The deeper his fingers wriggled and probed, the more she wanted.
He ran his tongue out to lick the tip of her breast. "You go first, baby," he whispered.
His youthful, male arrogance drove a sharper lust through her body. She could feel herself turning into a weapon.
She was up and squatting over him in a flash. With both hands she guided him. Once it was partly in, she rode her thighs downward, forcing every inch of him straight up inside her....
ONE
Paul Marsh struggled with his imagination to dream up a proper way of describing his secretary's very large, very white, very firm young tits.
"Big scoops of vanilla ice cream," he whispered, "topped with country strawberries the size of my thumbs!"
"What, Mr. Marsh?"
Cindy Hart had barely heard the rapturous groan of delight from her boss. But then, she was too busy taking off her panties to hear much of anything. They were well into the final stages of a seduction that had taken months to engineer. And if both of them were a wee bit jumpy, they had good reason to be. They were getting ready to screw on top of the conference room table only ten minutes after everybody else had left the building!
"I didn't say anything, baby," Paul managed, moving his naked buttocks back up against the table so he could get an even better perspective of Cindy's amazing and tempting fruits.
"Those are some knockers you got on you, Cindy. Lord, I've got to admit that!"
The young, blonde secretary glanced briefly at Paul and caught the appreciative gleam in his brown eyes. She had seen the look many times before-and the first time had been in a haystack when she was fourteen years old, and the hired hand on her Uncle's farm was a lusty eighteen.
"Hurry it up, baby," Paul suggested, hoarsely. "We don't want to stretch our luck, horsing around in the office after hours like this."
Cindy Hart gave the big, stiff tool sticking out from between her boss's legs a wanton look, then grinned at him again. "From the looks of what you've got for me, Mr. Marsh, I'd say I may have to stretch a lot more than luck!"
He grinned, and flushed a little from pride and pleasure. He knew he had a big one. And the naughty compliment from Cindy made his tool just a bit harder, his balls swell a little larger.
Christ, I am gonna screw her pussy until it purrs!
He watched impatiently until she had scissored her creamy, long legs out of the panties. His eyes had been on practically nothing but her big titties, until she turned. And then her pussy grabbed his attention like a red light.
He stared at the deeply clefted, pouting smoothness of her Venus mound, and yearned to start pumping it at once. The hair covering her treasure box was almost the same golden color as the hair on her head-but it was in a helluva lot more interesting a place!
She walked toward him with the liquid style of a modern, free-swinging young gal who knows it takes more than typing and riling to please a healthy young stud-boss-even if he is happily married, and loves his wife, and all that.
"Ready, Mr. Marsh?" she said, with the same voice she used when taking dictation.
He caught the joke, and grinned. "You want some tfcVA-tation?"
"Uh-yum" she breathed, pushing him back on the table with just the tips of her long, perfectly manicured fingers.
To his amazement, she was nuzzling down over his fully erected penis and doing thing to the head of it with her lips and tongue!
"Jesus," he gasped, pleased and half-embarrassed at the way she was trying to please him.
But his shame melted in the new flames of lust and desire that began to pump through his masculine loins. If Cindy wanted to eat him for a little while, he damned sure wasn't going to tell her she couldn't!
He leaned back on the table, supporting his chest and shoulders with his arms while her head bobbed up and down well below his navel. He couldn't exactly see what she was doing, but he could feel it!
Her tongue felt like a little hummingbird, moving up and down over the gorged head of his tool until he had to curl his toes to keep from shouting with joy!
He brought both of his hands up and cupped the top of Cindy's head, to hold her to her lascivious task.
"Suck it, baby!" he groaned, lifting his hips up to show her how much he liked it, and how he now wanted it.
Cindy didn't need printed instructions in the art of fellatio! She not only knew what she liked, she knew how to make the object of her desires like it, too!
Tonguing with faster and wetter strokes, she ovaled her mouth over the mushroom-shaped meatus of the big prod, and went down on it as far as she could. And that was far enough to send a jerking spasm of pure pleasure up Paul Marsh's spine!
He could feel her inching the column of his madly stiff rod higher and higher up into the warm tunnel of her throat. Once he was sure he was blocking off her windpipe, but she didn't complain!
Finally, she began moving her head in a slow, teasing up and down stroking movement. She did the oral ritual like a pro, and a lot of vivid pictures ran through Paul's mind. He could imagine her sucking a whole row of large, vertical penises, taking them on one at a time and doing the job up brown until each one had shot off like a cheap pistol in her salacious, hungry mouth.
Once, she came up for air-and he got a boldly stimulating glance at his own wet and throbbing dong, covered with her lipstick, and gorged with big veins. Then she was down on it again, slurping it back up into her mouth the way a pelican goes after an oversized fish!
He had not really thought she would take him all the way down the happy road to an orgasm, but that seemed more and more likely as her tongue and throat combined to give him one solid thrill after another.
He was coming, and she knew it!
Her fingers came up between his legs and began to gently tickle and arouse the large bags of nectar hanging at the root of his tool. That made him groan one final, desperate sigh of satisfaction-and then he ejaculated.
He shot a continuous torrent of sperm into her willing throat, and felt his arms go weak as she sucked and chewed the nozzle of his rod to get the last succulent drops of his horny explosion.
His penis went only the faintest bit soft, and she kept working on it lovingly with her tongue until it was up as stiff, or stiffer, than before.
"Time for both of us to have some fun," she husked, rising up from between his legs like a goddess of sex.
But she wasn't fooling him. He didn't have to be told that she had already enjoyed the fun and games. The slack grin on her bruised lips was testimony enough to how much his big dong had pleasured her.
And if that wasn't the kind of evidence you could produce in court, then all one had to do was note how her tits had grown even larger. In fact, the nipples were not just large anymore, they were huge!
With her standing between his legs like that, with the head of his big hard-on touching the bush of hair covering her pussy, he couldn't resist paying back at least a little of her adoration for his body.
He pulled her toward him until her tits were pushing against his chest, then he lowered his mouth down to one of the pink, throbbing nipples and began to suck hell out of it.
She liked having the hell sucked out of her!
She brought one hand up and squeezed the base of her tit, thus feeding him not only the nipple, but a sizable area of the cone.
He sucked happily, flipping the inch long nipple back and forth with his tongue, and giving the padded rosette at the base of the nipple a million little love bites.
He was turning her on all over, like a big electric light switch. In fact, her tits were becoming big bulbs of glowing flesh in his mouth. He stopped altogether trying to be gentle about what he was doing to her, and began to chew large mouthfuls of her breasts.
That was all she needed to push her over the ever narrowing brink of modesty!
"Screw me!" she hissed, running her tongue in and out of his left ear, licking and sucking the lobe, then racing down to the side of his neck. "Screw me while you suck my goodies!"
The words were lewd music to his ears.
He whipped her up on top of him, then gently forced her over onto the conference table. For one wild, unbelievable minute he imagined that he was doing this in front of J.R. Treadwell, and all the executives of Treadwell Enterprises. And in a way, he enjoyed thinking of being watched coupling his strong, healthy young body to the nude, delicious form of his helpful secretary.
If old man Treadwell could see how much energy he had, he might make him a vice-president, after all!
Cindy's thighs were opening for him in a soft, creamy yawn of desire, and her arms were coming up to circle his neck and shoulders. She knew how hard and good he was going to ride her pussy-and she wanted something to hang on to!
He couldn't resist one last look at her heated slit. He pulled back from her just far enough to stare between her wide-cracked legs, and the sight that met his eyes was enough to give that last throb of petrification to his already stone-hard dick.
The lips of her pussy were pulled back like the mouth of some toothless clown, showing the pink, wet meat of her vulva. The whiskery down covering her pubis was a circle now; inviting and fuzzy!
With a groan, he plunged the head of his large tool into the center of her honeypot. She didn't complain, so he quickly fed her half of it, feeling the interior walls of her vagina spread succulently apart. To his intense delight, he found that she was deliriously tight down there, and the muscles of her pussy began to hold him, and beg for more.
He pumped the whole column of his rod deep into her. He didn't stop until he could feel his balls pressed snugly against the thin crack of her warm buttocks. The hair at the root of his dong mingled into the soft little moustache of her own private parts.
He lay on top of her for a few seconds, letting her adjust to the size of him. To help her get used to the fun that was coming up, he continued to worry the swollen nipples of her wondrous tits. He licked and sucked on them, moving from one to the other like a hungry boy baby until she was squirming and moving her loins beneath him like a whore.
"Do it to me, damnit!" she gasped, stripped of all shyness. "Screw the shit out of me!"
He grinned, and lifted his hips up and down in the oldest of all love games. He started with a slow, teasing rhythm, then moved into a slightly faster pace, making sure that with each thrust, he pushed the fisted head of his tool as deep into her tunnel of love as he could.
With a carnal moan of gratification, Cindy lifted both her legs up over his buttocks, then crab-walked them to the small of his back. She locked her ankles together, and settled into a contented coma of lust.
They kissed as they screwed-and the way she pulled and sucked his tongue deep into her throat made him hornier than ever.
The conference room was suddenly filled with a sound it had never heard before ... the steady, libidinous slap-slurp of a very stiff penis moving in and out of a very hot pussy.
Both of them lost all sense of time and space. They might as well have been screwing on a cloud or a green meadow. The hard oak table seemed softer than eight feet of feathers, except when Cindy tried to dig her fingernails into it from time to time.
After five minutes of steady humping, Cindy had her first orgasm. Every sphincter muscle of her vaginal opening clamped tight around his horsy tool, wantonly squeezing and caressing him as the flooding liquids spritzed hotly.
He kept screwing her.
He wanted to make her come at least two more times before he shot his wad.
He wanted her to get her kicks good enough to invite him back for more!
He had nothing to worry about on that score, however. Cindy had been turned on plenty of times in her life, but each time was a new, ecstatic pleasure for her. And with a tool the size and length of the one now pumping her, she would have promised to give him a crack at her pussy in broad open daylight on the steps of City Hall!
She grunted, dug her hard nails into his broad back, threw her head back in an open-mouthed gasp of joy ... and climaxed all over again.
This second spasm was a deeper one, and he could feel her juices boiling hot and thick up from the deepest corners of her womb.
"One more time, baby," he whispered, feverishly, keeping up the pistoning movement between her legs. "I wanta make you cream one more time, then I'll give you all I've got!"
All he had was exactly what she wanted. She had already had that honey-pumper shoot a torrent of hot sperm down her throat-and now she wanted to have him repeat the performance while buried to the cods in her cockpit!
To urge him to greater efforts, she began to use the heels of her naked feet like spurs. She prodded and love-kicked his bare buttocks, like a rider making a stallion jog faster.
At the same time, she used every trick in the book to stimulate an already over-heated male!
She brought both of her hands up to play with the hard, flat cones of his male nipples. She teased and pinched them until they were like nail heads. Simultaneously, she was using her tongue on his neck and jaw; kissing, licking, sucking.
She turned him into the bull she wanted!
In the last few frenzied moments before he reached his climax, he was screwing her so hard that her buttocks were being lifted completely off the table, and slammed lecherously back down again.
It was the kind of treatment she wanted, and when his balls exploded, she started climaxing all over again.
They came like cannons set mouth to mouth!
Paul had no idea Where all his gism was coming from, but his balls poured one salvo after another into the matrix of her hot slit, mixing pungently with her own inner liquids.
Automatic reflex kept both of them moving and pumping even after the peak of their pleasure was over.
In fact, it was only when both of them heard the amused, somewhat jealous snickers of male laughter behind them, that they really stopped.
"Hey, don't mind us," a friendly voice breathed. "This is better than a damned stag movie anytime!"
TWO
"What the hell...!"
He pulled his hips away from Cindy's so fast that his unstoppering tool made a nasty, sucking sound coming out.
That made his audience laugh even louder-not that the laughs were mocking or angry. Coming from his two friends-Jack Parker and Warren Carson-the laughter had the careless, indulgent quality of two males secretly enjoying the luck of another male.
"Like we said, Paul," Warren Carson grinned, "don't let us stop your fun."
Cindy was coming up from under Paul now. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, but there was an excited, interested sparkle in her blue eyes. It was almost as if she enjoyed having two more males view the charms of her lush young body.
Jack Parker, the big-shouldered friendly head of Treadwell Enterprises advertising section, stared hard at the slippery, yawning opening between Cindy's legs, and whistled a wolf call under his breath.
"Now that's what you'd have to call a manpleaser!" Jack groaned.
Cindy grinned; and glanced at Paul to see how he was taking it all.
He wasn't taking it at all wel!
In fact, Paul Marsh was jabbing his muscular legs into his trousers with all the charm of a bull with a headache!
"Don't you think you might better put your shorts on first, pal?" Warren chuckled. "When you get home, Mary might wonder what you've been up to."
"Or on to," Jack added, grinning. At that, Paul paused and cast his two friends a withering glance. "Okay, you two peeping-goddamned-toms, just what is the meaning of all this?"
Warren Carson slapped a big cigar into one corner of his mouth, and talked around his sly grin. "Nothing to get all that excited about, boy. We just happened to notice you and Cindy purring and sniffing around each other all week long, and we knew something was bound to happen...."
"Just like it happened between me and my secretary," Jack Parker confessed, with a proud husk to his voice. "Hell, Pam and me have been banging for two months now. We use the supply room, though. Helluva lot safer than this room, and there's a pile of pulp-paper rolls down there that make a nest you could honeymoon on forever."
Paul gulped, and thought of the long-legged, redheaded knockout named Pam Johnson. The thought of her spreading her legs for Jack sent an erotic thrill through him, despite himself.
"Joy's a fun little swinger, too," Warren said. Paul dragged his eyes quickly to his second friend. "Joy Smith?" he echoed. "You mean that mousy little secretary of yours who ..
"That's just who I mean, stud. Only when you get those hornrims off of her-and a few other things off-she turns from the mouse to the pussy. Uh, hope I haven't offended you, Cindy, honey."
Cindy, as spread-eagle and happily nude as a whore in a barracks, only smiled.
Paul let the information absorb into his brain for a few seconds, then continued pulling on his pants. Then he remembered his shorts, cursed, took off his pants again, and fished under the table for them.
Both Jack and Warren had lost interest in Paul's anger and shame. They were standing now very close to Cindy-not touching her, except with their eyes.
"You like what you just did, Cindy?" Warren asked, his voice a low, husky drawl of suggestiveness.
"Well, I ... I don't want you to think I...."
"Make it a habit, or do it for money," Jack finished for her.
Cindy smiled, then managed a demure look. "Would one of you gentlemen please hand me my panties?"
Warren scooped the sheer bit of garment up from a nearby chair, then balled it gently and held it up to his nose. Then he grinned and handed it to Cindy.
"You sure you're ready to put those on?" Warren breathed, moving his eyes from her face to her tits, then down to the tempting thatch of curling blonde hair barely covering the freshly speared cleft of her thighs.
"I'm sure," she said, softly.
Warren grinned. "You're sure or you just think you're sure?"
Cindy sighed. "I think I think I'm sure."
Warren's meaty, big hand came out and rested on the creamy inside of her leg. "Think about this, honey. Think about you and me going down to my office right now. I've got a nice black leather couch down there, and I'm horny as a sailor on shore leave, made up all these rules about it, and even had some tricks from some gals in Hong Kong that will turn your cute little tummy into a big, crazy butterfly!"
"I've got an office and a couch, too," Jack smiled. "And I'll be more than happy to finish what these two big clowns can only get good and started."
Paul had been listening to the debauched conversation out of one ear-and now he turned with his jaws gritted into steel. "Will you two shameless bastards just shove off, and...."
"You're not being very fair to the lady, pal," Warren cut in, holding up one hand like a traffic cop. "You've had your kicks, buddy, but maybe Cindy isn't satisfied."
"She's damned good and satisfied!"
Warren glanced at Cindy, and winked. "You damned good and satisfied, honey?"
"Well, I...."
"That settles it. C'mon, Cindy, let's you and me go see if I can't make it touch bottom."
The lascivious invitation to fun-on-top-of-fun quite obviously did appeal to the young secretary. After all, she had been caught red-bottomed in the act of screwing her boss, and it would be a little silly of her to pretend she didn't go for such activity with the determination of a bee after honey. But ... she did have her future to think about! So she cast one doubtful look at Paul.
He cast a look back at her, held it firm and authorative for a few seconds, then dropped his eyes with a sigh.
"Oh, hell, what do I care. Go let him screw you, Cindy. The big ox probably can't do anymore than make you yawn with what he's got, anyway."
With a muffled little squeal of delight, Cindy bounced down off the table, her tits jouncing like globes of jello. She and Warren went out of the conference room like the troopers of lust they both yearned to be. Warren had one of his large hands on the bare bottom of Cindy as they walked, and he seemed to be trying to inch his middle finger into her anal crack.
The door slammed shut behind them.
It was quiet as death for a moment in the confer ence room. Then Paul turned on Jack Parker, and folded his arms in something between curiosity and abject disgust.
"Now just what the shit is this really all about, pa!"
Jack grinned self-consciously. "We told you, Paul. Warren and I have been playing this little trade-off game with our secretaries for two or three months, now. Hell, we thought you and Mary were as happily married as a couple of teen-agers, so we never breathed a word of it to you. Figured you'd get up-tight about the suggestion, or something. So when we noticed that you and Cindy seemed to be squaring off for a screwing session, we decided to ... uh...."
"Snoop!"
"I guess you could say that. But don't take it too personally, man. What we were really interested in was seeing if Cindy was as much of a party girl as Joy and Pam. And she is, by God."
"So now you have in mind another pump-doll for your orgies."
"Crudely put, but basically true. But don't worry, Paul. We don't want to crowd you out, we want to include you in."
"Into what, exactly."
Jack grinned, and almost whispered the answer to him. "Into one of the wildest kinds of private clubs you'll ever hope to join, buddy. We call it the Weekend Wonder Club. The girls consider that name a little square. They'd prefer something that reflected the hippie scene, I suppose, but...."
"What girls?"
"The secretaries, you dope. Pam and Joy and now Cindy, I hope. Three and three, if you want to be included. But don't get the idea that we have to pair off in any certain way. The girls don't like that They like the free-love routine. Sometimes Warren screws Joy, and sometimes I screw her. Sometimes the gals even fool around together with one of us. Talk about wild, friend!"
"Weekend hippies, eh?" Paul mocked. "Don't tell me you and Warren go around in scandals and beards!"
"Sandales, not scandals. Nobody considers a damn thing we dream up to do the least bit scandalous. You're not zeroed in on the Age of Aquarius, boy. All that old hat morality went out the back door about five years ago."
"Uh-huh. And what do your wives think of all this?"
Jack flushed a bit. "Well, I wouldn't say they exactly know anything about it, but one of these days we'll clue 'em in. There's nothing wrong with doubling the pleasure-force, I suppose."
Paul shook his head, caught half between envy for his two friends, and amazement that they thought they could get away with something like weekend orgies.
"You two dopes are going to get caught with your pants down one of these weekends, and then...."
"That's where you're wrong again, pal. My Arleth and Warren's Susy never will suspect anything-not as long as we keep our membership in the Anchor Athletic Club.
"What the hell is that?"
Jack grinned again, smugly. "It's something we made up. It's our own private, all-male athletic club. It's where we say we're going every Saturday. We made up all these rules about it, and even had some cards and junk printed up to show the wives, in case they got a wee bit suspicious. But they never will. Hell, when does a wife worry when her husband goes off to play handball with other guys."
"I don't think my Mary would be stupid enough to fall for something as obvious as...."
"You'd be surprised. You ought to try it."
Paul sat on the edge of the conference table, letting the recent conversation buzz around in his head like a big cartwheel blinking erotic neon messages on and off at him. The idea of getting into the panties of mousy, horn-rimmed Joy Smith didn't exactly turn him on. But Pam Johnson was another can of cute worms entirely! In the back of his mind, he realized, he had always had a yen to see what her pussy was like!
"You say your wives have never suspected a thing?"
"Never."
"Where do you hold these little sexathons?"
A narrowed, sly gleam came into Jack Parker's eyes. "That's kind of a trade secret, at the moment. If and when you decide that you want to join us...."
"I'll have to think it over."
In the meantime, Paul began to mull over in his head the situation he was being asked to get into. He wondered if his wife, Mary, could remain innocent about what he might do on weekends. Certainly, he loved her-and when he had married her only three years before, he had thought she was the only girl in the world he would ever want. He could still remember the excitement of their wedding night, and their honeymoon down in Florida. They had holed up in a beachfront motel for a solid week of screwing, sending out only for food and drink.
But honeymoons don't last forever, and even though he and his pretty, sensible young wife could still have one hell of a time in bed, his eyes had been wandering for a whole year. And Cindy had been the kind of willing bait to make him stop wandering, and start acting!
His mind raced back to the first afternoon that he had realized Cindy was not only willing, but hopeful. She had been filing something in his office, standing up on her toes in her stocking feet. He had walked into the room without her knowing it, and on a sudden, boyish impulse-about like a grade school male's desire to pull a pigtail-he had walked over to her and slapped her lightly on her firm buttocks.
Instead of a startled gasp, she had glanced over her shoulder at him, and smiled.
It had definitely been a smile of raw, carnal pleasure.
He had been too openly confused and embarrassed to do anything else about it-to follow through. And so the incident had slipped into limbo.
But the following week, he made another little pass at her, and this time she left no doubt that she was willing to let him touch her body any damned place he pleased-and for any length of time. It was an afternoon to remember! He had spent about twenty minutes toying with her tits, without ever getting them out of her bra or out of her blouse. But he could feel them swelling and pushing against the thin elastic cups, and he could almost taste the large, budding nipples at the cone ends.
The next logical step was to arrange to screw her.
And that exciting event had been what Warren Carson and Jack Parker had so cynically watched this afternoon.
"How about it, pal," Jack was saying, holding his faint, almost sardonic smile just at the edge of his wide, masculine mouth.
Paul glanced at him. "Offhand, I'd say I had less to lose than somebody like you."
Jack nodded, knowing exactly what he meant by the remark. It was Jack who was married to the former Arleth Treadwell, the youngest daughter of the boss. And with any luck at all, he would make a vice-presidency in a few years, and then come in for a very large slice of the company itself. Screwing around with the chance of losing all of that was not something that a guy could take lightly.
"Now you know how safe I think this whole thing is," Jack breathed. "Not a possible chance of anything ever going wrong with it. And I'll tell you why: Joy and Pam and your Cindy are just a trio of whores. They're not interested in doing this stuff for money, man. They're doing it for fun. Like I told you, these little bunnies belong to the new, pleasure-hooked, turned-on generation. They'd rather screw than get gold medals in motherhood."
"It sounds good," Paul said, "but so does winning a million bucks or finding it right in your backyard."
Jack smiled. "That's exactly where you did find this treasure, isn't it? My guess is that Cindy is down there right now grinning like a possum with a candle up its ass, and...."
"Guess again, hero!"
Both Jack and Paul glanced quickly at the conference room door again and gulped at the stimulating sight of Cindy Hart.
She was poised nude and flushed in the doorway. Her nubile young tits seemed larger than ever, and the nipples and coronas were a darker, deeper red-as if they might have been sucked and chewed on steadily for the past quarter of an hour. The gap between her lovely thighs was a scarlet slash now, and the peach-sized pubis was pouting and full. Aroused and hungry for more....
She grinned at both of them, then settled on the hopeful eyes of Jack Parker.
"Next?" she suggested, huskily.
THREE
That very evening, Paul Marsh went home and screwed his young spouse to within an inch of her life.
Mary enjoyed every minute of it, but a little curling knot of doubt crept into her brain even as her super-charged husband was getting her to a peak.
Afterwards, as they lay naked on the bed, sharing a cigarette, she moved one finger along his jaw and purred the first question at him.
"You must have eaten more of those Wheaties this morning than I thought. Why the big urge?"
He didn't glance at her. He was afraid that something would show if he did. And that something was the terrible realization that all through the sex act he had not been thinking at all of his wife's body. He had been thinking of how it would be to hump the sultry thighs of Jack Parker's secretary, Pam Johnson. The idea had kept him horny as a rabbit right up to his spurting climax.
"The urge?" he repeated, still not looking at the half-disturbed, half-contented face of his wife. "Since when does a man have to explain the urge to-uh-enjoy his own sweetheart."
Mary backed off a little. "I'm not complaining, darling," she breathed. "I don't want you to think I didn't enjoy it, either. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if you weren't thinking of me as a cigar store indian, lately. But ... well, usually you don't get any ideas along these lines until after you've had a couple of drinks and dinner. I just wondered, that's all."
She's not dumb, he thought. I told those idiots that Mary wasn't just another pushover when it came to playing the detective.
He made a great effort, and put his hand over on one of her still warm, still swollen breasts. He could feel the nipple still up hard and pointing, and he thought again of what it would be like to get his tongue along the tip of one of Pam Johnson's tasty boobs.
"Sorry if I broke a pattern, hon," he said, taking the defensive, and knowing that it would work on her. "I guess I just got to thinking about you today, and it kinda built up."
She smiled at him, and moved her hand from his jaw down to the mat of hair on his bare chest. "It certainly ended in a big explosion," she whispered. 'Tor both of us."
He leaned over and kissed her nose. "You liked it, then?"
"Loved it."
"Then how about going out into the kitchen and making your caveman something to eat."
Later, as he was taking a shower, washing off the smells of two females he had more-or-less ravished that day, he hummed thoughtfully to himself. It would be nice, he reasoned, if every man could live the way the sultans used to live-or still lived, for all he knew-with a bevy of beautiful women to give them comfort. That was the way life ought to be set up, not only for men, but for women, too.
Why not grab all the sex you can, without making a big issue of the moral questions?
The old saying that you only live once might as well work overtime!
By the time he was out of the shower, and drying his tall, husky body with a large towel, he had half way decided to give Warren and Jack's little proposition the kind of serious consideration it deserved.
He wondered if maybe he couldn't go once to one of their weekend wing-dings on a kind of trial basis?
"By God, if they won't agree to that," he grinned to himself, threateningly, 'I'll blow the whistle on the whole set-up!"
He knew he'd never have the nerve or the vindictive nature to do a thing like that, but he also knew it wasn't asking too much to be allowed to sample the pie before you agreed to buy it.
He made up his mind to at least give his plan a try.
After dinner, and after he had watched a respectable amount of TV with Mary, he made up a simple excuse to go down to the nearby shopping center for cigarettes. Mary barely grunted at him as he left. She was in her nightie, with both her feet up on a hassock, and a watery gin and tonic in her hand.
Maybe I ought to screw her like that the first thing every afternoon, he thought. At least it would keep her tranquilized.
When he got to the shopping center, he crammed himself into a public phone booth and flipped a coin to see which friend he would call.
Warren Carson won-or lost, depending on your viewpoint.
He was lucky that Warren was closer to the phone than his bitchy wife, Susanah. "Warren? It's me, Paul."
"Well, the stud-hoss of Treadwell Enterprises, eh? I thought you'd be home with an ice bag on your balls, buddy."
"Very funny. It so happens I'm in a phone booth. I wanted to talk to you."
"Teel free. Susy isn't even here. Say, I want to thank you, man, for not making a big damned scene this afternoon when I put the make on Cindy." He made a low, whistling noise under his breath that came over the receiver like a hot wind in August. "Christ, did we have one helluva good time in my office. You didn't tell me that little gal could screw so good. I thought she'd...."
"Look, Warren, I didn't call to get a blow by blow description of your session with Cindy."
He heard Warren's husky, naughty laugh. "Speaking of blowing, buddy, did she show you what she could...."
"Yes, as a matter-of-fact she did. And she is good. But I want to talk about the other two mares in this stable you and Jack have built."
"Pam and Joy? Been thinking about that, eh?"
"In a way. What I was wondering was this: I'd like a trial run at this whole thing."
"Trial run?"
"You heard me. I want to see for myself if this weekend stuff you and Jack told me about is worth the money."
There was a small pause, then Warren sighed. "Who told you it was gonna cost anything?"
"Come on, pal. You're not talking to the office boy. I'm the assistant head accountant for old man Treadwell's empire. And I know nothing is free. Granted, our golden girls may not be bona fide harlots who charge for the hour or the speciality, but nobody can run the kind of game you and Jack are running and not have to spend something. Booze and food and a place to screw, namely."
He could almost see Warren nodding at the phone. "You're right, Paul. It does take a little out of our pockets, but not as much as you might think. Not when you consider the fun we have and...."
"I'm sure it's fun, but I'm thinking about the risk I would be taking in trying to syphon off the money from Mary. She watches our budget like a Republican. And that's why I want to sample this little paradise-on-earth deal before I commit myself."
"You wouldn't be just wanting a weekend of free screwing, would you?"
"Of course I would. But entirely in good faith. Believe me, if I like Pam Johnson's bod as much as I think I will, I'll want to make it a permanent thing."
A small, uncomfortable pause from Warren's end. "I think I ought to explain to you again, Paul. If you do agree to come in with us on this thing, you've got to remember that we're a bunch of free-swinging spirits. No latching on to one chick. Believe me, the girls don't want that."
Paul smiled. "Okay, just to show you I'm an honest joe, I might even allow Joy Smith to savor my prod. I don't want to be a wet blanket about this whole thing."
"Good enough. Well, uh, look ... I'll have to jaw this over with Jack, and all. But I think we can work something out. You want me to try to set it up for this weekend-Cindy included?"
"Tine with me."
"Right, pal. See you at the office, tomorrow. And I wouldn't go exercising that funstick of yours too much before Saturday. You're gonna need every ounce of power you can muster to keep up with three hot-blooded bunnies."
"Sure. Goodnight, Warren."
Paul hung up the receiver with a feeling of a job well done. Now all he had to do was convince Mary that he had a real excuse for not hanging around the apartment all weekend.
He carefully bought a package of cigarettes in one of the drugstores in the shopping center before heading back home. He was going to have to be as clever as a fox if he planned to live this kind of double life.
* * *
Paul had not been gone from the apartment five minutes when Mary began to feel the agonizing ecstasy of a fresh itch between her legs.
At first she only smiled at it.
But when the itch began to turn into a gnawing need that wormed its way deep up inside her vagina, she realized that the matter required some attending to!
Since she was all alone in the apartment, and since it would be safe to assume that her husband would take at least ten or fifteen minutes to make his trip for cigarettes, she had no reason at all not to do exactly what she did.
She opened her gown, pulled down the lower part of her nightie, and took a good long look at her pussy.
It was burning, all right. And she knew why.
It was usually about this time of night, after drinks and dinner, that Paul maneuvered her into the bedroom and satisfied them both.
"But he just screwed you an hour ago, you lewd little bitch," she breathed, smiling sinfully at her own passionate desires. But the realization didn't help at the moment!
Maybe she was turning into a nympho, or something.
Or maybe the breaking of an old, familiar habit had thrown her libido a bit off course.
Whatever it was, she damned sure wanted it put back right-and the second Paul got back to her, she intended to demand an encore!
She sat in front of the flickering television set, with her legs still spread wide, her gown still pulled almost to her knees. She couldn't help what she did next-but she didn't think of it as being the least bit perverted, or anything like that. She just considered that she was getting everything ready again for her husband!
She began to finger her warm, throbbing pussy.
It felt good. Too good to stop!
She inched her index finger into the meaty hotness of the twin-matched, moist lips of her slit. With deft, rotary movements, she pretended that her finger was a hard little penis sliding saladously around and around the walls of her vagina. She had it into herself to the second knuckle, and already the juices were beginning to quicken somewhere deep inside her body.
She would make herself come, if she wasn't careful!
What she was doing had got a little out of hand, she realized that, and ordinarily the thought of masturbating would have shocked and disgusted her. But she kept telling herself that the second she heard Paul's key in the lock, she would snatch her hand away, close her gown, and be more ready than ever to make him play his husbandly role.
In the meantime....
Paul didn't hurry back to the apartment. After he got his cigarettes he walked once around the apartment building. The night was warm and sultry, like the touch of a woman's breast upon his cheeks. He couldn't get the experience of Cindy out of his mindand coupled with that, was the imagined fun he was going to have with Pam Johnson. A depraved but joyous question occurred to him: did Pam's pussy have the same bright red hair that the secretary kept perfectly piled and combed on top of her head.
The very idea of his big twanger being shoved up to the roots in that thatch of flame-colored fuzz made him get the start of a good erection.
But he tried to drag his mind away from erode thoughts.
If he went back to the apartment with his prod stiff, he might just try to lay his wife again; although he was more than sure that she had had enough sex for the evening. Besides ... he shouldn't forget Warren's suggestion that he save his strength for the weekend.
Hell, the way he was feeling now, he could screw through a brick wall!
Still, Warren had to know what he was talking about. And first impressions are always the best. He had already introduced Cindy to what he was capable of doing, so maybe she would pass it along to Joy and Pam. He hoped so. It would be nice to have the three of them sniffing between his hairy legs like bitches in heat!
One more stroll around the building and he had succeeded in pushing sex completely out of his mind.
He took the elevator up to the overly expensive apartment he and Mary shared, and stuck his key in the door as indifferently as he opened his office door every morning.
He thought he heard a muffled groan from the living room and the sharp hiss of something that sounded like clothes being tossed around.
On investigation, he found Mary exactly where he had left her-balled up on the end of the sofa, her face staring straight at the television set. The only odd thing about it was the fact that the picture was completely out of focus.
"You'll ruin your eyes that way," he said, casually, walking in front of her toward his own bedroom. And at that moment, he was very glad this apartment was large enough that they didn't have to sleep together. "Honey...!"
He paused, and glanced back at his wife. Her face was turned up to him in a little flushed oval of expectancy and desire. He recognized the look with a cold little terror. She wants me to screw her again, for Christ's sake!
"Yes, what is it?" he said, as coldly as he dared.
"I ... I guess I'm horny again, darling."
He sighed. Then he calculated quickly in his mind. Two more days before the weekend. He supposed he could recover by that time!
"Sure, sweetheart," he breathed, beginning to feel like an old stallion that is being put upon by one mare too many. "Come on in the bedroom."
He didn't have to issue the invitation twice.
She was a kitten after catnip!
FOUR
Arleth Treadwell Parker waited on Saturday morning until she heard Jack's sportcar scramble the gravel in the arching drive. Then she grinned a little bitterly, and crawled her naked body out of bed.
What she needed was a drink.
She strolled across the deep pile carpet of her bedroom to the bureau, and yanked open a bottom drawer. She had a fresh fifth of Jack Daniels hidden away there, just for such emergencies.
She unscrewed the top of the bottle and took three or four throat scorching swigs.
The liquor seemed to go right to her loins!
She put the bottle back in place, then slapped her rosy, full buttocks into a chair over by the bedroom table. She snapped up the Princess phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.
A male voice came on quickly.
"Coast clear," Arleth said, huskily.
"For the morning, or...."
"For as long as you can keep that big happy stick of yours hard, honey. Jack won't be back before midnight, as usual."
There was a soft chuckle at the other end. "That's fine by me, Arleth. You want me to come over right away, or...."
"Just as fast as those husky legs can carry you, stud. We're wasting time."
There was a small, uncertain pause, then: "Arleth, I was wondering if you'd be interested in something a little different today."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"A buddy of mine came in last night from Florida. He's stationed in the Navy down there. I thought maybe...."
"You thought maybe it would be nice if he could get in on gang-banging the next-door-neighbor's wife."
"Well, I didn't mean to insult you, or anything, but n
"Who's insulted! It sounds like it might be a damned good idea. How old is he, what does he look like, how much does he have?"
Another chuckle, more raspy this time. "Boy, you really get down to brass tacks, don't you! Well, Bo is almost twenty-four, blond, about an inch or so taller than me-and he played football in high school and college."
"Good-looking?"
"None of the girls have written their Congressmen to complain, he tells me."
"Hung?"
Her neighbor's mouth moved away from the receiver for a second. "Hey, Bo! The lady wants to know if you're hung?"
She could hear a shouted, laughing reply of some kind, then her neighbor's voice came back on. "He says to tell you he could work on a horse stud-farm if he had four legs."
"Sounds like a winner. You boys trot over."
"We'll be right there!"
Arleth flipped the receiver back into place, and went back again to the bottle of whisky. She took a couple more long drinks, then put the bottle away for good. She didn't want to get too drunk to enjoy what was going to happen.
On her way to the shower, she stuffed her bright red hair into a shower cap, and hummed a little tune. She was trying to remember how many times she had sent out that SOS to the handsome young bachelor who lived next door to them. Six, seven times? Anyway, it exactly corresponded to the number of times Jack had gone motoring off to his so-called Athletic Club.
Two could play the game of adultery!
She had known from the very beginning that he was doing something behind her back. Not that she really gave a damn now-with the magic literally stamped out of their marriage-but it was the sneaky way he did it that bugged hell out of her.
"I should have divorced him months ago," she hissed to the shower tap, "and I would have if I didn't like it so much!"
What she meant by "it" was what she had always liked in Jack Parker. Simply the way he screwed. Ever since the first time he had seduced her at a cocktail party her father had thrown in Chicago, she had not been able to find his like again. He had a way of turning her on that no man or boy had ever been able to equal; and that unfortunately included the young stud neighbor, Rick.
But when it came to substitutes, Rick Howard was about the best apple in the barrel.
She smiled as she stepped into the stream of warm water from the shower, feeling the titillating rivulets curl against the already distending points of her large nipples.
She just hoped that Rick's young sailor friend knew as much about arousing, then satisfying, a female as Rick did. If so, she might be able to live through another week of sexless companionship with Jack!
When she stepped out of the shower, she could hear voices downstairs. She had given Rick his own key, so she knew who it was. Wrapping a large towel carelessly around her torso and thighs, she dripped wetly across the bedroom carpets again to the door.
"Make yourselves a drink!" she called. "Then come on up!"
Without waiting for an answer, she waltzed back to the bathroom and toweled herself dry. Then she dusted her whole body with an expensive powder, raising a small cloud of sweet smelling fog. After that, she poured an equally expensive perfume into her palms and applied it to certain strategic places where men love to get their noses and tongues!
When she was through, she went to her closet and fished out a sheer, see-through pegnoir. She always wore it for Rick because he had said once that titty-pink was his favorite color, that even as a teen-ager the color had given him an instant hard-on!
Her two studs-in-waiting arrived at her bedroom door only a split second later.
Rick shouldered his way in first He was a strapping young man with thick black hair that still wanted to fall over his brow in a boyish way. But there was nothing at all boyish about his body. Before taking a job at a desk for a construction company, he had told her, he had spent his summers doing hard labor on roads and bridges. The time had been wellspent, too. He had muscles on top of his muscles, and a stomach as flat as a bread board.
But it was Rick's friend that she found herself most curious about She had been hoping in the back of her mind for the best-and she wasn't disappointed!
"Lord," she breathed, appreciatively, when she saw the tall, strikingly handsome young man in a sailor suit behind Rick, "did anybody ever tell you, you could be a stand-in for Tab Hunter?"
That reference to the Hollywood heartthrob of the fifties dated her, she realized, but she didn't give a damn. A male that looked like Rick's friend needed a compliment!
"Thanks," the sailor said, blushing a bit at the cheeks, but pleased all over by her interest.
Arleth let her eyes wander down to the tight crotch between the young blond's legs. The bulge was there, all right, and it was enormous!
Rick was right at home in this situation, but it was more than obvious that Bo, the sailor, wasn't exactly experienced in getting into the panties of a mature married woman at ten o'clock in the morning. He needed a little help, to say the least.
"Those things still have thirteen buttons," Arleth asked, letting her eyes indicate that she was talking about Bo's tight, white pants, "or should we all count 'em?"
Bo blushed red again, and Rick laughed deep in his throat. "Don't tease him, Arleth," Rick grinned, "the boy has had a hard night."
She grinned back at Rick. "Not too hard to have a hard morning, I hope!"
Bo spoke up for himself on that remark. "Hell, I'm never too tired when it comes to sex."
"Well, don't look now, Bo, but it's come to it. Arleth, here, needs it every Saturday morning like clockwork. Sometimes I can please her, and sometimes I can't. I thought by calling in the Navy, we could...."
"You two studs talk a good seduction," Arleth cut in, hotly, "how about showing a little action!"
With that immodest request, she threw open her pegnoir, and stepped completely out of it.
"Jesus," Bo whispered, his mouth turning up at the corners in a horny grin at the sight of Arleth's oversized tits.
"Which one of us you want first?" Rick breathed, raggedly.
Arleth felt her voice turning into a hoarse purr. "What's wrong with a double-header I You can use your imaginations about who-does-what-and-how. I'll be waiting for you on the damn bed!"
And with that, she turned her back and buttocks on both of them, and sauntered lewdly over to the still unmade bed. She lay down in the center, and lifted both of her legs at the knees-then let them fall open in a wide, shameless yawn.
She knew how her pussy looked to them. It was the size and softness of a young camel's mouth, with very large lips that barely closed over a deeply clefted vulva.
It was certainly a honeypot that Rick Howard was no stranger to. He had put his throbbing young penis into it more times than either of them could remember-and a few wild and lascivious times, he had even put his tongue into her, digging with all the restraint of an animal until he made her spasm all over.
"Climb out of your threads, man," Rick rasped, thickly. "We've got a real pussy over there to satisfy!"
Arleth watched greedily as both the young males pulled off their clothes. She already knew what Rick had hanging between his legs-about eight inches of lusty meat. And she knew what he could do with it for hours on end!
But it was Bo, again, that kept her attention.
She just hoped he wasn't padding anything!
Rick was out of his shorts before his younger friend, and his rod was already up hard. It stood out from the black bush of hair between his legs like a big club. The mace-like head of his organ was a big, dry battering ram, the kind just made for making virgins scream with joy.
Arleth was no virgin, God knew, but she still had a lot of joyous screams left in her!
Then Bo was dropping his GI boxer shorts.
Arleth felt an involuntary gasp escape her throat.
Bo's penis was even bigger than it had looked!
For a penis like that to belong to such a boyish, lean looking body was the kind of ninth wonder of the world that a female could really appreciate!
She watched, tingling with sluttish pleasure, as Bo's rod began to rise. When it was up hard, it could almost make two of what Rick had!
And Rick knew when he had been outclassed!
"You take her, Bo," Rick said, huskily. "Hell, I'll just play around until you're finished."
The young sailor grinned, and walked toward the bed. His violently erected column of meat swung only slightly as he walked. It was too hard to do anything else!
Arleth parted her yearning legs even wider, feeling a warm trickle of glandular juice oozing up to the very lips of her pussy. Some primitive, female urge in her was making her get her gap lubricated before the invasion!
Bo climbed onto the bed with her, and positioned himself between her legs.
"Don't hurt me, honey," Arleth grinned, wantonly. "I don't take one like that everyday."
The young sailor's face was burning with embarrassment, but he was too far lost in lust to back off from what they both were dying to experience.
Arleth lifted her legs until they were snugly fitted against the sides of his hips. She was holding him like bookends made of hot flesh, and she intended to keep him locked there until he did everything he was capable of with that horse-sized twanger of his!
She felt the large head of his penis probing and teasing between the lips of her pussy, like the blunt nose of some curious puppy. She took all of that kind of foreplay that she could stand, then she slid both her hands down to the center of her thighs and used her fingers to pull her cunt open wide.
"Fill it!" she husked.
Bo made one or two tentative lunges with his hips, and a third of his stiff rod rode into the silky hotness of her. She could feel the grainy walls of her vagina stretching to receive him, and urged him on. . She wanted him to get it all the way into her womb!
"Pump it in!" she gasped. "Bury it in me!"
Bo began to piston his lean young hips a little harder, driving the oversized penis inch by inch into her pussy. He didn't stop until his balls were pushed hard against the crack of her buttocks.
Arleth was panting with joy, now, and her fingernails were digging like talons into the warm shoulders above her. She lifted her legs even higher, almost fitting her knees into Bo's armpits!
"Screw me, honey" she hissed, passionately. "Screw me until I screamX"
The bed began to creak as Bo's hips rose and fell in what promised to be a long and delicious copulation.
In the meantime, Rick had been standing by the side of the bed, his penis at rigid attention, his eyes glued with a voyeuristic interest to what was happening.
Now that the show was on the road, he wanted a little of the action, himself.
He knew that the only way he could satisfy himself at the moment was to make Arleth even hotter than she was. And he also knew how to do it!
He waited until Bo was getting into a real stride-in other words, until he had his arms stiff, and was pumping like a maniac-and then he knelt by the side of the bed and pulled one of Arleth's big tits over into his mouth!
He began to suck the cone and nipple with quick little biting movements of his lips and tongue. She responded the way he had hoped. Her breast began to swell under his tonguing, and the nipple grew from a plum to a thumb!
With one of his hands, Rick played with her other tit, teasing and squeezing it until he had the other nipple as large and succulent as the one he was so avidly sucking!
Arleth began to feel pleasure from tip to toe, and the deeper she sank into a coma of lust and joy, the less she thought about what a rat her husband was.
At the moment, the only thing which seemed to matter in the whole, wide world was finding that golden glow at the end of the rainbow.
She wanted to come until it strangled her.
FIVE
Arleth Parker was not the only wife who was having sexual troubles that Saturday morning.
At the very moment that Rick Howard and his young sailor buddy were turning Arleth's starved body into an inferno of lusty joy, Susy Carson was blasting away at her husband with all the fury of a woman about to be scorned.
"There's the dog show today," Susy stormed, her coppery brown hair falling like snakes of the Medusa down on her flushed forehead. "You promised me a week ago that you would take me!"
"Honey, I didn't know it was going to be on Saturday," Warren maneuvered. "It's a playoff of the handball championships at the club, and...."
"Damn you and your club, I want you to resign. You can pick up the phone and do it in two seconds."
"Sorry, Susy. I know how you feel, but I can't see giving up the only healthy recreation I have for a couple of flea-bitten pups."
"Angel-True is no pup, flea-bitten or otherwise! She's a full-blooded, pedigreed Japanese Spaniel and she has a very good chance of walking off with a blue ribbon if I can get her to the dog show to perform."
"I'll send you in a taxi."
"Damn you!"
"Sorry, honey, but I'm past due at the Anchor Club now."
All Susy Carson could do was watch her large-shouldered husband walk away from her with a cluster of athletic equipment under his arm. She even thought she could hear him whistling a little tune of defiance under his breath.
"Damn, damn, damn!!" she muttered again, under her breath.
It had been the same maddening routine every weekend now for what seemed months, and she was getting good and sick of the whole thing. For two cents, she'd call up that Men's Club on her own, and give them a piece of her mind about what they were doing to wreck the Saturdays of helpless wives.
As she stood there, listening to Warren banging his way out of the front door, a thought occurred to her that seemed especially pleasing to her desire for revenge.
Why didn't she simply enlist the combined help of Arleth Parker and Mary Marsh. The three of them ought to be able to think of something to sabotage this weekly trek to the steam rooms and handball courts!
When Warren was finally gone, she stationed herself in front of the phone and dialed Arleth's number.
The phone rang seven times before she gave up.
She thought it was odd that Arleth wasn't at home on Saturday morning. She usually was. But then, perhaps she had found something to occupy her while Warren was off slamming little balls around.
Next, she tried Mary Marsh.
Mary answered almost immediately.
"This is Sue Carson, Mary. I was just calling to find out if you're having the same problem that I am."
Mary's voice sounded light, almost cheery. "Problem about what, Susy? Anything I can do to help?"
"Plenty, maybe. Just tell me this: did your Paul go off someplace this morning?"
"Yes, but how did you know?"
"Did he go to something called the Anchor Athletic Club?"
"Yes, but...."
"Is it his first time?"
"Yes, but I didn't...."
"Well, it won't be his last time, honey. You are about to become a charter member of the Treadwell Enterprises Lonely Hearts Club For Wives."
There was a small, doubting laugh from Mary's end. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Susy. Paul is entitled to a morning away from the apartment-a morning with the boys."
"Morning and afternoon, you mean."
"Okay, so it's better than a night out with the boys, isn't it?"
"That depends. You haven't been through this yet, dear. But Arleth and I have. I wouldn't even have called you and bothered you with our woes if I hadn't overheard the tail end of a phone conversation the other night. Warren thought I was out, but I wasn't. And I heard him talking to your Paul about Saturday morning. Today, that is. So I knew that you were about to become a weekend widow, too."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Susy. But I really don't think it's all that serious."
"Uh-huh. Just wait until tonight. Try getting your husband to do his duty."
"Susy! Are you trying to tell me...."
"I'm just saying that handball must be one damned enervating game for males. But I see I'm barking up the wrong tree with you, so far. Maybe when it happens again next week, you'll be more willing to listen to the plan I'm trying to cook up. A plan to save us from a fate worse than death."
"Really, Susy."
"Goodbye, you trusting dope. See you when you're wiser!"
Mary resented the snippish way in which Susy Carson threw down the receiver on her end of the line.
But it was just like her, getting all steamed up about a perfectly harmless matter!
And yet....
Mary walked away from the phone with a nagging little doubt beginning to worm its way into her mind. It had nothing to do with the fact that Paul had wanted to go investigate an Athletic Club, of course, but it had plenty to do with what Susy had darkly warned might be the consequence of such an endeavor.
Would playing handball decrease her husband's ability to have sex? Nonsense!
With the question answered, the nagging doubt was still there-and for very real reasons.
For the past two days, Paul had been enormously disinterested in sex, it seemed to her! Even three nights ago when she had almost raped him, he had gone through the motions with as little interest as a cowboy punching a cow!
And that had been before he wanted to go play handball!
Still, if she couldn't let her own husband do what he sincerely wanted to do, then what hope was there for keeping him happy at all?
Posing that philosophic question only seemed to make matters worse. What she needed, she decided, was another cup of black coffee and time to think.
She was just crossing the living room toward the kitchen when the apartment door buzzer sounded flatly.
She paused, stared at the door, then crossed back to it. She opened it on a very young man in a blue blazer and a red tie. He looked acutely embarrassed, but very determined.
"Mrs. Marsh?"
"Yes."
"Uh, is your husband in?"
"No. And I'm not interested in...."
"Oh, I'm not selling anything. I'm not a salesman." She waited a pause, then said, "Well, what are you?"
He looked slightly embarrassed again, but his jaw firmed once more in determination. "To begin with, I'd like to come in and talk to you."
"Certainly not. At least, not until you tell me...."
"I'm Cindy Hart's boyfriend."
The name not only rang a bell for Mary, it bonged one!
"Cindy is my husband's new secretary," she managed, idiotically.
The young man swallowed painfully. "Yes, I know. She's been working for Mr. Marsh for about two months now. It's Cindy, and your husband, that I've come to talk to you about."
That remark would have opened a dozen doors!
"Come in."
As the young man walked past her, he stuck out his hand in an afterthought. "Oh, my name is Chad Barton. I'm a law student at the University."
She found herself pumping his hand. Then she pointed to a chair, and got the door closed behind them.
She took her place in a chair opposite him, folded her hands in her lap, and leaned forward slightly. She could see a little moustache of perspiration on Chad's upper lip, and she knew that whatever he had come there to say, had taken a lot of courage. And that worried her right away!
"What about my husband's secretary?" she heard herself demanding, in a slightly husky voice.
The young man squirmed in place, trying a sick grin that didn't come off too well, although it managed to reveal his even, white teeth and a couple of well-laced dimples. "To tell you the truth, Mrs. Marsh, I don't know whether I should have come here at all. I mean, maybe you know all about the Anchor Athletic Club."
Mary sighed. "I don't. But I certainly seem to be getting a lot of free information about it this morning."
"Oh?"
"Never mind. Just tell me what you know."
"Well, for one thing I know that no such place exists. I checked it out"
The cocksure remark put Mary on the defensive-s much out of shame as anything else. "Are you trying to say that my husband lied to me?"
"Not exactly. There is a club and he did go to it this morning. But the name of the club is the Weekend Wonder Club, and it's not exactly closed to females."
The silence which followed Chad Barton's information seemed to be thick enough to hold in their laps.
"And just what kind of club is it?" Mary heard herself demanding, coldly.
The young man's cheeks flushed a ruddy color, but he had already braced himself for just such a question.
"It's a Sex Club, I'm afraid. And I'm also afraid that my Cindy is right up to her cute little, uh, ears in it."
"And may I ask how you know that?"
"She got a little high the other night on some champagne I bought for her birthday. She spilled the whole damned thing, and then made me promise that I wouldn't tell. And I even promised I wouldn't, but it's bugging the hell out of me!"
Mary realized that she could hardly comprehend the idea of a "sex club!" That was something that you read about in magazines-something that the decadent, bored, upper-middle-class members of suburbia did when they were tired of their mates.
Then the truth dawned on her.
What did she think she and Paul were?
She narrowed her eyes at the up-tight, handsome young law student stationed opposite her. "Would you mind telling me all you do know about this Weekend Wonder Club?"
He blushed all over again. "It's a little embarrassing...."
"Not half as embarrassing as it is to be made a fool of. Tell me!"
"Well, I may get killed for this, but here goes. There are a couple of other secretaries involved in it, apparently. And also a couple of your husband's friends...."
"Warren Carson and Jack Parker. Go on!"
"The secretaries and the guys meet at some given place, then go out to a beach house on Monk's Point. It's one of those big, rambling beach houses that somebody built back in the thirties, and it used to be on the fashionable side of the beach, and all. But now it's off to itself. A few years back, a big storm tore down everything around it, and nobody has built in that area again. The house is really isolated, and kind of run-down. They rent it for a song, so I guess that's how they could afford to fix the place up into a kind of bunny club."
"A what?"
"You know. One of those erotic atmospheres you can get by drawing curtains over the windows, turning on some hot music, and spreading the booze around...."
"Go on, damnit."
"We checked it out, just to make sure that we knew what we were...."
"We?"
"Neil Weems and Lon Norton and me. Oh, Neil is Joy Smith's boyfriend, and Lon Norton is Pam Johnson's. They're the other two secretaries. Anyway, after Cindy got drunk and let the cat out of the bag, she didn't really remember anything about her slip. In fact, she had the nerve to tell me this morning that she and a couple of her girlfriends were going to have their hair teased. Can you beat that? Teased, yet!"
"And so?"
"And so we already knew the truth of what they were up to. A week ago, the three of us fellows followed the girls out to Monk's Point, and used a pair of binoculars to watch as much as we could of what was going on."
"And what was going on?"
Chad Barton avoided her eyes. "Just about everything in the book, Mrs. Marsh. And that was only in the back yard on some blankets thrown over the sand. God only knows what they were up to inside that house!"
Mary sat drumming her fingers on the edge of her chair. She sat for a long moment, not moving, not speaking. Finally, she said, "And so you want me to confront my husband with all this, scream at him, expose him, and put a stop to the whole damned whoring affair?"
Chad Barton looked at her with an almost blandly innocent look. "Oh, hell no, Mrs. Marsh. That won't solve anything. The fellows and I figure that the only way to really get our girls back, is to make them jealous."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"By each of us having an affair with the wives of the three guys responsible. That way, if there's really any love at stake, you get your husbands back, and we get our gals back."
Mary was staring at him open-mouthed.
The young stud grinned again, showing his teeth and dimples. "Don't worry, Mrs. Marsh. There's nothing at all personal about all this. We drew straws, and I got you. But I'll Sure try not to be a disappointment to you, sex-wise. And it's all for a good cause!"
SIX
Getting away from Mary that Saturday morning was the easiest thing Paul had ever done, he decided.
Mary had been damned understanding about it, considering the fact that he hadn't screwed her in a couple of days. He grinned to himself, and decided that cutting his wife off from sex was an unconscious master-stroke of his. It would make her appreciate him just that much more, make her eager and ready to please him.
Maybe she thought that if he went to an athletic club and batted a few balls around, he'd come home with his hormones re-charged. But if things worked out the way he hoped they would, he intended to come home from his Weekend Wonder Club visit with his hormones too pooped to pop.
And Pam Johnson was just the kind of redheaded joygirl for him to do it with!
He was driving now along Crawford Avenue, looking for the empty parking lot that Warren had indicated only yesterday would be the rendezvous point. He was to leave his own car there, and join Warren and Jack in Warren's stationwagon for the cruise out to Monk's Point. The girls would already be there, having driven out in Joy Smith's pink convertible.
When he saw Warren's wagon blinking like a red fire engine in the sunlit parking lot, another surge of lusty excitement shot through Paul's chest. He whipped the car up alongside the big stationwagon, and grinned as Warren and Jack came toward him. It amused him to see the similarity of their dress to his; their wife fooling costumes. They all had on workout togs, tennis shoes, and baseball-type caps. And, on Jack's suggestion, Paul had brought along a little canvas tote bag in which he had suntan oil, shaving lotion, razor, and a bargain-sized tube of K-Y. Just in case some of the gals found him bigger in the fun department than they were used to.
"All set?" Paul breathed happily at his two friends.
"All set. You leave your car locked and parked here. It's safe."
Paul transferred his bag to the stationwagon, and in seconds they were tooling along Crawford Avenue again, and heading for the expressway which would shoot them right out to the beach.
"You sure the girls will be there already?" Paul asked, hardly able to restrain his growing tide of enthusiasm for the tasty little episode.
"Oh, they're there, okay," Jack grinned, slapping Paul's knee, playfully. "We're not dealing with a trio of bashful schoolgirls, pal. The girls are not only there, they're hopping up and down with anticipation for us. Warren and I have broken them in maybe a little too good. I mean, when you see a grown-up young thing like Cindy and Pam frothing at the mouth for a good screwing, then you figure that maybe you've overdone it a wee bit, but I can tell you that it was fun all the way!"
Paul sighed, just thinking about it. Already, he could feel the hard bulge against his shorts!
"One thing I was wondering about," Paul said, after a few more seconds of lusty daydreaming. "Don't any of the girls have a boyfriend? I mean, don't you think maybe they could find some outlet for their sex drives if they really...."
"Hell yes, sure they could" Warren grunted, grinning around his cigar while driving. "They could get laid forty times a day by young studs all over the city, if that was what they wanted. But it isn't. The girls aren't interested in romance, Pam told me, all they want is some fun without any strings attached. And they figure us for the best bet After all, we've got a helluva lot to lose by getting romantic about them-and a helluva lot more to lose if we try to make our little orgies any more complicated than necessary. They work for us, don't forget and if old Hard-Ass Treadwell ever once suspected that we were screwing our secretaries, heads would roll all the way from here to Shanghai."
"Perish the damned thought!" Nothing more was said on the subject all the way out to Monk's Point. And for that, Paul was grateful. He had to shift his mind into another gear to make his hard-on go down!
The beach was a big place, and dozens of side roads leading off into the sandy, wooded stretches on the north side made it nice and confusing to the mere weekend tourist. But if you knew what you were doing-and Warren did-you could maneuver your car into an area that was as isolated as a moor.
And in the middle of that nice isolation was the big, paint-peeling, somewhat sagging old beach house that looked like a blousy old whore sunning herself.
"Perfect!" Paul whispered, almost pressing his nose to the window as they approached.
"And here comes the welcoming committee," Warren husked, lecherously.
As the stationwagon pulled up in front of the house, the three half-naked secretaries came howling and laughing out the front door.
The sight of all that pulchritude would have blinded the ordinary male!
Paul had never seen Cindy or the others in bathing suits-if that's what you could call the dabs of cloth that covered, or almost covered their tits and thighs. But it was a revelation he was delighted with!
Paul soon discovered that part of all that feminine mirth was due to the fact that Warren and Jack were bringing the drinks. In the back of the stationwagon, under a hump of blankets, was a considerable fortune in scotch, bourbon, and vodka!
Everybody did his share to help carry the liquor into the house. It was inside the oversized rumpus room that Paul was impressed again. The interior of the old house bore little relation to the exterior. The girls had done wonders with the place, making the big living room look like a sultan's boudoir. There were fat, colored pillows everywhere-the kind that are big enough to get naughty on-and a couple of twin-bed mattresses which had been covered over with brightly patterned material.
The hippie look had been achieved by putting up dozens of interesting posters, the kind that come to life under black light. There was a stereo in one corner of the room, and an improvised bar in the other.
The music was already coming out hot and soulful from the speakers.
But the decor of the house had to seep into Paul's brain by the backdoor after he once realized what Pam Johnson was wearing-or not wearing.
The second Pam had positioned herself behind the bar-as the official maker of drinks, apparently-she untied the little bow between her shoulders, and let her bra go popping off like a big rubber band.
Paul had never seen such melons on a broad!
He had noticed a million times, of course, that Pam was the proud bearer of two marvelous knock ers, but to see them in the flesh was really something else!
He stood rooted in place, staring open-mouthed at the large, twin tits that jounced and swung as Pam began to put together a couple of Old Fashions. She had one of those all-over, creamy tans that made it excitingly obvious that she sunbathed in the raw. And what rawhide she did have!
At last Paul was able to move, and he ambled in the direction of the bar, his tongue as thick as a pin cushion in his mouth.
Pam grinned up at him as he approached. She was just putting a twist of lemon peel into the old-fashioned glass. "Want one of these?" she sang, merrily.
Paul's eyes were glued to the big, rosy nipple just behind the cocktail. It was reflected in the glass, like a fat, ripe cherry.
"I'd love both of 'em," he managed, huskily.
Pam stared at him for a moment, then realized that he had his eyes on something besides the liquor.
"Look, Paul," she said, casually, "I've been detailed to make drinks for the time being, but if you'd like to come around behind the bar, we might be able to entertain each other-one way or another!"
The suggestion was lewd music to his ears!
Even as he hurried around behind the tall, makeshift bar, he could feel his penis beginning to thicken and throb. He wasn't sure exactly what Pam had in mind, but getting his hands on any part of her luscious anatomy would be all he could ask for!
"There's a little pillow under there, someplace," the shapely, redheaded secretary breathed at him the moment he was beside her. "Why don't you just squat down on it and, uh, help yourself."
"You mean...."
"I mean that anything you can dream up to do ought to be fun from my end. Just don't get me so giddy I can't mix the drinks!"
He didn't believe his ears, but he wasn't about to take any chances that she would change her mind. Deftly and quickly, he went down behind the bar and found the pillow. There was a convenient hollow area under the bar, and just in front of where Pam was standing. He pushed the pillow back in there, and sat down on it so that she was standing with her legs wide apart in front of him. She had on only the thin diaper of her bikini, and it was pushed so low that he could see the dark edges of her pubic hair. To add to that sensual fact, the bikini was so tight over her pussy that the Venus mound was actually out-lined-like a large, pouting mouth that had been gagged.
He simply feasted on her body for a few moments, not being able to really see any of her from the navel down-not that he was complaining!
He was still hesitating to touch what he could scarcely believe was being offered to him, when a hand came down with a big scotch-and-water in it. Pam lowered her head just long enough to make sure he got the drink, and the message she hissed at him.
"Don't let anything block your view, honey!"
He got the message, grinned, gulped a scorching portion of the drink, then put his hands up to either side of her hips.
The bikini was held in place just like the bra had been, with two cute little bows that came open almost at the touch. He pulled both of the damn things at the same time, and the only thing between Pam and him came fluttering down over her knees.
She was ass-naked for him now!
He was just leaning forward to take a look and a sniff of her lightly quilted pussy, when Warren's voice boomed above him, from in front of the bar.
"Hey, where'd Paul disappear to? Doesn't he want in on the fun?"
Paul heard Pam's throaty chuckle, followed by a soft whisper at Warren, followed by his throaty chuckle.
Back to work, he thought.
He got his eyes and nose as close to the tempting crack between Pam's legs as he could. How many times he had dreamed about staring like this into her promiscuous, intoxicating pussy! It made him horny as hell to think of how many times she had let men do this to her. Virgins are all right for a boy, he thought, but when it came to lewd little games like this, he wanted a female who not only knew the score, but one who helped tally it up!
He parted the thick, silky, reddish-brown curls over her slit with the fingers of both hands. He pulled enough to get her pussy lips open nice and wide, so that he could see the simmering, pinkish interior of her vulva. She was already wet and hot! Her crack was like two thick slices of rare roast beef. Good enough to eat!
He could feel her trembling all over, but from the movement and conversations above him, he knew that she was still mixing drinks-and doing it as if nothing in hell were going on down below!
He grinned, and put his nose up close to the slippery gap of her sex. He smelled the delicious perfume of her heating hiatus, and like any red-blooded male would, he became so drunk on her odor that his penis throbbed like an iron bar in his pants.
To make himself a little more comfortable, he unzipped his fly, and fed his stiff pecker out into the open air. It was standing up between his legs like a hammer handle when he went back to investigating the charms of Pam Johnson's pussy.
This time he put his tongue into it; and felt her grow rigid with pleasure. He licked just the thickened lips of her wicket, tasting the salty, slick warmth of them, and wishing already that it was his big tool that was touching here there!
He licked her up and down, crossways, in circles, and then drove as much of his tongue as he could deep into the maw of her yearning hole. He heard her drop some ice cubes up above, and felt her legs begin to vibrate. To steady her, he slid both of his hands up behind her warm, firm, naked buttocks, and held her the way one might hold two warm watermelons.
Keeping his tongue buried into her pussy to the roots, he began to suck and lick her. Very slowly. Very thoroughly.
The hairs of her sex tickled his nose, and he could smell the warmth of her body, the vague perfume of her suntan lotion. The more he ate her, the more her grotto seemed to open up for him. He was literally licking the walls of her vagina, it seemed, and feeling the tangy juices of her pleasure beginning to trickle over his tongue.
After only a few seconds of such deep, vaginal tonguing, he heard a muffled gasp above him, and her thighs began to pump against his jaws and mouth like a bellows.
She spasmed wildly.
He lapped happily away ... knowing that the best was yet to come!
SEVEN
Paul had never enjoyed sex more in his life; and that included his honeymoon with Mary in that Florida hotel!
Even now, as Pam Johnson continued to climax joyfully against his probing tongue, he was riding on the high crest of a lust he hadn't experienced since he was a high school stud, back in Ohio. In those days, just the thought of a flanged pussy was enough to make him burn like a flame from head to loins-and enough to make him suffer the misery of three or four thundering hard-ons a day. Only then, he had nothing but his fist to satisfy himself with!
He continued to gnaw into the soft scupper of Pam's oozing pussy, licking it this way and that, teasing the erect clitoris that seemed to stand up high inside her sex like a little passionate sprout.
All that tickling following her orgasm was obviously beginning to get to Pam. She twisted her hips out of his grasp, and her pouting pussy came away from his mouth like a suction cup.
In a flash she was down on her knees in front of him, her big tits hobbling like headlights. To his delight, he saw that all his tonguing had titillated her right up to her nipples. They were fat, large, red, extended!
"Through making drinks?" he husked, dazzled by the sight of her full body, absolutely naked, on all fours like a big cat about to lap up a bowl of milk.
She grinned at him, and her greenish-blue eyes seemed as libidinous as the cheapest whore in Mexico. "I've come down here to make you, Paul," she breathed, raggedly. "I just loved what you did to me-and how you did it! I want to show you just how much I did appreciate it!"
He saw that her eyes were riveted on his stiffly erected tool. It was still standing up out of his fly like a bar of solid iron, topped by a meatus the size of a baby's fist, "You mean you wanta suck me?" he stammered, the words boiling over each other in his throat.
Her grin spilled all the way up to her earlobes. "I'll get around to that," she purred. "But first, I'm going to drive you out of your mind with some teasing action-the same way you did me!"
He knew what she meant!
When she started clawing hard at his belt buckle, he helped her along. She pulled and dragged his pants down over his knees, then did the same for his shorts.
It was the maddest kind of erotic foreplay, and by the time he was undressed to his socks, he was horny as a goat!
"Off with your shirt, too, honey," Pam panted huskily. "I love men with hairy chests-and Cindy has already told me about yours!"
He grinned, and tore his shirt open. Then, thinking twice about it, he pulled the shirt all the way off. Now he was completely nude, except for his socks.
Pam considered the matter for only a split second, then with a wanton grin, she yanked his socks off, too!
She came down between his arched legs with her tongue slithering from between her lips like a hungry young lizard's. The second she touched the bloated, bursting head of his long, he groaned with pleasure.
But pleasure piled upon pleasure as she licked and kissed and lactated the mushroom-like tip of his penis. She knew every trick in the book, and used them all. She used the tip of her tongue on the sensitive, underside area of his rod; worrying it with flicking, wettish laps until he had to push her head away out of sheer joyous agony.
Then she began to lick the whole column of his organ, moving from the very top to the very bottom, going from one side to the next with the flat of her tongue until his hard penis was one big, glistening tower of lust.
"Suck me!" he whispered, putting one hand around the base of his prod, and pushing the throbbing head of it up at her randy mouth. "Go down on it, babyand suck me dry!"
That, of course, was exactly what she had planned to do from the first. But she intended to do it her way, not his!
Bypassing the tasty, knob-sized head of his penis, she dove her tongue once again down to the root of his organ. Only this time, the object of her lewd attack were his balls. A big bean bag of heavy, hanging flesh filled to the brim with the kind of nectar all Girl Bees would die for!
She licked and lapped on his balls until he was clenching his fingers and toes to keep from yelling out his joy!
Only when she was satisfied that the taste of his big male nuts was a prelude to better eating to come, did she bring her magic tongue back up to his dick.
Making a delicious oval of her lips, she took half of his rigid penis in one gulp. At the same time, her hands came up over his chest and ferreted out the little tips of his male nipples. As she sucked him, she played a teasing game with his nipples until they were sticking out, hard as carpet tacks.
He closed his eyes, and relaxed as much as he could. But it was hard to keep your eyes closed, when all you had to do was open them and watch a beautiful, twenty-year-old girl servicing every lusty inch of your penis with her lovely, hungering mouth!
He watched with bestial, selfish pleasure as she brought him nearer and nearer to a climax. He could feel the sperm boiling in his balls, building for a torrential spasm that would fill her mouth and throat like a shotgun!
"I'm gettin' there, honey!" he whispered, urging her on by pumping his loins softly up and down.
He could feel the head of his twanger rubbing deep up inside her throat. It only made him wish that he could turn into some kind of superman, with a dong four feet long, and screw her lungs!
A series of uncontrollable little grunts and gasps from him, signaled to Pam that he was about to shoot.
She brought her hands back down to play with his balls, knowing that the pleasure of a male's orgasm can be doubled and even tripled by having his nuts massaged and rolled around as he ejaculates. She even knew how to manage the feat when she was getting it in the pussy instead of the mouth!
As she felt his organ stiffen and throb in that last mad throes of ecstasy, she went down on his meat as far as she could, filling her slender throat with one of the biggest pipes of male flesh it had ever been her joy to blow.
He came for her-one, two, three savage cannonades of boiling, thick sperm from his huge honeyrod!
Her throat was filled with the lava of pure lust!
No previous experience had prepared Pam for the kind of swinish semen-shooting that he gave her. She coughed, gagged, choked, and finally made a series of purring, gurgling noises as she swallowed the last drop of his fusillade.
She came up gasping for air.
"God, you must have given me a bucket of it!" she wheezed.
He grinned, then grinned again when she dipped back down and licked his still swollen, but fading, hard-on. She cleaned it like a puppy cleans a bone, and actually seemed disappointed when it nodded all the way over against his leg.
"Hungry?" she said, looking up at him over his abdomen and chest.
"Not really," he sighed. "But if you're ready again, I'll do my best to...."
"No, silly," she laughed. "I mean, would you like a ham sandwich and another drink. C'mon up. It's time for a breather."
He started to rise, but she put both of her hands between his legs, and cupped his large, warm balls. "Before we start mixing around," she breathed, huskily, "promise me that I can have some of this again-and next time, I want you to show me how well you can screw with it."
He grinned at her, pleased with her wanton lack of modesty. "Didn't you check with Cindy on that bit, too?"
"You're darned right I did! That's why I can't wait for you to show me!"
They got up from behind the bar, and stood so that only their torsos showed. It must have been quite a picture from across the room, because it even made Cindy Hart and Jack Parker stop what they were doing, at least for a few seconds.
"Hey, you two lovebirds!" Jack called, grinning lewdly through the twisted loop of Cindy's bare left leg. "What have you been up to under that bar-as if we didn't know!"
"You should know, Jack," Pam called back, grinning the same lewd grin he was, "you're the one who dragged me under there the first time. Remember?"
"Hell, I'll never forget it!"
"But he's tryingl" Cindy joined in, moving her leg a bit tighter around Jack's neck, and pushing his fingers back to what they had been so happily doingfeeling deep inside her steaming pussy!
Paul and Pam watched the not so odd couple for a few more seconds, admiring very much the way Cindy could manage to look almost beautifully demure in such an erode, perverted pose. And to add an even more bizarre touch to her sluttish condition, she was stroking the ends of her own full-blown tits-as if masturbating the nipples with her thumbs and forefingers!
"I wonder where Warren and Joy are?" Pam said, finally, forcing herself to look away from Jack and Cindy-particularly away from Jack's horse-like hard-on that was standing up snugly against Cindy's left hip.
"Frankly, I don't give a damn," Paul whispered, putting the palm of his hand over Pam's warm buttocks, and patting her softly. "Just as soon as I get a second wind, I'm going to see just how fast I can ride your pony."
"Fine with me, but I think Joy ought to have a chance at you, if she wants one."
Pam caught his small frown. "Doesn't Joy appeal to you, Paul?"
"Not exactly, but I know the rules. I'm not supposed to say no to anything short of analingus."
"Anal what?"
"Licking somebody's rearend."
Pam grinned and blushed. "Don't knock it if you haven't tried it, honey. I remember when I was seventeen, well, never mind."
Paul chuckled. "Tell me about it."
"Let's get our ham sandwiches made."
"Okay, but tell me about when you were seventeen while we make the sandwiches."
Pam handed him a couple of slices of thick bread, and a heaped plate of ham "Well, to tell you the truth, at the time I thought I was in a motel with a dirty old man. But that was just because I was a dumb seventeen. Actually, I was there with my Uncle Pete, who was fresh out of the Marine Corps. He was really an operator, I guess, because he maneuvered me into that damned motel two hours after my parents welcomed him into our house for a visit Looking back on it, I suppose he would have raped me if I hadn't said yes in the first place. He said he hadn't had a girl in almost a year-and let me tell you, I've been looking for a man that sex-starved ever since!"
Paul could feel his penis beginning to thicken and throb again. Imagining a seventeen-year-old Pam Johnson in a motel room with a lust-mad Marine was enough to give him the old adolescent, horny get-on-and-go feeling again!
"What did your Uncle try with you?" he asked, piling one piece of ham on top of another without even knowing it.
"Do? You name it We screwed mostly. Lord, I think he must have had me at least six or seven times in an hour. And then he started doing the extra stuff
"Like what, damnit?"
"You know-kissing and licking my toes and feet then moving around to kiss me all over, including the place where you said."
"Did you like it?"
Pam grinned. "Well, I'll have to admit that I found it a tiny bit embarrassing. I mean, it isn't everyday one finds herself on her hands and knees like an animal, with somebody's tongue poking and licking in such a strange place!"
"Oh, God," Paul groaned. He could feel the head of his enormously stiff tool pushing painfully against the front part of the bar.
"Uh-oh," Pam breathed, glancing down to see the cause of his trouble. "I guess I should have kept my mouth shut; if you'll pardon the expression!"
Paul dropped the ham sandwich with a splat, and grabbed Pam's delicious body to his own.
"I'd rather eat you any goddamned day than ham!"
She nibbled the lobe of his ear, and her furry whisper came hotly at him: "We've done that already. Why don't we make butter, instead? Just put that big thing of yours into me, and churn!"
Down they went again, behind the bar, beginning the Wonder Club Weekend with a real bang!
EIGHT
Susy Carson was vainly attempting to give her prize Japanese Spaniel a bubble bath, and still smarting somewhat resentfully over her phone conversation with Mary Marsh, when the doorbell rang shrilly.
"Oh, damn!" she snapped, icily, letting the sudsy pooch slip out of her fingers and go romping out of the bathroom toward the sound of the bell. "AngelTrue, you get your little butt back in here!"
But her command was lost on the excited, yelping little dog. With the bell still ringing, she got her hands wiped on the nearest towel, and hurried toward the living room herself, cursing the day she had ever wanted to own a dog that might win blue ribbons.
She swung open the door and stared stonily at one of the handsomest young men she'd ever seen in her life!
"Hello," he said, giving her a kind of boyish, friendly grin under his mop of dark hair and his saddle-brown eyes. "Are you Mrs. Susan Carson?"
She could only nod, and try to grab up AngelTrue, who had stopped her blatant barking now, and was busy sniffing at the shoes of the Apollo who stood in the door.
"I'm Lon Norton, Mrs. Carson, and I was wondering if I could come in for a few minutes. I suppose either Mrs. Marsh or Mrs. Parker has told you about why I've come."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped, but much more weakly than she had snapped at the dog.
He grinned at her again. "I'm talking about what your husband is doing on the weekends."
"Are you from that Athletic Club? If you are, then I want you to know that...."
"What Athletic Club, Mrs. Carson?"
"The one my husband goes to every weekend of the month!"
The young man's grin changed into a crawling, knowing leer, very much like a dirty old man's!
"I'm not sure what kind of athletic activity your husband is performing at his club, Mrs. Carson, but I imagine most of it consists of push-ups, with his partner, of course."
"Partner? You mean Jack Parker or Paul Marsh?"
Lon Norton chuckled briefly. "Hardly. I meant a female partner. Very possibly my girlfriend. Joy Smith."
It took a moment for the whole implication to register, but when it did, Susy felt as if she had been hit in the face with a very wet fish!
"When you say push-ups, you really mean, uh,"
"Afraid so."
"But Joy Smith is my husband's secretary!"
"Among other things. But like they say, the wife is always the last to know."
Susy took one last, desperate breath. "And how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"This ought to convince you."
He pulled a snapshot out of his coat pocket, and handed it to her.
"I hope this doesn't shock you, Mrs. Carson. Remember, I'm only trying to get my girl back."
The photograph practically burned a hole in her hand! It was terribly grainy, but not so unclear that the two figures in it were recognizable. It was Warren and Joy Smith, all right, and both of them were nude as billiard balls, lying on a sand dune, or something, with their arms around each other!
"We took that with a telephoto lens, from about a quarter of a mile away. That's sand, okay. And the place where they go is a beach house out on Monk's Point. You can ask yourself just what kind of athletic enterprises the six of them concoct."
"Six?" Susy echoed, bleakly.
"Yes. Mr. Marsh and Mr. Parker are out there, too. I'm not sure, but I think their three secretaries provide most of the female companionship, although God knows I'm not real sure about that."
Susy could feel her gorge beginning to rise!
It was just like Warren to go sniffing around some young thing's panties while his wife stayed at home and washed the dog!
"Damn him!"
"I sure know how you feel, Mrs. Carson. Yes sir. I'm home on leave from the Army, myself, and believe me, it's not easy to take when you find out that your best girl is shacking up with a man old enough to be your father!"
Susy's brain did a frantic little seesaw on that note!
"Well, wait a minute. Warren may not be in kindergarten, but he's not in a rocking chair, either!"
"Oh, Christ, Mrs. Carson, I didn't mean to imply that I thought you were old, too. I just...."
"You just thought that nobody over twenty-five knows how, why, where or when to swing-that's what you thought!"
"Well, I...."
"Do you think that just because I'm over thirty, I've forgotten what sex is!" .
"Your husband damned sure hasn't, I'll say that."
"Who needs him! And while we're on the subject, why should you need Joy Smithl What's wrong with me?"
"Now that you mention it, my buddies and I thought...."
Before he could finish, he found himself being pulled bodily through the door!
"The bedroom is down the hall and to the right. I'm going to take the fastest shower on record, and when I come out, I'll expect you to be ready for me!"
"Gee, Mrs. Carson...."
"Do you want to screw me, or don't you?"
"That was the general idea, I suppose, but my buddies and I...."
"What do you need to take care of a woman, a damned drill instructor and a platoon of pals?"
Lon's jaw firmed. "Hell, no, I don't, ma'am. I can satisfy you-or any other female-any hour of the day. You want me to screw you, I'll screw you!"
"That's not all I want either."
He blinked at her, almost afraid to ask!
"There's a polaroid camera with a tripod and a timer, in the bedroom closet. Get 'em out. I want this on film. It'll make a nice companion to the one you've got of my husband and that little whoring-well, of that girlfriend of yours!"
"Fine with me-as long as my face doesn't show."
"It's not your face I want to show off, honey!"
With that announcement blistering his ears, Lon Norton stumbled blindly off toward the bedroom, yanking at his belt as he went!
Even before he reached the bedroom, he could hear the shower roaring impatiently.
"Lord, I thought it might be easy to make a bored housewife," he whispered to himself, "but I didn't know just how easy!"
When he had stripped to his shorts, he hurried over to the closet, got out the camera and tripod, and set them up a few feet from the bed. He even pulled back the covers on the bed, so that there would be nothing obstructing the lens but a clean white sheet. He hoped the pictures were in color!
His heart thumped in his chest when he heard the shower water splash off at last. His husky young penis began to firm shamelessly in his white boxer shorts, poking out and away from his legs.
He didn't know whether to go ahead and get buck naked for her, or let her take his shorts off for him. At the last second, he decided what the hell, and peeled his shorts off over his feet. That last bit of venereal byplay made his tool grow hard as a big bone.
He was ready to screw anything that walked!
Angel-True came barking and yapping into the bedroom just as he was about to crawl into the middle of the bed. The little dog paused, cocked its feminine head to one side, and stared in awe at the big, stiffly extended male organ riding out from between Lon's legs.
He grinned down at Angel-True. "Don't tempt me, honey," he breathed, "I'm looking for anything with a pussy right now."
"Will I do?"
Lon swung his head around in surprise-and saw Susy standing framed in the door of the bedroom. She was stark naked, with one leg coyly slid over the other, and one arm up behind her and resting on the door jamb. She looked like a femme fatale from a late late movie!
"You'll do fine," he said, huskily.
They were both staring at each other, sizing the prospects up. For Lon, it was a pleasant surprise. Susy Carson was a helluva lot younger looking in the flesh than he had expected. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her, and her tits were as firm as a girl of eighteen-just a bit larger than softballs, with nipples the size of pink gumdrops. She was trim all over, but the thing which made his penis stiffen all the way to the root, was the coy way she was showing only a little of her pussy. Showing enough of the hair and the beginning pout of the Venus mound to make his mind race with the desire to see and feel the rest of it!
As for Susy, she was practically panting to get at all the male muscle and brawn she was staring at!
Lon Norton had a body that was a football coach's dream. Shoulders that were perfectly sculptured down to a trim waist, thickly developed legs and arms, buttocks as trim as a girl's, and a twanger thrusting out from between his legs that would have made a mare bawl!
"Lord," she rasped, feeling the lips of her pussy begin to tremble, thicken, and part. "What do they feed you in the army besides Sex-Appeal Pills?"
He grinned at her, and crawled up into the middle of the bed, showing her a pair of big, brown balls that seemed built for endless fornication. Once he was positioned, he patted the place beside him, and made a low whistling noise.
She came in a trot!
He caught her in a kind of half-leap, digging one of his strong hands into the rounded curve of her raw. buttocks, and the other around her back. He pulled her up hard against him; so hard that she could feel the head of his stone stiff penis burning against her tummy.
Her fingers went down blindly to stroke his dong, and he groaned with pleasure as she played and teased the length of it, as a baby measures the thickness and durability of a big candy bar.
They kissed a couple of sloppy, tongue-involving kisses, and then his open mouth slathered down her neck and throat and dipped swiftly down to suck up one of her rigid nipples.
She gave a frenzied gasp and dug her fingernails into his neck. He responded to that touch of sexual sadism by sucking her tit all the harder, flipping the gorged nipple back and forth with his tongue and biting into the rosette until tears of joy stung her eyes.
The hand that was plowed into her warm buttocks now slid lower and up into the doughy maw of her pussy. His middle finger expertly found the center of her throbbing sex, inserted itself to the second notch, and began to diddle her.
She had never been so stimulated in her life!
Her pussy became as tractable as warm liver. The deeper his finger wriggled and probed, the more her vagina sucked and clasped for it.
Her blazing mouth came yawning up to his ears. "You screw me and I'll screw you!"
He grinned at her, and ran his tongue out to lick the tip of her nose. "You go first, baby," he husked.
His youthful, male arrogance drove a sharper lust through her body. She could feel her pussy turning into a weapon, like a pair of lobster claws!
She was up and squatting over him in a flash. With both hands she guided the large nozzle of his penis up between the hot, lathery lips of her pussy. Once it was partly in, she rode her thighs downward, forcing every inch of him straight up inside her.
He groaned with horny pleasure, and reached out with both hands to play with her throbbing tits.
She began to screw him with quick, vertical thrusts.
He was a tight fit, but not so tight that her pussy didn't insist on making happy little slurping noises with every lunge.
She remembered the camera, but was too crazed with satisfying her long and hungering lust to take time to fool with it.
Maybe the next time around!
NINE
It was the middle of the afternoon before Arleth Parker finally got enough of her handsome young next door bachelor, Rick Howard, and his well-hung sailor pal, Bo.
Actually, it was Bo and Rick who threw in the towel. They were screwed out. And both of them limped away from her like two milk-fed pups with their tail wagging limply between their legs.
Arleth didn't know whether she was satisfied or not. Certainly she had had more sex from the two young studs than was the average female's luck to get in six months of ordinary husband-wife humping.
But Arleth knew only too well that she wasn't the average female!
Even long before she met Jack-and found a stud who could manage to make her happy as often as she demanded it-she was a female on the loose. And she had loved very goddamned minute of it!
Lying now in the middle of her bed, with her legs still wantonly spread apart and her pussy gaping open like a soft, moist wound, she thought back in her mind to the very first time she had let a male get to her.
She had to go a hell of a long way back, too!
The first time it had happened had been when she was either fourteen or fifteen, not that it made a big difference. Suffice it to say, she was young and ripeand men and boys have a way of smelling out girls who are brimming with life and the raw sexual urge to experiment. And she was certainly eligible for that category.
Only the summer before, she had begun to fill out. Her young tits had started to swell, as if somebody had stuck an air pump into the nipples and jacked a dozen times overnight. And her pussy had changed, too. Instead of being the little pouting, hairless cleft between her legs, it had turned into a prominent, fuzzy peach of flesh, filled with strange all night itchings and throbbings!
So it was no wonder that when she went with her father that wonderful, fateful summer to their summer cabin in the Colorado Rockies that she was ready for anything male.
What fate provided her was a six-foot, twenty-year-old stud named Hank.
Hank Browdy, from Muleshoe, Texas!
Hank had worked his way up into Colorado as a horse handler. He was a good one, and as a cowboy back in Texas, he had been called upon to learn everything there was to know about mares and stallions.
That information hadn't hurt him any when he started working on dude ranches.
"A woman," Hank used to drawl, grinning around a hand-rolled cigarette, "is just like a mare. The gentler you treat her, the sassier she's liable to get. I always show 'em who's boss!"
At the time, she had never dreamed that such down-to-earth cowboy philosophy would be applied to her before the summer was over, but looking back she was mighty glad it had been!
The seduction-or, rather, the half-rape-had taken place out on the trail one afternoon when Hank was supposed to be teaching her to ride. He did teach her to ride, but not a horse!
They were half-way up the trail when he suggested that she might like to stop and let the horse rest. She saw nothing wrong in that, and the next thing she knew, they were not only off their horses, but off the trail. A few yards off into the thicket.
"What did you bring your rope along for, Hank?" she remembered asking, naively.
He had grinned at her-that handsome, sexy, cowboy, stud grin!
"Mebbe I thought I'd rope me something nice with it."
"Like what?"
"Like a nice little filly that ain't never been rode good."
"There aren't any fillies around here, are there?"
"Never can tell. Lemme get my rope to swingin'."
She had watched with fascination as he made a big circle of the end of the rope, and then began to swing it over his head. It made hissing, threatening noises for a few seconds, and then came winging around her waist!
"Got me one!" Hank whooped, pulling her toward him so fast that she almost lost her balance.
What she thought was a playful little trick turned suddenly into a most serious kind of sexual attack!
Before she could gasp out a complaint, the young cowboy had one of his hands inside of her thin blouse, and was feeling the size of her budding tits like an expert.
"Hank, now you stop that!"
But he didn't stop it-and the more he pinched and played with her virginal titties, the funnier she began to feel!
Apparently, he knew every blade of grass in that particular area, because he dragged her over to the best place for screwing. He pushed her down into the sweet-smelling mountain meadow, and got her riding pants down to her knees in jiffy quick time!
But it was only when her panties were torn off under his pawing strength that she realized the extent of his intentions!
"Rape!"
And that's exactly what it was!
He held her down by the shoulders while her shrieking voice echoed down the mountainside. She got only a wild glimpse at the big, hard horn of flesh that he pulled out of his fly-and then it was into her juicy little puss with one solid thrust!
The pain almost killed her, but Hank knew better than to listen to her bleating protests.
He knew how to tame her!
He began to ride the saddle of her thighs with steady, rhythmic pumpings of his own lean hips. The harder he rode her, the deeper he penetrated her-and before it was over, he was burying his prod all the way up to his nuts!
Then she learned what every female eventually learns-if she's treated to intercourse with an expert satyr like Hank.
She learned how pain can turn to the most exquisite pleasure!
In only moments, she began to respond to what he was doing. She could feel the lips of her tight pussy thickening as they vibrated with the friction of his stiff column. He was tickling her deep inside, too. The head of his rod was like a smooth, oily piston plowing deeper and deeper into her womb-and pleasuring her breathless at every stroke!
Her hidden, untapped, lascivious nature was suddenly made to blossom like a tiger lily!
"God, Hank!" she sobbed, wrapping her arms savagely around her youthful lover's neck, "screw me faster!"
He grinned lopsidedly at her, and dug his hands into her squirming tits. "Baby, the only way old Hank can dick you faster is to put a pair of spurs on you!"
For the next hour they plumbed the deepest pits and chasms of lust. For a girl who had never had an orgasm before in her life, Arleth picked up the talent fast! One deep vaginal climax followed another, until Hank's horsy young penis was making noises like a washing machine inside her!
Somewhere in the middle of the heated fun, they stopped long enough to take off all their clothes. Hank insisted upon keeping on two items-his boots and his hat. But, in all, they were a couple of shameless young beasts for another hour or so, screwing until Hank's admirable organ was finally as limp as a glove.
"Honey, for somebody who ain't never had it done to 'em before, you sure do enjoy it!"
She grinned, and watched while he tucked his eight inch poker back into his jeans.
"I want it again tomorrow," she said, huskily.
He glanced at her, and shook his head. "Can't tomorrow, sweetie. I obligated my services to some rich broad from New Jersey, and she...."
"I want it again tomorrow, Hank. Right here in this same spot-only longer and better!"
He stared at her, and frowned. "Now look here, baby...."
"You look here, you big stud. You rope me, choke me, put that big oversized bat into me and then think you can walk away whistling The Yellow Rose of Texas? Like hell you can!"
She amazed even herself. That afternoon, she not only blossomed into a first-class nympho, she blossomed into a real bitch ... but it worked.
"You ain't planning to tell your daddy anything about...."
"You bet your big boots I am, unless you promise."
"Okay, okay. But it's gotta be either earlier or later. I'm bringing that rich female from New Jersey up here at this same time tomorrow, so...."
"Later, then. In the barn. And you better not use it all up on Miss New Jersey I"
That was the prelude to one of the wildest weeks in Hank Browdy's sexual lifel Not only was he having to take care of assorted females all up and down the mountainside, he was practically being blackmailed into screwing Arleth's insatiable young pussy three or four times a day!
Lying now, naked, on her bed, Arleth could not help but chuckle again at the poor young cowboy's fate. It made her wonder if he had ever had the nerve to rope another pubescent female again!
She was still contemplating the sweet memory when the phone jangled again across the bedroom.
It was the third or fourth time it had rung while she was busy with Rick and Bo, but now she had the time to answer it.
She swung her nude body off the bed and wagged her heavy, swollen tits across the room. She picked up the receiver with a deft snap of her wrist.
"Arleth, this is Mary Marsh. I've been trying to call you for...."
"I was out. What's on your mind, Mary."
"Well, I've just had the most extraordinary experience this morning and I was wondering if you had, too."
Arleth subdued the small, salacious grin that start ed to crawl across her lips. "What experience did you have, Mary?"
"I was seduced."
"Huh?"
"Well, not exactly seduced, but I was propositioned by this young man who said he was Paul's secretary's boyfriend, and...."
"Hold on, honey. You're going way too fast for me-and besides, what the hell does this have to do with...."
"With you? Plenty, maybe! The point is, this young man came to my door and told me that my husband, plus yours and Susy Carson's, are all having weekend orgies with their secretaries out in a beach house on Monk's Point, and...."
"I knew something was fishy about all this handball crap!" Arleth exploded. "God, Paul never got close enough to a handball before this to shoot it with a rifle!"
"Exactly! Anyway, this young man, uh, Chad Barton, said that the only way we could get our husbands back was to have an affair with them."
"The husbands?"
"No, silly, the boyfriends of the secretaries! Chad is one of them, and there are two others. They drew straws for us-and Chad won me. Somebody named Lon Norton won Susy, and the one assigned to you is named Neil Weems."
"Interesting, but count me out."
"Really, Arleth?"
Arleth grinned, thinking of Rick and Bo-the safe, instant kind of good sex all packaged and waiting next door. But she said: "Paul takes care of me, Mary. I don't have any complaints. And I'm certainly not going to fall for some silly con game of three obviously sex hungry young males!"
"Well, I didn't mean to insult you, Arleth. But just between you and me and the gatepost, I think it's not a bad idea. I do think it ought to be tested first, however."
"What does that mean-in your case?"
She could almost see Mary smiling at the other end of the line.
"It means, Arleth, that I said yes. And Chad is picking me up this evening to go dining and dancing."
"And screwing, no doubt."
"Arleth!"
"It'll come to that, if you'll pardon the expression. I think you're making a big mistake, honey. You shouldn't fool around behind your husband's back."
"Well, I intend to keep it innocent, and all...."
"Good luck."
"Call me, if you change your mind."
"By the way, Mary. Is Susy going along with this?"
"I don't know. I haven't been able to get her, either. I suppose she's busy, too."
When Arleth had hung up, she felt the small, gloating pleasure of a triumph. While Mary and Susy were playing around with fire, she was having her fun-and her revenge-the easy, safe way!
She was still smiling when the phone jangled again.
It was probably Susy this time, she thought, telling her all about the imaginary scandal which some clever young college boys had cooked up to get into the panties of three silly, bored housewives!
"Hello!"
"Mrs. Parker?"
"Yes?"
"My name is Neil Weems. I'd like to come over and talk to you about a matter of concern to both of us. May I?"
Her resolve would have been stronger, but the thick, smooth, sexy young voice on the other end sounded exactly like Hank Browdy's!
"Come on over," she gushed, "but hurry!"
TEN
Neil Weems put down the receiver, then grinned over his shoulder at Susy and Lon Norton.
"Well, how was it?" he asked, in a clear, baritone voice.
"Perfect," Susy purred, bitchily. "If I've heard Arleth tell that stupid tale about her maidenhead being lost on some godforsaken trail in the Colorado Rockies once, I've heard it a thousand times. And you did a Texas cowboy voice imitation to a T."
"She sounded a little turned on by it, all right," Neil smiled. "I just hope I can keep it-up."
"If I know Arleth, all you'll have to keep up is what you've got between your legs."
"No problem there."
Susy was sitting on the sofa with Lon, but her eyes were carefully evaluating the crotch of the good-looking young man opposite her. "Uh, just how much do you have between the legs," she husked.
Neil Weems grinned. "Enough to make an old maid run for the covers."
"Bed covers, I trust!"
"Right"
Susy laughed throatily. She was amazed at how brazen she had grown just in the space of one Saturday morning. When she opened her eyes only a few hours before, with Warren's hulking mass huddled to one side in the bed with her, she had been thinking of nothing more in the world than getting Angel True into the dog show.
Now she couldn't have cared less if Angel-True played in mud puddles all the way to Boston!
She had found something much more prizewinning in Lon Norton-and maybe in his young friend, Neil Weems.
The thought occurred to her that a threesome would be just the kind of topping on the sexual dessert she had been enjoying with Lon.
The trouble was, how did she go about making such a lewd proposition to the two of them?
The answer to that thorny question came as naturally as what she and Lon had been doing before his pal arrived. When Neil excused himself to go back to the kitchen for one of Warren's beers, Susy put the question bluntly to Lon.
"I'm dying to really see what your friend has."
Lon flushed a little with something between hurt and embarrassment, then nodded. "I'd be glad to leave, then maybe you two could...."
"Don't be silly! I don't want you to go anywhere, sugar-stud!"
"You don't?"
"Of course not. I want both of you-and at the same time!"
Lon made a little whistling noise with his lips. "Christ, I thought with all that heavy humping we did about an hour ago that...."
"Think again! You just stirred up my ovaries like a big stick in a hornet's nest. I'm itching deep up inside now!"
The lewd talk had exactly the effect on Lon Norton that Susy had planned.
She saw the bulge growing inside his pants. To hurry things along, she reached out with the tips of her fingers and felt along the length of his hardening penis; exactly the way a housewife might feel a nice, big banana.
Lon swallowed thickly, and got up. The swelling push at his crotch was shamelessly obvious.
"I'll go into the kitchen and see what Neil thinks. He might veto the idea. I could hear Mrs. Parker's voice on the phone and she said for him to hurry right over."
Susy grinned wantonly. "Let the silly old tart wait a little while. She'll be just that much hornier when Neil finally does get there!"
Lon grinned. "Yeah, but if you make him perform the way you made me perform, there may not be anything left for Mrs. Parker."
She reached out and squeezed his swollen tool with one hand. "I don't think you young studs will have much of a problem keeping pace!"
Lon laughed huskily at that remark, then swung on off to the kitchen.
Susy could feel her pussy beginning to boil already!
This was madness!
But she couldn't think of a more exciting kind of madness than getting her body pleasured seven ways from Sunday by two of the younger generation's most talented satyrs. Besides, it would serve Warren right for chasing off after something young enough to be his daughter!
Neil and Lon came back almost immediately. There was a wide grin on both their faces.
"It's all settled," Lon said, cheerfully. "Only I think maybe I ought to take a shower. After all, I worked up quite a sweat awhile ago."
Susy grinned back at both of them. 'I've got a better idea. Why don't we all take a shower together!"
Lon glanced at his good-looking pal. "Okay with you, buddy?"
"Hell yes!"
"Lead the way, Susy."
They began stripping even before they reached the bathroom, and by the time the shower was turned on and the water gushing they were all three as naked as babes.
Susy went in first, and the two strapping young males followed her. The shower stall was delightfully small, and so the three of them were crowded together like sardines.
"Soap me!" Susy yelped, happily.
It was an experience she had never had-and would never in a million years forget!
Four large, eager young hands began covering her body from head to foot with a froth of suds, and everywhere they touched her, she burned with joy.
Lon got his hand between her legs, and soaped her pussy until it looked like a Santa Claus beard!
Meanwhile, Neil worked on making her swelling tits into twin, snow-covered peaks. But her reddening, thickening nipples kept poking up through the suds, and when the exposure became too tempting, Neil bent his grinning mouth down and sucked at them.
With the two studs working at such close proximity to her, Susy had all the opportunity in the world to explore their anatomies to the limit. She began by running her hands over the slick, firm buttocks of her watertime Casanovas. But it was the two horizontal clubs of meat sticking out from between their legs that excited her most.
It was like taking a shower with two fence posts!
She made a little game of toying with their erected organs. She covered them with soap, making foamy sundies of each bit penis, leaving the heads of them exposed, like overgrown dips of pink ice cream!
A sundie needs nuts, and she had four of the biggest on record to fool around with!
"Christ!" Neil gasped, when she started squeezing his soapy balls between her fingers, "much more of that, and I'm gonna come like a pistol!"
To ward off that premature possibility, Susy left off playing with Neil's testicles, and instead began to tease the hair on his chest and the muscles in his arms.
To get even with her, both of the over-sexed young studs got down to the most fun of all-screwing her crazy!
Lon got the first chance at her, since he was the one who had initiated her into the rites and pleasures of weekend adultery. Pulling her legs up by the buttocks, he thrust his slippery dong up her soaped-up pussy, then let her legs fall back in a tight clamp around his fully erected meat.
Susy felt as if somebody had rammed a parking meter into her twat!
She fell back against the shower wall, and threw her head up into the torrential stream of water. Lust and joy made her open her mouth and stick out her tongue, and as Lon began to savagely screw her, she burbled and gurgled like a maniac!
Neil was having his share of the fun, too.
With both hands, he massaged and pinched Susy's bloated tits, taking care that he roiled the cones and nipples until they were vibrating between his fingers like the glass tops of two overheated perculators. Then he substituted his mouth again, and sucked so hard that his cheeks indented!
With one free hand, Neil slid his middle finger between Susy's helpless buttocks and entered her anus. The effect was so erotic on her that she shrieked, shuddered, and spasmed wildly against Lon's rampaging penis.
She couldn't stop coming, and the more she lubricated the brutal knob at the end of Lon's twanger, the deeper he was able to shove it!
Neil kept wriggling his finger up her ass, and sucking her tits until she came again. This time the orgasm was one of those deep, vaginal kinds that can rock a woman from head to toe. It felt to Susy as if somebody had shoved a bag of hot honey up her womb, then punctured it with a crowbar!
The next thing she knew, she was on her knees in the shower, with both their big tools between her hands. She was going from one to the other, like a hungry sow with two corncobs!
"Suck us, baby!" a husky voice growled above her. "Eat all you want!"
As she was avidly licking and sucking their stiff rods, she thought wantonly of the camera in the bedroom
"Lord," she yelped, "what a picture this would make!"
She leaped out of the shower, dragging both of them with her. Wet as three ducks, they laughed and whooped all the way to the bedroom. The camera was already set up-she and Lon had been so damned busy earlier that they hadn't taken a single picture and all they had to do was cock the timer, and get back into position.
They made sure of the best possible angle, then Susy got on her knees again, stuck out her tongue until it was touching both the gorged heads of the two big, boyish prodders, and grinned directly at the lens!
The camera clicked, and their lust was immortalized!
They tried a dozen more shots, each one seemingly more lascivious than the last. The one which topped them all, was when Susy got on the bed in a dog position, and Neil thrust his overgrown penis up her back hatchway while Lon knelt in front of her so that she could go down on him all the way to his balls.
The camera almost blushed when it snapped that one!
"Any more ideas on the subject?" Lon grinned, lewdly.
"Only one," Susy gasped, so hot now that the hairs on her pubis were tingling, "let's forget the camera and just ball like bunnies!"
The idea didn't need to be voted on!
Since Neil was already in the perfect screwing position, he began to pump away. His thrusts were so vigorous that each one lifted Susy's yearning buttocks almost a foot in the air!
Lon was still in the blowing position, and Susy went to work on his tasty, rock hard tool with all the carnal need of a sex-starved harlot.
The bed rocked and creaked on its springs, but nobody heard a thing!
When Lon started feeling a compulsive climax coming on, he took Susy's head in both of his hands, and began to jack her whole face up and down like a basketball. She was taking him so deep that his nuts were slapping against her chin!
They all seemed to come at once, in a blinding whirlwind of passion, and then fell into a heap into the middle of the bed.
"That's the limit for me," Lon groaned.
Susy's eyes fluttered open in a trance of hanging-on lust. She could still feel Neil's ponderous joystick inside of her, and it wasn't soft at all.
She scissored her legs gently, and felt it get even stiffer.
"How about you, hero?" she breathed, softly. For an answer, he rolled over on top of her, and the creaking springs were at it again....
ELEVEN
When Chad Barton called on Mary at eight o'clock that evening, her husband, Paul, still wasn't home.
But Mary knew why. She knew all about the new weekend club that Paul had said he wanted to investigate. And it wasn't a ball he was kicking around-it was balls. His own!
She had not allowed Chad to touch her that morning, although she had come damned close to giving in to the urge to be as promiscuous as Paul. Instead, she had promised to think over Chad's suggestion that they make Paul and Cindy Hart jealous by having a little fling of their own.
But, for the time being, a "fling" meant going out on the town, dining and dancing. And maybe that would be enough. If not ... well, time and the long evening would tell.
She welcomed Chad into her living room with a grand sweep of the door. She almost wished that Paul would come bumbling in right behind him, just so she could see the expression on his face I
"Good evening, Mary, you look great!"
She felt a small flutter of pleasure go through her at the kind compliment. How long had it been since she had heard Paul say something like that about the way she had done her hair, or the dress she had picked out to wear?
"Where shall we go?" she asked, brightly, even allowing herself the wanton experience of a flirting smile.
"Dinner at a good club I know," Chad said, "then maybe a drive out toward Monk's Point."
Mary glanced at him uncertainly. "You think that's a good idea?"
He smiled. "Don't worry. We won't run into anybody. Not tonight. But it's a free beach, and a drive out there in the moonlight is something anybody is entitled to."
"Fine."
He helped her on with her cape, and in a few minutes they were out of the apartment and climbing into his used jaguar. Once he was behind the wheel, she reached out and put one hand on his knee.
"I think we ought to go Dutch on this, Chad. There's no point in our pretending this is anything more than a...."
"Don't worry about the money. I haven't been spending much on Cindy lately, so I can afford it Just relax, and let's see if we can't have a good time ourselves."
She smiled at his profile, and shrugged. "I'm perfectly willing."
He caught her eyes with a quick, returning smile. "So am I."
They sped to a nice, cozy, out of the way restaurant and spent the better part of an hour eating fat, luscious shrimps, and swigging down cold German beer.
Mary grew giddy as a goose.
"God, I haven't done something like this since I was in college. I'd almost forgotten how much fun it could be!"
Chad grinned at her across the candlelit table. "Don't you and Paul ever go out?"
"Sometimes, but usually its with another married couple, or a group. We never seem to go out alone anymore."
"It's none of my business, I guess," Chad breathed, "but do you do anything together anymore?"
The beer had loosened Mary's tongue and inhibitions a bit. She grinned coyly at her escort. "Do you mean do we still have sex?"
"Uh, yes."
"Of course we do, but not as much, lately. I mean, Paul is very good in bed. Very good."
"He is, eh?"
"I think the expression is stud. Paul's a real stud in the clinches."
Something about that struck both of them as funny, and the slight tension was broken with the giggles and gasps which followed. It also brought the waiter over again, and that was a natural prompter to leave.
"Now for that drive," Chad said, once they were out into the pleasant evening air again. "I'll take you where I used to take Cindy-back in the good old days"
"You mean three months ago?" He groaned. "Don't remind me of how long I've been, uh...."
"Without?"
He groaned again in mock distress, and they piled laughing into the jag again.
It took a good twenty minutes to make it out to the beach area, and Chad horsed the car like a poor man's Ben Hur. But once they hit the scenic road that curved along the lip of the large inlet lake, he slowed down so that they could enjoy it.
"There's a road off into a more secluded area down here," he said, casually. "It's known as the Panty Strip. Are you game to try it?"
She glanced at him, grinning. "Try what?"
"The road, of course."
"First, tell me why it's called the Parity Strip!"
He chuckled softly, but she could see the warm gleam in his eyes, even in the moonlight. "Well, it's where all the college kids go on weekends. There must be hundreds of little nests and coves to duck in and out of in your car. Nice and private as anybody could want. It's a mod version of your old Lover's Lane. They say people used to come out here in horses and buggies, back in the old days. And I guess they were up to the same things then that the college crowd is up to now."
"Sex?"
"That's putting it mildly. If you have a strong stomach, I don't suppose it will bother you."
She grinned warmly. "And what if you have weak willpower?"
"Then it will bother you even less, because you'll probably want to get in on the fun yourself!"
"With a promise like that, I don't see how I can refuse. Panty Strip, here we come!"
Chad drove the car off the main road at a place he knew only too well, and then he continued until there was nothing but moonlight and carlight to guide him. They passed one car after another, all of them nosed up into the darkness with couples pressed together-kissing, necking, deep-petting, everything.
"Some of the cars are empty," Mary noted.
Chad grinned. "Don't bet on it. There's always the back seat."
"Not for this car. So how did you and Cindy...."
"Blankets. I always carry a couple in the trunk!"
The information sent a surprisingly hot thrill through Mary's breast!
"Lord," she breathed, huskily, and feeling suddenly hot all over, "I don't know what has got into me.".
Chad grinned at her, and his white teeth looked particularly carnal in the soft moonlight. "Maybe you mean, what's about to get into you, honey."
"Chad, we decided that this was just going to be a joy ride, remember."
"Joy, is right-and you want what is about to happen as much as I do."
"Maybe I don't."
"Let's park and find out!"
Before she could get her next breath, he had quickly whipped the car up into a little pocket of darkness and snapped off the ignition.
Almost immediately, they noticed another car about four yards away-a big, white convertible. "This isn't private," Mary hissed, nervously. "Don't worry about them. You can see for yourself that they don't even know we exist!"
Mary's eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and she made out the young couple in the back seat of the big car. A small, heated gasp escaped Mary's throat when she realized what they were doing back there!
"My God," she husked, softly. "Don't they have any shame?"
"Why should they," Chad breathed, suddenly close to her ear now, "fun is fun."
Mary felt a raw vibration of pleasure grab her as Chad's bold hand slipped around the cone of one of her breasts. His fingers tightened on the spongy pad of her bra, and squeezed lightly.
She could feel her nipples beginning to harden, rise.
"God, I shouldn't be doing this!" she wheezed, fighting weakly back with the last efforts of fading I modesty.
"Why the hell not," Chad whispered, working his fingers deeper into the cup of her bra. "Just think of what your alley cat hubby is doing right now with my Cindy. You can damn sure bet that he's doing more than this!"
The truth of what Chad was saying bore into Mary's brain like a hot chisel. Of course Paul was doing more than this, and had been all the live-long day. In fact, he and that tramp secretary of his had been doing exactly what the young couple in the white convertible were doing-screwing like minks'.!
With a little muffled combination of rage and lust, Mary turned and literally shoved herself into Chad Barton's strong, young arms.
"Take my blouse off, Chad!" she gasped. "Take my dress and panties off, too! Turn me on all over!"
A hoarse little laugh came from deep in Chad's throat as he hurried to do what she asked. His fingers worked swiftly on the buttons of her dress, and in seconds he had it off of her shoulders and down to her waist.
"Hell," he panted, "we can't do anything in this damned phone booth. Let's get the blankets out of the back and find some sand. I want to screw you right, baby!"
She had gone too far to stop now!
With all the eagerness of a whore in a boy's dormitory, Mary climbed out of the car with Chad and helped him dig the blankets out of the trunk. They trooped off together into a darker spot beyond the car-one Chad knew about, of course-and found a soft pile of sand that was just made for coition.
Chad spread the blankets while she finished stripping her dress, bra, and panties.
"Take off your clothes, too," she demanded, almost savagely. "Paul always play stud for me in the nude-and I like it that way!"
"At your service, honey," he grunted, happily.
She stretched out on the blankets and watched him hop out of his clothes. As each garment fell at his feet, she found her blood racing faster.
He was not only good-looking, he was built for speed and endurance!
His boxer shorts came off last, and the final revelation of his maleness sent a rakish little throb of desire all the way through her womb. He was hung even better than Paul! A big, powerful organ that seemed almost too large-and much too stiff-for even an experienced female to take!
She was half sitting up on the blankets when he walked up and straddled her thighs with his legs. His violently erected penis was right in line with her mouth, sticking out at her like an axe handle.
"Want to get me in the mood the same way Cindy used to do?"
"You want me to...."
"Suck on it. Use your tongue a little. Kiss it. Lick it. Any goddam thing!"
Mary felt a wild abandonment inside her mind. She had never in her life done anything like that with Paul, although she had wanted to often enough. But there was some prudish, primitive instinct which had always kept her from following through with a perverted desire.
But now, with Chad's big dong stuck solidly out in front of her, and with him begging her to use her mouth on him, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world!
Without another thought, she leaned forward and licked the blunt head of his penis with the wet, soft tip of her tongue. He groaned with pleasure, and so did she! The exciting, male scent of him made her pussy begin to burn with the aching need to find satisfaction from him.
But, for the time being, her mouth was equally in need of a new kind of pleasure.
She brought one hand up, and steadied his big, throbbing rod at the base. She held it steady so that she could lick it better! Using the flat of her tongue, she covered every spongy inch of his meatus, rolling it this way and that over the slathering hotness of her lips.
"Suck it!" he husked. "Eat it for me!"
She made a yawning oval of her mouth, and took almost half of what he had into her throat. It choked her at first, but she didn't stop. She moved her head back and forth, taking a little more of him with each plunge.
Both of her hands were now up between his legs, lightly playing and pulling on his big balls. They felt like warm apples in her hands, and she rubbed them together gently, to increase his already overpowering pleasure.
It was only when he began to pump her throat with brutal little thrusts of his oversized twanger, that she pulled her mouth away with a lewd, popping noise.
"Don't stop now, honey!" he pleaded, passionately. "I wanta come for you. You'll love having my juice shoot down your throat!"
"I'd rather have it the other way," she gasped, falling back on the blankets, and holding her legs apart with both of her hands.
She could feel the heated, moist lips of her pussy gaping open like the gills of some beached fish. "Put it into me, Chad. Screw the hell out of me! Please?"
He hesitated only a moment, and then he was between her legs like a young stallion.
When he rammed it up inside of her, her legs went straight out into the air-like a wishbone of flesh.
Then she closed her eyes, humping like a nympho full of Spanish Fly!
TWELVE
At the beach house on Monk's Point, less than a mile from where Mary and Chad Barton were screwing on the blanket, the party was still well under way.
It had taken all the conventional forms throughout the day. In other words, everybody had had everybody.
With one notable exception.
Paul had not yet brought himself, to screw Joy Smith, although he had watched her having sex with both Warren and Jack. They seemed to enjoy it, he realized, but there was something about the mousy, mocking way in which Joy grinned when she was getting her jollies that annoyed Paul. He was, at that very moment, sitting out on the porch of the house, taking a breather from the demands both Pam and Cindy had been making on his body, and trying to analyze his indifference to Miss Smith.
The only reason he could possibly come up with for refusing to be turned on by her was his distant memory of a girl named Rita.
Rita Morgan, the punchboard of the campus.
Even now, after six years, a little curling snarl of contempt etched the corners of Paul's mouth as he thought of how that insatiable bitch had lined him into her web one week-just so she could practice her sado-masochistic whims on him.
Rita was a lot like Joy, even in looks. Not a particularly pretty female, although out of her clothes she had one of those lubricous bodies than can drive a male out of his skull with lust. Large and perfectly molded breasts, with nipples the size of small cucumbers, and a long, narrow, softly-haired pussy that seemed to have jaws.
The main reason he had wanted Rita in the first place was because of the legends that went around the campus about her. She was an easy make-and if the boy was too shy to ask for it himself, she was known to take the initiative. In fact, one of the fellows in Paul's fraternity-a lanky, shy young male from Texas who happened to be hung better than anybody else around-had gone out on a date with Rita, and come back with a tale that made vibrations all over the campus. The guy said that Rita Morgan had not only seduced him, but that she had insisted they do everything in the book.
When questioned as to what "everything" was, the Texas stud had blushed and recounted the gamut of sexual variations. Rita had made him strip off in the back seat of her car, then she had helped along his uncertain hard-on with her tongue. The guy swore that Rita had licked and sucked his penis for the better part of an hour before she crawled on top of him to perform one of the hottest screwing sessions of all time.
"What else did you do?" Paul remembered asking, breathlessly.
"You name it. She wanted it from the rear, like a damned dog."
"Did you do that?"
The Texan had grinned. "Hell yes, I never disappoint my women."
"What else, man?"
"I ate her."
A lot of the guys had laughed and kidded the Texan about that part of the evening. Many of them claimed that they would never put their tongues into a pussy as well-used as Rita Morgan's-mainly because there might be a left over twanger or two from the night before.
But Paul appreciated every little tidbit that his frat buddy had to tell. He didn't laugh about the possibility of sucking a hot pussy. Later, when he was alone with the Texan, he asked for more details.
"Well, to tell you the truth, I wasn't too hot about muff diving Rita's twat at first," the friend confessed. "But she kept begging and begging me to do it-and she kept shoving her legs up around my neck so that I could see what a nice, juicy crack she had for me. And I guess I just walked right into it, so to speak. The next thing I knew, I was down there licking her box like a dog, with her holding the lips of her pussy apart with both her hands. I'll tell you one thing, I've never seen a girl who dug a tongue job more than old Rita. I thought she was going to drag me in up to the shoulders before it was over."
"She liked it, eh?"
"Like it? She went crazy for it. And that turned me on, too. It made me wish my damned tongue was three feet long. The deeper I sucked up inside of her, the hotter she got and the better she tasted. Like peppermint and honey, man! If I could have, I'd have licked around the sides of her womb!"
Just listening to his pal's lewd description of cunnilingus had given Paul a hard-on like a horse!
"Did she have a big clit?" he husked, hungrily. "Did she like for you to play around with that?"
The Texan had stuck out one of his own thumbs, proudly. "Rita has a clit the size of that. Like a horn. I'm telling you! Every time I asked her if she was ready to come, she begged me to suck her clit-and that made her pop off so good that I thought I'd drown on her juice!"
For a week, Paul had thought of nothing but the salacious tale the Texan had told. And he knew that he was a fool to miss out on all that poontang!
But there was one small problem.
When he had first come to the campus, he had been something of a dumb prude. And it was at that unfortunate period that he had first met Rita. He could tell she was a whore the second he saw her, and when she tried to put the make on him, he had turned her down flat.
And Rita Morgan never forgave a male who refused to satisfy her lust on the spot!
Still, he thought she might have forgotten the episode by now, and so on the following Saturday night, he gave her a call.
"Who?" she demanded, buntly.
"Paul Marsh, Rita. I thought we might go out for a coke and a burger-if you're interested."
There had been a long, thoughtful pause, and then her voice had come on like warm fur. "Of course I would, Paul! You don't have a car, do you?"
"No, but...."
"Never mind. I'll pick you up in mine. I remember you from way back. I've been wondering if you'd ever come around!"
He had grinned happily at that. "Well, I'm around now, Rita. And I can come as many times as you want me to."
Her guttural laugh at the other end had made his rod start firming in his pants!
"I just hope you can keep that promise, you big stud," she had purred. "See you at seven o'clock!"
She was as good as her word, and at seven o'clock sharp she pulled up in front of the frat house in her big convertible and honked him all the way out to the curb.
He piled in, and got a whiff of the strong, erotic perfume she was wearing. Even the smell of it was enough to make his balls start swelling!
"Where do you want to go?" he asked, glancing over at the large twin mounds of her breasts, and fighting back the urge to start toying with them right then.
"I know a place," she said, giving him a secret smile that promised a lot of sultry things. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Paul. To tell the truth, I've been lusting after your body since that time you turned me down cold.".
He winced to remember what a fool he had been. "Sorry about that, Rita. But I'll try to make up for it tonight."
She grinned at him. "You bet you will, sweetie. Tonight, I want everything from you that I didn't get before. Everything!"
He reached a confident hand over and patted her thigh. "Don't worry, baby, the way I feel right now, I could hire out on a stud farm."
They didn't go for the coke and the burger. Instead, she drove her convertible out into the country. Before he knew it, they were on a back road, piling up dust behind them in the gathering darkness.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see. I call it my own private little love nest, just an old, deserted house in the country. Lots of privacy."
The idea sounded fine to him, and to get into the mood for what was coming, he reached over and began to play with her protruding tits. She didn't object. In fact, she made appropriate little moaning noises as. he found her nipples, and made them harden into fat knobs.
When they reached the old house, she parked behind it and led him in through the back door.
It was practically the last thing he remembered. The next thing he knew, four strong arms had grabbed him from behind and had dragged him backwards into a room that was lit with only kerosine lamps!
He could remember kicking and yelling and trying to fight off the two apes who held him, but they were much stronger and he didn't have a chance!
"Truss him up, please," Rita commanded, huskily. "I want the bastard in the same position he left me that first time, helpless as a bitch-dog in heat!"
It turned out that the two strong-men who were doing her dirty work for her were specimens of the college football team-both of them built like iceboxes. They tied him up in no time, then proceeded on Rita's command to take his clothes off.
It was the most embarrassing position he had ever been in-and Rita Morgan just stood back with a cigarette between her grinning lips while the two football players stripped him raw.
Rita's eyes widened a bit when she saw the big thing he had between his legs. "That makes it just that much more insulting," she hissed, grinding her cigarette into the floor with one heel. "If I had known you were hung like that when you turned me down, I'd have arranged something like this a lot sooner!"
As the two husky helpers stood by, Rita stripped out of her own clothes until she was as naked as Paul. Despite the burning fury and fear he felt for what had happened to him, he still couldn't take his eyes off the wanton body that was being revealed before him.
Rita Morgan was more than just designed for sex, she had been engineered for it!
"Okay, fellows," she said to the two studs at her service, "climb out of your togs and make me happy!"
Paul remained tied down, helpless and horny, as the two lucky males piled out of their jeans and T-shirts. Both of them could have been runner-ups for Mr. America, he decided. And both of them were, of course, hung like a couple of Arabian stallions!
While her two playmates were stripping, Rita took the cruel opportunity to tease Paul with her charms.
She paraded around in front of him, stopping to spread her legs apart so that he could see the glory of her very screwable pussy. She pulled the lips of it apart, revealing the pink, wet interior of her vulva. She got very close to him, so close that he could have stuck his tongue out and licked her twat, and rubbed the pubis of her sex with the palm of her hand. Then she pulled the pouting lips apart again, just to show him the size of her clitoris.
"You'd love to have that, wouldn't you?" she cooed at him. "Yes, I can tell you would!"
She was referring to the fact that his penis had grown enormously stiff over her exhibition. It was standing up now between his legs like an oversized corncob.
She got to her knees between his legs. Then she stuck her tongue out as far as she could and moved toward the bursting head of his penis. Instead of actually licking it, however, she merely licked the space around it. The sadistic teasing made him groan with desire, and he felt that his hard-on somehow started at the top of his spine, and ran all the way out to the throbbing tip of his dick.
The two football players were watching the spectacle with snickering pleasure. Their own violently aroused dongs were more than ready to do what Paul's would never have the chance to do-get buried to the balls in Rita's sassy crack!
For the next two hours, Paul was a witness to what few men have been given the pleasure of viewing: an all out orgy of lust between two brutally oversexed males, and one female who was a nympho from head to toe!
They screwed her in every position conceivable-and in every hole available!
She got it in the mouth, the ass, and the pussy. And when the obvious had been dealt with, they went after the wilder form of sexomania!
The thing which drove Paul out of his skull with desire was the pornographic pleasure with which Rita worshipped the two male bodies at her disposal. She covered every inch of their flesh with her tongue-licking, kissing, sucking. There wasn't a crease or a crevice that she missed, and the unique madness ended with the most erotic display of all. While one of the football players bent over in a squatting position and held the cheeks of his buttocks wide open so that Rita could tongue his crack, the other stud screwed her from behind like a bull on a nanny goat!
When it was all over, they untied him, then left him in the house to find his way back to town as best he could.
It was no wonder that now, years later, he couldn't get the bitter memory of Rita Morgan out of his brain. Even though she might have been entitled to some small revenge for his refusal to service her needs, she had certainly had no right to treat him like a slave.
He was still flushing with the pain of the old experience when a naked, padding noise brought him back to reality.
He glanced up in the half-darkness of the beach house porch to see Joy Smith coming toward him. She was naked as a baby, and her well-sucked tits were swinging like balloons between her shoulders.
She stopped only a few feet from him, and grinned the same kind of grin that Rita Morgan had made famous.
"How about it, Paul?" she breathed, raggedly. "You're the only hold-out around. Warren and Jack are plumb tuckered out, I think, and if you don't service me I may have to call out the National Guard!"
He knew that all he had to do was close his eyes, and it would have been Rita standing there.
He grinned. "I'd sure hate to make the same mistake twice," he said.
Joy looked blankly at him. "Huh?"
His grin widened. "Never mind, baby. If you want to come over here and suck it up hard again, I'll see what I can do for you."
She came toward him eagerly-and he knew that it is only a fool who believes you can't make up for the past!
THIRTEEN
Back inside the beach house, Warren and Jack were indeed temporarily bushed.
They were both lying nude on the thick, imitation leopard skin rug in front of the bar. A casual observer might have taken them for a couple of extras in a Fellini film about decadent Rome. Jack was being fed a cluster of grapes by Pam, and Warren was sharing a drink with Cindy. Both of the young secretaries were as naked as their mates, and the blush of modesty was nowhere to be seen!
"I'm still horny," Pam breathed, edging another grape between Jack's tired, but satisfied, lips. She glanced down at the lax, large joy-tool which was presently sleeping wearily on the top of Jack's hairy leg. Only twenty minutes before, she realized, it had been as hard as a bumper jack, thrilling her right to her lungs. But now it was of no more use to a girl's pussy than a wet dishrag.
Desperately, Pam glanced over at Warren's twatteaser. It, too, had been doing Spartan duty all day and now was as dead as Jack's.
"What we've got," Cindy sighed, in response to Pam's husky confession, "is a couple of tired businessmen. I'd call in fresh troops, if I thought they'd hear us!"
"There's always Paul," Pam grinned, her eyes warming with the thought of deliverance. "I wonder if...."
"Forget Paul," Cindy shrugged. "I saw Joy go out on the porch with blood in her eyes. If I don't miss my guess, the two of them are having at it right now. Joy has been hell-bent all day long to get a balling from Paul."
Pam caught Cindy's eyes, and winked. "You think maybe it's time to bring out the secret weapon?"
Cindy's face brightened again. "God, I'd forgotten all about that! Yes, now is a perfect time!"
Jack got the latest grape swallowed, then moved his sated eyes lazily over toward Cindy. "Perfect time for what, doll?" he murmured.
"For a movie, you big stud."
Warren chuckled softly. "Hope it's a Western. Something with John Wayne and...."
"It's better than that," Pam purred. "Just wait until you see!"
Both of their screwed-out Lotharios watched with a casual indifference as the two nude girls hopped up and went giggling off toward one of the back rooms. Warren watched the jiggling buttocks of the luscious duo, and shook his head sadly. "You know, Jack," he sighed, "I'd give a thousand bucks cash if I was just ten years younger. Ten years ago, I'd still be humping like a jackrabbit. It makes a man feel like a damned failure to know that a couple of cute pussies like those two are still wanting to have fun, and all you can do is belch?"
"Know what you mean, boy."
The conversation went no further, because Pam and Cindy were coming back into the big room, lugging a projector, a screen, and a fat roll of very naughty looking film.
"Hey, you weren't kidding," Jack grinned. "What are we gonna see-a travelogue about the Virgin Islands?"
"If there are any virgins in this damned thing, I'll take it back where I got it-and sue the pants off that hustler," Pam confided.
"You mean that's a stag movie?" Warren asked, hopefully.
"The best I could rent for thirty dollars," Pam grinned. "I thought it might come in handy in case of an emergency like the two of you are in right now!"
Both Jack and Warren blushed furiously at the snide reference to their detumescent organs. They they said no more as the two girls set up the equipment.
"Think we ought to call in Joy and Paul?" Cindy breathed.
Pam shook her head adamently. "Let 'em enjoy their own thing. If this works the way I hope it will, I don't want any more competition than necessary!"
In a few moments, the film was ready to roll. Pam snapped off all the lights except a small lamp in the corner, then manned the projector like an expert.
All eyes were on the screen as the film began to flicker. A title came on which made them all laugh: Gobs of Joy.
"Sailors," Cindy cooed out in the half-darkness, "I love sailors!"
The title quickly faded to show two sexy, handsome sailors leaning against a lamppost. They were passing a bottle of whisky to each other, and taking deep swings with each pass. The camera nosed in for a crotch shot of both of the young studs-and it was perfectly obvious from the huge bulges of their tight pants that the gobs had the biggest little dinghies in anybody's navy!
"Lord," Pam moaned, "they can make waves in my bathtub any night of the week!"
The camera pulled back now to reveal something of interest to the sailors. Both of them assumed the traditional stance of two mariners bending at the waist and peering into the distance over their cupped hands.
"Pussy ahoy, wait and see," Jack chuckled, expectantly.
Sure enough, a hip swinging female came into view. She was built like a teen-aged Mae West, with her blouse open almost to her navel! She had a poodle on a leash, and her saucy buttocks were practically wig-wagging an SOS of lust!
As she minced by, the two sailors gave her the lewdest looks in the book, and made suggestive signs with their fingers. The whorish maiden grinned back at them, and motioned with her head that they were to follow.
The screen faded, out, and came back again on the interior of the female's apartment just as the sailors and the gal were entering. The sailors tossed their caps toward the bed, and then grabbed their prize-which included double handfuls of thigh and tit!
The female giggled and danced out of their way, but her dress was already half off her shoulder, and her tits were showing like white bowling balls. She slithered quickly out of her dress, revealing the interesting fact that she wore neither panties nor bra, and rolled her stockings down and off. Apparently the actress selected to play this award-winning part was one who had been through the mills before. Lovely, she wasn't. But the pair of knockers on her would have driven a saint into rut.
"Christ!" Warren wheezed, sitting up and peering closer at the screen. "Look at the boobs on that babe!"
"And the hair on her twatty," Jack laughed. "She looks like she's smuggling a goddamn bird's nest down there!"
"She'd better be careful," Warren rejoined. "I think she's about to get a couple of seagulls into that nest."
"I should be so lucky!" Pam husked, glancing down in the dim light to see if the pornographic picture was having the proper effect on either Warren or Jack.
So far it hadn't, but the screwing part was yet to come!
Back on the screen, the two stud swabbies were piling out of their tight uniforms. The camera took care to keep both of them in full view, so that the voyeurs in the audience wouldn't miss a thing. Everything came off; sailor pants, blouses, socks, shoes, even dogtags! The last item to be removed were the white government-issue shorts, and that proved to be something of a task in both cases, because the two sailors were sporting hard-ons that could have punctured a wall of steel!
"Look at that," Cindy breathed, her voice catching a bit in awe. "I wonder where the hell a gal goes to get into a movie like-that. Can you imagine being paid to work the way she does?"
Pam laughed throatily. "She probably pays them.
All of their attention was now riveted to the screen. The two buck-naked sailors, with eight or nine inch erections sticking out in front of them like ship's cannons, approached the bed where the gal was now lolling with her legs wide apart. Her pussy, hairy as it was, was gaping open like a big, hot mouth.
The sailors had a hurried little bedside conference to see who would do what first. The one with the slightly larger dong won the argument, and he crawled nimbly up between the lucky lady's legs with one bound. The camera made sure that it got a good back-end shot of the sailor, showing his buttocks and balls in one of those shockingly exciting views of male erotica guaranteed to turn on the most frigid female in the audience.
It did such a good job that Pam dropped to her knees with a curling little moan, and lowered her head between Warren's legs. She began to lick his penis with hungry, demanding strokes of her experienced tongue.
As it happened, Warren's weary twanger had already shown a few signs of reviving-and now the combination of what was happening on the screen and what was happening between his legs made his penis stand up like a small parking meter!
At the same time the first sailor began to screw the whore, Pam began to guzzle Warren's stiff rod. Her mouth was a wide oval around the column of his meat, and she moved up and down in a salacious ritual of sucking.
Cindy wasn't about to be left out of opportunity time, either!
With a gleeful cry, she realized that Jack's huge penis was rising up between his legs like a python hearing a flute! She knelt quickly in a position identical to Pam's, and began to savagely lick the big organ, oblivious to the slathering noises her tongue was making.
As for Warren and Jack, they were enjoying not only what was being done to them, they were equally enjoying the wild eroticism on the screen.
The sailor was still screwing away, and the camera was having a field day moving in for shameless close-ups of the healthy, oversized penis as it squished in and out between the yawing folds of her pussy. He was getting into her all the way to his nuts, and those large nectar bags were slapping hard against her buttocks on every thrust.
In the meantime, the second sailor was getting impatient for his turn. He had been standing to one side, watching his buddy ball, and stroking his own violently stiff penis with one hand. Then he caught the beckoning wave of the female's hand, and moved happily up to the side of the bed, directly opposite her head.
The camera came darting over the jackknifing buttocks of the first sailor to show the wanton way in which the female was beginning to lick just the head of the second sailor's dong. She covered it with lapping caresses of her orbiting tongue, then brought one hand up to clasp the root so that she could draw the whole column into her mouth.
It's a known fact that sailors love blow jobs almost as much as they love their Captains, but this sailor was almost the classic example!
He threw back his head in a panting grin, and fed his eight inch prodder deeper and deeper into the whore's throat. At one point, he had it in up to his balls-so deep that his pubic hair was making a moustache on her upper lip!
The female was not only an expert in trenching sailors, she loved her work! Her hands slithered up between his legs and dug into his lean buttocks, so that she could hold him in if and when he shot his wad. Before it was over, he was literally screwing her mouth, shoving his gloriously stiffened dong so far down her throat she was gagging.
Both sailors came at the same time, sending the lascivious trio into an ecstasy that lasted several minutes.
They barely rested long enough to tie a slip-knot Then they were at it again. This time the second sailor bent to the task of screwing her sloppy pussy, and the first sailor amused himself by chewing on her big-nippled tits while she licked his balls!
The carryings-on of the figures on the screen had done exactly what Pam and Cindy had counted on.
Both Warren and Jack were like maddened bulls by now, with hard-ons that might have done service to sixteen-year-old boys trapped in a bordello.
"Crawl on, honey!" Warren gasped. "Screw it the same good way you been sucking it!"
Jack had the same idea where Cindy was concerned; only he wasn't quite as lazy!
He pulled Cindy over on her back, and all but leaped between her yearning legs. She was more than ready for him, since her pussy had been dripping hotly for the past fifteen minutes. He went into her with one brutal thrust that sent a whistling screech of joy winging out of Cindy's lungs.
They were still going after it, and loving it, when Paul and Joy came wandering in from the porch. Paul had done justice to Joy's insatiable crack, and now his big dong was swinging softly between his legs, although the veins in it were still large and filled.
"What the hell is this," Paul grinned, holding Joy lightly by the waist, so that one of his thumbs was still teasing her fully erected nipple. "Looks like we missed the picture show."
Joy laughed huskily: "No, we didn't-see, there's still a double-feature. Starring just about everybody!"
FOURTEEN
By the middle of the following week, the full effect of what Mary had been doing with young Chad Barton began to dawn on her. And the dawning came with a breathless feeling of shame!
"God," she said to herself on that Wednesday morning as she trudged out of the apartment on her way to the shopping market, "what have I done behind Paul's back!"
She knew exactly what she had done, of course, and that she had done it more than once during the past few days. It had all started with that first relatively innocent evening of shrimp and beer. And if Chad hadn't taken her for the moonlit ride out by Monk's Point....
But no, she decided, it wasn't any more Chad's fault than it was hers. He hadn't raped her, certainly. She had been as much in favor of having sex with all the trimmings as he had. After all, he was younger than she. If anybody had to be called the seducer, it was the older woman!
But that only made her sense of shame deeper, made her heart feel heavier.
So what if Paul had been playing around a little with one of his secretaries? Maybe, just maybe, the reason for it lay somewhere in her inadequacy as a wife!
She began to feel more and more contemptuous of herself as she pushed her shopping basket through the supermarket She bought food listlessly, keeping the picture of a hurt husband in the back of her mind. Before she got to the meat market, she was already thinking of Paul in terms of a perfect mate, one who had been driven to sin by a wife who was too shallow in the head and too uncooperative in bed!
"Hi, there, Mrs. Marsh, long time, no see. You doin' your meat buying someplace else now?"
The question, which came almost out of the blue, startled her. The mention of "meat buying" brought an instant blush to her already guilty cheeks.
She turned, and stared into the grinning face of Max, the nineteen-year-old delivery boy for the market. He was standing just behind her in a white apron, his full, hippie-type haircut framing his handsome face.
She stammered out an answer. "Uh, no, Max. Mr. Marsh and I have just been eating out more often lately. I never seem to be home when he is, and he, well...."
The delivery boy gave her a wink that sent another hot blush over her face!
"I know how it is, Mrs. Marsh. I deliver groceries a lot-and I see a lot, too."
Mary stood there, feeling like a cheap fool as the young boy continued to grin at her. Then he lowered his voice to a husky, suggestive whisper. "If there's anything you need, Mrs. Marsh, I'll be glad to deliver it You know that."
And with the bold message spelled out, he turned and walked away, whistling.
Mary could only stare after the lean, masculine hips encased in a pair of very tight bell-bottomed pants.
The nerve of the modern generation! The raw contact with such overt sexuality completely unnerved her! She had thought they were bold when she was a teen-ager, but the way kids took sex for granted nowadays was absolutely shocking!
And then she remembered than Chad Barton and his pals weren't much older than Max-and she had been carrying on with them like a bitch in heat!
She got her shopping over as fast as possible, and started for home. She wanted to be there when Paul arrived. Wednesday was his afternoon off, and in her guilty state she had hinted to him that they might spend it together. They could take a long drive in the country, or watch TV together, or maybe even put back together their sex life. One thing Mary knew for sure, when she got into bed with her husband again, she'd make up for all the terrible things she had been doing with Chad Barton.
She'd make Paul forget his whore of a secretary, too!
Back home, she put Paul's favorite kind of roast into the oven, then cleaned the apartment from one end to the other. She even sprayed his bedroom with a freshener, and turned down the sheets on his bedjust in case!
By that time, she had only an hour left before Paul would get home, so she took a careful, long shower, painted her nails, powdered and perfumed her body, put on the most casual and sexy cocktail dress she owned, then sat down with folded hands to wait for Paul's key to turn in the door.
Then the phone rang.
When she picked it up, she could almost smell the presence of a female on the other end!
"Mrs. Marsh? This is Cindy Hart, Mr. Marsh's secretary."
"Yes?" Mary replied, icily.
"Mr. Marsh wanted me to call and tell you that he won't be home this afternoon, after all. He said for me to tell you that he has to go to his Athletic Club-doubles or triples were coming up in the handball tournament, he said, and they consider him a real champion...." A pause, then: "Are you still there, Mrs. Marsh?"
I'm here, all right."
"Did you get the message?"
"Yes, I got the message."
"Thank you, then. And goodbye."
Mary threw the telephone all the way across the room!
As she picked it up again, hands trembling with rage, she knew how true it was what her mother had told her at the beginning of her married life: never trust a man any further than you can throw him!
And since she couldn't even lift Paul, she knew how far she could trust him!
Handball, my ass!
"You're a champion, all right!" she snapped, addressing the air as if Paul stood there. "You're a champion stud for everybody but your own wife!"
The rage she was experiencing only gradually faded into a kind of wanton madness for revenge.
She held the telephone in her hand again, and started dialing Chad Barton's number. Halfway through the dialing, she slammed down the receiver with a muttered breath.
"Damnit, he's at the University this afternoon! When I really need a male, there's never one to...."
She stopped short, and a curling, brazen grin widened her lips all the way up to her earlobes.
She dialed again savagely, and a husky voice came on over a busy clutter of noise.
"This is Mrs. Marsh over in the Belmon Apartments. Would you have Max deliver a roast for me.
Tell him to pick it out himself-but I want a big one."
"Uh, yes, ma'am! I'll get Max right on to...."
She cranked the receiver back into place even before the man finished.
Then she headed for her bedroom in a trot!
Her face was still flushed with the murderous, lusting desire to hurt Paul as much as he was hurting her. And she knew exactly how to do it!
So Max was hinting to all the lonely women he delivered his meat to, that he could deliver real meat, was he!
She'd make the little stud put up, or shut up!
She whipped out of the cocktail dress-and for good measure, she yanked off her panties and unsnapped her bra. She saw no use in making things too complex for Max!
Naked as a jay, she snatched a thin pegnoir out of her closet and belted it around her body. One look in the mirror was enough to convince her that the Village Idiot could tell what she had on her mind!
She was just giving a few swift touches to her hair when the apartment bell buzzed frenziedly.
She slapped on a pair of high heel, pink mules as she hurried to the door. She could feel her breasts swinging inside the pegnoir like bell-tongues!
Max was standing in the doorway when she opened it. He had his apron off and a big wrapped roast under one arm. He was grinning at her, but this time his grin was more bravado than courage.
When he saw how she was dressed, his eyes went as wide as headlights, and his boyish cheeks flushed with both pleasure and a nagging worry.
"Uh, I brought your roast, Mrs. Marsh."
"My meat, you mean?" she slurred, wondering if she was being a hasty old fool-but not really giving a holy damn!
He grinned another slack, uncertain grin. "Yeah, I guess that's what I mean. Your meat."
"Then deliver it."
"Huh?"
"Take it into the kitchen, Max."
He stumbled past her through the door, and she closed it behind him. She snapped the locks so hard, the poor boy stumbled again.
That made her wonder-half hope I-that he was a virgin!
She followed his lean young hips into the kitchen, and watched him as he put the package down on the table. Then he turned around to her, and looked again. This time his eyes took in her whole body, coming back with agonizing interest to the two mellons of her tits. She was a mature woman, all right, his eyes seem to say!
She had the door blocked, but he was making no move to get out of the apartment.
"How old are you, Max?" she said, knowing perfectly well that he was a ripe nineteen.
"Nineteen," he husked, his voice breaking a little, despite his efforts to keep it manly.
"Got a girl?"
He swallowed thickly. "Sure. Lots of 'em."
She grinned, feeling suddenly completely in control of the situation. It was just like a French novel she had read once, where the older woman made a habit of seducing the young men she gave piano lessons to!
"Can you keep all those girls happy, Max?"
"How do you mean, Mrs. Marsh?"
Her grin grew absolutely lewd! "Well, let's say by delivering all that meat to them!" Just to make sure he didn't mistake the double meaning of all the non sense, she let her eyes fall brazenly down to the tight crotch of his bell-bottoms. She could see a slight bulge there-but it was a bulge she had seen many times before between Max's sturdy young legs.
He was beginning to flush with a deeper pleasure, but it was obvious that in the clinches like this, he was no real Casanova!
"Gosh, Mrs. Marsh...."
"Call me Mary."
"Well, Mary, I, uh, o'muh'God!" The words had died in Max's throat for one good, solid reason.
Mary had slipped the belt of her pegnoir loose, and it was uncoiling now around her hips.
Max found himself staring at her pussy and her tits!
He grinned, quit grinning, grinned again!
"Do I embarrass you?" she breathed.
"Well, not exactly, but-hell, no. I mean. But...."
"But what?"
"But the last time this happened to me with Mrs. Bukovs, uh, I mean, with a woman I know, she was drunk. And the next day she called up the boss and told him I'd made a pass at her."
Mary grinned helpfully. "And had you, Max?"
"Pass hell," he groaned. "I screwed her three times! But she wanted it. You ask her if she didn't!"
"Did she take off her clothes for you, the way I'm doing?"
"She met me at the door naked. I thought she was gonna tear my clothes off thread at a time."
"Would you rather take them off on such occasions without any help?"
His grin came back with a confident, lecherous leap. "It's faster, baby."
"Let's see how fast."
It was all madly out in the open now!
Mary watched with an excitement building up somewhere between terror and greed as the young libertine whipped out of his shirt and bell-bottoms. She was amazed to see how muscular his arms were-and the scattering of dark hair on his chest sent an amazed and grateful little thrill through her.
He wasn't such a boy, after all!
But there was more proof of his manhood to come. He was wearing a pair of jockey shorts, and the bulge in them had grown enormously in only seconds.
She drew in her breath as he worked the shorts down over his hips. When he stood up, his man-sized penis flopped forward on a total erection!
She stared at the husky gap-splitter in awe.
"My God, Max," she managed, huskily. "No wonder the ladies like you!"
He grinned with even more confidence now. "You'd be surprised how I make out, honey. The shy act gets them every time! But you've got to admit, I'm built to please!"
"I'll say you are!"
He came toward her with a bold, nude swagger. His penis was so stiff that it stayed in a completely horizontal position between his legs. The head on it was the size of a pregnant golf ball.
He stopped just inches from her, still grinning.
"Play with it," he said, casually. "Suck it, if you dig that kind of fun."
She knew that she was on the defensive now, but it was a delicious kind of feeling to have. And she hadn't felt so erotic in years!
"I'll do anything you'll do," she heard herself saying.
His grin grew bolder. "I like to eat pussy, honey. And I don't mind telling you that I've wanted to lick that crack of yours for many a moon."
"You prefer a sofa or a bed?"
He laughed softly under his breath. "Boy, you are new at this, aren't you. A chair is the only thing, baby!"
They found just the right one in the living room. A small chair with wide, flaring arms!
"Just sit down, Mary, and hook your legs, over either side," Max directed her, shamelessly. "That way your pussy will open up nice and wide for me. And you're gonna be surprised at hell at how far I can put my tongue up in there."
She was trembling all over as she got into the position he demanded. He even made her scoot her buttocks a few inches over the edge of the seat!
When he knelt between her fanned thighs, her pussy was already beginning to grow hot, soft, and wet!
The first touch of his hungry young tongue made her start spinning inside!
She squirmed and moaned, but he held her pussy up by the buttocks, and began to eat her the way a starving man might attack a watermelon!
For the next ten minutes or so, Max's hungry young head was buried between her legs while one spasm after another stormed through Mary's womb!
It seemed that his rogue tongue was getting all the way up to her liver!
"Stop!" she begged, laughing and crying at the same time. "I'll die if I come again!"
Max stood up between her legs with his hard-on sticking out like an arm. "All you're gonna die of, baby, is bliss!"
And with that, he leaned forward over the chair and penetrated her soaked pussy with the head of his dong. Then he pumped it in all the way to the balls.
"Meat!" he whispered in her ear, as he screwed her hotly. "Meet Mr. Meat!"
FIFTEEN
"Something has got to be done," Arleth breathed, darkly. "All this screwing around has gotten us exactly nothing."
Susy Carson flushed a bit at the lobes of her ears, and glanced at the three good-looking young men who had been their mainstays for the past two weeks-depending on your viewpoint. "I wouldn't say that it has been that much of a failure, Arleth. Would you, Mary?"
"Not and be honest."
The trio of weekend widows were sitting in Arleth's living room, with Chad, Neil, and Lon. The council-of-war had been called by Arleth, and she was in no mood to mince words.
"I don't mean that I haven't enjoyed every minute with you, Neil," Arleth said, passing the small compliment to the young man like a crumb, "and I might as well confess that I've been having even more fun with a bachelor next door. But things are still no better between me and Jack than they were when we started. If anything, they're worse. Jack hasn't screwed me in almost two weeks!"
Mary sighed, and nodded. "I'm having the same problem with Paul. If it weren't for Chad, and a certain very well endowed delivery boy I know, I'd probably be peddling myself on the street."
Finally, Susy had to agree. She merely glanced at Lon Norton, winked at him, and looked back at Arleth and Mary with a fading smile. "It really isn't the same without our husbands, is it."
At that point, Chad Barton gave a low moan from where he was sitting with his two pals. "Look, ladies, you're not the only ones who are suffering. I'm sure that both Neil and Lon here would be lying in their teeth if they said they hadn't enjoyed the sex marathon we've all been putting ourselves through for two weeks now, but after all is said and done, we miss our girls."
"True," Lon chimed in. "Yeah," Neil breathed.
Arleth surveyed their sad lot again, then slapped her hand on her knee. "Well, by God, I'm for doing something about it-and I mean something decisive!"
"How decisive," Mary asked.
"Decisive enough to get this little weekend wandering crew of ours to put up or shut up!"
"How do you propose to do that?" Susy shrugged.
"By meeting the enemy on its own ground, that's how!"
"Meaning...?"
"Meaning that we should show our colors. I think we ought to let them know that we know-and that we don't give a damn what they think about it."
Mary sighed. "But every time we try that...."
"I'm not talking about sneaking around and taking care to leave big tracks. Obviously, either our husbands haven't noticed, or they have and just don't care."
"Just what are you suggesting, then?" Susy demanded.
"I'm suggesting that we throw a little party of our own. The same kind of weekend gala they've all been enjoying!"
Mary shook her head. "So what if we did. They wouldn't be here to see it."
A wild grin spread across Arleth's face. "We won't be here, either. We'll be at Monk's Point!"
All of them stared at Arleth.
She enjoyed being the center of their amazed attention for a few seconds, then went on. "I've been doing a little investigating while you people have been doing nothing but humping in the bushes. I've located the jerk who owns that old beach house, and I've found out exactly what he charges to rent it out for a weekend. A flat one hundred dollars."
"Those bastards," Susy hissed. "No wonder Warren told me I couldn't have a new hat for Easter!"
"Never mind about that now," Arleth continued. "I've made a deal with the old buzzard to let us rent it next weekend. It's going to cost us twenty-five more than it cost them, and it's going to cost us another twenty-five to make him keep quiet about it."
"My God," Mary whispered, "that's fifty dollars apiece, unless the boys...."
"We'll chip in," Neil said, brightly. "If it works, it'll be worth every penny of it."
"I'm not saying it will work," Arleth warned. "But it's damned sure that nothing else is going to. Besides, I want to see the expression on Jack's face when he sees I've gone hippie."
It was time for them to stare at Arleth again!
"Hippie?" Susy echoed.
Arleth smiled. "Yes, I thought that would be an extra added touch. Can't you imagine how they will get their minds blown when they find that we've joined a weekend hippie cult. Sex, drugs, the whole bit!"
"We're not going to smoke pot, are we!" Mary yelped.
Arleth laughed throatily. "Of course not, silly. But they won't know that! Let 'em think we've turned-on all the way!"
"I don't know, Arleth...." Susy mused.
"Well, I know," Arleth snapped. "It's the only chance we have to let them know that the pussy cats can play while the rats are away!"
"I think you've got something there, Arleth," Chad grinned. "And I know exactly where we can get the right kind of get-ups for it. I've got lots of hippie type friends out at the University. I can outfit us in funny glasses, beads, tie-dye jeans, and...."
"You boys ought to have long hair," Susy contributed.
"I was coming to that," Chad nodded. "I know at least a half dozen guys who have wigs already. They wear their hair short on the campus, and when they go to pot parties on the weekends, they pull on their long locks."
"Perfect! Arleth purred.
They talked for a few more minutes about the details of the plot, then Arleth went off to the kitchen to mix a batch of martinis to celebrate on. It was while she was gone that the little flicker of devilment came into Susy's eyes.
"How have you made out with Arleth, Neil?" Susy asked.
Neil grinned almost bashfully, and shrugged his strong young shoulders. "I gave up trying to imitate that Texan you told me she got hooked on once. But Arleth doesn't seem to mind. I guess you could say we've been getting along just dandy."
"Did you ever tell her about the time you and Lon and I all went to bed?"
On that, Mary's eyes widened in something between surprise and half-concealed jealousy. She stared over at Susy with lifted eyebrows. "You didn't tell me about that!"
Susy grinned. "Don't worry, Mary. I said Lon and Neil. I haven't been sniffing around your Chad, yet! But that's why I brought the whole subject up."
"Explain that again," Chad said, interested.
Susy tried to make what she was thinking sound as casual as possible, but the burning pink of her cheeks exposed how excited she was! "I was just thinking that if we're going to pull off a togetherness party, we ought to have a little rehearsal for it. Isn't that logical?"
Chad grinned. "Sounds like damn fine logic to me."
"Me, too," Lon chuckled.
"You mean, right here and now?" Mary gasped.
"Sure, why not, Mary," Chad insisted. "You've certainly got nothing to be ashamed of in the sex department. And it would clear away any inhibitions we might have if we got to know each other collectively before next weekend."
"My point, exactly," Susy breathed. "And for an ice breaker, I suggest we all be deliciously nude when Arleth comes back with those drinks!"
There was hardly any point in arguing, Mary decided. And even if there had been a point, Susy was blithely ignoring it by tugging at the zipper of her skirt!
The three young studs began to pile out of their clothes in a hurry!
Out in the kitchen, Arleth finished mixing the martinis, and arranged the long-stemmed glasses on a large tray. She satisfied herself that the victory libation was adequate, then grabbed it up and pushed open the kitchen door with one foot.
"Coming through!" she yelled, playfully.
She took only three steps into the living room before she froze in her tracks, her jaw dropping open like a hinge.
All of them were flat-assed naked!
It was all Arleth could keep from doing to not drop the precious martinis, but she managed. Her legs were watery and .trembling as she put the tray down on the coffee table and glanced around at the quintet of nudies.
"I'll say one thing for you sex maniacs," she husked, softly. "Nobody has to fire off a gun to get you started!"
Neil Weems got up off the sofa and came over to Arleth. His big penis was already half-hard, and swinging temptingly between his legs as he walked. He slapped Arleth's firm buttocks under her dress, and kept his hand palmed in place there.
"C'mon, baby, strip off like the rest of us. We've decided that an undress rehearsal is just the thing to get us in the mood for that hippie hoedown!" he said.
Arleth's mercury was already rising. It had started rising at the first glimpse of the three naked satyrs lined up on the sofa. She grinned as she started to work fast on the buttons of her blouse.
Susy laughed. "We'd ask you if you've ever played little group games before, Arleth, but I think the answer is going to be obvious."
Arleth flashed a sultry glance at Susy's grinning face. "Listen, honey, I was playing group-and-grope games before you were wetting your panties. What do we play first, Pussy-in-the-Pantry, or Ring Around the Ramrods?"
"My God," Mary gasped, "you have been around, Arleth!"
"Plenty. I didn't start this little charade, but I can damn sure finish with the best of you! C'mon, what'll it be?"
By now, Arleth was down to her panties and bra. And, as everybody stared, she scrambled out of those, too. Then she stood in front of all of them with her hands on her hips, grinning in triumph.
"From the condition of the male segment of our little gathering," Arleth breathed, "I suggest that Ring-Around-the-Ramrods would be just what the doctor ordered!"
It was obvious to everybody that Arleth was making a veiled reference to the violent hard-ons that Chad, Neil, and Lon were enjoying. And they were making absolutely no attempt to hide the facts!
"What the hell is this game you're talking about, Arleth?" Neil demanded.
Arleth grinned. "Simple. It's an adult variation of the old standby, Ring-Around-the-Rosy. On your feet, men!"
The three did exactly as they were commanded, and in seconds Arleth was busy arranging the fine male specimens in a most interesting design. She had them stand in a circle, so that their backs were touching and their arms locked. The result was something resembling a big cocked hat!
"Our turn, girls!" Arleth sang, dragging Susy and Mary to their feet. "We'll join hands and move around the boys. I'll sing Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes and the second I stop, we'll all drop to our knees and suck everything in sight!"
There was nervous laughter on that shameless outlining of the rules, but nobody wanted to back out!
Mary, Susy, and Arleth dutifully joined hands and began to dance lewdly around the three powerfully aroused and naked young men while they grinned and stood their ground, their fully erected dongs sticking out from between their legs and ready for anything!
Arleth sang only a few bars of the song, then stopped abruptly, and fell to her knees in front of Chad Barton!
It was Mary's fate-and a happy one it was!-to kneel directly in front of Lon Norton's husky, hard penis.
And Susy couldn't have been happier to be given one more chance to suck Neil Weems' stallion-sized twanger.
For a few lusty seconds, nothing could be heard in the room but the heavy breathing of the males-and the wanton, wettish smacking of tongues and lips over three columns of raw meat!
It took great forbearance for Arleth to pull her mouth off the luscious prize she had so cleverly engineered for herself, but in moments she had her sisters-in-sin on their feet again, and they were dancing with even more enthusiasm around the horny studs.
Once again, the music stopped and the sucking began.
Mary got Neil, Susy got Chad, and Arleth got Lon!
With each ritualistic pass, the organs being sucked got stiffer, hotter, and nearer that blissful moment of ejaculation.
But Arleth was the kind of social director of fun and games that knew exactly when to quit!
Just as she felt a bubble of sperm flooding out on her tongue from Chad's over-excited penis, she called that game off and invented another!
"Hide-and-go-Seek!" she trilled.
"Seek, hell!" Lon moaned. "Suck!"
Arleth gave him a heated grin. "Spell that with an 'F,' honey, and I'll follow you anywhere!"
As it turned out, Lon followed her straight up to her bedroom!
Mary sacked out on the sofa with Neil Weems, and Susy and Chad satisfied their desire to get acquainted on the floor, with a chair pillow under Susy's flaring hips.
It was an hour before anybody remembered the martinis.
SIXTEEN
When the alarm clock went off in Warren Carson's ears the next Saturday morning, he rolled over and slapped it into silence with one bear-like paw. Then he groaned once and started to catch another forty winks.
It was at that point that he remembered what day it was.
His eyes came popping open, and he grinned smugly to himself. Throwing back the covers, he swung his thickly muscled legs over the side of the bed like a marine in boot camp.
It was while he was singing in the shower that it dawned on him that Susy had not still been huddled under the sheet in her twin bed. Up early, he thought.
And that's all he did think about it.
Downstairs, he made coffee for himself while he read the note Susy had left pinned up for him on the door of the refrigerator.
Gone to another Dog Show. Love. Susy.
He smiled to himself again, and popped a large chunk of toast and jelly into his jaws. Then he swigged down some coffee and hurried out to start the station wagon. Only it wasn't there!
"Christamighty," he swore, under his breath. "Why did she have to take the wagon and leave me the Volks!"
But not even that minor catastrophe could take the edge off of his high spirits. He was thinking about what Pam Johnson and Cindy Hart had told him last weekend. In a little secret conference in front of the beach house, they had confided to him that they found his technique for love making turned them on more than either Paul or Jack! He chuckled to himself.
By lovemaking, of course, they meant the way he ate a pussy!
Not only had they whispered that he was the best in the West, they had insisted that on the following weekend, he would have to pleasure both of them at the same time, while they both did the same to him!
Christ, he had been having visions of that kind of orgy all week long!
He kept seeing himself spread-eagle and buck naked, with Pam's delicious twat to the left of his mouth and Cindy's spicy crack to the right! And he finished the mental picture by imagining both of the prize-winning girls with their heads down between his legs; both of them licking and sucking his big twanger until it was spurting like a rocket!
With such happy thoughts in mind, he horsed the small car in nothing flat to the parking lot where he always met Jack and Paul.
They were already there, waiting for him.
On the way out, Paul burst into a small, satisfied chuckle.
"Something funny, pal?" Warren asked.
Paul nodded. "I was just thinking about how I lucked out this morning. You know, maybe I'm wrong, but I've had the feeling for the last couple of weeks that Mary was getting a little too suspicious about my weekends."
"So?"
"So I was worried as hell about this morning. Almost afraid to face having to tell her I was off for another handball game."
Warren grinned. "Was she pissed?"
"That's just it. She wasn't even around. I found a note on the pillow, saying that she had promised Arleth that she'd go to an antique auction with her."
Jack crooked his head around from the front seat, and looked at Paul. "So that's where Arleth was off to at the crack of sun-up. She acted so damned mysterious about it, I thought maybe she'd dented a fender, and was trying to get it down to the shop before I noticed."
"Those wives of ours," Warren smiled. "Looks like they're adjusting to our Saturday habits, after all. Let's hope to hell so."
"What they don't know, won't hurt 'em," Jack said.
"Can't you give this buggy a little more gas," Paul wheezed, impatiently. "I've been saving up since last weekend for today-and I don't mind telling you boys I feel like a young bull in a pasture!"
"That makes two of us," Paul grinned.
"Make that three," Warren laughed, pushing the Volks for all it was worth toward the beach.
It was on the crooked, sandy, private road leading to the beach house on Monk's Point that they met the surprise.
Joy Smith's yellow convertible was parked sideways across the road-and all three of the secretaries were sitting in the front seat, as if waiting.
"What the hell," Warren growled. "They were supposed to wait for us in the house."
Nothing more was said as they drove up and stopped alongside the convertible.
The girls looked none too happy.
"Hey, what gives?" Warren bawled, leaning his head out the window of the small car.
Pam Johnson came swinging toward the Volks, her face a mask of anger behind the oversized dark glasses she was wearing. "What gives is what we'd like to know!" she hissed. "Didn't you big Casanovas rent the house for this weekend?"
"Sure! Why?"
"Because there's a whole passel of hippies up there. They've taken over, damnit!"
Warren's face flushed an angry red. "They have, eh? Well, we'll see the hell about that!"
Pam settled her hands on her hips in disgust. "Before you go charging in like King-Kong, I think it only fair to tell you that we've already checked it out. They've got it rented, all right. We called the landlord. He said at first that he didn't know anything about it. But when we told him we were going to call the cops to have those pot smokers thrown out, he 'fessed up. He said he did rent it to them for fifty bucks more than you jerks have been paying him!"
"What?"
"That's the message. So now what do we do? Shack up in some two-it motel, I suppose."
Warren ground his teeth together hard. "You suppose wrong, baby. We're going to move in on that party. They maybe rented the house, but they goddamned sure didn't rent that stereo and all that leftover liquor. That's ours!"
"You're right about that," Jack snorted. "We paid out good, hard-earned money for that booty."
"Damn right we did! And no long-haired, hip-alking, dirty-crotched batch of hippie bastards are going to con us into leaving without it!"
Both Cindy and Joy had ambled up to the Volks by this time, and Cindy hampered the male spirits by giggling mockingly at Warren's angry threat.
"What do you big men plan to do?" Cindy purred. "Go in there with tire chains and clubs and beat 'em up?"
"Nothing like that," Warren huffed. "We'll handle this in a peaceful way. We'll, uh, send a delegation."
"Count me out," Cindy and Joy said. "I'll go," Pam grinned. "But not alone."
"One male and one female," Warren suggested. "Which one of you guys wants to go?"
"We'll flip for it," Paul said.
The coin was duly flipped-and Jack won the dubious honor.
The rest of them waited while Jack and Pam walked on up the sandy road toward the beach house. To make matters even worse, they could now hear the stereo booming away, and the faint, jagged sound of laughter.
"Pigs," Warren growled.
"Sounds like happy pigs," Cindy smiled, putting a fresh cigarette between her full, red lips.
They waited for what seemed years before they saw Jack loping quickly back up the road toward them. Pam was right behind him, trying desperately to keep up.
"Maybe the natives weren't friendly," Joy breathed.
"Or too friendly," Cindy offered.
As Jack approached, they could see his face was flushed scarlet-with something between rage and despair.
"What the hell happened!?" Warren growled, as Jack stumbled up.
"Our wives, that's what!" Jack gasped. "All three of them are down there, dressed up like something out of Oh! Calcutta!"
"Arleth and Susy, maybe," Paul husked. "But my Mary...."
"It was your Mary who met me at the door," Jack snapped. "Naked as a baboon, unless you'd call a string of beads a costume!"
On that, both Cindy and Joy threw back their smooth, white throats in howls of laughter. It was precisely at that moment that Pam came staggering up.
"What are you silly bitches laughing atl" she husked, miserably.
"At what you saw," Cindy chortled. "That must have been a scream; seeing the holier than thou wives of our buddies cavorting around nude with a bunch of turned-on hippies!"
Pam took a deep, murderous breath. "Before you choke on your own humor," she barked. "Maybe you'd better go see for yourself who those hippie males are!"
Cindy's eyes widened innocently. "Oh? Who are they?"
Pam smiled scornfully. "Joy knows one of them, and I know one of them. But the one who was screwing Warren's wife on top of the bar was none other than that heartsick, stay at home stud of yours, Chad Barton!"
In the beach house, both Arleth and Mary were standing at one of the windows, the curtain pinched back so that they could see but not be seen.
"Anything happening?" Lon asked, coming up behind them. He was shamelessly nude, except for the painted indian symbols on his chest and arms. He leaned over Arleth's shoulder to peek out of the window, and his big, lax penis pressed snugly up between the crack of her buttocks.
Arleth grinned, and reached around with one hand to grasp Lon's pussy prodder. She got a handful of it, and he stepped back a little so that she could feel his balls, too.
"If they do come back," Arleth breathed, huskily, "I want Jack to find me impaled on that big thing of yours, Lon."
"Fine with me," Lon grinned. "I'll play stallion for you anytime."
"For God's sake," Mary breathed, worriedly, "can't you two get your minds off of sex long enough to find out what's going to happen."
Arleth gave a brutal snort, and continued to stroke and tease Lon's growing hard-on. "Do you think those husbands of ours came out here to play chess! I think we ought to be having a ball if and when they do come back!"
Mary grinned. "I'll have to admit that the expression on Jack's face was priceless. I wish Paul had been along!"
"Even if he doesn't have the guts," Arleth smiled, "I'm sure that Jack is telling him enough to make his imagination work overtime."
A frown flitted over Mary's face. "Suppose he just doesn't care!"
Arleth shrugged, and began sinking slowly to her knees before Lon's oversized, still growing penis. "In that case, honey, we can at least have the satisfaction of knowing the truth about what we've been jokingly calling our husbands for the past few months."
And with that bit of nimble philosophy out of her mouth, Arleth substituted something much more interesting-eight inches of Lon's organ.
Mary watched for a moment as Arleth slurped happily away on Lon's man-sized tool, then she went in search of Neil!
Susy and Chad were still screwing on top of the bar. Mary passed them in a kind of trance, although scarcely two weeks before, such a sight would have rooted her to the floor in shock!
She found Neil over by the stereo, piling all the hot records he could find onto the spindle. He, too, was naked, and bending over the way he was, all Mary could see were his impressively large testicles. They looked like big, brown oranges to her!
Mary cleared her throat-and Neil whipped around. He grinned at her, and let his eyes flit habitually over her dude body.
"With you in a second, Mrs. Marsh," he said, casually.
She waited patiently until he had the records stacked, and when he turned around she was already beginning to feel a wanton, wicked itch between her legs.
"Arleth seems to think we should all be occupied in case they come back," Mary said. "She thought it would be a good idea to use all our ammunition at once, so to speak."
Neil grinned at her. His big penis was aroused, which didn't surprise Mary at all. Neil's penis seemed always aroused!
"Any suggestions, Mrs. Marsh?" he husked, confidently.
"Dog-fashion," Mary said, amazed that such a brazen suggestion had come from her own lips.
Neil didn't even blink an eye.
"Dog-fashion it is," he breathed.
They went down on the floor together, lusty as hounds.
In the distance-if anybody had been listening-ame the sounds of motors coughing into life.
Something in the back of Susy Carson's mind told her that the sound of motors meant somebody was leaving. But she didn't give a damn.
At that moment, she was coming.
SEVENTEEN
It had been dark for hours when Arleth let Susy Carson off in front of her house.
Susy was still in her hippie garb, and she made a point of standing on the curb and waving lustily to the departing group.
"See you next weekend!" she whooped.
Across the street, a light went on angrily. Susy grinned to herself, and went tripping up to the front door. The porch light was on, but that was the only light.
She wondered if Warren was out on the town-drinking and whoring to forget the events of earlier in the day. The thought that he might be doing just that took the edge off of her genuine feeling of triumph, and as she jabbed the key into the front door she felt a slight tinge of regret that she had allowed Arleth to talk them all into such a crazy thing.
She certainly hadn't wanted a divorce out of such madness!
She opened the door, and slipped into the dark foyer.
"Warren?"
There was no answer.
With a sigh, she maneuvered toward the wall switch and was just reaching out in the darkness for it when a steely fist grabbed her arm.
A scream came tearing up from her lungs, but before it could burst into noise another hand capped her mouth like a stopper!
It was Warren. Even in the dark, she could tell that!
Instinct kept her struggling against the brutal strength of her own husband. For a few frightening seconds, she wondered if he was going to murder his harlot wife!
Instead, he picked her up like a bag of oats and carried her kicking through the darkened house. Up the stairs they went, with her legs and arms scissoring wildly in an effort to make him put her down.
"So you like to screw strange stuff, eh!" he gasped at her, pinching his fingers into her rump hard. "And lying to me about being at some goddamn dog show!"
She began to catch on, then. But her silent instinct was still at work. She kept struggling.
"My dad had a cure for a sassy female like you!" Warren husked, stumbling blindly up the dark stairs. "He told me once what he did to Mom when he convinced himself that she was fooling around with the iceman!"
Susy could barely stifle a chuckle at that one! But she kept up the mock struggle-wriggling like a fish on a hook.
"You're gonna find out once and for all who the man in your life is, baby! And I'm here to tell you it's not some crummy hippie bastard wearing paint and beads. It's your goddamn husband."
The threat was music to her ears!
"I'm all ready for you, sweetheart, ready to give you the old Carson Cure for Wayward Wives!"
Warren had reached her bedroom. She could see a pencil streak of light under the door even before he kicked it open with one foot.
What she saw inside sent a shiver of both fright and erotic stimulation up her spine.
There were ropes tied to the bedpost!
"No need for you to try to get out of this," Warren muttered hoarsely. "And I might as well warn you. You open your mouth and start caterwauling, and I'll tape you up like a sore toe!"
With that, he took his hand off her mouth, and began to rip off the flimsy dress she had worn to the hippie orgy. It came off like rotten cobwebs!
Then he shoved her naked body toward the bed, and demanded that she get in the middle of the mattress on her hands and knees.
"Just what do you think you're going to do, you big oaf?" she hissed in pretended rage.
"Screw you dog-style, honeychile! That's what a bitch in heat deserves!"
"Monster!" she wailed, crawling dutifully into position.
Warren laughed threateningly behind her as he unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor. "You said you loved dog shows, baby," he growled. "Well, I'm going to show you how dogs do it!"
It really wasn't necessary, but she held still for him while he tied her arms and legs to the bedpost.
"And you're gonna get this every night until you get it through your head who your stud is!"
"Yes, Warren," she breathed, moving her buttocks upward, and feeling the blazing lips of her pussy begin to part like the hot petals of some passion flower.
Then he was behind her, putting it to her-just like old times. Except better!
When Arleth let Mary off at her apartment, she sped all the way home with her heart thumping like a rabbit's leg in a cigar box!
She screeched the car up into the drive, and left it there. Then she hurried into the house, happy to see that it was blazing with lights. If she knew Jack at all, she thought, he'd be in a repentant mood and ready to do anything she wanted to make up for his vile behavior.
In the living room, Arleth stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth fell open at the surprise visitors sitting rather sheepishly beside Jack on the sofa.
Rick Howard and his sailor stud pal, Bo!
"Hello, Arleth," Jack breathed, quietly. "Did you have a fun day at the beach?"
"I-what the hell is all this?"
Jack's grin was stony. "Really, Arleth. I don't think you need to be introduced to Rick, here. And he tells me that you've more than met his swabbie friend, Bo."
Arleth felt her cheeks flushing with confusion. "Of course I know Rick. He lives next door, but...."
"Funny, from what Rick's been telling me, I thought he lived here. Of course, he didn't have to tell me anything. I've known you were hiring out your goodies to him for months."
Arleth gave the young bachelor a contemptible stare, then turned her suddenly growing annoyance on her husband. "You're a fine one to talk! What have you been doing all the time Rick was satisfying me! Dicking that floozy secretary of yours, that's what!"
Jack's grin widened slightly. "Correct, honey. And having a damned good time doing it, too."
"At least you're at last honest about it!" Arleth hissed.
Jack nodded. "I'm a lot more honest than you've been."
"You mean just because I went to a little party and
"I'm not talking about that. I think you dreamed up that little gambit just to get even with me. What I'm talking about is something much more serious."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that I want to know if you're really tired of me or if these two pussy hounds sitting here beside me have something I don't have."
Wheels were turning so fast in Arleth's head that she thought she might turn a cartwheel!
"They're pretty damned good, if that's what you mean!"
"That's exactly what I mean," Jack husked, quietly. "But I intend to put it to the add test. I want you to trot your box upstairs and strip down to nothing. When you're ready, Rick here will come up and give you his best. Then Bo will take over. By that time, you ought to need the best there is. If I can't make you purr like a bumblebee when they're through, I'll bow out."
"You mean...."
"I'll stake my ability against theirs." Arleth swallowed a couple of times, hotly. "You're sure you want to do this, Jack?"
"Positive."
Arleth wasn't even sure how she made it upstairs.
Her heart was still bouncing, but added to that was the magic ingredient of lust!
And the wild part about it was, she couldn't really remember if Jack was better than Rick. Or even if Rick was better than Bo. Or if any of them were better than the all out kind of screwing she had been getting lately from Neil Weems and his two sexy friends!
"Jack's right!" she whispered to herself, feverishly. "It's the only sensible way to find out for sure." When she was ready, she yelled down the stairs.
Rick came up first, the way he had dozens of times before. But this time he was scared shitless!
"Christ, this is crazy!" he moaned, as he piled out of his clothes.
Arleth was already on the bed, her legs spread wide, the fingers of her right hand rubbing the heating mounds of her Venus. "What I want to know is, how the hell did Jack con you into such a thing!"
Rick shrugged, and came toward her with his big pecker swinging like a banana. "He said that he'd blow the whistle on me at the Construction Company if I didn't do exactly as he said. Hell, I didn't have a choice!"
Arleth grinned, and reached out to pull the young bachelor onto the bed by his lax tool.
"Relax, you big stud," she breathed, hotly. "You don't have a thing to worry about."
Rick Howard looked pained. "Except the fact that I can't do my best tonight, honey. Bo and I have been screwing a couple of chicks all afternoon. Neither of us could please a week old kitten right now."
Arleth's busy fingers had been playing with Rick's huge penis all the time he was talking, and it was beginning to thicken lustily.
"I'll tell you a little secret," Arleth whispered. "I think I already know who's going to win the contest. But why don't you and Bo just go through the motions for fun."
Rick glanced at her, then his face softened into a grin. "You mean, why don't I just try to screw you-and do my best."
She smiled. "That's what Jack wants. And we might as well make this farewell balling one to remember I"
Rick's confidence had returned on that note, and his dong was standing up between Arleth's fingers like an eight inch lead pipe.
He crawled quickly over between her legs ... and she moaned gratefully as he began to say goodbye in the most pleasurable way possible!
When Arleth let Mary off at her apartment, she didn't know whether to go up in the elevator or not!
She had visions of Paul waiting for her in the living room, whip in hand.
Mary felt the old Puritanical stirrings in her soul. She knew again that she had done wrong-and that bad girls get punished in the end!
Still, she took the elevator up, and walked what seemed the last mile to the door of the apartment. When she let herself in, she was ready for anything.
Anything except finding the apartment empty!
She made a pot of coffee, turned on the TV, and waited.
It was the same old story ... nothing had changed. She was still without her husband, even though she had made a complete and wanton fool of herself!
At midnight, she clicked off the TV, and went to bed.
Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, she drifted off into a very bad sleep, and dreamed of nothing but being whipped and kicked by millions of angry men who all looked like her father!
At dawn, her eyes fluttered open, and she lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. She had lost her husband, and that was....
She stopped thinking when she heard the snores.
Paul!
Getting out of bed-as nude as she was when she had crawled in at midnight-she tiptoed out into the living room.
Paul was stretched out on the sofa in his shorts. His clothes were piled in a miserable jumble on the floor, and an empty bottle of liquor lay on its side near the shoes.
It was then that the revelation came back to her; a revelation that had been working up from the bottom of her mind for a long time.
Paul felt as guilty as she did!
The fact that he had gone out to drown his sorrows was proof enough of that for her.
She wondered exactly what to do. Cook him a nice breakfast? Get him his slippers and robe? Go rub his head with ice?
She vetoed all of those things.
She had tried them too often before-with negative results.
What both she and Paul needed, she decided, was to get over their guilt-and start living!
With that simple view in mind, she walked over to the sofa, and deftly unbuttoned his boxer shorts. He groaned a little as she worked the garment down over his hips and off his hairy, wonderfully male legs.
When he was as naked as she, she sat down on the edge of the sofa and bent her lips down to his penis. She began to softly lick it-gently, lovingly, hungrily.
His twanger rose slowly, but steadily, like a big totem pole of passion.
Then he woke up.
He was too startled to do anything but stare down between his legs. Mary had never given him a blow job in her whole life-and there she was in the early dawn light, sucking his meat like a whore!
He sat up on his elbows, but not abruptly enough to scare her away.
Mary lifted her mouth up from the bursting head of his big dork just long enough to smile at him, and wish him good morning. Then she went back to her tonguing, making it better than ever.
Paul reached down and put one hand against her working cheek.
"Mary," he breathed, happily. "I like that. I love it!"
Her head came up again. "So do I, my darling, and I like it even more if it's mutual."
He got the message at once, and in seconds they were arranged on the sofa in the traditional sixty-nine position.
As Paul's tongue burrowed deep into the spicy hotness of his own wife's pussy, he realized for the first time in his life what married bliss was all about.
And he couldn't wait for the next weekend-with Mary!
EIGHTEEN
Pam, Cindy, and Joy met at the water cooler on the third floor of Treadwell Enterprises.
They looked like the three witches from Macbethonly much prettier.
"Any luck?" Pam said, addressing her depressing remark to anybody who cared to answer.
Joy shrugged her shoulders, and adjusted her horn rims over her bunny-cute nose. "If you mean have I made any headway with Warren Carson, forget it. Lord, I don't know what put the fear of God into him, but he won't even so much as look at me!"
Cindy nodded bleak agreement. "Same here. I think I could walk into the office stark naked with a box of rubbers balanced on my head, and all Mr. Marsh would do would hand me a contract to file."
Pam had no better news. "This morning I deliberately winked at Jack, and I thought he was going to throw up! Let's face it, girls, the grass is no longer green."
"Those damned wives," Cindy snapped.
"True, true. But the point is, what do we do about it. I thought I could go back to Neil, and be satisfied," Pam confessed. "But I guess I'm hooked on a man all the time, instead of just Monday and Thursday nights."
Cindy made a small, snorting noise with her throat "Don't expect me to feel sorry for you, Pam. At least you're going to get something this week. Chad has got final exams or some damn thing, and I'll be lucky if I get a kiss on the cheek from him."
Both Cindy and Pam looked at Joy, to see if she could look forward to better prospects. They were surprised to see her smiling-and a little wickedly.
"What's so funny," Pam demanded. "Has your Lon suddenly grown another four inches in the prod department."
"Don't be silly," Joy breathed. "Lon had to go back into the army six days ago. And he hasn't even written me a postcard."
"Then why all the smiles. You must be horny as a cat by now!"
Joy shook her head. "Not as horny as you two, but then maybe I know something you don't."
Cindy's eyes grew warm, wide. "Then Warren has been putting out?"
"Guess again."
"We can't," Cindy snapped. "Tell us, damnit!"
Joy's smile had broadened into a grim little leer by now. "I know I should have my head examined for telling you two sex crazy females anything, but we have had some good times together, so I guess...."
"We're waiting," Pam breathed.
"I'll tell you what," Joy grinned. "Instead of telling you, maybe you'd like it better if I showed you. Meet me in the supply room in, uh, exactly fifteen minutes."
"What the hell is this," Cindy yelped, softly.
"Never mind that, honey," Joy purred. "Just get prepared for the surprise of your wanton lives!"
And with that, Joy Smith walked her saucy hips away from her two friends, leaving them to gape open-mouthed after her.
"Now what do you suppose she's up to," Pam wondered, aloud.
Cindy shrugged. "Don't ask me-but if it has any thing to do with solving our sex problems, I'm interested."
"That makes two of us," Pam agreed. "Meet you in the supply room on the dot!"
Both Pam and Cindy went back to their respective offices, and the next fifteen minutes dragged by like fifteen years!
Cindy stood in front of the filing cabinet putting papers into the wrong folders until she thought the growing itch between her legs was going to make her hair stand up on end. And the fact that a sullen, disinterested Paul Marsh was sitting at his desk not six feet away didn't help matters. All she could remember was how eager he had been that first day in the beach house to get his tongue up her pussy!
She could certainly use it right now!
Pam was getting along no better.
She was sitting at her typewriter with her legs tightly crossed. She knew that if she opened them up, her pussy might start meowing. Just wondering what good news Joy might have for all of them had started a slow, juicy dripping somewhere deep inside of her twat, and despite her attempts to get her mind off the subject of sex, her clit was standing up as hard as a thumb.
At exactly one minute before the appointed time, Pam hopped up from her desk and started out of the room. At that point, Jack Carson glanced up irritably at her.
"Going someplace, Miss Johnson?" She glanced at him, trying to keep the flush out of her cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Carson, to get a drink."
"You just got a drink. I need those papers typed." She sailed on out the door. "I'll be right back, sir!" Pam met Cindy halfway down the hall, and togeth er they made the last few laps up to the fourth floor of the building, and to the supply room.
Joy was waiting furtively outside the room, her grin still crafty.
"Welt?" Cindy breathed, coming up to her girlfriend in a pant.
"Inside," Joy whispered. "And I hope nobody followed you."
Cindy snorted once more. "If somebody did, you can be sure it wasn't a damned male!"
The interior of the supply room was dim-and the whole place smelled of fresh paper, ink, and cleaning fluids.
Joy locked the door behind them, and then switched on another, brighter light.
"Okay, Willy," Joy called, casually. "You can come out now!"
Out from behind a pile of packing cases stepped the eighteen-year-old office boy from the second floor, Willy Bates.
Both Pam and Cindy had seen the young man walking around with a broom-and although both of them had separately decided that he was a sexy, good-looking young thing, neither of them had bothered to consider him seriously.
But now looking at the somewhat lanky, smiling young stud, they began to have second thoughts!
"Willy, this is Pam and Cindy," Joy said, huskily.
The office boy pushed back the shock of straight black hair that had fallen over his forehead, and showed a straight line of good, white teeth.
Both Cindy and Pam stood rooted to the spot, like two hungry birds on the same limb.
"Show 'em, Willy," Joy slurred, her voice like a rasp in the quiet of the room.
No strip-teaser on a stage ever went through the motions of revealing a hidden delight better than Willy Bates did in the next few seconds.
He unzipped the fly of his jeans with a slow-motioned expertness that sent little fluttery thrills up the spines of the three females watching him.
Then he fed out in front of him the biggest dong any of them had ever seen-any except Joy, of course.
"My God," Cindy husked, staring at the abnormally huge peter that was hanging out a full nine and one half inches from Willy's fly.
The office boy grinned slackly, noting the hungry, pleased looks on his audience. He put his hands on his hips and stood his ground. Slowly but surely, his big penis began to rise to the occasion!
Pam and Cindy gaped at the monster hardening before their eyes. In only seconds, it was sticking out in a stiffly horizontal position. The head on it was the size of a tropical avocado!
Cindy cast a weak glance at Joy. "Can-can Willy satisfy all of us with that thing?"
"For days," Joy grinned. "You don't think I'd be offering to share him if he was anything but a superman-of-screwing, do you?"
Willy was still grinning, his prod thrusting out proudly in front of him. "You girls will have to make up schedules," he said, calmly. "If Mr. Treadwell catches me humping one of the secretaries around here, it'll be my ass."
"Our ass, you mean!" Pam cooed.
And that's exactly what they intended Willy to be-as long as the whole whoring pack of them could keep it up.
