, but his hand clamped down on her wrist. "Stop it," she screamed. His hand was like iron, squeezing her wrist, making her drop the club with a cry of pain. He drew her in against him and his lips bore down on hers in a brutal kiss. His arms were like steel bands trapping her against his rock-hard body. Despite her terror, Carol felt herself responding even as she battered at him with her free hand. Her blows weakened rapidly as the lust he triggered in her took control. By the time he broke the kiss, she was almost helpless. She threw herself at him, her animal instincts overwhelming her. His muscular arms lifted her and he dropped her to the soft grass.
"Oh, my God, yes," she cried softly as he towered over her, stripping off his sweat shirt, baring his gleaming black chest. He pulled off his pants, and her eyes fastened on his huge black cock in fascination. It looked immense, and Carol felt a brief wave of panic at its size. She waited for him as if she were waiting for a snake to strike. The boy's black body gleamed with sweat as he moved toward her. She tried to back away from him without getting up, but her muscles betrayed her with their weakness. He reached for her, and her resistance vanished completely as her own incredible lust overwhelmed it. His hands crushed her tender breasts under her blouse, making her explode into flame at the brutality of his touch. She was helpless as he stripped the thin top off her. His hands reached for the waistband of her skirt and skillfully unfastened it as she lay back in the grass. Shaking with both fear and passion, she lifted her hips and let him strip her. His hands were everywhere on her, his calluses scraping her tender skin, and she enjoyed it as he played with her as a cat might play with a mouse, rolling her over in the grass, pawing every inch of her body.
His teeth were bared in a flashing white grin as he explored her, a soft growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest. His cock was an ebony rod, as hard as steel, drawing Carol's fingers to it to measure and squeeze it tightly. He laughed a deep, animal laugh, and Carol quailed before it, lust controlling her body, leaving her mind quivering with terror at what was happening. Martin climbed over her, his hard body crushing her painfully against the lumpy ground.
His cock bored into her cunt, brutally ripping into her, setting off explosions of both pain and joy. Her hips jammed upward to meet his thrusts, and she felt as if her cunt were being torn open. His prick was longer than any cock she had ever taken, and she felt the head of it press against the end of her vagina, triggering an incredible orgasm. As she roared to a peak, her juices pouring out around his mighty rod, he continued to pound at her, his balls slapping up against her ass. His hard hands gripped at her buttocks, spreading the cheeks painfully, and one of his big fingers pried at her asshole, driving her mad with lust. She tried to loosen the tight ring and he jammed his bulky finger up into her, stretching her open, setting off still another orgasm in her. He pumped his cock in her vagina and his finger in her rectum until Carol was delirious. She dimly felt him driving his cock into her to the hilt, and felt him begin to blast unbelievable quantities of semen against the end of her vagina. His mighty driving cock erupted in a spurting flood of cum that drowned Carol's cunt. She was dimly aware of screaming with joy as she blacked out.
She roused slowly. The young Negro was again pawing her body with his rough hands. In spite of her exhaustion, she felt her feelings stirring again as his hands explored her. She felt like a toy to him, and she loved it, the sensation adding to her feeling of lust. His black skin was in striking contrast to the pale-white flawlessness of her own, further stirring her desires. He clutched one of her breasts painfully, impatiently, and her nipple burned with excitement as his palm scraped roughly across it, making it stand up sharply. He pinched it, wringing a cry from Carol's lips as he did so. His other hand was probing her cunt, scraping her tender, abused tissues, spreading the lips. His rough fingers found her clitoris, pressing the hood of flesh back skillfully, and the scraping touch against the tender bud was like flame, making her cry out again, rocking her with passion. She grabbed his cock with one hand, squeezing it hard, bringing a grunt from him. With her other hand she sought for, and found, his balls, juggling them with her fingers, then seeking behind them for his anus, probing gently at the ring. His cock jerked in her hand when she touched the ridge of flesh between his anus and the base of his balls. Pleased with the effect, Carol scraped a fingernail over the obviously sensitive ridge, and Martin growled with pleasure. His cock was a hard, hot, thrilling mass in Carol's hand, a sculptured black beauty dwarfing her pale-white hand as she pumped.
Finally the youth seemed unable to take it any longer. With a roar, he grabbed Carol with both hands and flipped her over onto her belly. Positioning himself behind her, he lifted her hips. Her face pressing into the ground, not enough strength left in her arms to raise herself, Carol felt his cock pressing between her buttocks. She tried to raise her hips, to position his cock in her vagina, but his hands held her solidly, preventing her from moving. His cock pressed at her asshole, and the gradually increasing pressure revealed his plans to Carol. "My God, no!" she screamed as she felt her anus being slowly pried open by the head of his huge tool.
Ignoring her pleading, Martin continued to bear down, trying to spread the muscular ring open. Carol felt as if she were being ripped open by the monster ramrod. She tried to relax and open herself to him to ease the agony. He drew out and for a second she thought he had given up as he thrust his cock quickly into her soaking cunt. Instead, he withdrew immediately and again attacked her ass. This time he gained ground rapidly, his cock well lubricated by the juices of her cunt. She felt her anus spreading open before his raging tool, and the pain was mixed with pleasure this time.
"Oh, my God, my God," she wailed softly in a mixture of passion and pain as he drilled his way slowly into her. The ring of muscle snapped past the head of his cock, easing the agony to a dull ache, and still he pressed onward. Farther and farther he bored his way up into her rectum until she felt as if his cock filled her entire body. Finally his hips met the cheeks of her ass. As he rested for a moment, Carol was able to become used to the incredible mass filling her rectum. The pain subsided to a dull ache, leaving her with a feeling of fullness and raging sexual lust. The black caddie began to pump his cock slowly in and out of her ass, and Carol rose to a roaring climax. With her fingers she sought, and found, her clitoris, stimulating it herself as Martin rammed his cock in and out of her butt, driving her to one soaring climax after another. The tight fit seemed to raise him to a fever pitch at an incredible rate, making him speed his thrusts until he slammed himself against her ass bruisingly hard. As he started to come, he slammed up against her with a final, quick, hard jolt that rattled her teeth and triggered a final, overwhelming orgasm. Deep in her gut she felt his sperm pouring into her rectum like some wild, insane enema. As he hosed her guts out with his cum, she fainted from the incredible pleasure.
When Carol finally came to again, her own muscular contractions had driven the youth's withered cock out of her, leaving her feeling hollow and empty. Her rectum ached dully, vividly reminding her of what the black youth had done to her. The memory of the incredible series of orgasms his reaming of her had created blotted from her mind any feeling of shame or disgust. Weakly, she pulled herself to her feet. Naked, Martin lay snoring softly on the grass as she gathered up her few clothes and pulled them on. Using his sweat shirt, she mopped at the trickles of cum that ran down her legs when she stood up. Finally the flow eased and she roused the boy.
"Get up," she ordered, softly at first, then more loudly when he failed to stir. A gentle shove with her foot finally awakened him and he stared up at her. "Get up," she said again.
Moving quickly, the Negro scrambled to his feet and hurriedly got dressed. They said nothing as they made their way back to the fairway. With no thought of continuing the round of golf, they went back to the clubhouse. She let him load her clubs in her car. For a few minutes after he left her, she sat wearily behind the wheel, trying to steady her hands, shaking with weariness. Her ass ached dully where it was pressed by the seat. Finally she started the car and drove home. It was after noon, and she managed to drag her mind away from the memories of fucking with the caddie to thoughts of her daughter's forthcoming initiation at the hands of Mike Santucci.
Parking her car a block from home, Carol made her way into Marje's backyard and listened carefully at the fence. She heard Mike's shovel in the hard earth and moved silently along the fence between the two yards to where a knothole provided a peephole through the fence.
The sight of the youth's healthy, muscular body warmed Carol's belly. As usual, he was stripped to the waist. His muscular torso glistened with sweat as he worked at the hole, his muscles bulging with the effort.
The back door of the house slammed, and Carol looked up to see Pam enter the yard. She walked a little tensely, a determined expression on her face. She was wearing a short beach jacket over one of her bathing suits. Carol felt sure it was the bikini Pam had outgrown the year before. Under her arm Pam was carrying a blanket and a transistor radio.
"Hi, Mike," she greeted him cheerfully.
"Hi." He didn't even pause in his work.
"Mind if I watch you while I get a tan?"
"Nope," Mike replied, hardly looking up.
Gracefully, Pam bent and spread out the blanket, her back to Mike, giving him a glimpse of her well-shaped buttocks below the hem of the jacket. Turning on the radio, she settled down cross-legged on the blanket. When Pam unbuttoned her jacket and shrugged it off, Carol's guess was confirmed. The bikini was pale yellow and at least two sizes too small. The bottom of the suit barely concealed Pam's virtually hairless pussy, and the cups of the top covered only her nipples and a small part of her large, firm breasts. Pretending not to notice Mike's glances, Pam spread suntan lotion on her bare skin. As she worked around the bra of her suit. Carol was certain the overstressed fabric would give out. Posing gracefully, seemingly accidentally, Pam oiled her legs carefully. Finished, she leaned back on her arms, arching her spine slightly, and watched Mike work.
After a few minutes, the Italian youth paused in his work, pulled out a handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his face. "Whew, sure is hot," he commented, casting surreptitious glances at Pam's shapely body.
"Sure is," she agreed. Carol was impressed by Pam's matter-of-fact tone.
"Where's your mother?" Mike asked.
"Oh, she's playing golf."
"Really? I didn't know she played golf."
"She doesn't really. She's just learning," Pam replied.
"Never could see much sense to golf," Mike admitted.
"Neither could I," Pam observed. "She'll be spending the whole day out on the golf course today, just walking around trying to hit some stupid little ball."
"The whole day?"
"Yeah," Pam acknowledged. "Won't be home until dinner time."
Carol glanced at Mike to see what his reaction was. He showed no obvious interest in the information about her absence, but his cock was an impressive bulge in his pants. He was not unmoved by Pam's carefully sexual pose.
Mike finally tore his eyes from Pam and pointedly turned his back on the girl as he resumed work. He managed a few shovelfuls of dirt before halting again. "Not going to be home until this evening, huh?"
Pam giggled, just a little nervously. "Won't be home for hours," she affirmed. Mike stood, staring off into space, again mopping his brow with a handkerchief. He was deliberately avoiding looking at Pam.
Mentally, Carol was cheering her daughter on. She knew Pam had Mike right at the edge. All that was required was a small nudge and he'd fall into her carefully set trap. Pam took just the step required.
"Would you spread some lotion on my back? I always miss a spot if I try to do it myself." As the girl said this, she rolled over slowly and gracefully to her belly, propping herself up on her elbows. Her heavy breasts sagged away from her chest, nearly bursting the bathing suit top. Mike's eyes grew large at the sight.
"S . . . sure," he stuttered. Carol found his slight discomfort intriguing. He stepped out of the excavation and over to Pam.
"Thanks," Pam said, letting herself down on the blanket. As he picked up the bottle of lotion, she reached back and unhooked her bra. "I hate having a stripe," she explained. Then she reached up and untied the straps where they fastened behind her neck.
Mike knelt next to the girl as she tugged the straps from around her neck. Her back was bare, a smooth expanse of golden-tan skin. Mike poured a small trickle of the lotion on her back.
"Oooohh, that tickles," Pam giggled softly, cheek against the blanket.
"Sorry," Mike apologized, his voice catching. He suddenly became aware of the dirt on his hands and awkwardly wiped them on his tight pants. Carol could see his hands shaking a little as he rubbed the lotion into her daughter's back.
Pam purred like a cat. "Mmmmm, that's nice. That feels so good." She luxuriated in the sensuous pleasure of Mike's firm hands working the oil into her bare skin. She rolled her shoulders, rippling her smooth muscles as the youth massaged the oil in. Having worked the oil in, Mike stopped his stroking. "Don't stop," Pam requested. "It feel so good."
Mike shrugged and went back to massaging her gently. "You've got nice skin," he commented.
Mike scratched a spot at the small of Pam's back. "Here?"
"Lower," Pam answered. "A little to the left. No, the other way. Now lower yet."
Mike was nearing the top edge of Pam's bikini bottom. The suit showed the beginning of the cleavage between her buttocks, and the fabric of the suit had ridden up between the curvy mounds.
"Lower," Pam whispered. Mike's fingers were just above the edge of her suit. Pam squirmed her bottom and he found himself scratching just below the top edge of the suit, pushing it lower on her fanny, revealing the untanned pale-white skin there. He jerked his hand back as if it had been burned.
"What's the matter?" Pam asked, rolling on her side slightly. She held the unfastened top of her suit over her breasts casually. The bulge of one large, firm breast was obvious, the bikini covering only her nipple.
"I think I'd better get back to work," Mike stuttered. Carol was amazed at his self-consciousness.
"I don't think so," Pam replied. Gracefully she rolled on her back, releasing her bikini top at the same time. Her breasts, full, pale and firm, gleamed in the sun. Her pert nipples capped the white mounds proudly. She posed deliberately for Mike, one knee raised slightly, her thighs brushing gently together. "Come here," she said, holding her arms out to the young man. Her voice was firm, deep, mature and sexy all at once. It left no room for denial.
Moving like a robot, or as if he were fighting an incredibly attractive force, Mike lowered himself slowly to accept Pam's kiss. Her arms twined around his neck as she drew him in.
The kiss lasted so long, Carol thought it would never end. Finally it broke, and Mike gazed at the young girl. His eyes were serious as he studied her. "You're beautiful," he said softly.
Pam touched the slight cleft in his chin tenderly. "Thank you," she replied. "So are you."
Mike's hand was on Pam's side, gently stroking the soft skin. He studied her carefully: her smooth, young complexion, the few fine wisps of blonde hair of her sideburns, hair so fine it stirred in the slight breeze from his breathing. Watching her face carefully, he gently moved his hand upward to cup her breast. As his palm brushed her nipple, her eyes closed and she drew a shuddering breath of pleasure. More confident now, Mike cupped her breast firmly, squeezing and kneading the tender mound. For a long time he fondled her breast, then lowered his head for another kiss. He was more of an aggressor now and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Carol could almost taste him herself as he explored Pam's mouth with his tongue.
He broke the kiss and Pam lay motionless in the sun, her fingers resting lightly on his shoulder. Studying the reactions of her face and her nipples, Mike teased the pink buds capping her breasts. Her tits were stiff and rubbery, standing up and begging for more attention. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and kissed them, nipping at each one gently with his lips.
"Oh, yesss," Pam hissed ecstatically. She rolled her head as the boy nibbled at first one of her tits, then the other. "Oh, God, it's so great." Her joyous sighs made the hair on the back of Carol's neck lift with excitement.
Mike raised his head and the two youngsters stared deeply into each other's eyes. A question was asked and an answer was given. No words were spoken. Mike reached for Pam's bikini bottom. She lifted her hips and let him pull her last covering down her shapely, smooth legs. Holding the suit bottom casually in his hand he stood up and gazed down on Pam's naked body. She lay still, her eyes closed as he studied her, her nipples hard with excitement. Her breathing made the skin of her stomach flutter slightly. She opened her eyes and smiled up at Mike.
"Christ, you're beautiful," he said again, tossing the bottom of her suit away. He reached for his belt and managed to get it loose, never taking his eyes from Pam. Quickly, he stripped down his pants, then his shorts. Pam's eyes widened at the sight of his big, hard cock, standing proudly out from his body. As he knelt on the blanket next to her, she reached for it and touched it with gentle fingers, smearing the crystal drop of moisture at its tip over its head.
The two young people kissed again, and Carol's breath caught in her throat at the beauty of it. Their bodies were clean, smooth, and graceful as they twined together. Pam spread her golden thighs to trap one of Mike's legs, pressing her almost hairless cunt against his muscles. Their passions were bursting now, Pam half-crying with the joyous feelings Mike's thoughtful, exploring fingers were triggering in her. He guided her away from him, and again she lay back on the blanket, giving him the total freedom of her young body. He spent only seconds pinching her nipples with his fingers before he again bent his head to kiss them, this time sucking as much of her breast as possible into his mouth. As he" did this, he ran a hand down Pam's stomach, making her skin quiver with excitement.
As Carol watched, her own passions grew, even though her anus still ached from Martin's buggering of her.
Mike's hand slipped down to Pam's cunt, and she opened her thighs to him, admitting his gentle finger to her most secret recesses. He played with her gently and easily, careful not to go beyond the limits of her passion, raising her slowly from level to level. His finger slipped into her vagina, bringing a gasp to her lips. Her hips were beginning to twist and roll by themselves now. Carefully, Mike slipped a second finger into her, stretching her virginal channel slightly. Pam bit her lip as her body was brought more and more to life by the youth.
With his other hand, he guided her hand to his cock again, and wrapped her fingers around it. Keeping his fingers in her cunt, he encouraged her to measure and fondle his big organ.
They seemed to remain like this for hours, until Carol thought she was going to scream. Finally, Pam turned and looked into Mike's dark eyes. "Do me," she said, her voice harsh and soft at the same time.
Moving slowly, Mike crawled over her. Pam spread her legs, raising her knees, letting him settle between her thighs. She touched his graceful, tanned neck with gentle fingers, her eyes closed, face expectant. Mike guided the tip of his cock to her cunt and slipped it gently inside the lips. For a few moments he remained like that, sliding his cock up and down inside her lips. Finally he paused, with the big tool right at her gates, and moved his hips inward slightly, measuring the resistance that was there.
Carol was holding her breath, her fingers buried in her own cunt under her short skirt. Mike gave a firm, hard thrust with his hips, driving his cock into Pam. She let out a yell and dug her nails into his neck. Surely now, Mike stroked his big rod into Pam's tight virgin channel, and the expression of pain on her face was replaced by one of pleasure. For a few seconds she just lay there, accepting his slow drives into her. Soon her hips began to move instinctively, matching his slow, even thrusts. He gradually drove his prick up to the hilt in her, wrenching a gasp of surprise and pleasure from her when he pressed his pubic -bone against hers.
As he rested in her, Pam opened her eyes and smiled up at him. She must have done something with her cunt, because Mike smiled suddenly, and again began to move, pistoning his cock in and out of her. As he had done with Carol, he watched Pam's reactions carefully as he brought her toward her orgasm. A rosy blush began down low on her belly and swept upward as his motions increased in speed and power until finally their bodies were smacking audibly together.
"Jesus, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming," Pam began to cry with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet his. Her orgasm swept over her, making her arch her back and lift him off the ground, Her heels digging into the blanket, the cords of muscles in her neck standing out with the strain. Finally she slumped down, sighed, and smiled weakly up at Mike.
Mike grinned down at her and began to move again, bringing a surprised gasp to her lips. He moved more quickly now, angling his cock into her channel differently, teaching her new joys. Soon he was slapping into her again, faster and faster, and finally hammering his cock into her in one last pounding drive.
Carol by now had driven herself to a climax of her own, and she imagined she could feel Mike coming in her own cunt as he climaxed in Pam's.
Sighing with pleasure. Carol let herself sag away from the knothole in the fence. After catching her breath, she slipped silently away, leaving the children to continue their pleasures.
Chapter Ten
"Thanks, Mom," Pam said feelingly as she kissed her mother good morning the next day. Carol smiled in response.
"For what?" Jack asked, his nose buried, in the newspaper.
"Tell you later," Pam replied. "Going out today, Mom?"
Carol shrugged. "I didn't have anything else planned, so I thought I'd play golf."
"Sounds like you're enjoying golf," Jack said, rattling the paper loudly as he looked for the funnies. "You going to play with Dad? He said he might play today."
"When did you see him? I thought you were sound asleep when he left."
"Ran into him in the bathroom after you'd gone downstairs," Jack explained. "Going to play with him?"
Jack's revelation was a surprise to Carol. Frank had said nothing to her about playing golf today. "I don't think so," Carol admitted. "I'm not really in his league yet. What are you kids going to do?"
Pam and Jack looked at each other and shrugged. The simple gesture expressed more than any words could have.
Leaving them to their own devices, Carol puttered around the house. As she worked, she took a hard look at her feelings toward Frank. Despite his neglect and infidelity, she felt a residue of love and affection for him. For a long time their marriage had been a good one. But, somewhere along the line, they had strayed apart, and only recently had Carol realized it. There seemed to be no real reason that their relationship could not be rebuilt.
"But I like screwing around," Carol told herself out loud. This got her thinking about Marje and Paul's system. They had had a similar problem, and had resolved it comfortably. Thinking it over, Carol could see no reason not to try the same thing with Frank. The thought of him screwing around with other women was not attractive, but she forced herself to admit it was no worse than what she had been doing recently. And if it was the only way to keep the family together, it was worth the price. The children at their age needed two parents more than ever. Young Jack especially needed Frank's advice and guidance.
Having made the decision to stay with Frank, Carol found a plan forming in the back of her mind. Quickly she dialed the country club and asked for George Maclntyre.
"George, is my husband there yet?" she asked the golf pro.
"Not yet, Mrs. Anderson."
"Well, what time does he usually arrive?"
George thought for a minute. "He usually gets here about one o'clock. He doesn't get to the first tee until two-thirty or so-after drinks and lunch."
"Thank you, George." She hung up and tapped her fingers restlessly as she worked out her scheme. It was extremely risky, but at this point she felt she had everything to gain and nothing to lose.
By two o'clock she was lurking behind the Pro Shop at the country club. She was dressed just as she had been the day she was out with Martin Lincoln. The knot in her stomach, this time was one of fear, not anticipated passion, though if things went right, there was a good bit of that ahead for her also.
She was enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face when she heard Frank's familiar voice, and those of two other men. They were all talking a shade too loudly, their words slurred. As Carol had hoped, they had all obviously had more than one drink before heading out to the course.
Frank was making some comment about wanting to make up a foursome when Carol stepped from behind the Pro Shop, lugging her golf clubs and trying to look innocent.
"Carol, what are you doing here?" Frank was obviously surprised.
Out of the corner of her eye, Carol saw a shapely brunette who was awkwardly carrying a bag of clubs turn pale and drop her load with a clatter. Carol grinned. "Why, I'm here to play golf."
"Say, Frank, introduce us to the little lady," one of the other men slurred.
"Uh . . . but ... " Frank was stumbling, trapped. "Sure. Harry Stample, this is my wife Carol."
Carol bowed slightly to the man, a portly gentleman with a thin mustache. "Pleased to meet you." Carol chuckled to herself at the way Harry's eyes lingered on her barely covered breasts.
"And you know Mark Hunter," Frank went on.
"Did I hear something about your needing a fourth?" Carol asked.
Before Frank could answer, Harry Stample spoke up. "Why, Mrs. Anderson, Frank didn't tell us you play golf. Why don't you make our fourth?"
"Well, I'm not very good yet," Carol said modestly.
"Neither are we," Harry replied gallantly. "We'd be charmed to have you along."
"Why, thank you very much." Carol noted Frank's unhappy expression. Since Harry Stample was the client, what he said was law and Frank couldn't contradict him. Carol was extremely pleased with herself.
"I'm sure you wouldn't mind if she shared my cart, would you, Frank?" Harry went on.
"Why, no, of course not," Frank choked out.
"Fine, fine. Shall we go?"
Feeling on top of the world so far, Carol played well enough to surprise everyone, including herself. She was no match for the men, but neither was she a hindrance. Even Frank was impressed with her capabilities.
By the time they had reached the fourth tee, all were at ease with one another. One of the golf carts had been stocked with a thermos of chilled martinis, and everyone was well oiled. Carol was to be the last to drive, and watched, amused, as Frank eyed the woods nervously just before driving straight down the fairway. Mark Hunter drove straight and true as well. It looked as if Harry Stample made an honest attempt at a good drive, as he succeeded in slicing directly into the woods. Carol smiled at Frank's sudden pallor.
Making sure her back was to Harry, Carol bent over and set up her ball. She could feel the client's eyes on her buttocks as her skirt went up in back. When she stepped around to take her position for the shot, she managed to nudge the ball off the tee with her toe. This time she was facing him as she bent over. Without looking up she knew his gaze went down her neckline all the way to her waist. He was red and sweating when she stood up and addressed the ball.
Standing with the driver in her hands, she clamped down on her nervousness and excitement. She tried to remember how she had sliced into the woods before, then drew back her club and said a silent prayer. The shot was perfect, ripping off the tee in a screaming slice that appeared to track exactly after Harry's.
"Oh, dam it," Carol moaned as she watched her ball disappear into the woods. "Looks like we're both in trouble."
Harry smiled, making his mustache bristle slightly. "Oh, I'm sure we can find our balls and drive out of trouble."
"We'll help you look," Frank offered eagerly.
"No, no, that's not necessary," Harry replied. "We won't have any trouble. Why don't you two go out where you balls are and finish out the hole? Carol and I will be with you in just a shake, I'm sure."
Frank started to protest, but his eye was caught by his boss'. Mark Hunter wagged his head negatively and Frank gave in. "Okay. But if you need any help, just holler." His words were obviously for Carol.
"Wonder how we can get in there to look," Harry said as he drove the golf cart.
"There's a little path right over here," Carol directed.
"Sounds to me like you've been here before," Harry observed.
"Several times," Carol admitted. "I always seem to have trouble off the fourth tee. To tell you the truth, I haven't made a full round of this course yet."
"Oh, really? What happened?"
They reached the end of the track and Carol got down from the cart gracefully, letting her skirt slip indecently high up on her thigh. "It's so beautiful in here, I always get distracted. I imagine our balls are over this way." She led the way in the direction of the clearing, feeling Harry's stare on her back. She let her hips roll gracefully.
They entered the clearing, and Harry gazed around. "I see what you mean; it certainly is beautiful."
"And totally isolated," Carol noted. "You can't even tell where the fairway is."
"Like the Garden of Eden," Harry contributed.
Carol turned to face him. "Isn't it?" she replied. Her voice was husky and loaded with meaning.
Harry hesitated only a second before reaching for her. His lips pressed hers, his mustache prickling her nose. She let her body sag against his and was pleased to feel that although he was portly, it was mostly muscle and not fat. His hands cupped her ass, sliding the skirt up over her bare buttocks.
In a few seconds she was lying nude in the grass as he stood over her, unfastening his pants. He was silhouetted against the sky as she looked up at him. He kicked away his shoes and pants and settled to the grass beside her. "We'd better hurry. Your husband will be wondering what's happened to us."
Carol slowed his impatient hands. "Don't worry; he doesn't know about this clearing," Carol lied.
Harry's hands were soft, office worker's hands, and the change from her other lovers' hard hands was refreshing as he massaged her breasts. She stripped him of his shirt, leaving him as nude as she as they rolled in the grass. She prolonged the foreplay as long as possible, until they were both roaring-hot with passion. Finally she was unable to stall him off any longer and he pressed her on her back. His heavy body crushed the breath from her as he moved on top of her. His bulk made it difficult for him to get his prick in her.
"On our sides," Carol gasped. They tumbled to their sides and tried a different angle. This time he succeeded and his cock drilled smoothly into her cunt. She had maneuvered him around so that his back was to the path to the fairway. As he pumped his cock into her, she managed to respond and keep an eye out for intruders at the same time.
His prick was smaller than average, but he made up for this in his technique, screwing his cock around inside her in a variety of different angles and motions. Carol found herself responding more and more, until an orgasm broke over her. Still he screwed her, and she rose again to a climax just as he began to come with a series of slow, but powerful, pulses of sperm into her cunt. For a few minutes they clung together, then sagged apart, his cock slipping from her cunt.
Carol opened her eyes to see Mark Hunter at the edge of the clearing. Sprawling naked on the grass, she smiled in open invitation to him. "Where's Frank?" she asked.
"I left him back on the fairway," Mark answered, unable to tear his eyes from Carol's naked body. His cock was rising in his pants. "I was afraid of what he might do."
"Who's going to do anything?" Carol asked, rolling to her feet. She moved toward Mark, and he tried to back into the woods, coming to a halt against a tree. His cock was rising rapidly as she approached. She posed before him, proudly naked, feeling his eyes feast on her. Her nipples were stiff and hard with excitement. Her cunt was dripping with cum, hungry for more attention. She reached out to the helpless man and began to unbutton his shirt. His hands reached for her breasts, lifting them, his thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples. She quickly bared his chest, rubbing her fingers through the sprinkling of gray hair before reaching for his belt. It yielded quickly and she let his pants drop around his ankles and reached for his jockey shorts. His cock was like a tent pole beneath them. Her mouth was watering with excitement as she lowered them, kneeling in front of him to do so. His cock was level with her mouth, and after stripping him of his shorts, she took the base of his prick with both hands and licked at its rosy head, guiding her moves. She sucked and tongued the big tool happily, her gut boiling with excitement. Her excitement triggered an orgasm, making her suck even harder on his cock, drawing it toward the back of her throat. His hips were rolling and thrusting now, driving his cock into her as he pulled her head toward him with his hands, his fingers tangled in her hair.
Faster and faster they moved, her fingers playing with his balls, reaching behind them for the sensitive ridge of flesh in front of his anus. Suddenly, another pair of hands was on Carol, reaching around from behind her, gripping her breasts and squeezing them. Harry Stample had arisen from the grass and was pressing his naked body against her back as he squeezed her full boobs. Carol came again with a rush, crying out around the mouthful of cock she had. Evidently the vibrations of her voice were all it took and Mark Hunter's balls tightened up against the base of his cock. Muscles squeezed and valves opened, and pounding hot jets of cum were roaring down the channel of his cock. Carol tried to pull her head back, but his hands jammed her down on him harder than ever. The first spoutings of cum splashed against the back of Carol's throat, threatening to choke her, forcing her to swallow. Even as she battled to avoid being swamped in Mark's cum, another orgasm roared over her, bringing a new flood of juices pouring from her cunt. Harry Stample had been jamming the fingers of one of his hands into her juicy folds, and Carol's copious cum drenched them. Her breath whistled through her nose as she gulped down the last declining pulses of cum from Mark Hunter.
The man whose cock she had sucked finally released her, untangling his fingers from her hair, and Carol tumbled backward into Harry, unable to hold herself up. They sprawled on the grass, Harry trapped under her, his hard cock wedged between her buttocks. It nestled at the opening to Carol's rectum, a teasing, tantalizing probe. She squirmed slightly on top of him and felt his cock begin to wedge her asshole open.
A sudden noise made Carol open her eyes. Standing over them, her husband was tearing frantically at his clothes, overcome by his own lust.
Carol snarled up at him lustily, spreading her thighs open in invitation to him. With a cry, he stripped down his pants, baring his cock. Carol's eyes fastened on it hungrily. This was the cock she wanted above all others.
Behind her, Harry Stample was reaching around and squeezing her breasts with one hand, her cunt with his other. His cock was nestled in her anus, just barely prying the ring of muscle open. Carol squirmed slightly and he got the idea, drilling his prick up into her a little more. Even as he did so, Frank was removing Harry's hand from Carol's pussy and kneeling between her spread thighs. As Harry pumped his cock up into Carol's rectum, her husband nestled his already rock-hard prick at the entrance to her cunt and jammed it into her.
Harry's cock was halfway up her rectum, squeezing her vagina closed, giving Frank less room than usual. The stimulation for Carol was driving her delirious as the two men slowly bored up into the neighboring channels. She could feel the thin layer of flesh between her vagina and her rectum being squeezed and stretched by the two driving tools. The two men squashed her between them as they pumped their hips, ramming farther and farther into her, spitting her from two directions. They moved together, driving into her, and Carol had an orgasm that felt as if she were melting in hot acid, so delicious was the pain in her ass and so full was her cunt.
Finally both men seemed to reach bottom. Carol was stuffed with cocks, glutted with them, and her joy was unbearable. The two men buried in her began to move again, slowly at first, alternating, first one, then the other, and Carol went crazy. She felt something nudging her lips, and opened her eyes. Kneeling next to the writhing mass of bodies was Mark Hunter, his cock again hard and ready. Carol opened her mouth and accepted the big, exciting tool, still dripping with her saliva and his cum.
Carol turned her animal instincts loose, sucking wildly at Mark Hunter's cock, exploding with orgasm after orgasm as Harry and Frank rammed their cocks in and out of her cunt and rectum in an opposing rhythm that rolled and twisted her tissues between them. Mark's balls drew up against the base of his cock, and Carol sensed his coming. She rolled and gyrated her hips eagerly. Suddenly, everyone was coming at once. Frank blasted wads of semen up her cunt, his cock pulsing wildly with every shot. Harry's prick was rocketing matching blasts of sperm into her rectum. Carol's climax roared through her, an incredible explosion that left her barely capable of dealing with the flood of cum pouring into her mouth from Mark Hunter.
Carol felt glutted, bloated, inflated, and drowned as she absorbed the fantastic quantities of cum in every possible opening of her body. Finally, as Mark's spendings slowly died away, she wrenched her mouth from his cock, his final spurts spraying her face. Frank and Harry's spurtings declined slowly, leaving Carol trembling and jerking with uncontrollable muscle spasms from her own intense series of climaxes. The world slowly went dark around her, her ears ringing with joy. She was barely aware of Frank withdrawing from her. She hardly felt the jolt as she tumbled to the grass when Harry rolled her off of him. For a long time she lay on the grass, fighting to regain her breath.
After a while, she managed to roll weakly over onto her stomach and raise her head. Peering around, she found the clearing to be deserted except for her husband. Still nude, he was sitting on a fallen log, his head in his hands.
With cum streaming from her cunt and anus, Carol got to her knees and crawled over to him. She touched his shoulder and he tried to shrug her off.
"F-Frank," Carol choked. "I love you." There was no response. "Frank, I love you," she repeated.
He lifted his eyes and she almost cried at his expression of misery and exhaustion. Instinctively, she pulled him to her, cradling his head against her breasts. For a long time they huddled together in the clearing. Finally he lifted his head and they kissed. A simple kiss of love and affection, it started slowly, then began to grow. Carol felt her blood begin to simmer as their lips pressed and worked. His tongue probed her mouth tentatively and she admitted it. He tasted as she always remembered he had.
Without a word they tumbled to the grass. Their hands explored each other with tenderness and love, building their passions in slow, exciting steps. Carol was choked with love as Frank caressed her lovingly. Her hands were tenderly rediscovering the contours of his body from his head to his ankles. Soon they were both ready and he pressed her gently on her back. Sure of himself, he drove his cock up into her cunt with slow, steady, firm strokes. His return to her was uncompromising, complete, as he filled her cunt with himself. Carol let her hips move with his, surrendering herself completely to him. He drove her skillfully toward a climax, sending her roaring over the top, then triggering his own to match hers. As they climaxed together their lips met in a kiss that reunited them totally.
As they lay together, a warm island of love and tranquility, Carol wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her tightly. The sun beamed down on them as they dozed in the center of the small clearing.
