The appearance of Reluctant Wives by Mande Woljar, the famed literary figure of the Eastern European equivalent of the "Now Generation," is another milestone in the history of American publishing, rivaled in this century by only the phenomenon of Vladimir Nabokov, Russia-born author who also made the remarkable transition from his native tongue to English, in his case with that unequaled literary achievement entitled Lolita.
Miss Woljar, whose dual career as novelist and consultant to the Warsaw Center for the Study of the Behavioral Sciences in her native Poland earned her acclaim for many years from only a limited part of the world, became an international cause celebre with her daring flight to freedom in the West and the subsequent legal battle in being granted political asylum over the strenuous objections of her government.
Now making her home in the United States, Miss Woljar has written her first novel with a contemporary American setting, and we, the publishers, believe it to be an authoritative contribution to the library of literature touching upon the fast-changing social scene in this country.
The text clearly reveals Miss Woljar's lifetime of study and attention to the most minute details of that mysterious creature known as man, his strengths and his failings. And oddly, it has taken the patient, practiced and penetrating eye of an emigre, to stirringly depict the dehumanizing aspect of the unfeeling, often unfettered, world of business as now practiced in the United States of America.
The sensitivities of a stranger to these shores reacted to a segment of American life that people seldom discuss, or even seem aware of. Miss Woljar unerringly has portrayed the lengths some people will go to in their mad climb for success, how they actually will put a price tag on themselves and their loved ones to advance one more rung up the ladder in the arena of commerce.
Miss Woljar achieves her thematic purpose by introducing the reader to Joan and Harry Welby, so typical of young American married couples whose thirsts for the material comforts available through money make them forget that life has a higher meaning and carries with it the responsibility for one's own conduct.
The Welbys are natural targets for Tom Carter and his wife, Alice, both of them spectacularly jaded by a life of making and abiding by the jungle rules of Big Business. Tom has added leverage by being in a position of power over Harry, but there can be little doubt in the mind of the discerning reader that Tom would work his will even without trickery or guile, simply because Harry is so infected with the disease of striving for the summit that he would sacrifice anything that hindered him, including the sanctity of his own marriage contract.
Once Harry and Joan have tested the unfamiliar lifestyle of the Carters, they find themselves unwittingly, but not unwillingly, as passengers on a train to nowhere, a vehicle enmeshing itself more tangled into its own incestuous web. Their survival depends, like that of the vampire monsters of legend, on fueling their swapping circle with new combustible couples.
Authoress Woljar, with the artistic insight and understanding that belies her youth, creatively paints this familiar canvas for the reader using broad colorful strokes, but always respecting the intelligence of members of her audience by not injecting her own moral viewpoints and assessments. She lets the story tell itself honestly and straightforwardly, and the words leap from the pages as if propelled by that rare ingredient known as Truth.
The publishers are indebted to Miss Woljar for allowing us the distinct honor and privilege of presenting her first novel written in English and with an American locale to a long-waiting public. The message she conveys, however, is by no means limited to the North American continent. It is as universal as the simple virtues of honesty and loyalty, attributes we cherish so dearly that are shown as something to be bartered in the competitive was of the free enterprise system as portrayed in Reluctant Wives.
The Publishers
Chapter I
Joan Welby ran more hot water into the bathtub as the transparent rainbow-colored tiny spheres of her bubble-bath popped all around her, then leaned back luxuriously to savor the sensation of the renewed heat penetrating every pore of her relaxed body. She slid down lower in the tub until the bubble-topped hot water covered all but the upper slopes of her delightfully full, firm white breasts, each adorned with a ruby-like pouting nipple.
Joan stiffened her long, slender legs against the tub and raised her body partway above the snowdrift of bubbles partly concealing it. She arched her back until the smoothly rounded surface of her glistening sleek belly broke the surface, dipping downward to the slightly protruding mound at its base, a mound decorated with a profusion of light blonde hair matching exactly the luxuriant growth on Joan's head.
Bridging her shoulders, Joan lifted first one leg and then the other as she sought to bring more of her own secret flesh into view, much as she had done in the days when a fifteen-year-old tomboy in a small southern town had suddenly experienced the delicious budding, swelling, and rounding of her own hitherto ignored girl-flesh. At twenty-five, Joan was sure she had lost none of the superlatively desirable figure that her husband Harry had been unable to keep his hands off almost from their first date.
A frown creased her smooth forehead.
She might have lost none of her eye-catching qualities in masculine company, but she surely wasn't catching Harry's eye as much as formerly. In point of fact, even though she didn't like to admit it to herself, he had been neglecting her shamefully. Too often these days she thought back longingly to the first year of their marriage, when the homecoming husband often delayed dinner while he practiced his homework upon his contentedly acquiescent young wife. Sometimes they never made it to the second floor bedroom, but indulged in their carnal delights upon the living room sofa or even occasionally upon the carpeting.
Joan sighed unconsciously. It had been a long time since Harry had been that impetuous, although she certainly didn't know why. All the physical aspects he had explored with such gratified gusto still awaited him, ripely abundant, eagerly anticipant, ardently incandescent. She sank down into the soothing hot water again, her right hand frankly covering her mound as her finger dipped lightly between her thighs and teased her pussy-lips. A shiver rippled through her. She shouldn't get herself worked up like that.
She shouldn't be spoiling the evening ahead by any such gloomy thoughts, either. She and Harry were to be the guests at a nightclub party celebrating Harry's upcoming promotion to junior partner in his law firm. The party hosts were to be Tom and Alice Carter, good friends in addition to the fact that Tom was Harry's immediate boss in the law office. The Carters knew how much the promotion meant to the younger Welbys. With the promotion in hand and a night on the town to celebrate, Joan thought wistfully, Harry might not turn his back upon her brusquely in bed that night and unceremoniously go to sleep.
Alice Carter had extended the invitation. "Tom thinks we might take in a couple of the bottomless joints on Broadway in North Beach after dinner," she mentioned. The Welbys lived in San Francisco, the Carters farther out in Marin County.
Joan had giggled at the news. "I wonder why it is men feel they have to spend money for that sort of thing when all they have to do is tell us to take our panties down, Alice?"
"The idea of something strange, I imagine," Alice replied. "And as long as Tom desires to see my bottom with some degree of frequency, I really don't begrudge him a few peeps, you know."
"Oh, I feel exactly the same way!" Joan said hastily. She knew that Alice was very much in love with Tom, much as she was with Harry. Tom Carter was older and very much a man of the world. Joan knew that Alice was thirty-five and Tom a couple of years older. She had never mentioned it to Harry, but privately she considered Tom Carter to be a strong-minded, self-centered man, almost a bit overbearing at times. Once or twice Joan had caught him gazing at her with a speculative look in his hooded eyes that she had found almost frightening. She had to remind herself that Tom and Alice Carter were their best friends.
Joan wasn't quite as sanguine about the bottomless night club expedition as she had let on to Alice. She considered herself moderately sophisticated, but strong traces of her church-oriented, family-directed upbringing in the small southern town of her youth still remained with her. At college she had had only one sexual experience before meeting Harry, and that one disappointingly squalid. Harry's ardency had almost caused a rift in their relationship, before Joan reminded herself firmly that it was no longer 1910 and that in fact she didn't want to deny this handsome young man the titillating liberties he sought to take. There was the scary thought that she might have lost Harry completely if she had kept on saying no.
The ringing of the telephone in the bedroom broke into her thoughts. She scrambled from the tub hurriedly, careful not to slip, threw on an old robe which blotted some of the moisture from her sweet-scented flesh, and hurried to the bedside phone, trailing water drops. Without knowing why, she had an indefinable feeling that it was Harry calling her.
"Hello?" she said, cradling the phone between chin and shoulder while she draped the sodden gown to reveal a little less frontal exposure before remembering there was no one present.
"It's me, Joan," Harry's voice said in the husky, half-intimate manner that was almost a vocal signature with him. When Joan was really in the mood sometimes, Harry's voice alone could create goosebumps upon her most intimate flesh. "Pack a bag for me," he continued. "I'm leaving for San Diego in an hour."
"Oh, no, Harry!" Joan wailed. "Not tonight!"
"Can't be helped," he said. "One of the old bags whose account I've been managing has decided she has to have an immediate conference. Thank God that after the promotion takes effect someone else will be drawing those details. I'll be home in half an hour."
Joan heard the click of the receiver. Why did it have to turn out like this, she thought? Harry had been away from her so much lately. He had been working sixteen hour days ever since her illness a year ago, she remembered guiltily. She had recovered fully, but the medical and hospital bills had been enormous. She had never dared ask where the money had come from to take care of them. But it was mean that their celebratory party should be broken up like this.
She returned to the bathroom and removed the last of the bubble bath under the shower. Drying herself with a huge fluffy towel before patting on body powder, she could see herself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the bathroom door. The full, uptilted breasts jiggled lightly as she manipulated the towel. Her rounded belly flowed into the juncture of her gleaming plump thighs. She turned around and considered her wide-flaring soft buttocks below the slender stalk of her waist, and she sighed again. Those dimpled hind cheeks looked made to be cuddled, but it wasn't to happen tonight. Resentfully she flung the towel aside, and, still nude, went into the bedroom to pack Harry's overnight bag. Sometimes it seemed as though the middle-aged wealthy widows who made up the bulk of Harry's portfolio-managing accounts demanded his services at deliberately inconvenient times.
Joan dressed finally and went downstairs.
She pushed the provocative evening gown she had expected to wear to the back of the closet and put on a simple housedress. She was in the tiny kitchen of their little home when she heard the front door open. "Are you decent, Joan?" Harry's voice called. "Tom's with me."
Mingled with her disappointment that Harry wasn't alone-she had hoped to have at least a few minutes with him before he had to leave- Joan had to smile inwardly at the connotation contained in his question. In the second year of their marriage Joan had watched Harry drive up to their house and park, and impulsively decided to surprise him. She turned away from the window and stripped completely except for shoes and stockings, then naked, listened for his footstep at the door.
When she heard it, she flung the door open, presenting herself brazenly, only to find that in a Keystone Kop sequence of events Harry had climbed out of the car and walked across the street to speak to one of the neighbors while the television repair man had pulled his truck in behind Harry's car to pick up their balky television set.
For one frozen instant Joan had confronted the bug-eyed uniformed repairman before she turned and sprinted for the stairs with all her flowing curves jiggling loosely and bouncing wildly. Harry had been annoyed at first when she confessed the unexpected results of her impetuosity, but had then laughed. He never entered the house afterward if anyone was with him, however, without the preliminary question about Joan's decency or lack of it in the way of dress.
It had been some solace to Joan afterward that the television repairman, upon the occasion of returning the repaired set, while Joan had been playing the coolly nonchalant grande dame with him as though the incident had never happened, turned to her at the door and said earnestly: "Lady, if I could get my wife to meet me at my front door like that just once I'd forfeit cheerfully every dollar I ever hope to earn. Your husband is a damned lucky guy."
Joan had blushed vividly despite her best effort at composure, but had treasured the implied compliment.
She walked into the living room and found Harry mixing a fast pitcher of martinis behind the bar. She glanced at the broad-shouldered, tapered back of the six foot, prematurely gray man standing in the center of the room with his back to her. "Hello, Tom," Joan said.
He turned to greet her with the wide grin that was his trademark. Tom Carter had almost girlish-looking blue eyes in a craggy face, and a hard-looking male body. Joan found herself admiring his appearance as she always did. Except for the graying hair he could have passed for her age instead of ten years older.
Harry moved out from the bar and handed Joan a drink, then gave one to Tom. He neglected to kiss Joan as he had done faithfully when they were first married. Joan thought he looked tired and preoccupied, but she still felt resentful at his lack of attention to her. She tried to mask her reaction under Tom Carter's shrewd, observant gaze. "To a quick trip home," Tom toasted, and raised his glass. Janet downed her martini in a gulp. Harry looked surprised, and Tom wagged a finger at her. "Hey, that's not like you," he admonished her.
Joan shrugged. "Since I have to celebrate my husband's promotion alone tonight, I might as well get started quickly," she said with more of an edge to her voice than she had intended.
"Shall I tell her now?" Tom said to Harry, who nodded. "We decided that you shouldn't miss a good party just because your traveling old man is out of town," Tom continued to Joan. "You're coming with Alice and me tonight. The reservations have been made and everything ordered. Besides, I'd like to prove that I'm still not too old to squire two women at once, even if it's only for one night." He grinned at her companionably.
"Oh, Tom, I don't really think so," Joan began, but he interrupted her immediately.
"Don't be a spoilsport, Joan. I've already talked to Alice. She's been getting ready for three hours for the party, and she says she doesn't mind sharing me for the evening. So you can't say no." He took Joan's hand warmly, and she sensed the controlled strength in the masculine body.
"In that case, Mr. Carter, I suppose I can't refuse," she said with a little smile. "What time should I be ready?"
"Eight o'clock," he said promptly.
"I've got a plane to catch," Harry broke in. "Come on, Tom, let's get a move on."
He kissed Joan goodbye absentmindedly, ran up the stairs and right back down again with his bag, and walked out the front door. Joan tried to smile through her hurt at the brush-off as Tom Carter prepared to follow Harry. "See you at eight," he said quietly, and Joan nodded. She watched Tom's white convertible roar down the street, trying to still a single wayward tear that persisted in creeping from beneath an eyelid and down her cheek. If Harry's new position in the firm kept him as busy and with as little time for her, she didn't know how she could stand it.
Disconsolately she went back upstairs, removed the housedress, stood in front of the mirror for an instant stroking her brassiered and pantied curves, then went to the closet and took out the evening gown which she laid out carefully on the bed.
Two hours later Tom Carter and his wife Alice shared a drink in their bedroom as he dressed for the party. Alice sat propped up against the headboard with a large pillow behind her. She had on a lacy negligee casually parted in front to reveal lissome tanned thighs.
She was a handsome woman but one terribly afraid of the first faint signs of aging which appeared in her boudoir mirror. She was also head-over-heels in love with her debonair husband-had been ever since the first day he had appeared so spectacularly in her life-and putty in his hands. Willing putty.
"It's working out just as you predicted," she said, sipping at her drink. "Do you think she's ready?"
"Ripe for plucking," Tom said, smiling at her as he buttoned his shirt. "And for fucking."
Alice smiled, too. "A comedian you're not," she informed her husband. "But since you want her, I hope you're right."
"When am I wrong about these things?" he said confidently. "You should have seen her face when we drove away just now. She's the loving, neglected wife. She's ready, all right. There'll be no trouble. And even if there should be, I can change her mind. With what I know about Harry's not-so-clever manipulation of the Sadaris account, I can compel her acquiescence by threatening his exposure. No, I've had my eye on her aristocratic-looking lily-white big ass for a long time, and tonight's the night I get it between the sheets."
"I'm kind of looking forward to trying out Harry after you've broken in Joan," Alice said comfortably. "He looks rather the innocent type." She looked at her husband archly. "Won't you be jealous?"
He smiled. "A little, perhaps. I usually am, when I think of someone screwing you. But it usually only lasts long enough for me to get into the rack with one of your girl friends." He glanced at his watch. "I'd better get going. I'm curious to hear Joan's reaction when I tell her that you have an unexpected headache and can't make it tonight."
Alice rose from the bed and approached her husband. She was tall enough so that her crown of dark hair came just under his nostrils as she put her arms around him and rubbed her palms against the small of his back. "Don't waste it all on that blonde tonight," she whispered. She dropped her right hand to Tom's buttock and pinched it lightly, then moved her hand around to the front and rubbed her knuckles against his groin. "Save a little something for me for when you get home."
Tom grunted at her touch upon his penis. "If you don't stop fiddling with the machinery, I'll paddle you pink, Alice. Or make you suck me off."
"I'd love to," she said promptly, and reached for his zipper.
He pulled away. "I haven't time. I'll be late, probably after three." He started for the bedroom door.
"Remember that I'll want to hear all about it," Alice called after him.
She returned to the bed and sank slowly down upon it as she heard Tom's firm tread descending the stairs.
Joan had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard Tom's knock at the door. She finished the last of her martini, the fourth since Harry and Tom had left, and walked rather unsteadily to the door to let Tom in. He explained quickly about Alice's supposed migraine headache, and Joan shook her head. "We don't have to go out, Tom," she began to say.
"Of course we do," he said quickly. "Harry's expecting it. I'd feel I'd let him down."
"Well," Joan said with a forced smile, "I guess we'll have to do the best we can."
"That's the spirit," he said encouragingly. "How about a drink before we leave?"
"I'll make one for you, but I've had enough," Joan replied. She was already feeling the results of her previous libations more than she had anticipated. Or desired.
"Then I won't have one, either," Tom decided. He picked up her mink stole resting haphazardly on the back of a chair and held it out to her. His knuckles brushed her bare shoulders as he draped it over her, and Joan shivered. There was a maleness in Tom Carter that plucked at the very roots of her sensibilities.
He tucked her into the convertible, then walked around and got under the wheel. He drove so smoothly that she was soon lost in her own thoughts. It was Harry that was uppermost on her mind. She wanted her husband back so desperately, the eager, loving husband he had been before. Was it possible she was losing her sex appeal? Perhaps if she tried making Harry a little jealous? It seemed a bit childish, but she was ready to try anything. She glanced at Tom Carter's handsomely craggy features. If she flirted with Tom a little, remained a little secretive about her night out with him... there could be no real harm in it. Tom was a good friend, after all, Harry's best friend despite the difference in their ages.
Joan smiled tentatively and moved slightly closer to Tom on the convertible's front seat. More than a few men had propositioned her, knowing she was married and admiring her physical attributes. She had been flattered but never unfaithful to Harry. And it could never come to that with Tom. She found herself wondering suddenly how Tom was in bed with Alice. Joan had always admired Alice's cool sophistication, and she found it difficult to picture Alice and Tom in intimately entwined embraces. She felt her cheeks getting hot at the thought. She wasn't accustomed to speculating about friends-even good friends-in this wayward manner.
Tom glanced across at her and favored her with his attractive crooked grin as the convertible charged on through the warm summer night. "Everything okay?" he inquired.
"Fine," Joan declared stoutly. She was feeling warm, and she raised the long skirt of her evening gown surreptitiously and let cool air from the vent play upon her thighs. In a moment the teasing stream of air was eddying around her tightly-pantied crotch, and Joan relaxed at the subtle titillation. She sensed that Tom was gazing from time to time at her displayed thighs, but she found she didn't care.
He reached across her suddenly and opened the glove compartment, handing her a flask. "Have one for the road," he invited her. "No reason it should be so long between drinks. It's exactly what you've been drinking."
Joan started to refuse, then changed her mind. So what if she was feeling her drinks a little? One or two more couldn't hurt. She wasn't a child. And Tom was a friend. Besides, she felt a compulsion tonight to blot out her hurt and anxiety over what she was afraid was a growing estrangement with Harry.
She took a full swallow from the flask, savoring the tart bite of the martini. Tom nodded approvingly and followed suit. They continued the drive in silence until Tom headed the car into the neon-lighted bustle of Broadway and pulled to the curb in front of a garishly-lighted night club. Tom handed the obsequious doorman an over-large tip, and a man appeared to park their car. Joan stumbled slightly as she stepped up to the sidewalk from the depths of the convertible, assisted by Tom's strong arm. "Oops," she murmured. "Tom, you're going to have to see to it that I don't make a spectacle of myself," she continued half-seriously. "I'm afraid the drinks are getting to me."
Tom's hand closed comfortingly upon her bare arm. "You know you could never make a spectacle of yourself as far as I'm concerned, Joan," he said warmly. She felt an inner tingle as the male voice brushed sensuously against her nerve ends.
She gazed curiously at the posters and pictures in the lobby of the club as Tom ushered her inside. Numerous unclad girls were depicted in various attitudes of dancing. Joan wondered what it must be like to get up on a platform without so much as a thread between one's naked body and the world and perform all manner of wriggling gyrations. It must be dreadfully degrading but at the same time somehow stimulating, she thought.
The blaring beat of a rock band enveloped them as they walked inside, the strong rhythm so loud the sound waves were almost tangible. Strobe lights synchronized with the beat made Joan blink as she struggled to adjust to the comparative absence of light inside. They were seated at once at a small table, side by side, and Joan glanced up toward the stage in front of them to see a spotlighted naked girl swirling her bare hips in contortions that twitched her pubic hair at her audience. Joan looked quickly away in confusion.
Tom ordered drinks from a bikinied waitress whose large breasts appeared about to overflow her skimpy uniform-top. "How d'you like it here?" he inquired expansively when the girl had placed their glasses in front of them and smilingly accepted Tom's tip. "Or are you still trying to get into the mood?"
"Perhaps that's it," Joan admitted. She took a taste of her drink. "I couldn't help thinking how those poor girls must feel up there with nothing covering them, hour after hour. They must feel awfully bored."
"Probably no more so than you," Tom suggested. He leaned closer to her so that his lips were close to Joan's ear. "You probably have your pick of beautiful female bodies close at home when you cuddle with your girl friends."
Joan shook her head smilingly although she could feel her face pinkening. "I don't cuddle with girls," she said. At least not since I married Harry, she amended it silently. She hurried on, anxious that Tom not think he was wasting his money. "I really am enjoying it here, Tom."
He was quiet for a moment as the dancer left the stage and was replaced by a rather plain-faced girl wearing collegiate cap-and-gown. The girl sang a rather pointless little song about sexual education and then removed the gown to display an amazingly well-made, plumply-curved nude body which caught Joan by surprise. The girl danced rather well, too. "She has a really cute figure," Joan observed. "I don't wonder that men come to these places." Glancing around, she was amazed at the number of women in the noisy but intent audience, and suddenly she didn't feel so conspicuous. She relaxed and took another swallow from her glass.
Tom leaned toward her again. "Remind me to tell you sometime how fortunate I was at the age of fifteen to discover there was no such thing as an unattractive female body," he muttered into Joan's ear.
She smiled but made no reply. Her attention was back upon the stage. She still couldn't really get over the fact that she could see everything the girl had. She hadn't dreamed that such license existed in public. She wondered if Tom was mentally undressing her and comparing her to the girl on the stage whose exotic vibrations jiggled her glistening flesh enticingly, and she felt herself growing warm at the thought. She supposed she should have found the exhibition upon the stage vulgar, but the girl's cutely pert little body and confident demeanor somehow prevented it.
Tom was speaking in her ear again, his breath tickling her lobe. "I've noticed that Harry hasn't been paying much attention to you lately," he said. Joan jerked herself back to the present. Was it so noticeable? She hated the idea. "I've been having a little problem with Alice," Tom went on. "One reason I've been hitting the bottle a little hard lately, I guess."
Joan felt a quick rush of sympathy. She certainly knew how it felt to be neglected. "I thought you and Alice were perfectly happy, Tom," she said softly. "I'd never have suspected that you were having problems, too." She felt an immediate twinge of guilt at having so quickly admitted her own situation. It seemed disloyal to Harry.
"We haven't even been to bed together in the past year," Tom continued. "I sleep in the guest room."
Joan was shocked. "Here I've been brooding about my own love life, or lack of it, and you're worse off. Although not by much," she added frankly. Impulsively she leaned over and kissed Tom's cheek affectionately.
He smiled and patted her hand. "Just a couple of losers, that's us," he said. "Is it all right to ask what's wrong between you and Harry?"
"I'd tell you if I knew," Joan said ruefully. "I've thought it was his work, but even on weekends he seems too busy for me. I guess I'm old before my time."
"Like hell!" Tom responded emphatically. "There isn't a man in this noisy place who wouldn't want to go to bed with you right this minute."
"You're sweet, Tom," Joan said gratefully.
He glanced toward the postage-stamp-sized dance floor. "Want to try it? This number seems a little slower."
Obediently she left her place and followed him to the floor. He slipped an arm around her and whirled her away to a beat that admittedly was slower but still strongly influenced by drum and bass. The flashing strobe lights intermittently illuminated the faces of the dancers. Joan's breasts pressed against Tom's chest. Her gown was the type which demanded no bra, and her pectoral muscles felt stimulated against the hard male body. She could feel his leg between hers as they danced. Between the drinks and the stimulation a sudden light dampness made its way from her vagina to the flushed lips of her vulva, surprising her. She had never experienced it before just from dancing. She tried to ease away slightly from Tom's strong body. Making Harry jealous was all right, but she didn't want to go too far, and at the moment her instincts seemed on the verge of betraying her.
But Tom tightened his grip and pulled her even closer. Joan closed her eyes, trying to shut out the flashing strobe lights and the strange effect they seemed to be having upon her. The tempo of the music had increased, and along with the liquor it was getting to her. She could feel their blended bodies, her own responding as her breasts rubbed against Tom, her taut nipples straining against the thin veneer of lightweight summer clothing.
When she opened her eyes, Tom was watching a new dancer on the stage. Joan looked at the undulating girl, naked, throwing her pelvis up at the crowd, and she began to dance in unconscious imitation of the girl's suggestive movements, aware of an increased heat in her own loins. Joan jerked her body in rhythm, feeling her breasts bounce, a film of perspiration on her forehead, hot flashes coursing through her body.
And Tom was responding. He held Joan even more tightly as her hips writhed to the beat, in time with her bouncing breasts. She felt free, alive, and-as she realized suddenly-terribly in need of a man. One of Tom's legs was between Joan's thighs as he whirled her around the dance floor, and she could feel the elongated bulge of his aroused penis against her swollen-feeling pussy at each surging pivot they made. It excited her beyond belief as a tremendous surge of long-repressed emotion caused her to toss caution to the winds.
Deliberately she ground her pelvis against the bulge in Tom's trousers. She could feel it straining toward her. She swayed her hips, trying to intensify the contact. Her mouth was half open as she breathed heavily, spurred on by the increasing heat within her. The lights flashed in brilliant colors on her half-open lids, deepening her sudden erotic frenzy.
She found herself with one hand on the back of Tom's rugged-feeling neck as she leaned backward, pushing her burning crotch against his erection. Each drum beat seemed to arouse her more, pounding at the core of her being. Their bodies were blended, touching everywhere. Joan imagined them suddenly to be upon a bed, ready for each other, and hot though she was, she drew back from the picture. What on earth was the matter with her? She was acting like a -like a slut!
But then Tom pulled her closer again as she instinctively sought to break the close contact that was demoralizing her good intentions. He kissed her, crushing his lips against her partly opened mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply into her throat. Joan found herself responding eagerly before she realized what had happened. The shock of the strongly sexual kiss aroused her from her previous indulgence in herself. It wasn't fair to Tom, she told herself desperately. It wasn't what she wanted, so how could she lead him on like this?
It wasn't what she wanted... was it?
She knew it was wrong. "No, Tom," she tried to say, half-struggling away from him. She'd gone too far. It had to stop. She freed herself from his unwilling arms and walked quickly but unsteadily from the dance floor, bumping into people en route.
She walked to the nightclub exit before she looked around.
Tom was picking up her wrap from the hat-check girl, his expression grim-faced in the psychedelic light patterns.
Chapter Ii
Thoroughly ashamed of herself, Joan sat quietly and in a semi-stupor as the white convertible sped along deserted streets. I've ruined a friendship, she thought bitterly. What could have gotten into me that I led him on so far? She'd only intended to make Harry a bit jealous, but now she'd undoubtedly hurt Tom. It had been inexcusably selfish of her to think she could use him like that.
Deep in self-accusation, she had failed to notice that the car was pursuing a direction at variance with either of their homes. Before she could question their position high in the hills above the city, Tom turned the car suddenly into a short side street and then immediately again so that it faced outward from a secluded parking place with the brilliant lights of the city below. "I thought you'd enjoy the view," Tom said matter-of-factly as he got out of the convertible and walked around it to Joan's side. He opened the door and helped her out, supporting her as she wobbled slightly. "It's too beautiful a place to pass without stopping on a night like this," he continued casually. He gave a short laugh. "Besides, it should clear our heads a little."
Joan allowed him to lead her to the outer edge of the parking place where they watched for a moment in silence the panorama that unfolded far below them. It seemed natural that Tom should put his arm around her waist as he stood beside her. Perhaps they were still friends, she thought hopefully. Tom was an adult, if she wasn't. He would understand what could happen to a girl taken unaware by her own emotions.
She flinched slightly as Tom's arm rose and his large palm cupped a full breast. No! she thought. I mustn't! But she made no further movement as strong fingers closed upon the soft globe fluttering from her rapid breathing. She could feel her taut nipple pulsating as the invading fingers first brushed against it and then returned to massage it lightly. Her groin felt on fire as Tom massaged her resilient flesh with increasing urgency. "Ooooh, Tom!" she breathed huskily from a throat that seemed clamped in a vise so she could hardly speak at all.
She thought fleetingly of Harry, and then the thought was gone. The only room in her crowded brain was for the sensation afforded her by the urging of the strong hand upon her breast that was kneading her and manipulating her into a white-hot fever of desire. She took a step backward and leaned more heavily against his arm, and Tom took hold of her and pulled her around to face him. He pressed against her, and a rocklike bulge in his trousers twitched involuntarily against her belly. The dampness between Joan's legs renewed itself as she thought longingly of what the huge thing would feel like boring its way inside her. It's wrong to think like that, she told herself desperately. But it felt so good. So gooooooood. She made no attempt to escape Tom's hard lips as once more they fused upon her own.
The kiss left her breathless. It was eager, expert, and demanding. Her mouth opened willingly to accept the tongue which probed her unresisting mouth. She was so far gone in sexual arousal and excitement that she didn't even mind the small moans of pleasure that escaped from her straining lips. Tom held her immobile for an instant, then released her so suddenly that she almost fell.
Joan couldn't stand it that the strong, supporting arms were suddenly gone. "Tom!" she whispered urgently. "Do it to me, Tom! Do it to me!"
She didn't really believe she had said the emboldened words, but the sound lingered in her own ear. She was shameless, and she didn't care: All thoughts of loyalty to Harry had vanished in her alcohol-dimmed mind. She just knew she wanted Tom. Knew she had to have him regardless of consequences. There was a hot flame in her crotch that only a sturdy male organ could extinguish.
Tom led her back to the car. Standing beside it, he kissed her on the mouth again while his hands went behind her and gripped the pliant cheeks of her buttocks, squeezing, compressing, drawing in, releasing, pinching, and pressing together her soft globes until Joan thought she would expire from pleasure.
Tom opened the car door and reached for a lever at the back of the seat, releasing a catch that held it upright. The seat descended into a reclining position, and Tom handed Joan into the car. She rolled onto her back after releasing the catch on the second seat herself, then lay back trembling, her legs slightly parted. She knew what was going to happen, and she wanted it to happen. No thought of love or loyalty could penetrate the sex-haze enveloping her.
Despite her desire, she felt a tremor of fear. This was all new to her. She hadn't had another man since her marriage. She felt almost like a virgin. She almost cried out as Tom leaned down upon her and their arms and legs and bodies came together in an unplanned, slow-motion embrace that engulfed all her sensibilities.
Tom's leg pressed between her parted thighs, widening them still more. He kissed her neck passionately, his moist tongue immediately pursuing a course under her throat, then down to the deep valley between her heaving breasts. Joan gasped at the feeling. Harry hadn't touched her in three months. No lips had made love to her breasts as these lips were doing. Tom pulled the straps of her dress from her shoulders and lowered it until her large breasts bulked large in the dim light and her quiveringly erect pink nipples danced in the air, reveling in their freedom. They were free to be kissed; free to be tantalized.
"Ohhh, God!" Joan whimpered, spreading her legs farther apart as Tom's hot mouth plunged from nipple to nipple, titillating each unmercifully. She raised herself slightly upward so she could feel the strong muscles in Tom's intruding thigh probing against the wetness between her legs.
Tom grasped her right hand and pulled it down to the long bulge in his trousers. Joan responded to the silent directive by stroking the throbbing penis while she marveled at its massivity. She rubbed gently at first, then harder, and she could feel her partner's excitement mount steadily. He tapped her shoulder, and she raised her hips again obediently as he quickly stripped her gown from her completely and flung it to one side.
Tom paused long enough to stare down at the female form beneath him. There was no blemish in the sleekly sensuous curves. He could even see the slightly darker patch of her soft blonde pubic hair beneath her skimpy white silk bikini panties. He tugged at them impatiently, and Joan once more lifted her hips to assist in their removal.
Joan rested on her back, scarcely breathing, while Tom hurriedly divested himself of his clothing. She waited for the instant when his straining cock would be freed from his shorts. Even after feeling it, her eyes widened at its sudden appearance. It was both thick and long, huskier than any she had seen. It probed the air proudly as Tom knelt on the seat beside her, and a rippling shiver of salacious anticipation caused the saliva to flow more freely in Joan's mouth as she thought of the big prick's breadth and length plunging deep inside her belly.
Tom knelt above her for an instant, his breath coming in quick, hard gasps. Then he plunged upon her, ravaging her breasts and naked belly with wet kisses. His enormous cock pressed hard against the soft flesh outside her thigh, its heat starting a whole new chain of sensations in her frantic, molten interior. She wriggled beneath him, trying to force it into herself, but Tom was in no hurry.
He stroked her sides and belly and her softly swollen mound. His fingers slid lower and plummeted into the feathery fleeciness of her pubic hair, tickling and teasing until Joan writhed in exquisite sexual agony. Then a finger darted down and plucked lightly at the ragged, fleshy fissure of her sexual parts and slipped inside.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Joan bleated involuntarily. "Oooooh, Tom!"
She surged upward with her hips to meet the finger and increase the pressure. "God, are you wet!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I could see a damp spot on your panties, but you're really wet."
Wet and unashamed, Joan thought fleetingly as the finger massaged her, rotating inside her in a circulatory movement, manipulating her inside walls with an excruciating deliberateness she had never experienced before. She held her breath as the hand covering her pussy moved slightly so that two fingers widened the lips of her splayed cunt and the finger of another hand massaged her clitoris. She jerked wildly beneath him as a fiery bomb seemed to go off in her interior, and then the finger returned to her lubricated open passage.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Joan cried as pleasurable sensation flooded her.
"How d'you like it?" Tom queried hoarsely.
"Ohhh, yes, yes, yes," Joan sighed. "Please, more!" Her hands cupped her own breasts as Tom's finger thoroughly aroused her as it plunged in and out of her clinging sheath.
Still he continued to manipulate his fingers inside her, sometimes one, sometimes two pressed together. Joan's cunt had felt tight and puckered at first from recent disuse, but as Tom pumped his hard-boring fingers in and out of her she gushed a torrent of sticky wetness over them that seemed to enlarge her materially. She was panting from pleasure unknown in recent months.
"Please, Tom," she whispered as beads of perspiration formed on her smooth forehead. "Please, I can't stand it any more! Please!"
"What is it you want?" he asked sadistically.
She knew what he meant. "I want you to put your prick in my cunt and f-fuck me!" she said unsteadily, the words at the same time shaming and further stimulating her.
They excited Tom, too. No longer in complete control, he was unable to prolong his titillation of Harry's wife, the target of his sexual ambition for so long. Her desire was so uninhibited and so fierce that he was caught up in her wake. "Yes, now!" he said savagely, and jammed his big cock between her wide-apart legs against the small, hairy, narrow opening of Joan's cunt. He probed brutally for a moment as Joan bit her lip at the soft-lipped entrance-violation taking place.
Then Tom speared her doughnut firmly, shoved in for an inch or two, and lowered himself upon her. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Joan cried out as she felt the big head slip moistly inside her.
Her mouth pursed in half-pained, half-delighted apprehension as she felt it worming its course so deeply inside her ravening cunt that the hardened flesh seemed to be just under her breasts.
Joan rocked from side to side as Tom's prick thrust even more deeply into her heaving belly. "Oooooooh!" She cried shrilly. "It's-in, isn't it?"
For answer Tom surged with his hips, and Joan groaned as another inch of gristle penetrated her quivering sheath. But it was a groan of pleasure as much as it was of pained distention. She thrust her straining thighs even farther apart in an effort to get even more of him inside her. "Eeeeeeeeeeeii, don't stop!" she burbled. "Don't-stop!"
Tom was surprised at her abandon. Surprised and excited. Here he had been thinking of her as a mealy-mouthed little bitch who wouldn't say shit if she had a mouthful, and beneath him he had a sexual wildcat whom even in preliminary movements seemed to have her handsome bare ass on ball bearings. He hovered above her for a moment, his thick prick sunk inside her to his balls which brushed gently against the billowing, yielding globes of her bottom.
"Fuck me!" she pleaded. "Fuck me, Tom!"
He began to move upon her, slowly at first. An inch or two of the slippery prick outward, then a deep plunge inward. And again. And again. Then a further withdrawal, and a deeper plunge. He wanted this first fuck to last; wanted her to remember it so there'd be less convincing necessary the next time. Joan moaned at the penetration Tom was achieving, and strained her buttocks upward from the lowered seat, hungry for the plunging rod that was beginning to increase its speed.
Tom lengthened his strokes fractionally each time, grinding his rigid prick into Joan's quivering gash with her groaning beneath him. Mercilessly he drove his fleshy spike into her crammed cunt-walls while Joan sobbed in sexual frenzy. Her cunt felt as if it were about to explode. Never had she known such excitement as with this oversized cock fucking her furiously.
A succession of electric shocks burst through her body as she grabbed for his shoulders to hold him more closely to her. If the world had come to an end that instant she would have been unable to concentrate upon anything except the fucking she was getting. Her upraised hind cheeks began to twitch spasmodically as the interior muscles in her pussy grabbed at the hard-fucking prick and threatened to freeze upon it.
Then she could feel the deep-stirring tingle presaging her come, and she fought desperately to hold it off. She tried to make each second last as Tom pounded her belly with such furious strokes that she grunted audibly at each impact. Her quivering legs wrapped around him tightly as a giant wave slowly welled up inside her.
The first convulsion started almost lazily. It quivered deep in the pit of her convulsed belly and moved downward to titillate her prick-filled chasm. Joan's half-closed eyes flew wide open. "Oh!" she exclaimed tentatively, and then her cunt boiled over. "Ohhhhh!" she shrieked. "Ooooh! Tom! T-Tom!" Her stomach surged upward as she erupted internally. "Ohhhhhh, yes! Now! NOW! I'm-ooooh!- coming! I'm-aaiieeeeeeeeeee!-coming!" Her hands drummed on Tom's shoulders. "OHHHHHHHHHHHH-h-h-h-h!" she expired as her juices filled her passage, lubricating it still more.
Her almost maniacal frenzy overpowered Tom. Shoulders hunched, he almost stood up on his prick as he slashed it into Joan's overflowing orifice. He bellowed like a bull with his lips against her neck as his moment overtook him. With her own frenetic passion subsiding, Joan clasped his shoulders firmly as Tom's buttocks worked like a piledriver as he shot his load into her, hot fluid from his straining cock spurting deep into her wide open cunt.
"Good, good, good, oh good!" Joan whispered when she felt his spend filling her. Tom fell on top of her, completely spent, crushing her with his weight. Her legs splayed limply to either side as she tried to concentrate mentally on the pleasure she had been receiving a moment before.
But with the cessation of activity in the region of her aching pelvis her mind swiveled to other matters. She had loved it while she was getting it, certainly, but it was still wrong. A rising tide of guilt enveloped her. Being fucked by her husband's best friend in his car-what kind of a schoolgirl performance was that? She couldn't tell Harry; she couldn't expect him to understand that his own neglect of her was a primary cause. Not that it was an excuse. There could be no excuse. Her passionate nature had burst its normal discreet boundaries and turned her into a pulsating, slavering, female animal.
Joan stirred uneasily beneath Tom's bulk. "Let me up, Tom," she murmured. "We must have been out of our minds. Suppose someone had come along and seen us?"
He grunted something unintelligible but finally heaved his weight up from her pinioned body. Immediately her stomach and cunt felt chilled with the removal of the warm male body covering them. Joan felt a fresh wave of embarrassment as she realized how she must look, spraddle-legged and still on her back. She sat up hurriedly, snapping her thighs together to conceal the focal point of all that delicious but forbidden activity.
Tom was silently pulling on his underwear, his expression unreadable. Joan scooped up her white bikini panties, still damp from her dance floor excretion, and stuffed them into her handbag. She pulled her dress over her head and wriggled it down over her hips, resting her weight on one plump haunch at a time as she pulled the gown beneath her. She had to get out of the car to get it properly settled around her lower body, and she knew it must be a mass of wrinkles even though she couldn't see clearly in the semi-darkness.
Tom was under the wheel when she got back into the car. He started the engine and had the car in motion before Joan was fairly settled in the seat. She wondered what he was thinking. That his best friend's wife was a hot piece, no better than a whore? She shuddered at the thought that he might tell Harry. "I-I don't know what happened to me, Tom," she said honestly, acutely humiliated that she should have to apologize for her conduct. "Can we-can't we just forget that it ever happened?"
The quick glance he cast in her direction was inscrutable. "We'll talk about it over coffee at your place," he said. The convertible descended swiftly from the hills and nosed through the streets in the direction of Harry and Joan's house.
"There's nothing to talk about, really," Joan declared with attempted firmness. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was after two a.m.! "And I don't think you should be coming into the house at this hour even for coffee."
There was no mistaking the white glint of his teeth as Tom smiled at her remark. "We'll talk," he said with finality.
They completed the balance of the ride in silence. Joan removed her house key from her purse nervously. She didn't understand this new facet of Tom's personality. Surely he didn't expect to trade on her moment of weakness? Just because she had succumbed temporarily to his male strength and her own loneliness?
She unlocked the door hurriedly and led the way inside, hoping that no one in the quiet-seeming neighborhood would be up late enough and be curious enough to see Tom enter with her. In the living room she was greeted by the empty martini glasses from her early-evening drinking. That had been her downfall, she thought as she switched on a lamp. The liquor, and Harry's recent neglect of her. The two had combined to make her putty in Tom's hard hands. She shivered internally at the recollection of those hands racing over her nude body. How could she have been so abandoned?
The familiar room renewed her feeling of guilt about what she had done as well as her concern about Harry. Dear God, what if Tom were the type to kiss and tell? Harry might even divorce her. Joan's entire body felt chilled at the thought. Well, she'd beg if she had to for Tom's silence. Her marriage was too important to her to risk its loss.
"Tom," she began as her eyes took in his rumpled suit and then went instinctively to her gown. It was wrinkled even worse than she'd feared.
"I take my coffee black," Tom said casually.
Joan hesitated. She wanted him out of the house, but she couldn't afford to antagonize him. She went into the kitchen, turned on the light, and spooned coffee into the percolator. Her thoughts were racing as she stood there waiting for the coffee to perk. Exactly what was it about Tom's attitude that she found so disturbing? She couldn't quite place her finger upon it.
And then he was lounging in the kitchen doorway, hands in pockets, watching her with a half-smile on his lips. "I want to talk to you about tonight, Tom," she said quickly. "It was a -a terrible mistake."
His smile widened, but the flat planes of his hard-looking features showed no softness. "A mistake? Who're you trying to kid, Joan?"
"I mean it," she insisted. "It was the liquor, and-"
"The liquor!" he snorted. "You practically raped me on the dance floor, and how about your reactions in the car? Didn't you like it? Say no honestly and I'll walk out the door right now."
Joan bit her lip. "You know I can't say that," she admitted. "I-I did want it." She continued on recklessly. "I needed it, if it comes to that. But it should never have happened. I lost-lost control, that's all. I never dreamed of being unfaithful to Harry, even though-even though-"
Tom was still smiling as she faltered. "Even though you're a horny little big-assed bitch who loves to be fucked by a big prick?" he asked.
His words shocked her while at the same time they stirred lewd thoughts she sought to thrust from her mind. "I s-suppose you feel you're entitled to t-talk to me like that," Joan said. Her voice shook as she strove to retain her dignity. "Please be charitable, Tom. Please. I still-I still can't believe it really happened. Don't make it harder for me. I'm so-"
"The coffee's ready," he interrupted her.
Joan tried to control her shaking hands as she lifted the percolator from the stove and poured them each a steaming cup. Tom sat down at a chair near the table and considered her above the rim of his cup as he sipped from it. His bright-eyed inspection of her combined with his hard grin increased Joan's nervousness. Her stomach felt cold.
"What makes you think tonight was an accident?" Tom asked suddenly.
"Th-think? Well, wasn't it? I mean, certainly it was. I-"
"I've been wanting to fuck you since fifteen minutes after Harry joined the firm," Tom cut her off.
Joan could feel herself reddening. "Oh, well," she tried to toss it off, "everyone looks at -looks at everyone else sometimes and-and thinks-"
"That the someone else would make a good fuck?" Tom interrupted. "Did you ever think of me that way, Joan? Did you ever look at me and say to yourself I'll bet ol' Tom could put his prick in my hot cunt and give me a really great fuck?"
Joan pressed both hands to her flaming cheeks. "W-why do you feel you have to humiliate me by-by talking like this, Tom?" she asked unsteadily. "I know what I did was wrong, and I'm ashamed of myself." She felt tears coming to her eyes. "Isn't-isn't that enough? Do you need to torment me?"
"Getting back to the 'accident' tonight," he said as though she hadn't spoken. "Would you believe I had Harry sent out of town so he couldn't make the party tonight?" Joan stared at him blankly. "Would you believe I told Alice to stay home so I'd have my chance at you alone?"
"Oh, n-no," Joan whispered, horrified.
"Would you believe I told Alice I was going to fuck you tonight, Joan?"
Joan couldn't help herself; she burst into a freshet of tears. She tried to quell her choking sobs while she wiped at her streaming cheeks with the backs of her hands. "You're-you're des-despicable!" she managed to get out.
"Sure I'm despicable," he agreed comfortably. "And you don't know the half of it, Joannie, dear." The hard glint was back in his eyes. "Because you know what's going to happen as soon as I finish this cup of coffee, Joan?" Her half-fascinated, half-nauseated gaze was riveted upon him. "I'm going to take you upstairs and fuck your bare ass all over your bed. All over Harry's bed."
Joan drew a deep breath while she tried to quell the fluttering in her interior. This was unbelievable!
"No, Tom," she said. She tried desperately to make her voice matter-of-fact. "I made a mistake, and if you force me to I'll confess it to Harry, but I'm not going to let you ruin my marriage."
"You'll do exactly as I say," Tom said evenly.
"No, I won't."
"Yes, you will. Exactly. If I phone you tomorrow morning and tell you come down to my office and put your big behind on my desk for a fucking, you'll do it."
His conviction shook her even more than the lewd picture conveyed by his words. "Wh-why say such an awful th-thing?" she asked shakily.
"Because Harry has been manipulating one of the accounts at the office, and if you don't do as I say I'll turn him in."
The sound of his words hung heavy between them before the silence began to build up in the kitchen. A thousand thoughts raced through Joan's feverish mind. Her illness last year. The tremendous bills. Harry's growing moroseness and preoccupation, irritability even, indication of a growing burden. She sensed that what Tom said was true. He was too sure of himself, too positive for it not to be true.
"I thought you were a friend, Tom," she managed to say at last.
"I am a friend," he said debonairly. "A friend who's wanted to screw you for a long time, dear."
"But how can you s-say-how can you plan such dreadful-"
"Dreadful? Delightful," he cut her off. "Don't forget I'm a friend who's kept Harry's guilty secret to this point." He set down his coffee cup with a deliberate clatter. "Now what about getting that luscious ass upstairs so I can give you a real fucking?"
Joan's breath seemed caught somewhere deep in her throat. What good now to confess to Harry her moment of indiscretion? That was the least of Harry's and her problems. If she couldn't talk this grinning satyr out of his inclination- and instinctively she knew she couldn't-then she was definitely in for whatever he chose to do to her. She had to protect Harry at all costs.
Tom was growing impatient. He crooked a finger at her. "Come over here, bitch," he said brutally.
Joan rose from her chair with shaky legs. How could she not have seen before the cruelty so close to the surface in this man? And she was his plaything, at least until she could talk to Harry. If only he were lying about Harry's manipulating an account... but she knew he wasn't lying. Too many hitherto ignored signs all pointed in the same direction. "Wh-what do you want?" she asked when she was standing beside Tom.
"I know you're bareass naked under that gown," he said. "I saw you put your panties in your purse. Pull up your dress and turn around into the light and give me a good look at the back of your lap in all its bareass glory."
For a long moment Joan stood motionless. Instinctively she knew that if she made this first concession she was committed. But what was she to do? If Tom were vindictive enough he could even have Harry fired. She couldn't risk it. She faced about, pulled up her long skirt, and bunched it under her armpits.
Behind her she heard Tom's soft whistle. "Bend over," he said huskily.
Tears welled anew into Joan's eyes, but she obeyed.
"What an ass!" Tom marveled. "What an immodest, brazen, ribald, unchaste, licentious, profligate, lascivious, carnal, libidinous, unblushing, shameless bare behind!" Joan shuddered as his hands stroked her satiny, snow-white, elastically malleable hind cheeks, softly resilient under the groping hands. Despite herself a quick glow stirred within her.
"Did Harry ever count the downy little hairs all over your lovely bottom?" Tom inquired. He slipped a hand between Joan's plumped-out hind cheeks, deep into her crevice, and her whole body quivered. Tom noticed it immediately. "Getting hot again, aren't you, sweetie?"
"N-no!" Joan tried to deny the stirring in her flesh.
Tom crooked a finger until it touched Joan's swelling cunt-lips as his knuckles pressed against the lower slopes of her bottom. An involuntary deep sigh along with a shivery ripple in her buttock-flesh escaped her. Tom laughed and got to his feet. "We're wasting time," he said briskly. "Take off the dress."
Mechanically she reached for the clasp at the back of her neck, unfastened it, then stepped out of the dress as it cascaded down her bare back. Cooler air licked over the sensitive nerves of her exposed skin. Her nipples rose with the new tactile sensation, and she covered them with her palms. She could see the slope of her own white belly and the upper crescent of her blonde pussy-hair. Could this actually be happening to her in her own kitchen?
A sound from behind her caused her to look over her shoulder. Tom was undressing. He stripped off his underwear and stood clad only in his socks, his penis soft and swaying meatily with his body movements. Joan stared at it with dry lips and constricted throat. That was what had given her so much pleasure before, she thought guiltily. It looked so harmless now. She wanted nothing to do with it, of course, but her body wasn't taking dictation from her mind. A dampness welled in her vagina, moistening her inner walls and relaxing the dainty, sensitively springy lips of her vulva.
Tom's hard palm cracked unexpectedly with stinging force upon Joan's nude right buttock, and she yelped. He laughed as he took her and bent her over his upraised thigh so that her bare bottom plumped out again as his hand played pattycake with her brimful, marble-white gluteal region. "How long since you've had an old-fashioned bare-bottom spanking, Joan?" he inquired.
"N-not since I was in high s-school," she said faintly.
He gave her another slap before releasing her. "We'll have to give you one some one of these days," he grinned. "Good for the tired blood. Who gave you your last spanking, your old lady or your old man?"
"My father."
Tom nodded knowingly. "I guess he enjoyed a look at a ripening girlish bare ass, huh?"
"My father wasn't like that," Joan said with as much dignity as she could muster considering she was nude in the presence of an almost nude stranger.
Tom smiled but didn't pursue it. "Upstairs," he commanded, and Joan's heart lurched in her breast. "To the fucking chamber, milady. One stiff prick coming up for one juicy twat."
Helplessly Joan squeezed her eyelids together against a fresh onslaught of tears. She knew that crying would only make this man angry. This incredible thing was really going to happen to her. Nothing she could say or do would save her from being violated on her own bed. The devil of it was that Tom's lewd speech was exciting her. It was enough to make her wonder if she really knew her own nature. Where was the cool dignity she had always considered an integral part of her personality?
From the corner of her eye she saw Tom raise his hand.
Hastily Joan walked to the kitchen door and into the living room to the foot of the stairs, trying to still the trembling in her legs.
Chapter Iii
Joan climbed the stairway to the second floor after switching on the light above the newel-post. She was dreadfully conscious of Tom ascending behind her with his face on a level with her swaying bare buttocks. Two-thirds of the way up he reached out and captured a gyrating globe in his hand.
Joan stopped and turned on the stairs. Her eyes went at once to the large, soft penis between Tom's hairy thighs as his hand fondled her delectably yielding nude posterior. Her tongue circled her lips unconsciously. After her honeymoon timidity had ended, she had always been fascinated by Harry's penis. In their bed-moments together she played with it whenever he permitted it, which wasn't too often. It was Joan who had gradually initiated lip-service to the upstanding fleshy rod which happily welded them together, not that Harry permitted that very often, either. It seemed that oral stimulation did little for him, and accordingly he permitted Joan's loving efforts in this direction only occasionally.
Tom's hand spatted on Joan's bare buttock again, and she resumed her stair climb. She paused again at the top, looking behind her. Tom was two steps below, his heavy prick swinging back and forth like a pendulum as he climbed. With his face level with Joan's middle, he bent forward and pressed his lips to the fleecy thatch adorning her pubic mound. Goose bumps rose all over her flesh as his hot lips and wet tongue caressed a portion of her loins while his warm breath penetrated deeply and disturbingly into her secret place. He held her by the hips with both hands while he savored the taste and feel of her soft flesh.
Joan was breathing hard by the time he released her. She stumbled into her bedroom, trying to ignore the arousal taking place within her. Sat on the edge of the bed and modestly covered her pubic area with one palm. Her body was warm. A flame was building between her legs despite her best efforts at ignoring it, a flame stoked by Tom's grinning presence and the heavy-hanging meat dangling loosely between his legs.
Tom walked toward her and played for an instant with an upstanding bare breast, teasing the supple nipple. Then he pulled Joan's head close to his hairy stomach, and she could identify in her nostrils the combined odors from their lovemaking in the convertible. Her inner turmoil increased. Tom's thick, greasy-looking penis with its loose foreskin was only a few inches from her lips.
Tom's hand knotted loosely in Joan's heavy blonde hair and pulled her head even closer. "Suck my prick!" he ordered. He pushed her mouth lower. "I want it inside your mouth right now. Go on. Suck it!"
His words repelled Joan if the idea did not. She hesitated, but he jerked at her hair roughly and she cried out in pain. "Did you hear me?" he demanded. "Suck my prick when I tell you to suck it, you bitch!"
Joan reached up slowly and took the limp prick in her hand. Then she directed her mouth to it, kissing it gingerly as she inhaled the strong male odor. She moved her mouth downward and lipped at the soft, smooth penis-tip, then ran her lips along the limp length. Despite her fear of Tom's roughness she was becoming excited by this infamous proximity to what from girlhood had always represented the epitome of male domination.
She returned her mouth to the tip of the penis, opened her lips, and let the rubbery tip slide easily into her saliva-filled mouth. She sucked at it gently, observing traces of her lipstick upon it as her mouth moved back and forth. Slowly the limp flesh began to grow larger in her mouth. Joan rubbed her tongue softly against the loose foreskin, and she felt a quick shudder ripple through Tom's sturdy thighs.
"By God, you're something else as a cock-sucker!" Tom rasped hoarsely. His hand in her hair had relaxed.
Joan swallowed more of the prick, expanding and lengthening now. Its thickness choked her momentarily until she could adjust her mouth to accommodate it better. It was really more than she could accommodate comfortably, but she moved her mouth back and forth along the increasing rigidity of the shaft, teasing the tip from time to time with wet, nibbling nuzzlings. Joan had to move her tongue to make additional room for the monster in her mouth, and she licked at its underside vigorously. As with Harry upon the rare occasions her permitted it, she gloried in her female power to rouse this limp worm into a pulverizing battering-ram which would assault her tender flesh.
Only two-thirds of the big prick was in her mouth now, although Joan strove to absorb more. The heavy cock throbbed in her mouth as she struggled for more breath. The tip of the cock felt as though it was pressed against the back of her throat. Joan began to suck again, moving her head back and forth along the shaft more rapidly. She could feel the flesh of her ovalled lips drawing out each time she slid her mouth out to the tip.
She sensed that Tom was close to eruption, and she began to back off from his tremendous erection. Not that she wanted to. She loved having a prick go off in her mouth, but she knew some men had reservations about letting their women receive their sperm orally. It was the better part of female wisdom to let the male take the lead.
As she had hoped, Tom immediately seized her withdrawing head and forced her mouth back upon the spike of his turgid prick. Joan at once swirled her tongue around his pulsating pole while she sucked busily. Tom groaned, grabbed Joan by the ears, and pulled her even closer as his hips began to plunge. Joan's ears hurt, but she was enthralled by the changes taking place in her hot-clasping mouth. Tom was no longer standing still as she sucked him. He clenched his buttocks in time to the rapid movement of her gliding lips upon the slippery rod whose cloying salty odor and taste caused Joan's inner spring to gush more liberally and wet her crotch thoroughly.
Joan paused as she gasped for air, and Tom at once tried to cram more of his prick into her engorged mouth. She could feel the hair on his thighs brushing lightly against her bare breasts as her mouth worked furiously, trying to get more saliva. She could hear her own sucking sounds as she worked at his rigid prong. Her buttocks were bouncing up and down on the bed and the back of her neck ached from the fury with which she lapped and tongued the throbbing cock.
She heard Tom's strangled gasp at the same moment she became so hot herself she couldn't stand it. She slipped a hand down between her thighs quickly and slid a finger into her dripping vaginal orifice. She began frigging herself frantically in time to the in-and-out movement of her constricted mouth upon Tom's hard meat.
"Oh, Jesus!" Tom groaned. His hips jerked forward, and his spurting erection hurt Joan's sucking mouth from the force with which he shoved it at her. Hot spurts of fluid jetted deep into her throat, and Joan gargled and swallowed desperately as she was filled nearly to choking with Tom's sperm. She forced the warm liquid down her throat as quickly as she could as it refilled her mouth with her cheeks feeling as though they would burst.
Tom sagged forward against her as she drained the last of his come, and he happened to look downward to where Joan's hand was between her wide open legs, frantically trying to finger-fuck herself to a climax. He reached down and grabbed her hand, pulling it away as her finger emerged from her wet pussy-lips with a noisy sucking sound. "The hell with that!" he said loudly. "I'll let you know when you're supposed to come!"
Red in the face from shame at having been caught fingering herself, Joan was still aflame with the latent volcano between her legs. The inner walls of her cunt were grabbing frantically at each other in place of the desired prick that wasn't there. "Oh, please!" Joan moaned, all reservation gone. "Put your finger in! Please put it in!"
"Nothing doing," he said flatly. "That's mine, and I'll take care of it when I'm ready."
Joan rubbed her vagina back and forth on the bedcover, trying to set up a counter-irritant to the heat in her loins. She couldn't ever remember being so hot. And the big thick prick which could have brought surcease to her aching cunt was now limply deflated. Joan leaned forward and feverishly attempted to lip the shriveled penis back into her mouth. Tom pulled away from her, and a thin stream of come trailed from her lips. She reached for his thighs to try to hold him in place but he slapped her hands away.
"I'll bring it back up for you!" she promised eagerly. "I'll bring it right back up!"
"When are you going to get it through your empty blonde head that we do what I want and not what you want!" he growled at her.
Joan thought she was going to cry from frustration. The wet-looking, dangling cock between Tom's damp thighs was no good to her twitchingly febrile twat. Surreptitiously she tried again to create enough friction by rubbing her pussy-lips on the rough bedcover to allay her burning itch, but Tom realized suddenly what she was doing. He pushed her onto her side, and Joan sobbed aloud.
"You're the hottest damn cunt I've seen in years!" Tom exclaimed. There was a wondering note in his voice. "And here you look like you're still in diapers with that sweet, innocent face!" He stared down at her sprawled nudity, lushly-curved flesh abundantly displayed. "Tell you what I'll do," he said in a milder tone. "You can see I can't fuck you now, so tell me what you want me to do to your cunt and I'll do it."
Joan raised her head hopefully. "Oh, God, please do!" She was shivering. "I'm going crazy! Please do it to me!"
"Do what?" he demanded inexorably. "I'll give you a choice. Do you want to be frigged or sucked?"
Joan stared up into his face miserably while she tried to force the word from her dry throat. "S-sucked," she whispered finally.
"Louder," Tom demanded.
"Sucked!" Joan declared desperately. Her face was scarlet.
"That's better," he grunted. "Roll onto your back."
She did so at once, her hips plunging deeply into the bed's softness as her legs widened and her gaping vulva pointed directly at him. She still couldn't believe she had humiliated herself to the point of asking for such an indecency to be performed upon her, but the fire in her flesh was a cruel taskmaster. How could she ever face herself tomorrow when this madness was over? Tears of embarrassment, confusion, and desire flowed down her cheeks.
Tom knelt in front of her and she glanced wishfully at his prick but it was still shriveled. He picked up her foot and before she realized what he was doing he pressed a warm kiss upon her arch. A ripple of sensation ran up her leg; she had never had her foot kissed before. Then she felt his tongue licking its way from her arch up to her calf. The tongue flicked wetly at her knee and then at her thigh, and Joan's legs jerked. Harry had never offered to kiss her pussy, so she didn't really know what to expect from a man although girl friends in college had tongued her cunt expertly.
Tom slowly worked his mouth around to her inner thighs, and Joan's fever and anticipatory excitement increased. She reached for his head to pull him down tightly to the pink, open lips of her yearning slit, but he pushed her hands away. He proceeded at his own pace until Joan felt his breath warmly upon her flowerlike crevice, a luxuriously voluptuous sensation.
Tom raised his head and looked at Joan staring down between her breasts at himself crouched between her parted legs. "Ready to be eaten?" he grinned at her. "Tell me."
"Yes," she said clearly. "Eat me. Eat me!"
Her whole body began to vibrate involuntarily as he lowered his head again and parted the fleece-lined cunt-lips with his fingers as he darted his hot tongue at the burning, puffy bud of her clitoris.
"Ohhhhh. Goddddd!' she groaned, thrusting the platform of her cunt upward into his face eagerly. Tom flicked her with his tongue again, rotating it this time on her most sensitive area. Joan's mind reeled with pleasurable sensuality. His tongue was so hard! She never remembered a girl who could stir her to this pitch of excitement. Her breath was coming in quick gasps. She felt a tremendous urge to come, but seemed hung on the brink.
The hard tongue slid from Joan's clitoris down her damp, lightly-bearded furrow to the yawning gap of her quivering cunt. The tongue surged into her channel and probed its wet walls. "Oooooooh!" Joan whimpered. "Harder!"
The tongue continued to lick at her, pushing deeply into her wet-walled interior while Tom's hands slid beneath her and clutched at the cheeks of her behind. Joan's whole body felt damp with perspiration as the finger of one hand moved deeply into the rapture between her hind cheeks and traced the perspiration-dampened course from pink gash to brown anus. She wriggled uneasily as the finger glided from the milky flesh of her round bottom-globes to the tight little ring of her asshole. She flinched as the finger probed and then jabbed at her rubbery buttonhole. "You've got the wrong place!" she whispered.
He raised his face from her juicy cunt to reply. "Don't tell me I've got the wrong place!" he snapped, and jabbed at her shrinking flesh with his finger again.
"Don't stop!" she begged as his mouth failed to return to her languishing pussy. "Eat it some more." Her eyes caught sight of a resurgence of his erection jutting forth from his lower belly. "Ooooooh, look at that!" She splayed her thighs even more widely and thrust up her pouting pink gash to receive the hard rod of flesh for which it longed.
Instead, Tom's finger toyed for another moment with her anus, forcing its way in to the first joint several times as Joan worried her lower lip with her teeth. It hurt, and she wished he would drop it and get on with satisfying her lubricated cunt. "Turn over," Tom said suddenly.
Joan remained motionless for an instant. What was he going to do? With Harry she had never had sex except in the male superior position. A married girl friend had told her of the pleasure to be obtained from doing it dog-fashion, but Harry hadn't been inclined to experiment.
Tom pinched her right buttock, a hard, twisting pinch, and Joan flopped over onto her stomach with tears in her eyes. "The sooner you get to understand you're to do as you're told the better," he informed her grimly. "Spread your legs."
She did so fearfully, and Tom's hard hands massaged the fleshy globes of her sweat-damp, yielding buttocks. His thumbs spread her hind cheeks so widely she felt that everything deep within her cleft was exposed, including the dainty elasticized brown ring of her anus. Joan clinched her sphincter muscles tightly. Surely he didn't intend to-?
The next instant she felt his lips kissing her bare behind and his tongue slithering to her virgin anus and licking at it. "Oooooh!" she cried as a new wave of pleasure enveloped her. Her crotch and thigh juncture felt so juicy she was sure she was getting the bed wet. But then her voice trailed off uncertainly as the hard finger returned to the dark cavern between her croup-cushions and probed at her anal opening.
Joan clenched her buttock muscles as tightly as she could, fighting the intruder. "Please, no!" she exclaimed warily. "Please! You're- oww!-you're hurting-me!"
"Relax, bitch!" he snarled at her as he pushed his finger into her tiny opening to the first knuckle. He watched with delight Joan's squirming behind as he pushed still harder into her hard-resisting core. Her knees were clawing frantically at the bed and she wailed aloud as the finger pierced her. With a final thrust Tom inserted his finger all the way until his palm pressed flat against the plump, wriggling cheeks of Joan's backside.
"Oww! Owww! Ohhhhh! It-hurts! Oooooh! please-stop!" she gasped, hardly able to get her breath through the exquisite pain lancing her whole buttock area.
"Quiet, sweetie," Tom said calmly. "Wait till you feel my prick in there."
Joan thought she would faint. Buggering, she had heard it called, but the thought that it might happen to her was an impossibility the mind boggled at conceiving. She began to struggle in earnest. If this brute was serious, he might injure her. She might even have to go to the hospital. That huge prick thrust into her tiny, tight little asshole... it was a manifest inaccessibility.
But he began to rotate his finger deep inside her anus to loosen the passage. There was a cruel grin on his face as he felt the soft, buttery smoothness inside her rectum as he skewered her. Joan, writhing under his ruthless penetration of her, thought her whole bottom was afire. It seemed as though she was going to be torn open. A second later she shrieked as she thought his finger had suddenly grown larger only to realize that he had urged a second finger in alongside the first in her quivering flesh.
Joan was sobbing openly, blubbering like a spanked child. The piercing pain tore at her interior like a fiery dart. Rage mingled with her pain, rage that she was unable to prevent this exploitation of her flesh, but then the pain became so intensified that it drove everything else out of her mind. "Oww! Ohhhh! No! No! Owww! Oh, dear God, please stop!" she pleaded helplessly.
For an instant she thought she had touched his cruel heart. The fingers pulled out of her aching rectum with a loud popping sound. "Oh, thank God, thank God!" Joan moaned, then heard her own voice soar almost to a scream as she felt Tom lowering his weight upon her back and his long, thick cock gliding up the damp crevice of her buttocks to her aching asshole. "No!" she wailed. "No! No! No!"
"You're going to love this," Tom told her confidently. "It'll only hurt for a few seconds."
Joan's eyes bulged in terror as she flinched from the great prong digging at her shrinking, puckered anus. Tom worked his way forward slightly on her perspiring back and pushed against the sphincter muscle with which Joan fought to keep him outside. But the previous finger-penetration had left the muscle tired and sore. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Joan screeched as she felt the red-crowned head of the big prick lunge its way into her agonized rectum. She thought she was being split in two.
Above her Tom grunted noisily as he thrust with his hips to force his prick into her straining rectum in quarter-inch increments. The pressure on the head of his fleshy rod was driving him half out of his mind with pleasure. He gained more ground with short lunges that buried him more deeply between her hind cheeks.
Joan pounded on the bed with the flat of her hands as the fiery dagger forced its way farther and farther inside. She seemed to have no voice left. It hurts so, it hurts so, it hurts so, her brain screamed tiredly over and over again. Her entire body ached with the effort-the unavailing effort-of repelling the ravaging prick in her distended anus.
And then there was a pause...
Joan raised her head inquiringly. Tom hadn't pulled out of her rectum, she knew; she still felt stuffed beyond belief back there. But the pain? It was gone, exactly, but it seemed to have moved to the background while a strangely half-expectant, anticipatory-breathless sensation took over.
Then Tom began to move upon her, sliding his big prick for inches in and out of her loosened passage. She was actually being fucked in the asshole, she thought wonderingly. The impossible was actually taking place. The big cock massaged hidden areas of virgin flesh in an almost snuggling manner. She felt the palpation of her buttock cheeks under the weight of Tom's body at each thrust he made into her rectum. A hot coal suddenly ignited in Joan's straining cunt. Was she losing her mind? She was beginning to enjoy this ass-poking!
Tom fucked her expanding flesh steadily, and Joan raised her hips tentatively. She was at once flattened on her belly again by Tom's next surge which seemed to penetrate even more thoroughly. Joan thrust her bottom upward again, meeting his next lunge. "Oooh!" she grunted as the big prick smacked into her rear. It was half-painful, half-stimulating. "Ohh! Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" she murmured steadily as Tom's ass-fucking of her continued.
Tom's body dripped sweat upon her own lathered flesh as they both worked harder. Joan couldn't understand herself. She was being used as she had thought only animals were used, and she was enjoying it. The prick in her anus was now moving in and out almost freely. The friction so stimulated her already aroused cunt that incredibly she felt on the verge of coming.
Tom's movements began to quicken and she sensed that the tight constriction afforded his cock by her asshole was taking its toll. His weight pounded her as he plunged frenziedly in and out of her now-lubricated rectum. Joan heard herself squealing in mingled pain and pleasure as his frantic efforts pierced new depths. He jerked spastically upon her back as hot sperm burst from his prick, rocketing into her pierced rectum. "Ahhhhhhhh!" he yelled in her ear as he came in throbbing bursts.
The thick semen felt soothing to Joan's lacerated flesh. For an instant she felt she was standing on tiptoe, and then she was flinging her hips upward onto the prick still impaling her rear while she ground her pelvis lasciviously against the bed. Lightning bolts coursed through her flesh as she writhed furiously. "Ohh! Ohh! Ohh!" she cried out as her convulsions wrenched her. "There it-is!" Humping her middle up and down, she came with a blinding force that threatened to leave her senseless. She had never known such a climax.
She fell forward on the bed with a moan, exhausted. With the cessation of tactile sensibility caused by her tremendous sexual arousal, the pain in her rectum returned. Not nearly like before, but it was definitely sore. Tom's prick, still not fully subdued, remained inside her. She whimpered when he started to withdraw despite his sperm-lubricating deluge of her interior. Her sore anus was still terribly tight.
With a yank Tom pulled his deflating penis from her rectum with a whooshing sound. "Ouch!" Joan said clearly, rolling onto her side when freed from Tom's weight. She extended a hand behind her to tenderly explore her ravaged asshole. It felt wet and slippery to her examining finger, and very, very tender.
Tom was standing beside the bed, grinning at her. "I hope you're satisfied!" she said resentfully. "Doing something like that to me!" Hot color flooded her cheeks at the thought of the indignities heaped upon her.
"For now," he said calmly.
"For now?" she echoed, then sat up on the bed in alarm, wincing at the stress her weight placed on her sore rear end. "You don't mean-?"
"I mean we'll probably be doing something different the next time," he said coolly.
Joan sat silently for a moment, digesting his implication. She certainly couldn't cross this man until she had a chance to talk to Harry. And if Harry should confirm that he had actually succumbed to temptation and dipped into trust funds... well, to still Tom's tongue it looked as though Joan Welby couldn't easily say no to anything her husband's best friend demanded.
The train of thought reminded her of something. "You said earlier, Tom," she began, then hesitated.
"Yes?" he answered.
"You didn't mean it before when you said that Alice knew all about this, did you? And that you'd-you'd tell her about what-" a rush of color surged upward from Joan's breasts to her features "-what you did to me?"
Tom Carter laughed heartily. "Let me tell you what I have in mind for you and Alice, sweetie. I'm going to have you both bareass in the same bed and fuck you one after the other." Joan's eyes widened and her breathing nearly stopped. "And Harry will be standing right there to watch it."
"Oh?" Joan exclaimed. "What a terrible thing to say!"
"You'll love it," Tom predicted breezily. "And any resentment Harry has, he can take out of Alice's ass." His grin was sardonic. "She won't mind a bit."
"You're the-the cruelest-" Words failed Joan as she struggled for composure. Did this man actually mean what he was saying? With a sinking heart she realized that based upon his attitude and actions with her he undoubtedly meant every word of it. What on earth was she going to do?
"How's your asshole?" Tom inquired. Joan blushed at the vulgarity. "I suppose you think it'll never hold your shit again?" She covered her face with her hands. His effrontery was cosmic. "You'd better take a little milk of magnesia tonight," he went on lightly. "You don't want any big turds for the next couple of days." Behind her hands Joan started to cry again at his deliberate humiliation of her. "I don't know why you women are so touchy about your excretory processes," Tom said irritatedly. "You'll be as good as new in a couple of days, so stop worrying."
She sat on the bed, sobbing, while he regarded her with a sour smile. "What the hell, you liked it, didn't you?" he demanded. "You blew your load. Admit it." He shook his head in semi-admiring fashion. "You're a hot piece of ass, sweetie. Harry doesn't know what the hell he's missing. But I know, and we'll make a little music together. I'm going to get dressed now and get on home to my loving wife. No need for you to come downstairs. I'll let you know when we'll get together again."
He strode from the bedroom, still naked except for his socks, a forceful, compelling man whom Joan regarded with fear mixed with a bit of grudging admiration. Certainly no other man had made her experience the heights that Tom Carter had.
Joan remained on the bed until she heard the front door close downstairs.
Then she slid painfully from the bed and went into the bathroom to draw a tub of soothing hot water to ease the aches in her hard-used body.
Tom Carter undressed and tossed his clothes to one side as he reported the night's adventures to Alice who sat propped in almost the same position on the bed as when he had left her. "It was easier than I thought, because she was hornier than I thought," he said with satisfaction. "And I mean I really put it to her."
"Really?" Alice asked curiously.
"Really," Tom said emphatically. "I fucked her cunt, sucked her cunt, and fucked her asshole."
Alice's slender legs moved nervously on the bed. "Did you have to use the embezzlement?" she asked.
"I used it for emphasis," he said. "And pretty soon you'll be having Harry plowing in your garden, love. How will you like that?"
The tip of Alice's tongue circled her lips.
"You know I'll like it, but never as well as I like it with you."
It was the truth, and they both knew it. Married for sixteen years, swappers from the first year of their marriage, it was still better for them with each other than with anyone else. Not that that helped the couples who fell into Tom's net. Most of the men found work elsewhere as soon as possible to escape Tom's ruthless exploitation of their wives.
Naked, he sat on the edge of the bed. Alice's eyes went to his limp cock. "It's all red-looking," she said.
"Joan had a really tight asshole," he explained.
"I'd love to have seen you doing it to her," Alice said wistfully.
"You will," Tom said confidently. He smiled at his wife. "Just as she'll see me doing it to you."
Once again Alice's pink tongue circled her lips. Tom knew the signs. "Getting hot at the thought, my dear? Getting a picture of me plowing your back garden while Joan and Harry stand there watching?"
"Yes," she whispered, moving her legs restlessly. "Are you-can you do something for me now? I'm-I know I won't be able to sleep otherwise."
"Well, now, I'd say that depends on what you can do for the young man between my legs," Harry said comfortably. "Unless-" He stooped quickly and felt under the bed. "Well, well, well," he continued, holding up a box of chocolates. "What have we here?" He fixed Alice with a stern gaze. "What about that diet you're on?"
"I only had one, honestly," Alice pleaded. "Well, two. I'll go right back on the diet tomorrow, really I will, Tom. Honestly. I'll-"
"Alice," Tom cut into her babbling.
"Y-yes?"
"You know the rule. Get the paddle."
"Oh, please, Tom! Not this late at night! I have to play bridge tomorrow, and I'd never be able to sit! I only had one little piece, or maybe two, and-"
"Get the paddle, Alice. You know perfectly well that going off your diet means a sizzling hot behind for you. Get going."
His tall, black-haired wife slid reluctantly from the bed and walked in her negligee and nightgown to the bureau. She stooped and opened the bottom drawer from which she removed a three-inch wide, lightweight leather paddle. She recrossed the room and handed it to her husband. "Not the paddle, Tom," she pleaded swiftly. "Not for two little chocolates. Just your hand, please? You know how that awful thing burns up my poor bottom."
"I do indeed," he declared with satisfaction. "Get across the bed."
"Oh, God!" Alice Carter lamented, one hand behind her upon the rounded flesh scarcely concealed by her night wear, but she walked meekly to the bed and knelt down upon it.
Chapter Iv
Tom Carter approached his wife, stern-faced. He slapped the paddle across his open palm, and Alice recoiled at the explosive sound. All too well she knew the devilish sting of the little instrument upon her soft bare flesh. The flexible paddle, while it had no weight, created an intolerable smarting burn in sleekly globular female buttocks.
In addition to the paddle which Alice eyed apprehensively, Tom carried a necktie in his hand. He set the paddle down on the bed while he took Alice's wrists and placed them together, then tied them with the necktie. "Don't tie me, Tom," Alice pleaded even as Tom was accomplishing exactly that with the speed born of practice. "Please don't tie me. I feel-I feel so helpless."
"You are helpless," her husband informed her coldly, testing the double-knot binding Alice's wrists. "Now get your stupid bare ass into position while I whale it for you."
Alice shivered at the remorseless note in Tom's voice. She knew it did no good to plead, but she couldn't help herself. She knew, too, that the little paddle hadn't weight enough to inflict subcutaneous injury even in an inexperienced hand-and Tom was dexterity itself-but foreknowledge of the fiery immolation awaiting her white-skinned tender fanny turned her stomach to jello.
Tensely she lowered her head once more until it rested upon her bound wrists while she elevated her backside. Tom took hold of the bottom edge of her negligee and nightgown and threw them well up on the slope of her long, smooth back, exposing in the fullest Alice's delectable plump hind cheeks, fleshy almost to the point of being fat. The diet she had broken was no joke with Alice; she loved the feel of her own unrestrained flesh in just wispy underwear beneath street clothes. Correspondingly, she hated girdles, and the diet had been contrived to stop the spread of her glisteningly tubby backside and control her incipient stomach-paunchiness with its distressing little roll of belly-fat.
Not that Tom really needed the excuse of discovering she had broken her diet to use the paddle on her. Any excuse was good enough when he felt in the mood to do so, and he would search patiently to find her derelict in some duty so that he might bare Alice's matronly rump and flagellate it as he would a naughty schoolgirl's. Alice knew there would be gratification afterward, that Tom was working himself up in this manner to sexual carnality in which she would be the beneficiary, but in the anxious seconds preceding the employment of the devilish little paddle to soundly swat her quivering behind and turn it scarlet, the knowledge was of small comfort.
Tom gazed down with satisfaction upon Alice's upturned global spheres with the portly, creamy nude body cushions spread widely from his wife's deep-plunging cleft. So backthrust were her hind cheeks and so complete her exposure that Tom could see faint wisps of the curly black fleece surmounting her love nest popping between her upper thighs.
Alice was kneeling with her sacrificial shining white buttocks pointing outward and almost overhanging the edge of the bed. Tom moved closer and slipped his left arm around her nude waist to hold her in position. Then he raised his right arm, and Alice's tender rotundities clenched apprehensively.
Swish-crack!
"Oooooh!" Alice exclaimed involuntarily as the paddle rebounded crisply from her soft bottom. They both knew it had been a moderate stroke, but the quick bite of the paddle upon her poised hind parts seemed to blossom into an immediate burning throb which slipped below the surface and simmered hotly.
Swish-crack! Swish-crack! Swish-crack!
Alice bit her lip to refrain from adding to her first outcry which had been surprised from her. Tom insisted that she not play the baby. The only sound in the room in addition to the explosive impacts of the paddle upon her nude seat, obscenely loud, was Alice's own heavy breathing.
"Oh, Tom!" Alice murmured anguishedly. Her heavy globes, pinkening rapidly under the paddle's hot kisses, rotated uneasily in a semicircular motion. "Tom! Not so h-hard, Tom!" Alice sounded breathless as she tried to hold her voice down.
Tom Carter steadily pursued his wife's agitated bare backside, searching out white areas of her writhing corpulent hind cheeks which the paddle immediately turned first blush-pink and then rosy. Alice's backside, revolting independently of her desire to act the spartan as Tom swished, heaved and humped against the restraining arm around her waist until in her struggles Tom could see flashing glimpses of her sex at the base of her belly, and his big prick rose like a sword.
Swish-crack! "Owww!" Alice bleated. Swish-crack! "Oooooh!" Frantically she swished her scalded posterior from side to side in the limited range permitted it by Tom's grip upon her waist. Swish-crack! "Owwwwww! Ohhh, it-" Swish-crack!"-ooooh! It hurts, Tom! It h-hurts!"
Heedless of his wife's pleading and the frantic contortions of her plunging buttocks, now turning a bright red in their fullest positions, Tom dealt Alice's furiously contorted vermillioned behind another dozen torrid swats which redoubled the conflagration in her glowing hindquarters. "Where does it hurt?" he asked finally, pausing for an instant.
"MY ASS!" Alice cried out immediately, knowing what he wanted. "My ass! Ooooooh, Tom! TOM!!!"
He gave her a half dozen more while her cries increased. The paddle seemed to rebound from the crimsoning flesh with even more devastating impact upon the recipient. Alice's outcries soared shrilly. "Tommmmm! Owwwww! OWWWWW! Ooh, my bottom! My b-bottom!! Owwwww! Tommmmm! N-no more! Please! PLEASE! Owwwwww! I'll do-ohhhhhhi-anything you want! Please! Owwww!"
Ruthlessly he flailed her ruby-colored rotundities with loud-sounding salutes of the pliable leather upon her frenziedly plunging, perspiring flesh. Alice tried to turn herself inside out to escape the fiendishly scorching, blisteringly pyrotechnic descents of the paddle upon the bonfire that was her broiling fundament, but in vain. Her shrieks for mercy increased in frequency and volume. Her frantic contortions succeeded merely in bringing an occasional area of comparatively unspanked flesh beneath the paddle to her increased distress.
Deliberately Tom poured another hail of explosive-sounding wallops upon Alice's blushing, almost brick-red rear, coming up on his toes each time from the expenditure of effort. Alice's shrieks had died away to strangled sobs and long moaning gasps as the hot flame built up in her revolving posterior, and Tom stopped suddenly and flung the paddle on the bed.
He continued to hold Alice for another moment, watching curiously as her seething backside continued to writhe. With the hand that had held the paddle he stroked her heated flesh gently, fondling the round globes that felt rough and pebbled under his palm. Alice sobbed convulsively as her florid buttocks slowed from their unseemly dance.
Tom unknotted the tie from Alice's wrists, and both hands immediately went behind her as she rubbed feverishly at her blazing flesh. She straightened up painfully and immediately crawled stiffly from the bed. For an instant she did a little jig from one foot to the other while her palms still clasped her crimsoned hind parts, then she dropped to the lush carpeting on the floor and dragged her bare bottom over its surface in an effort to set up a counter-irritant to the incandescent torment in her backside. Tom smiled at his wife's childish reaction.
He waited until her first involuntary reaction had subsided to free-flowing tears as Alice rolled onto her side and massaged her spanked behind, the outer quadrants of which had already faded from their previous cherry-red to a coral-pink. Tom had witnessed the transformation many times before, and he always marveled at the recovery powers of the female behind. He had never found it necessary to gag Alice or any other of the female recipients of his paddling experiments; the isolated nature of the wooded area in which the Carter house was a lonely sentinel precluded the necessity. Tom had in fact chosen the location with that very point in mind.
He walked to where Alice was still crouched on the floor. "Look, dear," he said. "I have something for you."
She looked up, red-eyed, and saw his massive erection. He recognized the quick glint in her eyes as something more than still unshed tears. "Ohhhhh, T-Tom," she whispered. "That was a dreadful paddling!"
"You've had worse," he said briskly, and extending a hand downward to hers, raised her to her feet. Her negligee and nightgown were draped sloppily over her shoulders, and he pulled them off over her head. He took her plump nudity in his arms, against his own, passing his hands around behind her, and for a moment they stood there with his aroused prick prodding her soft lower belly while their four hands massaged Alice's roseate, strappingly brimful big haunches.
Tom was mentally savoring the upcoming few moments no less than the preceding ones. Despite his philandering and his manipulation of women, he loved his wife, and never more so than when she came to his bed in a subdued, tearful, meek-little-mouse manner. It turned him on tremendously, and they had both learned long ago that after a paddling Alice was no less turned on.
She stirred in his arms, sighed tiredly, then kissed him first on the neck and then on the lips. She placed her lips against his ear as she removed one hand from its stroking motion of her inflamed seat and took hold of Tom's stiff-standing prick. "Ohhhh, God, I'm h-hot!" she murmured against his ear. "My ass is hot, and my pussy is h-hot." She tried to smile, blinking away her tears. "Wh-what are you going to do about it, s-sir?"
In response he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She whimpered as his supporting arm pressed against her poignantly tender buttocks, and whimpered again as he stretched her out on the bed on her back and her still-sore behind absorbed her weight, but her mind was already on other things. She widened her legs eagerly as Tom crawled onto her belly. Surprisingly, considering Tom's experiments with other women, the Carters' marital bed was seldom the scene of experiments. Their bed-partnership was ritual but never boring. For Alice it was always as good as the first time in which Tom had reduced her to molten plasticity where the boys in her crowd whom she had permitted liberties merely stirred her momentarily.
Tom's mouth sought hers and covered it. Alice plunged her tongue hungrily between his lips and Tom sucked at the tip of her tongue. She nibbled at his lower lip while she traced the inside of his mouth with her tongue. She was grateful to her husband for permitting her to enjoy various men in bed from time to time, but it was with him that she really outdid herself. She was jealous of Tom's many women occasionally, too, until his ardent lovemaking upon such an occasion as this when he had already spent half the night fucking a younger woman still found him eager for Alice's well-fleshed body and accustomed ways. It proved to her that he really loved her in the way it counted most, and it was a source of great satisfaction to her. For Tom she would do anything, and had.
He dropped down a little lower upon her and fastened his hot mouth upon a large breast with its perky nipple. A welling tide of feeling dampened Alice's loins, already wet from the usual hot-aftermath of her paddling, Her breasts were among her most sensitive areas sexually, and Tom never neglected them. He sucked and chewed lovingly upon a generous teat, gulping whole areas of her breast inside his wet mouth while his teeth teasingly grazed her jutting nipple. Then he transferred his attention to the other breast. Alice's knees quivered.
She reached down between their bodies and took hold of Tom's prick. She stroked its rigid length while her pussy salivated expectantly at the poking it was shortly to receive. Nothing on earth gave Alice the pleasure that Tom's prick stuffing her cunt did, and anything was worth it to maintain it.
His hands stroked her sleek sides as he lifted himself and rearranged their positions slightly on the bed. He placed a pillow beneath Alice's head which he knew she liked. No pillow was necessary beneath the billowing soft flesh of her hips. Tom kissed her ear, biting at the lobe, then darted his tongue inside while Alice squirmed in delight. She hardly felt the heat in her paddled behind any more. Tom ran his tongue in quicksilver fashion down her neck, across her shoulders, over her breasts, lingering at her nipples again, stimulating them to swell even more tightly. Occasionally Tom had brought Alice to orgasm just by skillful manipulation of her breasts and nipples, but this time she wanted much more.
His mouth descended to her rounded, slightly protuberant belly which she knew he loved in moments like this even though he had tart things to say about it when he saw her in a new dress. His lips played with the abundance of her flesh in its feminine relaxation. Anticipation heightened Alice's excitement. She felt his lips working their way down to the darkly bearded soft pubescence that curled lightly around her yearning pussy.
As Tom's lips nibbled at her and excruciatingly delightful darts of sensual emotion bathed her body, he slowly moved his own around so that his penis neared Alice's head. At the same time he lifted one of his legs over her head and placed it on the other side, Tom ran his tongue down to the top portion of her pink love slit, parting its moist lips with his thrusting tongue. His big prong and hairy testicles hung directly above Alice's face. She grasped his prick and played with it, teasing it with her fingertips, while prickling sensations rose from between her legs as Tom licked steadily downward.
Alice's womanly, juicy sweetness that Tom was lavishing mouth-caresses upon felt almost as hot as her poor behind had a few moments previously. She raised her head slightly to bring Tom's prick closer to her mouth as a tiny drop of clear liquid decorated the opening in the red-purple, turgid head. Alice licked away the drop of liquid, savoring its taste upon her lips. Then she widened her mouth and slowly introduced the head of the huge pussy-bumper inside her mouth where her lips closed upon it firmly. Down below it felt as though Tom had his tongue up to the last quarter-inch thrust incredibly deep inside her soft, wet flesh.
Alice mouthed the whole head of Tom's prick inside her mouth, pulling the foreskin back and teasing the glans with her lips. She felt his thighs on either side of her head contract, and she smiled inwardly. She knew she was giving him pleasure, and she knew she always would. She rocked her head a bit, loving the big head with her whole mouth. Down below she spread her legs even wider to afford Tom greater access to the slaveringly hot temple of love between her thighs.
Her stomach muscles fluttered as his tongue bored into her fuck-hole as a laughing uncle had taught her to call it at the age of five to her mother's indignation. Then his lips played with the puckery flesh at her entrance, parting her midnight-black body hairs to grace fervently at the tender ruby-lips. She pulled more of Tom's engorged prong into her mouth, wetting its length with her saliva. The penis-veins throbbed in her mouth. Alice sucked harder, then choked as she started to gag. She controlled the choking sensation and tried to swallow even more of the prick. Among all the men Tom had permitted to fuck her, none had a prick as big as her husband's.
The tip rubbed against the roof of her mouth in a sensation just short of tickling. All her feelings seemed to be rooted in her cock-gorged mouth and tongue-filled cunt as Tom ate at her fervidly. She could smell her own exuding femaleness along with the male odor of Tom's prick and balls dangling above her filled cheeks. What must the odor be like for him down below with his nose and mouth buried in it? She arched her thighs upward, unconscious of the disclosure of part of her big backside, rapidly bleaching but still incarnadined at its fullest portions. She tried to engulf Tom's face between the pouting, reddening cunt-lips he was ravaging with his questing mouth.
She could feel a quick tremor shudder through him, and she at once released her mouth-grip upon his cock. She wanted that monster inside her, although ordinarily she enjoyed making him come in her mouth. Tom slowly removed his lips from her ravenous pussy as though reluctant to finish his meal. Alice watched as he turned himself around above her prostrate body, then slid downward again.
His big hands took hold of her splayed thighs and moved them upward until Alice doubled them against her breasts. Her tautened buttock flesh was lifted until Tom could reach it with his lips. He kissed with fervor all of her backside he could reach, the still faintly glowing color exciting him as he noticed that her paddle-roughened, pebbled hind cheeks were rapidly reassuming their usual silken waxiness. The commingled odor of juicy cunt and drying sweat was wafted to his nostrils.
He released her thighs and she spread them widely again for him as he lowered himself into fucking position on her belly. Neither of them needed to use their hands. Tom's thick cock eased along the short space encompassing its pink-lipped target, and then slipped in as easily as Alice slipped into a tailored dress. Her cunt fit his prick perfectly, and he lodged himself within her with no fuss or strain despite the dimensions of his organ. Their flesh was molded to each other after so many years of prick-cunt contact.
Alice breathed deeply as the big cock swelled in her cavern. Tom stroked her expertly, slowly at first, then faster and harder. The stout shaft pronged her cunt-chute, cosseting her smooth interior walls. The resilient head plunged at her yielding cervix as Alice's breathing hoarsened. She wrapped her legs tightly around Tom's back and closed her eyes, loving every millimeter of his penetration of her quick-grasping core.
Alice could feel the muscles in her lower abdomen contracting spasmodically. "No, no, no!" she panted. "I want it-to last!!" But her voice had told Tom she was on the verge. He plunged upon Alice's yielding belly, pummeling her willing cunt fiercely with quick thrusts of his big tool.
"Ohhhh!" Alice gasped. She swiveled her hips upward, pumping hard with her heavy hind cheeks. Tom jerked into her love-tunnel with unparalleled energy as Alice cradled his head in her arms and felt his hot breath on her trembling breasts. She felt him go into an uncontrollable slashing assault upon her as his long prick pistoned in and out of her greedy jewel box, and she cuddled him to her. She wanted the fuck to be perfect for him.
Tom rasped a hoarse comment with his lips between Alice's big titties. She was about to ask him to repeat it when with a bellow he pumped and pumped and pumped upon her belly as his pounding balls shot a load of hot sperm through his staff and deluged her churning cunt. "Agggggrrrrrrhhhhhhhh-h-h-h!" he roared upon an expiring note as the fast jets seemed to trigger Alice's own juices.
Her back arched as every muscle in her body seemed to contract from the pulling sensation deep within her. Her behind flexed madly as her orgasm began, ignoring its paddle-induced sensitivity. "Ohhhh!" Alice bleated. "Ohhhh! Tom!" Her furiously twitching cunt grabbed hungrily at Tom's prick imbedded in her. "Ohh! Ohh! Ohhh! Here it-comes! Oooooh, T-Tom! I'm-commmmmmming!"
Chain lightning flashed around her straining loins and her buttocks heaved mightily. She hung suspended on the crest of a huge wave while splinters of sensation lanced her to the quick. And then too soon it was over, and she lay panting under Tom's weight. Her eyes opened and she ruffled his hair with her fingers.
Tom crawled off her limp body, then patted her plump stomach, still heaving from the expenditure of sexual effort. He put his hands under her and rolled her over, face down, then placed his face down against her ample nude hind cheeks. They retained only a faint blush of color now from the paddle, their usual pure white globes showing only a trace of dusty pinkness.
Slowly Tom kissed every inch of her acquiescent warm bottom as he always did after paddling her. He even spread her wide haunches to kiss deep inside upon velvety skin untouched by the leather paddle. Passion-sated as she was, the intimate touch of his mouth stirred Alice only to drowsy cosiness. She loved this after-kissing almost as much as she dreaded the paddle.
When Tom stopped finally, Alice turned onto her side. Tom dropped down beside her, and they rested quietly in each other's arms. "Don't forget you'll have Harry Welby's stiff prick romping around in your quiff pretty soon," Tom said after an interval. "I'll invite them out here for a weekend. They can't say no."
Alice trailed her fingers along the shrunken prick quiescent against Tom's thigh. "I know it will excite me when you force her to do things," she said slowly. "And then I'll enjoy Harry's prick afterwards." She drew a deep breath. "But this is the prick I love having in me." Her fingers tightened assuredly upon the prick in her hand.
Ten minutes later she was asleep with the captive still clasped lightly in her fingers.
Three days later Joan Welby sat nervously in her living room awaiting her husband's return. Harry had called from the airport to say he'd be home in an hour. On the phone he had sounded unexpectedly cheerful and alert, Joan thought. She tried to analyze her own mood as she sat on the couch with her palms flat on her thighs.
She hadn't gotten out of bed the morning after Tom's brutal ass-fucking of her. Her rectum had been sore for forty-eight hours, then seemed to come around all right. Her mental attitude was something else again. Every time she thought of that night she shook her blonde head in despair. Her behavior had been the direct antithesis of the ladylike actions she had considered her own. What truly shocked her was that despite Tom's abuse of her she had enjoyed so much of it. And it was futile to try to deny it. She had actually enjoyed it.
Her hands clenched tightly, and she forced them to open as she tried to relax. It wasn't as simple as confessing or not confessing her indiscretion to Harry, either. With Tom's threat hanging over both their heads, if what he said was true, and Joan felt it was, then they were living on the brink of disaster with their every movement subject to Tom Carter's perverted whims.
It wasn't so odd that she had enjoyed it, Joan tried to reason with herself. Or enjoyed part of it. After all, she enjoyed sex with Harry whenever it was forthcoming. And if Harry hadn't neglected her so much recently, she mightn't have been so susceptible to Tom's male dominance. But it's no use blaming Harry, she told herself fiercely. It wasn't Harry who had turned her into a disgusting little animal. It had been Joan Welby, with carefully planned assistance from Tom Carter.
The front door burst open. "I'm home, honey!" Harry called. Joan rose from the couch. He had already told her he had eaten on the plane, but she had fixed a snack. He ran into the living room and swept her into his arms, kissing her soundly. He seemed much more ebullient, somehow. "Hey, but it's great to be home!" he said exuberantly.
Joan found herself avoiding his eyes. "Would you like a snack? Or a drink?" she asked.
"A drink," he decided. "But I'll fix it." He went to the liquor cabinet. "You look a little peaked," he said above the clink of ice, bottles, and glasses.
Joan forced a smile onto her face as she accepted the drink he made for her. "Just a little tired, I guess," she said.
Eventually she had to face him with Tom's accusation, but she didn't know how to begin.
He sat down on the couch beside her and tossed off half his drink in a single swallow. "Boy, was this trip ever a welcome relief!" he said. "Except that it took me away from you," he added hastily. "But I'm sure glad I'm finished with everything that went with my previous job. This new junior partnership is going to be peaches and cream."
"That's nice," Joan said. It sounded insipid even to her, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. With the rug of the junior partnership apt to be pulled out from beneath Harry by Tom, the occasion didn't seem to call for much rejoicing from her.
Harry raised an eyebrow at her lack of enthusiasm, then moved closer to her on the couch. Joan almost spilled the balance of her drink when he put his arm around her. She barely had time to set it down before he pulled her close to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her initial reaction was resentment. This was a fine time for him to be displaying ardor, she thought indignantly. Where were you when I needed you, Harry Welby?
She didn't pull away, but she didn't return his kiss. He pulled back and looked at her. "I don't blame you," he said soberly. "I haven't been much of a husband lately, I know. But I've been working such damnably long hours, and -and there was another factor. I'll tell you about it sometime." He leaned toward her eagerly. "But you can bet it's going to be different around here from now on."
His apology surprised her. Not that it changed much of anything, she thought. The sword was still dangling above their heads. She sought for words to initiate the question to which she must have the answer for her own peace of mind, and couldn't find any.
And then Harry placed his hand on her knee. His fingers flirted lightly with her smooth thigh at her stocking-top, then crept up under her short skirt to bare flesh and the lacy bottom edge of her panties. The hand moved over and approached the thin material covering her pantied crotch.
Joan tightened her thighs, and Harry removed his hand. "Are you angry with me?" he asked quietly.
Joan considered her answer. "Not angry," she said at last. "Disappointed. For three months you've been neglecting me, in bed and out. Now you expect me to turn on like-like a w-whore." Her voice quivered.
"I thought I just explained it to you," he said with a hint of impatience in his tone. He paused. "Or did you think it was another woman?"
"I don't know what I thought," she said honestly. "Except that I was miserable."
"Well, it wasn't another woman, Joan. I love you. I've always loved you, and if I knew the right words I'd tell you how much."
His words melted her, as they had always melted her, even in their college days when he had first coaxed her out of her panties. "Oh, Harry!" she sighed as he returned his arm to her waist. A little pulse beat in her throat as the back of his hand brushed her brassiered breast. She had missed him so desperately....
His free hand fumbled eagerly with the zipper on her skirt. This time she made no movement to withdraw. Harry drew down the zipper, lifted her slightly, and slipped the skirt down until it collapsed about her ankles. Immediately he raised her half-slip and laid it up on her stomach until he could see her bikini-panties puckered in her crotch with her blonde pubic hair showing through faintly, She could hear his quick, indrawn breath.
Ever so delicately his hand approached her groin and traced tiny arabesques with a fingertip upon the smoothly convex bowl of her lower abdomen. Joan found herself holding her breath. With no conscious thought her head which had been resting against the back of the couch lolled in Harry's direction, and his hard mouth came down and fused upon hers. Her nipples stiffened and her toes twitched from the effect of his kiss which went on and on. And then the hand poised at her thigh-juncture plunged inward to cup her whole sex upon its palm, squeezing lightly, and Joan found herself rubbing her pussy furiously against the warm palm.
"Oh, Jesus!" Harry said huskily when their lips broke apart. "Let's go upstairs. I want you to be comfortable."
"I don't want to be comfortable!" Joan was surprised to hear herself say. "I just want you to do it to me!"
Her husband needed no second invitation. His hands flew over her, unfastening snaps and catches. In seconds he had Joan down to her stockings, with her strawberry-nippled large breasts boldly probing the air. He kissed her breasts as though welcoming old friends returned from a long journey. Joan was so swimming with emotion that she knew the second he touched her sex-cranny she would gush. He put her on her back on the couch, then stood up and undressed hurriedly. It was with a feeling of deep peace that she watched his maleness appear. The familiar prick was already straining before he removed his shorts. Its familiar circumcised head bobbed into view, surmounting its sturdy shaft. Not as large as Tom Carter's, it was still a very useful prick, Joan thought comfortably.
Harry dropped down on the couch beside her, naked. He palmed her breasts, slowly, and shivers of delight rippled through her. He turned her onto her side to play with the fulsome hind cheeks in which he had always reveled, their smoothly nude amplitudes exciting him so that his penis stood forth larger than before. Just for an instant Joan had an uneasy thought that some trace of Tom Carter's brutal ravishment of her backside might be visible, and then she knew she was being foolish.
She reached for his prick that so aroused her and fondled it. She must try to make him happy. Somehow they would work it all out. He was her husband. Everything was going to be all right. It was so wonderful having Harry back again, eager and ardent, a true lover. They would combine forces against their problems.
Meantime there was this lovely prick that was tickling her stomach as Harry crawled onto the couch between her parted legs.
Chapter V
Harry paused in his crouched position with his nose a few inches above his wife's lily-white round stomach. The mingled aroma of her perfume and the delicate scent of her womanly body tantalized his nostrils. He bent lower to kiss her belly, so far down on its sweeping curve that his lips grazed at the upper edges of the golden fleece of her soft pubic hair.
Joan's lips formed a little round 0 of surprise. This was quite an innovation for Harry whose lovemaking in the past tended toward the unimaginative. Joan almost said something indicative of her astonishment but forced herself to remain silent. Because Harry's lips were creeping lower! His nose brushed the curly-tufted profusion adorning the apex of her thighs, and his lips nibbled with ever so light a touch at the salmon-pink approaches of her female rift.
Joan's delight knew no bounds. She felt so loved when her husband made such delicately pleasurable use of her wifely attributes. Instinctively she raised her bottom slightly to present even more of her carmined split in its furry nest to her husband's browsing lips. Now if he would only-
She quivered all over as a hard tongue darted into her upturned quim. Ohhhh, but that was a gorgeous feeling! She felt wanton beyond words, gratified beyond belief. She sighed deeply as the tongue probed her prick-chamber. "Oooooh!" she moaned softly despite her previous resolve to say nothing. "Don't stop, darling. It feels sooooooo good."
He paused for an instant in his labors, and she was afraid she had seemed too bold. Harry, however, assumed complacently that Joan was exceptionally hot because of the absence of sex during his neglect of her. He thought fleetingly of his wife masturbating herself to gain some relief, a finger curved into herself right where his lips were pressed, and the idea so excited him that he plunged his mouth openly upon Joan's captive cunt.
The thrill sent her legs shooting ceiling-ward, and Harry forced his tongue between the pouting lips whose delicious odor was causing his prick to throb mightily. He twiddled Joan's budded little clit with the tip of his tongue, and she groaned as her warm thighs enveloped his face. He tongued all up and down her slit and into it as far as he could reach while her whimpering little cries of relish filled the room.
Harry raised his head from its thigh-enclosed nest finally to look at Joan's face. She had been lying with eyes closed, but her lids flew open fearfully, thinking she had done something wrong that provoked him. "Would you like more of that?" he asked quietly. "Or would you rather have my prick?"
"Your prick," Joan murmured instantly. "Ooooh, yes, Harry. Your lovely prick!"
Well, he had known she was sex-starved, Harry thought. He shifted his position and lowered himself upon his wife so that his erection nuzzled at her sex-opening. Joan's small hand crept down between them, seized the desired prick, swollen in its readiness, and steered the rubbery circumcised head into her well-sluiced vagina. It glided in, straight and strong, and Joan blew out her breath in a sudden access of well-being as her husband's tool began to plow her prick-clutching furrow.
Her two hands groped for Harry's shoulders. The ball game going on in her fucking arena was exploding psychedelic lights in her brain. She felt on the qui vive of tactile sensibility. The darling prick ramming her liquefied cunt was setting off hot sparks inside her. "Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" she squeaked in time to the hard-thrusting prong battering at her love-gate. "It's-lovely! Ohhh! Harder! Harder, Tom! Please! Ohhh! Please do it h-harder, T-Tom! I'm-"
She stopped, panic-stricken, when she felt his body go rigid. In the next instant she felt his previously hard penis shrivel in its warm nest. She had said Tom in her excitement! She had said Tom!
Harry raised himself on his knees and looked down at her sprawled loosely as his shrinking penis pulled out of her gaping wet twat with a squishy sucking sound. "You bitch!" he said bitterly. "You had to try that big stud!"
"No, no, no, no!" Joan pleaded frantically.
He raised his right hand and slapped her heavily across the face. The room seemed to explode before her eyes and involuntary tears streamed from her eyes.
He slapped her again. "Tom fucked you!" he yelled. "Admit it, or I'll pulverize your lying face!"
She screamed with pain. She was afraid she would faint and come to with her face destroyed. Harry seemed out of his mind with rage. "Y-yes, he d-did," she sobbed. "In his c-convertible the -the night you went away." She was sniffling loudly as she tried to check her tears.
"In his car!" Harry glared at her wildly. "Christ, like a couple of hardup schoolkids!"
"He made me," she wailed. "He made me!"
Harry paid no attention. "Was that the only time?" he demanded. He pointed a finger at her. "Don't try to lie to me!"
Joan sought frantically for an evasion but could think of none. "Here," she whispered. "Afterward. The s-same night."
"In my own house!" Harry roared. He raised his right hand again, and Joan flinched. He lowered it as the meaning of her previous statement filtered through his anger. "What the hell do you mean he made you? What kind of talk is that for a grown woman?"
"It's the tr-truth!" Joan's tongue circled her tear-salty lips. The left side of her face was burning from the force of Harry's angry slaps. "H-he said you were m-manipulating an account and if I didn't do what he s-said he'd turn you in."
A curious stillness enveloped Harry as he knelt between Joan's still-parted legs. There was a moment of silence. "He said that?" he asked at last. "Tom said that?"
"Yes, he did. T-tell me it's not true, Harry."
"I can't," he said quietly. His shoulders seemed shrunken. "Because it is true. Although how that devil Tom found out is beyond me." He shrugged wearily. "God, what a mess." Then his voice sharpened. "Listen, I know that sex maniac. Is that all he did to you was fuck you?
Joan felt herself blushing. "Well-"
"Go ahead," Harry said grimly. "Tell me."
"He-he put his big penis in my bottomhole and f-fucked me there."
"Oh, Jesus," Harry groaned. He dropped down on the sofa beside Joan and put his arm around her as she straightened out her legs. "I'm sorry, honey. It's all my fault. I wanted you to have things. It killed me when I couldn't get you nice things after we went into debt during your illness. And I knew this promotion was coming up eventually, and I thought I'd replace the money in the account then. But now-"
It crucified Joan to see him so whipped down. "We have each other, Harry," she said stoutly. "Tom Carter can take his old job and stuff it."
He shook his head wearily. "He could keep me from getting a job anywhere in the profession. And knowing him, that's just what he'd do." He hesitated for a moment. "I might as well tell you all of it."
"All of it?" Joan said in alarm.
"Yes. I was lying to you when I said there'd been no other woman that caused me to neglect you, although it's not like it sounds. The job I had before the promotion-well, part of it is keeping the middle-aged women with large accounts satisfied so they stay with the firm."
"You mean you had to-"
"I mean I've fucked some of the most mildewed cunts and flabby asses in the history of the world," Harry said savagely. "It goes with the job. It's a joke around the office. Someone else has it now that I have the promotion. That's why I was able to come home to you tonight wanting a piece of your sweet ass and finally able to do something about it."
Joan folded him in her arms and squeezed him against her breasts. "Oh, you poor man," she said softly. "And just when you were finally enjoying yourself I had to ruin it for you."
Harry didn't appear to be listening. "Did Tom say anything else? Did he threaten you, Joan?"
"He said I'd-I'd have to make myself available whenever he wanted," Joan said reluctantly. She felt as though she were grinding a high heel into Harry's open wound. "And he said-" She stopped.
"Go on," he said hoarsely.
"He said if he t-took the notion to have me come downtown and put my ass on his desk for a f-fucking, I'd h-have to do it." Joan half-rose on her knees as Harry laid speechless with his eyes looking sunken in his head. "We still have each other, Harry," she said earnestly. "We'll find a way. There's got to be a way out of the situation. But let's not torment ourselves trying to think of it right now. Let's just enjoy having ourselves together again like we used to do. Please, Harry?" She lowered her face and placed her lips against his ear. "Please finish fucking me, Harry?"
He stared helplessly at his shrunken prick.
"I know," Joan said eagerly. "I'll love it back to life for you."
She half-turned and bent down over his groin. She took his limp cock in her hand and introduced it into her mouth and began to suck on it busily. Her tongue twirled and swirled around its circumference while her lips pulled at its breadth. She was half-facing away from Harry with three-quarters of her crouched-down, capaciously wide-spanned bare buttocks turned toward him. His hand came down upon her nude behind, quivering slightly from the expenditure of effort she was employing in resuscitating his prick, and stroked her naked backside gently.
Joan sucked and tongued at the prick she loved so well until it showed a new lease on life. Slowly it began to expand in her warm mouth, and she redoubled her efforts. Harry's rising cock began to crowd her mouth, and she had to back off slightly. She rocked her head back and forth on the saliva-slippery shaft until the penis was rockhard and throbbing. She released it from her mouth and sat back on her haunches, trapping Harry's stroking hand between her bare seat and the backs of her legs.
"There!" she said with satisfaction, regarding her handiwork. "Please put it in me and finish our fuck, Harry. Let's make it the best one we ever had."
Swiftly he arranged her beneath him again. Joan parted her legs and accepted his weight. Once more her hand sought out the straining prick and introduced the tip of its rigidity into her well-greased chute. It was with a warm feeling of peace that she reached up and clasped Harry's body to her with her warm arms. The trouble was all out in the open now, and they'd find a way to handle it. And most blissful feeling of all, none of it affected them personally.
Almost languidly Harry thrust in and out of Joan's sheath, his unhurrying erection stroking her steadily as her interior walls nipped lightly at his staff. For long moments there was silence in the room as the man's body rose and fell upon the woman whose uplifted legs cushioned him warmly. The stiff prick pistoned in and out of the fleece-lined cunt, and their mingled breathing was unstrained.
Joan's pace quickened first. A burning ember ignited in her interior, followed by a teasing, tickling sensation just inside her pussy-lips which were being frictioned by the busy prick. Her glistening white hind cheeks rose from the couch surface as she pumped herself upward to meet each downward thrust of Harry's steady-plunging cock.
And then her reaction affected him. He drove harder at her as her heated belly lunged upward at him and his own slapped hers noisily as he buried his prick to the hilt in Joan's juice-filled twat on each downstroke. The tip of his prick seemed to swell until he thought it would burst. His balls hurt from their unexpended load of sperm. He whacked his straining meat into Joan's cozy pleasure-hole with furious abandon while she clutched him ever more tightly to her.
Then his prick burst its bounds and he flooded her with wild, uncontrolled spurts. The hot liquid burned upward into the fleshy receptacle, and Joan grunted indelicately as she contracted her cunt muscles tighter and tighter around the hard-plunging prick she felt erupting into her. Harry's hands groped for her soft buttocks and squeezed them until she almost yelled.
She felt as though she'd been hit in the back as her own orgasm erupted. Her legs climbed until she felt herself teetering on the brink of nothingness. Breathlessly she summoned up her reserves, and waves of sensation crashed at her nerve-ends while her quivering bottom-cheeks shivered and shook from the sensation-laden come that wrung her out. She collapsed limply with a repleted sigh.
It was a good five minutes before they stirred themselves. Joan rose from the couch first when the removal of Harry's weight from her stomach permitted it. "What the well-dressed girl will wear," Harry said lazily, pointing to Joan's bare behind. "Her man's fingerprints on her ass."
Joan smiled, then clapped a hand to her lips. "The door wasn't locked!" she exclaimed. "What if someone had walked in?"
"I'd have charged admission," Harry said solemnly. "You're a good fuck, honey. The best."
"You're not so bad yourself," Joan retorted. "Welcome back, husband."
Still naked, they wandered into the kitchen. Joan went to the fridge and poured two glasses of milk to accompany the snack she had set out previously. She put tea towels on the seats of the kitchen chairs, but otherwise they ate naked. There was no conversation but they smiled across the table at each other often.
And afterward, still without a word being said, they went upstairs hand-in-hand and in their bedroom had a long, slow, lazy, delicious fuck with Joan on top displaying her broad-gauged, dazzlingly white nude posterior in the tilted bureau mirror Harry had dragged up beside the bed.
After which they fell asleep in each other's arms.
In the morning, of course, there were afterthoughts.
"I don't know what we can do," Harry admitted in the kitchen as he prepared to leave for the office. "If Tom keeps quiet, it will have to be for a reason. And you're the reason." His hands clenched. "Honey, I just hate-"
"Nonsense!" Joan said, kissing him quickly. "We'll think of something." Privately she wasn't nearly as sure as she made herself sound.
"In a few months at the new salary I'll be able to make good the-the manipulation," Harry said hopefully. "Meantime-"
"Meantime we'll carry on," Joan said. "After all, it's not as though Tom's an ogre. Maybe he got it out of his system."
"He can be an ogre where a beautiful woman is concerned," Harry said soberly.
"But he's your friend, Han-y! We were both drinking the other time, the night of the party-"
Harry smiled wearily. "The oldest saying in the world must be that a stiff prick knows no conscience. Or friendship. The oldest saying, and the truest." He returned Joan's kiss. "So long, honey. See you tonight."
"Goodbye, darling," Joan replied. She walked with him to the front door. He patted a round buttock through Joan's negligee before he went down the front walk. She stood and watched him walk to the corner where his car pool picked him up.
She simply couldn't bear to have anything happen to their marriage now.
Joan opened her front door with her key, balancing her bag of groceries under her other arm, and started through the living room to the kitchen. She stopped, petrified. Tom Carter was sitting in a living room chair, grinning at her in a leering manner.
"What-how-" Joan faltered.
"Wondering how I got in?" he drawled. "I got to thinking a while back a house key might be useful, so I had a duplicate made from Harry's when he left his key ring on his desk one day. Foresight, thy name is Tom Carter." He was still eyeing her in frank inspection. The day was so mild Joan had run out to the store wearing just blouse and skirt, and she was extremely conscious of Tom Carter's gaze upon her large breasts under the filmy blouse.
"You're looking fine, baby," he resumed when the silence had lengthened uncomfortably for Joan. "How's your asshole?"
"F-fine," she replied, ashamedly aware of the incongruity of her polite answer to his obscene query.
"Tougher than you thought, hmm?" Joan struggled to keep a blush from invading her face, but in vain. She knew that Tom especially enjoyed her embarrassed discomfiture at his lewd remarks. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but she couldn't help herself. "Ready for a stiff prick to be shoved up it again?"
"N-no!" she said more loudly than she intended. She couldn't afford to provoke this man, both from the standpoint of his usual swift reaction to opposition and the fact that after Harry's admission of his guilt in regard to the manipulation of the office account, Tom Carter held them both securely in his power.
But he seemed in a good humor today. "One of these days, baby," he said softly. "One of these days. The combination of your big ass and tight asshole really turns me on. But that's not what I really stopped in to see you about."
"No?" Joan said cautiously.
"No, but before I get to the point, I want to ask you something. How's it feel having ol' Harry on the ball around the house again?"
Joan had still been holding her bag of groceries. She walked to the table and set it down while she tried to frame the words of her reply. The question had puzzled her for an instant until she recalled Harry's rueful remark that his previous stud service was a requirement for all young lawyers in the firm and both an open secret and a subject for jokes around the office.
She wanted to make her answer low-keyed but effective, something that would appeal to this man's better nature, if he had one. "It feels wonderful," she said at last. And that much was certainly true; the past week had been almost like a second honeymoon in the Welby menage, only better, with Joan's wifely sexual expertise taking the place of the bride's amateurishness, however ardent. "He's a lovely, beautiful man, and I'm very much in love with him." She kept her voice steady and forced herself to look Tom Carter squarely in the eye.
"That's great, baby," he said with apparent sincerity. His leering grin had changed to a smile that was almost companionable. "Tell me, is ol' Harry really good in bed? The question's not academic. I know someone who really wants to know."
"He's very good in bed," Joan said, afraid not to answer the question but afraid, too, of the direction in which it was leading.
"As good as me?" Tom demanded.
"No," she said honestly.
"Buttering me up, hmm?"
"It's the truth."
"I know it is," he said complacently. "It all comes back to the point that you females profess to love the solicitous, gentle man in bed whereas you actually prefer the bastard who wrings you out and makes you like it."
Joan made no reply to the statement which she recognized had a perverse element of truth in it. Harry's tender bed manners of the past week had been delightful, but she had to admit they hadn't truly fired her as much as the single abandoned evening with Tom Carter had.
"Did you tell Harry about us?" he asked.
"No," she lied. "How could I?"
"That's good," he said with satisfaction. "Time enough later to let him know. You won't need to let him know what we do here this afternoon, either." The leering grin was back on his handsome face.
"T-Tom," Joan began unsteadily.
"Never mind begging," he cut her off. "Take off your skirt."
She stood irresolute for an instant. Nothing has changed, a corner of her mind noted. Why should you expect this man to act differently when you're still in his power? Slowly her hand went to the side-zipper on her skirt and pulled it down. She widened the skirt-panel the opened zipper disclosed and worked the skirt down over her capacious hips. When it slid down her legs and covered her ankles, she stepped out of it. She stood in front of Tom clad in blouse, short half-slip, and stockings. Her thighs felt cold although the room was warm.
"Very nice," he approved. "Get rid of the slip."
Joan's stiff-feeling fingers plucked at the elasticized waistband of the half-slip, freed it from her middle, and pushed it downward. It joined her skirt on the floor. Beneath the slip Joan had on pale blue panties and, next to her skin, a pale blue garter belt supporting her stockings.
"Down with the panties," Tom ordered.
"Oh, please-!"
"Down!"
Helplessly Joan repeated her action with the slip, freeing the elasticized waistband from her stomach, skinning the snug-fitting panties down over her plump bottom, and guiding them down her thighs to the floor. She stood in three-quarter profile to Tom while doing so in order that he hadn't a direct view of either her golden-bearded pussy or the voluminous expanse of her pearly hind cheeks.
But he was having none of that. "Come over here and give me a feel of that ass," he commanded. Shivering, she walked to his chair. "Turn around," he said, smiling at her below-the-waist nudity except for the ineffective garter belt and her stockings.
When she complied, she felt his hand at once on her bare flesh, stroking it at first, then palpating each heavy buttock in turn on the palm of his hand, squeezing them, fondling them, and manipulating the fleshy spheres until Joan's legs began to tremble and her breath caught in her throat.
Nor did Tom fail to notice. "You like that, hah? Regardless of who's doing it?"
"I'm h-human," Joan said unsteadily as Tom's hand spread her nude posteriors and invaded her body's deep crevice. A fingertip traced her indentation from top to bottom of her back passage, and Joan's knees parted company as a slow thrill enveloped her warm flesh. She jerked them together angrily, tears in her eyes. What kind of a slut was she to respond like this to the manhandling of this grinning demon?
"I'll say you're human," Tom agreed, still playing with her pliant, sensitive, marble-white butt-cheeks. "And I intend to show you just how human you are. Turn around so I can feel your cunt."
Joan turned around, closing her eyes as the hand that had been teasing her naked bottom patted the sleekly round bowl of her bare belly before drifting downward. Fingers entwined themselves in the blonde curls of her pubic hair and tweaked it lightly, and her breathing quickened as the hand pushed its way between her unresistant thighs and took her itching sex on its palm.
"Ohh!" Joan murmured involuntarily as the hand squeezed and palpated her entire pouting-lipped fissure, and was at once terribly ashamed. The hand went away but was replaced by a finger that diddled and twiddled in her sex-orifice, roaming within her moist cavern-walls. Then the finger departed, too, and Joan quivered with the ache of its loss.
"Open your eyes," Tom said. When Joan did so, he was holding up the finger for her inspection, and she could see it glistening with her own sexual moisture. A hot flood of rosy color invaded her cheeks. Why fight it, she thought wildly? Why not relax and enjoy it since she couldn't help herself anyway? But she discarded the traitorous idea immediately. It wasn't decent, and it was disloyal to Harry.
"Tasted any good pricks lately?" Tom asked her. His tone was mocking. His hand traced the outline of the bulge at the crotch of his trousers. "Kneel down here and unzip me."
Saliva flowed freely in Joan's mouth as she stared at his thickly-bunched trouser-front. She should have hated the demand, and she was horrified that she didn't. Her manhandled pussy was a twitching mass of unfulfilled desire. She dropped to her knees and crawled in between Tom's parted thighs. She had to do it, she told herself, but she knew deep down in her heart that unladylike though it was she was eager for another view of Tom's great prick.
He was looking over her shoulder as she knelt in front of him, and instinctively Joan turned to look, too. She saw at once that he had chosen his living room chair with deliberate caution. Across the room an angled wall mirror faithfully portrayed the shameful sprawl of Joan's plumped-out buttocks, nude except for the thin strips of her garter belt as she crouched in front of his chair. Joan felt a thrill of shamed excitement at her own tremendous exposure. Tom would be able to watch in the mirror the tiniest indecent wriggling of her most intimate bared flesh as she unzipped him.
"Never mind admiring yourself!" his jeering voice prodded her. "Get to work!"
She turned her head and fumbled for his zipper, pulling it down all the way. She fumbled inside his trousers and then inside his shorts for the prick that had so humiliatingly penetrated her fastidious asshole. Her fingers closed upon Tom's massive erection and drew it out into the light. She stared at the familiar ruby head, half-hooded in its foreskin, blunt and powerful-looking, and the thick circumference of the long prick around which it seemed her fingers could barely meet.
"Suck it!" Tom ordered harshly.
Joan lowered her head, infinitely mortified by the knowledge that even without the demand it was what she wanted to do. She licked at the blunt head several times, transferring the male essence to her taste buds, then ovalled her mouth and moved it forward upon the fleshy rod. She slipped the huge head between her lips several times, making it slippery with her saliva, swirling her tongue around and around the rampant prong.
Above her head Tom sighed deeply. "You really are a prick-freak, baby," he said huskily. He cleared his throat twice. "And it couldn't happen to a nicer girl."
Joan barely heard him. She was enraptured by the wonderful big prick in her clinging mouth. Sparkling visions of its thick turgidity romping in her pussy-nest, growing damper by the moment at the very thought, floated in her brain. Her head moved more rapidly back and forth as she mouth-fucked the delicious monster tickling the back of her throat.
"That's enough!" Tom said suddenly.
He had to push her head away to free his prick from Joan's mouth. She sank back, looking up at him expectantly. Surely he was going to fuck her now? She could see his eyes upon the mirror in which her lower-body nudity was so blatantly displayed, but she no longer cared. She was experiencing a hot glow internally that made the flesh of her sex-platform feel surpassingly wet and yielding.
"Let me tell you why I stopped in here today," Tom said brusquely.
Joan felt only impatience at the remark. This was no time for conversation. Her cunt yearned achingly for the saliva-moistened big prick pointing ceilingward as it projected from Tom's unzipped trousers.
"You and Harry are to come out to our place in Marin County Friday night for the weekend," he continued.
Joan stared uncomprehendingly. She and Harry? What did this peculiar invitation-command performance, really-presage?
"Alice has a few plans for Harry," Tom said casually.
Realization hit her like a thunderbolt. Tom was proposing wife-swapping! Harry would never do it, she decided instantly. It-it just wouldn't be Harry.
"Don't you say a word to him about that part of it," Tom cautioned her. "We'll let it be a surprise. And if you think he won't go for it once he's involved, you have another think coming." He doesn't know my Harry, Joan thought. "And I mean what I say about your not telling him," Tom went on. He leaned forward menacingly. "If I find out you have I'll take the skin off your bare butt in one-inch strips."
Joan shrank away from the threat in the cruel-looking eyes. She could never learn to keep up with the mercurial changes in temperament of this man, she thought, but she sensed that Tom Carter needed very little provocation to unleash the sadistic tendencies very close to the surface under his civilized veneer.
"Do you know what you're to do?" he demanded.
"I'm to bring Harry to your Marin County place Friday night for the weekend," Joan said meekly. Part of her sexual glow had faded during the prolonged conversation, and her backward-projected bare behind was beginning to feel chilly.
"Correct," Tom said briskly. "And don't miss or you'll be sorry. I don't care what you tell him. Have you been fucked on your kitchen table recently?"
The apparent non sequitur took Joan by surprise. "Why, n-no," she stammered, crimsoning at the thought.
"Ever?"
"N-no."
He pushed her back on her haunches and rose to his feet. "Then hustle your bare ass out there and we'll establish a first."
Slowly Joan climbed to her feet.
She wanted to protest, but she didn't dare.
Sheepishly she led the way into the kitchen, embarrassedly aware of Tom's eyes upon the swaying movement of her untrammeled naked backside as she crossed the living room.
Chapter Vi
Joan couldn't quite understand her own feelings as she walked into the kitchen. It was much brighter than in the living room, and she was again conscious of the nudity of her lower body from the bottom edge of her blouse to the tops of her gartered stockings.
She realized with a little sense of shock that when she had Tom's prick in her mouth she not only expected to be fucked but was eager for it. Now that her blood had cooled slightly her uneasy sense of right and wrong had again taken over. She felt that Tom Carter with his sadistic turn of mind had deliberately slowed things down so that her feeling of humiliation could be rekindled and enhanced. And to be screwed in broad daylight on her own kitchen table! What could be more mortifying than that?
Tom was within two paces of her when she turned around after reaching the formica-topped table. He was grinning his crooked, leering grin, his erection still protruding from his unzipped pants. At sight of his massive rod pointing at her Joan licked her lips. If she was going to get that fleshy instrument thrust into her velvety cunt-lips, and if there was nothing she could do to prevent it-well, there really wasn't, was there?
Tom was staring into her confused eyes. "Ready, baby?" he asked. He touched his prick. "Ready for this?"
"N-no," she felt obliged to deny the rebuilding excitement mounting inside her. "N-not really."
"You've cooled off," he said. "Let's fix that." He placed both hands on either side of her nude waist, lifted her from the floor, and sat her down on the edge of the kitchen table.
Joan immediately squirmed furiously, trying to lift her bare bottom from the smooth surface. "Ohhhhh, God, that's c-cold!" she cried out.
Tom laughed as he held her down on the table. "You'll warm it up with that built-in heater between your legs," he said. He stepped back from the table when she stopped struggling. "But we've got to get the heater heated first. Go ahead and play with yourself down there."
Oh no! Joan thought. He wants me to finger myself right in front of him! "It-it doesn't help much," she said hurriedly. "I mean-I mean I can seldom bring myself off. Even my roommate in college said I was-I was terrible at it."
"Did you hear what I said?" Tom Carter's voice was harsh again. "Go ahead and play with yourself. Now!"
The humiliation was too great. Weak tears spurted from Joan's eyes and ran silently down her pale cheeks, but her right hand moved down across her stomach toward the juncture of her thighs.
"Pull your legs up!" Tom ordered. "Let's get a look at this show."
Still sitting on the chilly formica-topped table edge, Joan raised her knees to her breasts. The movement revealed her entire sex-structure to him as her slightly-parted pussy-lips in their hairy golden nest were fully exposed. "Now masturbate yourself!" Tom demanded.
Still crying, Joan's reaching fingers parted the fragile blonde hair around her twat-opening. Tom watched sneeringly as she inserted a finger inside her wet, pink slit and moved it tentatively in and out. The treacherous inner cunt-walls grabbed at the probing finger, and Joan's breath whistled between her half-parted lips. She moved the finger faster. A hungry, furry little animal was nipping busily at the finger-intruder digging into her sluice-box.
Unconsciously Joan's head swayed from side to side and her blonde hair whipped back and forth on her shoulders. Down between her parted legs she removed the finger entirely each time before re-inserting it, and each emergence was signaled by a wet, slippery sound of slurping flesh.
"Get at your clit!" Tom commanded. "Spread those lips and let's see you do it right."
Joan introduced her left hand between her thighs. With two fingers of that hand she widened her hairy pussy-lips until the inner bright red flesh appeared, then with the middle finger of her right hand sought out the perky bud of her clitoris and massaged it. It stiffened at once, and Joan's thighs trembled. "Ooooooooh!" she whispered.
She rubbed herself harder, and the pleasurable sensation increased, but not beyond a certain point. Frantically Joan deserted her clitoris and plunged two fingers inside her wet cunt. She pushed them in and out, in and out, but again the sensation stopped short of what she so desperately needed. She needed a man! She needed a prick! "Tommmm!" she moaned, eyes closed tightly. "Please, Tom! I'm-I'm not getting anywhere!" Her slippery fingers ground away inside her palpitating cunt. "Please! I'll say it, I'll say it! Fuck me, Tom! Fuck me!"
There wasn't a sound in the room, and she opened her eyes, searching anxiously for the erect cock jutting out from his pants, the cock that she needed so badly.
But the room was empty.
Oh, God, no! she thought wildly.
He's sneaked out and left me hanging!
She groaned as she let her fingers slip from between her drenched thigh-juncture. She scrambled from the table and ran into the living room, hoping against hope he was still there.
But he was gone.
She hadn't heard him go, but he was gone.
Frantically she flung herself face down upon the couch and rubbed her itching-burning twat furiously against the couch cover, trying to frictionize the come she hadn't been able to accomplish with her fingers.
But it was no use.
Her plump bare bottom decorated with the thin pale blue tapes of her garter belt wriggled and writhed on the couch as she tried in vain to force an orgasm.
When she realized she had lost it altogether, Joan burst into a fresh flood of tears. That awful man had deliberately worked her up like this and then gone off and left her to realize the animallike depths of her nature.
She cried, and cried, and cried, as the plunging of her naked buttock-flesh died away to involuntary tremors.
And finally she fell asleep upon the couch like an exhausted, ten-year-old schoolgirl.
Harry found her there upon his return home from work.
She wakened with a start to find his comforting arms around her. She whimpered and tried to snuggle closer to him. It was only when his hand stroked her bare thigh that total remembrance came to her, and she started to cry again.
"I knew Tom was out of the office this afternoon, and I suspected he might come here," Harry said miserably. "Don't cry, darling. You couldn't help it if he forced you."
"It was w-worse!" Joan sobbed.
"Worse?" Harry said apprehensively.
"H-he made me w-want him and th-then he went off and 1-left me," Joan sniveled. "I should have h-hated every s-second of it, but I'm a dirty f-filthy b-beast!"
"You're nothing of the kind!" Harry said warmly. He raised Joan's head and moved closer to her, resting her head on his thigh as she still sprawled on her stomach. "You're a sweet, loving girl," he continued. "You can't help it if that sonofabitch Tom Carter knows how to get you all stirred up. He could do it to a nun." He patted Joan's bare behind soothingly.
For a moment the only sound in the living room was Joan's sniffles. She felt tremendously grateful for Harry's understanding; she had felt so starved for affection for so long a time that she almost welcomed this situation which found her tears soaking into her husband's pants leg while his palm continued to alternately stroke and pat her nude buttocks in an absent-minded manner. "It's all my fault," Harry went on. "I got you into this."
"And he's not going to quit," Joan said hopelessly. "Do you know what he said today?" Quickly she told Harry about the weekend invitation they didn't dare refuse. "H-he's probably going to d-do it to me and m-make you w-watch!" Joan concluded. The tears which had subsided slightly started up afresh.
"I'd better look for another job," Harry said gloomily. "Out of town. No, out of state. Somewhere he can't find us."
"You've worked too h-hard to give up your job with the f-firm!" Joan said indignantly.
"Well, we've got to do something," Harry said reasonably. "Damned if I intend to see you end up as his love-slave or sexual plaything."
For the moment neither had any more to say. Joan's tears dried on her flushed face. She didn't know exactly when it was she realized that the comforting hand of her husband which had been lightly fondling her unclad backside developed an urgency which began to stir her. The hand massaged the whole surface of her lusty, beautifully bell-shaped hind parts with increasing intensity, pausing only when it encountered the garter tapes stretching from her waist to her stocking tops.
Joan's lips parted slightly as the hand separated her full shining globes and traced the course of her deep buttock crease. Still on her belly, she widened her knees under her so that the hand, probing lower, could have easier access to the treasure tucked within the fold of her croup-plumpness. Even though expecting it, she gasped when the advancing hand touched her on the quick.
"Joan," Harry said huskily, fingering her sex slit as she raised her stomach slightly to make it easier for him.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"Let's go upstairs."
She rolled onto her side at once, then sat up. She was so infinitely grateful to have her husband back in this refreshingly agreeable sudden ardency that if he had suggested it she wouldn't have hesitated to walk out onto the sidewalk with him despite her semi-nudity. Harry put two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up, then kissed her hotly, his tongue searching out Joan's. She returned his kiss just as hotly, her stomach muscles fluttering as he transmitted his avid enthusiasm to her.
Harry's hand groped for the front of her blouse and undid its tiny buttons. Joan slipped each shoulder and arm in turn from the blouse as Harry removed it. She half-turned the dazzling white expanse of her back away from him so he could reach the clasp of her bra. He unfastened it quickly and pulled the straps from her shoulders. Joan pushed them down her arms as the bra fell onto her stomach and her pink-nip-pled big breasts stood forth proudly.
Harry lowered his head and nuzzled her bare bubbies with his lips. He licked each nipple, then sucked at it slowly. Goose bumps jumped up on Joan's flesh, and her stomach walls contracted pleasurably. Down between her thighs a dampness was making itself apparent as her rising excitement caused a seepage that bedewed her soft pussy-lips.
Harry rose from the couch and took her hand. He led Joan to the stairway and started her up it ahead of him with a gentle spank upon her grandly voluminous creamy seat. Halfway up the stairs he stopped her with a hand on either side of her waist. Quickly he peeled her garter belt down over the smooth swell of her fulsome hips until it hung dangling by the garter tabs from her snug-fitting stockings, then pressed his face feverishly to Joan's warm buttock-flesh as he rained kisses all over her resilient hind cheeks. Joan's hands rose unconsciously and cupped her bare breasts, caressing the nipples, as Harry's mouth stirred her juices from the force with which he kissed every inch of her wide fanny.
She finished the ascent of the stairs when he stopped. In the bedroom she unfastened her garter tabs and cast the belt aside while Harry undressed. When he was naked, she knelt down in front of him alongside their bed. With a sense of tranquility she hadn't experienced in months she reached between Harry's hirsute thighs and cupped his balls and his lazy erection on the palm of her right hand.
"May I?' she asked softly.
Harry patted her blonde head fondly, then continued to stroke her smoothly shining hair. "You can do anything you like," he said soberly. "I have the feeling I've been stupidly starving you."
"No, no," Joan said quickly. "I should have asked you before. How could you know if I didn't?"
She crouched lower and bent her head. She licked delicately with just the tip of her pink tongue at the bristly little hairs on her husband's sturdy balls. His swelling prick was right under her nose as she turned her head sideways to get her face closer, and its strong male odor infiltrated her nostrils as its tangy aroma increased still more the warm-wetness in her jewel box.
She leaned back on her haunches and smiled up at Harry's face above her. "I love the feel of the hair on your balls on my tongue," she confessed. "It tickles beautifully." She giggled suddenly. "When I was twelve I heard the older girls talking and I came home and asked at the dinner table what 'fuzzy-nuts' were. My mother frowned at me while everyone else ignored me, but I stupidly repeated the question. My father grew red in the face, and he jerked me right out of my chair angrily and spanked my bare bottom hard right there at the table in front of my sisters and my brother." She smiled again. "But now I have my own fuzzy-nuts to play with."
She returned her mouth to Harry's groin, licking at the length of his still-rising erection and then taking its purplish head in her lips. She worried it for a moment, teasing it with lip pressure, before swallowing a good portion of it. She frictioned her lips and mouth back and forth over the fleshy rod while a warm glow enveloped her at the feel of its rigidity massaging the roof of her mouth and crowding the back of her throat.
Harry's hand which had been resting upon Joan's bare shoulder tightened suddenly. "I want to fuck you, Joan," he said quietly.
She released her mouth-prisoner at once. Harry raised her to her feet, kissed her lips with his own taste upon them while with his arms around her his hands palpated freely Joan's hefty rump cheeks the feel of which he never seemed to get enough, then walked her backward to the bed. Her thighs struck the edge and she collapsed slowly backward with the delicious weight of her husband's body upon her belly.
Harry moved her into the center of the bed and spread her legs as he moved in between them. His sturdy prick punched at her swimming quim and slipped in of its own accord before she could even begin to assist it. He tucked his head in the juncture between Joan's neck and shoulder and began to fuck her steadily while her thighs rose and clasped him.
She could hear the faint rustling noise made by the movement of his body between her stockinged legs. She knew instinctively this was no ordinary husband-wife fuck; their common problem had somehow welded them more tightly together, and Joan joyously accepted with increasingly abandoned, erotic workings of her up-thrusting, quivering hips the amorously animated prick-obeisance her husband was making to the wifely cunt he had unwittingly made so much trouble for.
Joan locked her heels over his back and tried to widen her thighs still further to accept Harry's cock right down to its root. His composed, steady plunging in and out of her wet, clinging sheath was enrapturing her whole body. She was ablaze with sexual sensation, alive with passionate carnality, wanton in devoted licentiousness. She wanted desperately for it to be the best fuck Harry had ever had. Her own voluptuous thrilling response to the ardent prick so high-spiritedly ravaging her exultant cunt was secondary.
She came suddenly in a starburst of sexual sparks that exploded in delicious splinterlike fragments deep within her writhing pussy. It had taken her completely by surprise. "Oh! Ohh! Ohhhhh!" she had only time to moan upon a rising note as the frenetic contractions of her buttock muscles powered a discharge that lavishly lubricated her husband's torridly-spear-ing cock.
She settled down beneath him to concentrate upon making it a good one for him. She had never known him to go on for so long, and she marveled as quick contractions in her cock-filled, juicy cunt, awash with her own spend, announced that he was stimulating her all over again. Her hands patted his shoulders as she encouraged him in his effort, and she groped with one hand lower down to fondle and squeeze a hairy buttock.
His pace upon her perspiring belly increased suddenly at the same time another deep-welling tingle began deep in her loins. "Oooooh, Harry!" Joan breathed fervently. "You're making-me come-again! Ohhh! Harry! HAR-RRRRRRY! Ohhhhh, God! It's good! It's so-good! Ahhhhhhh, I'm-coming, darling! I'm- coming!"
A Roman candle went off in Joan's convulsed cock-stuffed quim as she matched with wildly immodest, bawdy abandon the suddenly hectic ass-plunging movements of her husband. Harry cried out hoarsely as his quick-darting joystick sprayed his wife's blissful interior at the same time her inner juices inundated the prize between her legs. He pumped upon her more and more slowly as she clasped him tightly to her, and finally his languid body movement came to a stop.
He rolled off Joan onto his back, and she immediately scrambled to her knees and flung herself across his thighs. She pressed her face against his groin and kissed every slippery inch of his shrinking erection; kissed it passionately. Then she raised herself and collapsed face down upon his quiescent body.
"I love you, Harry!" she cried with fiery vehemence and undiminished ardor with her lips against his chest. "I love you! I love you! And I don't care what Tom Carter does, he can't take that away from us!"
But despite the peaceful, restful sense of sex-satisfaction in the Welby bedroom at that instant, both Harry and Joan knew there was still the weekend ahead to be faced.
"I'll get her down to the cabin as soon as they get here, and you bring him along with you when you feel it's time," Tom Carter said to his wife Alice as he paced the floor of the living room of the luxurious Carter home. He was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the Welbys.
"Yes, dear," Alice Carter said calmly. She was wearing a pants-suit that she knew was flattering to her full-figured curves, and her raven black hair was teased to the last half-inch. She had spent more than the usual amount of time on her makeup.
"I'm going to fuck her the second I get her inside the cabin," Tom continued, rubbing his hands together briskly, "so she'll know that's only the beginning of what I have in mind for her during the weekend. I'm going to find uses for that lovely bitch's body she's never dreamed possible."
"And I can do what I like with Harry?" Alice inquired.
"Any damn thing you please, after you let him get his eyeful," Tom declared. "It will turn into a log-roll eventually, of course."
Alice felt a stir of pleased excitement. Tom didn't always permit her the freedom he granted himself, and with his presently afforded carte blanche she was looking forward to an unrestrained weekend of passionate sex during which she'd have no need to hold back because of restrictions placed upon her by her husband. Beneath her bra she could feel her nipples stiffening "as salacious thoughts raced through her mind; how delicious it would be to have a hard young male body available to cater to her every whim!
She interrupted Tom's pacing by going to him and kissing him warmly. "You're so nice to me, dear," she murmured with her lips against his cheek.
He looked surprised, then patted her girdled rump. "You're a handy old sow to have around, Alice," he said affectionately, but his eyes were upon the window overlooking the driveway where the Welby car would first appear.
"You're really excited, aren't you?" Alice ventured.
He nodded. "If I did what I feel like doing, I'd walk out to meet them with my prick hanging out of my pants. But I want Harry to be surprised by that first glimpse of his darling wife's cunt filled by my prick."
"You like her, don't you," Alice said quietly.
"Not like her-" Tom paused to frame his reply. "She's a beautiful piece of female flesh to use, and just beginning to realize her own capacities. That girl has got heat she hasn't even used yet."
Alice listened with a mounting sense of dread. Despite the fulfilling relationship in their marriage bed, she was always afraid Tom would be captivated by one of the younger women he steadily pursued. He had always returned to her more ardent than ever, but could it continue indefinitely? Was it to be the luscious-bodied Joan Welby who would take her Tom away from her?
"There they are," Tom declared with satisfaction. "You know what to do. Come on."
He led the way outside, waving cheerfully to the Welby car as it pulled into the crushed stone drive. Alice followed and watched as Harry and Joan Welby stepped from their car to accept Tom's fulsome greeting. Harry looked trim and neat in slacks and sport coat, not as burly as Tom but attractively masculine. Joan was Rubenesque in a printed cotton dress.
"Got something to show you right away," Tom was saying ebulliently to Joan, slipping an arm around her. "It's out in the cabin, down this way." He pointed to a narrow path winding through a wooded area and disappearing around a slight rise.
"I'd like to see it, too," Harry Welby said casually.
Alice Carter picked up her cue. "If you'll bring in your bags now," she said in her best gracious hostess manner, "I'll show you where to put them." Harry hesitated, looked at Joan while avoiding looking at Tom Carter, and then at the bags in the back seat of the car. "Then we can join them at the cabin to see Tom's masterpiece," Alice continued. "He's so handy with tools."
She could see Harry Welby's reaction. It must be all right if this pleasantly smiling woman said they'd join Tom and Joan at once. He'd always liked Alice Carter. He thought her subdued, almost on the demure side, but agreeably sweet in her demeanor. "We'll join you in a minute, dear," he said to Joan. He removed the bags from the car and followed Alice into the many-roomed Carter menage.
Joan was disconcerted as she was urged along the path to the cabin by Tom's hand on her arm. She and Harry had made a pact to stick closely together every possible moment of the weekend, and here they were separated in the first fifteen seconds. Of course Alice had promised she and Harry would rejoin them at once, Joan thought hopefully.
"You don't see many made like this one," Tom was saying jauntily as they crested the rise and approached a rustic cabin. He opened the door and ushered Joan inside. "Although it seems to me now that I think about it you have seen one lately."
Joan heard him without really listening to what he was saying. She was looking about the cabin in alarm. Small, it consisted of a single room unfurnished except for a large bed directly beneath a glaring light. Portholes of opaque-looking glass were set into the walls of the cabin.
When Joan glanced apprehensively at Tom -the appearance of the place conveyed only one thing to her shrinking self-assurance-her worst fears were realized at once. Tom unzipped his trousers and took out his prick which dangled limply in its relaxed state. "Seen any made like this recently?" he asked.
"Don't, Tom," Joan begged. "You heard your wife say she and Harry would join us right away."
"Lock the door if you're bashful," he grinned at her. "Because I'm going to screw your handsome big ass and fat cunt right on that bed."
She knew he was using the words to excite both himself and her. Her eyes flicked nervously away from the front of his trousers where the previously limp meaty cock was lengthening and stiffening. The worst of it was that he was exciting her. Even though this man had humiliated her beyond words, had forced his tremendous prick into her pain-wracked rectum, had compelled her to masturbate herself in front of him and then left her unfulfilled, still the brazen lust in the handsome face and the ruby-headed penis now standing forth from his middle aroused her beyond words.
"Take your clothes off, Joan," Tom said.
"Please," she whispered even though she knew a plea was hopeless. He enjoyed her helplessness. Her discomfited realization of the impact of his lewd words and behavior upon her would-be ladylike behavior merely increased his sensual gratification.
"Need a little help?" he inquired impatiently.
Slowly Joan went to the door and locked it. Tears of frustrated mortification stung her eyelids. How could she and Harry have been out-maneuvered so quickly and so completely? Her hands went unwillingly to the clasp at the back of the neck of her dress, and she unhooked it and drew down the zipper. The dress fell forward loosely on her upper body, and she slipped her arms from it, passed it down over her waist and thighs, and stepped out of it. Nervously she went to a nail protruding from one wall and hung the dress from it. "
Her bare arms and shoulders glistened whitely above her slip. Anxious not to prolong her involuntary striptease as Tom watched gloatingly, Joan stooped to take hold of the slip's lacy hem. She drew it upward over her body and off over her head, automatically fluffing her blonde hair into place again while she hung the slip with her dress.
When she looked back at Tom, he was unbelting his trousers and slipping out of them. He unbuttoned his shirt and flung it to the floor. Undershirt and undershorts followed, and Joan swallowed convulsively as the immense fleshy length of his over-large penis jutted upward from his thigh-juncture and the head shone wetly. He grinned derisively at Joan's mingled shame and muted desire as she stared fascinatedly at his big organ. He intended to get this pulchritudinous damsel, a delicious blend of shyness and wantonness that set him afire with lust, so hot that she begged for it.
Joan reached behind her and reluctantly unclasped her bra. Her large breasts popped out into the mild air of the cabin, and her nipples stiffened noticeably, shaming her additionally. She couldn't seem to hide anything from her tormentor whose satanic grin widened at this evidence of her girlishly high-strung excitability. Joan's big bubbies bobbed freely at her every movement, and a quick flood of high color rushed from her throat up into her pretty face.
Since she had dressed casually for the drive out into the country, she wore no garter belt or stockings. Only her wispy white bikini panties shielded her from Tom Carter's lustful gaze. Hurry, one corner of her mind insisted. Get it over with before Alice and Harry come knocking upon the locked cabin door. She knew she had no secrets from this man, but still she felt ashamed. Face scarlet, she quickly drew her final skimpy covering down her sleek thighs and stood naked before him, the panties dangling limply from the tensed fingers of one hand.
"Very nice," Tom Carter said throatily. He advanced toward Joan, and she took an instinctive backward step before realizing anew she had no retreat available. He crowded up against her, bare belly to bare belly, and her eyes closed at the hot feel of his flesh against hers. "Spread your legs," he demanded. When she did so, he pushed his rampant erection downward and thrust it forward until it rose of its own volition between her legs. Her increasingly moist-feeling pussy felt as though it was riding a smouldering, fleshy ridgepole, and Joan's breathing faltered. He reached behind her to take hold of her strappingly protracted nude hind cheeks and proceeded to push and pull her back and forth along his lengthy prick which rubbed tantalizingly against almost the full extent of her sensitized sex-slit. "Oooooh!" she squealed as white-hot sensation pierced her.
"You like it, huh?" he grinned.
Joan didn't reply. She was trying futilely to control her response to his cock-teasing of her body. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the heavy prick rubbed and rubbed at her pussy-lips. "Ohh!" Joan whispered as she felt an inner gush impregnate the golden-haired lips of her quivering pink cunt.
Tom felt it on his prick. "You're the original wet-deck kid," he snickered. "How many times do you have to change your panties every day? I'll bet you can look at a movie idol type walking down the street and feel it rolling down your leg."
It was so nearly true that Joan felt additionally demeaned. The quick trigger of her sexual arousal had presented an embarrassing problem for her all through her teens. Tom removed his prick from its upstanding position between her legs and led her to the bed. He sat down and pulled Joan onto his lap, tipping her backward and widening her thighs so that all of her coral-lipped vulva in its fleece-lined cloister was exposed moist-gapped to his gaze.
And his finger.
Joan shivered as a fingertip traced her sex-split from end to end, teasing and tickling as it brushed loose golden strands of her pubic hair aside. The finger several times approached right to the brink of her yearningly hot vaginal entrance, and then retreated. She bit her lip as she tried to restrain herself from thrusting her middle upward at the finger when it dallied at her love-spot.
With a patience that drove her wild, Tom petted, dandled, grasped, palmed, and fingered her sex parts until her resolve shattered under the blazing conflagration ignited in her loins. "Don't tease!" she muttered hoarsely. "Please d-don't tease!"
"What is it you want me to do?" he asked cruelly, reveling in his control over her.
"Put it in!" she whispered, hiding her scarlet face in her two hands. "Put your finger inside!"
Instead, he slid her from his lap onto the bed and stretched her out on her back with knees elevated and legs apart.
Chapter Vii
Harry Welby made two trips with Joan's three bags and his own suitcase into the Carter home. Upon the first one Alice Carter led him upstairs and pointed out the guest bedroom to him. He had never seen one exactly like it; the room appeared to be almost octagonal in shape, with panelled walls. He set the second set of bags down near the bed and hurried back out into the corridor, not waiting to unpack.
"Why don't we join the others?" he suggested with a smile he tried make unconcerned.
"Fine," Alice agreed, "if you'll give me just a moment to change. I find this suit too warm for this weather. Why don't you have a drink downstairs while you're waiting for me?"
"Well, all right," Harry said reluctantly, unable to think of a reasonable excuse for not complying with his hostess's request. He descended the stairs and walked to the ornate bar in a corner of the thirty-foot living room where he poured himself a stiff brandy. If that bastard Carter was harassing Joan again... perhaps they should make an excuse and leave right away, not even staying the night? A sudden illness, possibly. Harry tossed clown the brandy in a gulp, shaking his head morosely. Tom Carter wasn't likely to let him off the hook that easily.
Upstairs, Alice Carter went into the master bedroom. She removed the pants-suit and hung it carefully in her closet. Then she took off her heavy net brassiere and unzipped her girdle, peeling its clinging closeness from her body. She stood in front of her boudoir mirror rubbing gently at the bra and girdle marks on her enticing soft white bountiful flesh. She turned and examined her wide-flaring nude hips in the glass, admiring the graceful elegance of their extravagantly roomy snow-white dimensions, and she smiled to herself. So many men were entranced by a truly luscious female bottom. She would soon learn if Harry Welby were among their number. He was really a handsome man. Alice's blood had stirred and her pulse quickened at his proximity to her on the stairs when he had brought in the bags.
She went to her closet again and selected an above-the-knee cocktail dress with a deceptively low-cut bosom. Unhurriedly she returned to the bureau and from a drawer chose a see-through bra of fine black lace that set off her wide-breasted, charming embonpoint perfectly, plus a pair of black lace panties. Before she wriggled her bottom into the panties which fit her like a second skin, Alice stared appraisingly into the mirror for an instant at the apex of her smoothly rounded belly where the jet black curls of her pubic hair clustered thickly and in stark contrast to her gleaming flesh. She smiled again.
Harry Welby paced the living room floor impatiently, glancing at his watch from time to time. Alice Carter had already taken ten minutes to change. Should he walk out to the cabin without her? It seemed impolite, but he was worried about Joan. Worried about Tom Carter, actually. Abruptly he made up his mind and started for the front door. He had told Joan he would try to manage as few moments of separation as possible.
He paused when he heard Alice's step on the stairs. He looked upward in relief, then stared. In the pants-suit he had looked at her without really seeing her, but this sophisticated-looking, beautiful woman in low-cut cocktail dress with figure-fitting lines was nothing to be taken for granted. "Why, you're-that's a lovely dress," he stammered.
"Thank you," Alice said demurely. She slipped her arm through his as he opened the door. Harry found himself listening distractedly to her small talk as they walked along the winding path with Alice's capacious breast brushing against him lightly. He could see into her deep cleavage merely by turning his head slightly, and he couldn't fail to note the light restraint afforded Alice's jiggling teat by the gossamer black lace of her bra through which he could see her delicate white flesh. He drew a quick breath. This was a damned handsome woman.
Alice led the way directly to the cabin and put her hand on the doorknob. "Why, it's locked!" she exclaimed in a surprised tone. Harry's partly allayed suspicions immediately revived. He took hold of the doorknob and shook the door. There was no rattle or squeak, and he could see that the cabin was so solidly constructed that it must be almost soundproof. "Perhaps they went on deeper into the woods," Alice continued. "Although I believe we can take a quick look inside through one of the portholes."
She led the way to one at the side of the cabin. Harry was a step behind her. The portholes, apparently opaque from the inside but see-through from the outside, were a recent addition by Tom Carter. As Alice stooped to peer into the cabin, Harry heard very faintly a long, ululating moan that froze his blood and turned his face white, then angry red. He had heard Joan make that sound in the deepest throes of passion.
"Oh!" Alice gave voice almost in a squeal. She turned at once to Harry, apparently flustered. "Let's-perhaps we should-should try to find them at the house. They might have circled-"
Her voice died out as Harry shouldered her aside. Crouching, he looked into the cabin, and his breath caught in his throat. Joan, naked, was on a bed under a bright light with her legs in the air and most of her regally plump bare backside showing as with parted legs and closed eyes she continued to emit passionate sighs and groans while Tom Carter, between her thighs, busily licked, nibbled, and sucked Joan's cunt.
Harry sensed rather than felt Alice's face at the window beside his own, and he whirled upon her angrily. "Give me your key to this-this passion-pit!" he snarled at her.
"I don't have one," she said simply. She placed a hand on his arm. "It's a terrible thing to see, I know. But even if I had a key, I wouldn't dare use it." She contrived to sound wistful. "I'm-I'm afraid of my husband, you see."
Harry struggled for both breath and words, both of which failed him. As though drawn inexorably, Alice again put her face to the porthole and peered inside. After an instant Harry joined her again and they watched together. His blood threatened to bubble in his veins he was so furious. Then he caught a glimpse of Joan's face, vivid in its totally abandoned sensuality, and he grew even more angry if that were possible. Damn it all, Joan was enjoying it!
He groaned aloud as Tom Carter stopped frenching Harry's wife and moved upward on her round white belly. Harry stared unbelievingly as Joan's hand snaked down between their bodies and seized the big head of Carter's monstrous prick which she expertly introduced into her vagina. His lungs burned as Carter's great cock inched its way steadily into Joan's gaping channel. The bastard was fucking Harry's wife! And she was helping! She was luxuriating in it!
"Isn't it dreadful!" Alice whispered from beside Harry. "It's terrible to look but I feel so- so excited." Her large breast brushed against the back of Harry's hand, its bouncy, warm resilience sending a quick little shock through him. "Ohh!" Alice's breath hissed through her teeth. "Look at his big cock go in and out of her!" She moved still closer to Harry. "Oh, God, I'm getting so h-hot!" she exclaimed, never taking her eyes off the pair on the bed in the cabin.
Harry stared incredulously as Tom Carter's huge rod pumped furiously into Joan's upthrust pink-lipped pussy. What a fucking she was getting! And what a fuck she was giving him! He could hear her mewling little cries as the fleshy, rigid prong stabbed his wife's slavering cunt, and the picture before him was so obscenely passionate that he could feel his own penis hardening inside his shorts.
"What a screwing!" Alice murmured from beside him, almost in dismay. Of all the times she had been a witness to Tom's fucking his women, she had never seen one matching every thrust of his big battering ram as the blonde girl inside was doing. She turned suddenly to Harry. "Ohhhh, I'm-I'm-I think I'm going to faint!" she said feverishly. "That prick gliding in and out of her slippery quim-isn't it just awful?" She seized Harry's hand and rubbed it against her breast, then forced it inside her low-cut dress and clasped his hand around her lace-caged bubby whose stiffened nipple burned his palm. "I-don't-know-what's-the-matter-with-me!" Alice panted.
Without conscious thought Harry found his other hand up under Alice's skirt, playing with her pleasingly full thighs and then fingering the puckered wrinkle of her sex through her thin panties. Alice's hand came down and gripped the bulge at his trouser crotch. Her face swam into view hazily and her wet mouth fused tightly upon Harry's. Their tongues locked and darted and twisted until Harry's penis began throbbing.
"Let's go back to the house!" he gasped when his lips were free. If Tom Carter could fuck Harry's wife, then by God Harry could fuck Tom Carter's wife! From Alice's glazed-eyed reaction to his feeling her up he knew he was in if he could just find some place to put her on her back.
Alice looked through the porthole again, and after an instant Harry followed suit. His lips tightened. Joan's beautifully rounded bottom which had been meeting every thrust of Carter's huge pole into her quiver now rested on the bed slackly. The felicitous expression of delightful well-being on her face told Harry that she had come while Carter continued to fuck her cunt in a tremendously frantic barrage of ass-plunging.
Harry felt both hurt and angry. Had Joan ever had that satisfied look on her face when he fucked her? Her appearance of composure startled him. How could she sprawl there with her legs doubled back upon her breasts to afford Carter every quarter-inch of possible penetration with a look of almost primly prudish contentment upon her features while that riotous prick savaged her brimful delectable cunt?
"He's coming!" Alice whispered tensely, eyes glued upon the pair on the bed. "He's coming!"
Before she said it the second time, Joan's facial expression changed. It seemed to come alive, and her behind did, too. Harry watched with mounting jealousy as his wife wrapped her legs fiercely around Tom Carter's back and pumped and pumped with her ass as Carter shot load after load of hot gism into her burning cavern and she inundated his spurting prick with her own spend.
The sonofabitch brought her off twice, Harry thought sourly. Did she ever do that with me? From the look of her she'd really had her ashes hauled. Would she ever think well of Harry's efforts in bed again?
Alice Carter tugged at Harry's arm. He was surprised to find his hand still up under her dress twiddling her moist pantie-juncture. Her ample thighs clamped down upon his wrist holding his hand in place. "I've-got to have it!" she said in a strangled tone. "Got-to have it!" Her breath blew noisily from her lips. "I'm so hot-soooooo hot!"
Harry was more than ready himself. "Let's go," he said brusquely. He pulled his hand free from her damp-pantied thighs, faced her about, and started for the house. Alice had to trot along beside him to keep up with his long strides. Her face was pink and her lips were compressed. He urged her through the door and up the stairs. He would have passed the guest room, but Alice walked into it.
Harry wasted no time. He undressed her quickly, eyeing with approval the abundance of her soft flesh as it came into view. He kissed her bare breasts lightly and tongue-flirted with her purple-graped nipples while she shivered, then stroked and fondled her heavy hind cheeks when he had bared her bottom. Standing in front of her, he brought his hand upward between her thighs and curved a finger into her cunt-hole which he found to be already swimming in its own juices. He finger-frigged her for a moment while she widened her leg stance to permit him more access and her breathing sounded loudly in the guest room.
He sat her down on the bed while he threw off his clothes. She went down on her back easily from his hand pressure upon her smooth shoulders, and he gazed curiously upon her pouting slit almost hidden in its mossy bush as her legs came up and parted widely. But he only looked for a moment. He didn't want to look at that agreeably lusty cranberry-red cunt; he wanted to fuck it.
He lowered himself upon the resiliency substantial platform of her deliciously portly belly and felt his erection poke at her groove. His prick ached from distention; seldom had he felt so large. The sight of the awe-inspiring, tremendous fuck visited upon his wife had excited him immeasurably. Now he would return the compliment upon his boss's wife.
"Put it in!" he ordered.
Alice took his rigidity in her hand and applied the purple head to her cranny-hole. Harry shoved once and lodged it, then drove forward in a series of lunges with an occasional pause to joggle his hips from side to side until he had sunk into his boss's wife's cunt till their body hairs entwined and Alice was making small, muted bubbling noises as Harry's prick distended her fiery prick-channel.
Then he began to fuck her in earnest.
Joan Welby pulled up her panties quickly and reached for her bra, averting her eyes from the tousled bed with the damp patch in its center marking the overflow that trickled from her pussy after its recent subjugation. Her legs felt weak and there was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her panties clung stickily to her wet-lipped, soundly-fucked cunt, and she plucked them away with a feeling of distaste from her oozing fissure only to have the thin material once more plaster itself tightly to her flesh, outlining strongly the soft bump of her sex.
She walked spraddle-legged to her dress hanging from the nail and slipped into it, avoiding the sardonic gaze of Tom Carter who, fully dressed, was watching her clothe herself. "When are you going to admit you love it?" he demanded. "Instead of trying to act so over-modestly priggish with a prick in your cunt?"
"Don't talk like that," Joan said.
"I'll talk any damn way I please," he answered irritatedly. "Are you saying you can take a prick in your mouth, cunt, or asshole but you can't talk about it?"
"Please," Joan said nervously. "Let's go back to the house. I don't want Harry to-to worry."
"Worry?" Tom snorted. "He's probably got Alice upside-down, playing her kettledrum."
"Not my husband," Joan said. She unlocked the cabin door. "Please come back with me so- so things will look normal."
"Sure," Tom grinned. "I'm always for the proprieties." He followed Joan from the cabin and fell in step at her side. "Go ahead and tell me you didn't love having my prick in you," Tom challenged her.
"You know I can't," Joan said in a low tone. "But do you h-have to keep th-throwing it up to me that I'm an animal?" Her voice trembled though she tried to keep it steady.
"A lovely animal," he said promptly. "And your cute cunt is a savory, fragrant, palatable, cosy nook for my cock to wallow in."
Joan blushed a bright scarlet as Tom opened the door for her. His use of words forbidden in polite conversation always roused her, and she tried to hide the fact as she glanced around the large living room. "Where is everyone?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject.
"I rather thought we might find them upstairs," Tom said meaningfully.
"You mean-? Oh, no," Joan said loyally. "Not Harry."
"There's one way of finding out," Tom returned airily, and led the way upstairs. Joan followed, feeling unsure of herself. This weekend hadn't started out at all as she and Harry had planned it. Tom's bulk ahead of her blocked Joan's view as they reached the second floor hallway. Then he stepped aside, and Joan found herself looking through the open doorway into the octagonal-shaped guest room.
She caught her breath.
A naked couple were fucking on the bed!
Joan's first instinct was to turn her back, to retreat hurriedly downstairs. Then she recognized the woman underneath the man whose smoothly pistoning prick was tobogganing steeply into a black-haired cunt below while the glistening half moons of a large, shapely bottom surged upward to assist in the fullest penetration of the cock-filled twat. It was Alice Carter being fucked by a man whose head was pillowed on her fabulous dark-nippled breasts while she crooned encouragement to the metronomic plunger siphoning her sex-juice so that Joan could see sparkling patches of wetness around the prick-distended, swollen-looking cunt!
Joan's eyes were nearly starting from her head.
It couldn't be! she thought desperately.
If it was Alice Carter getting so beautifully fucked, then it must be-
Joan refused to permit her mind to shape the thought as she watched the man's hairy balls slapping lightly against the woman's pearly-white big buttocks, the sound blending with the impact of the two bare bellies colliding forcefully on each downstroke. The grossly indecent scene from which she couldn't force her eyes was stirring a slow tickling desire in her own vaginal walls which Tom Carter's big prick had so recently ransacked.
"Not bad," Tom said critically from behind Joan. "I didn't think your boy had that much zing in him, Joan."
At the same instant Joan caught sight from a corner of her eye-somehow she just couldn't look away from the indelicate bawdy coupling on the bed!-of Harry's sport coat thrown carelessly on the floor, the coat Joan had so carefully selected for him. It was Harry- her Harry!-fucking Alice Carter on the bed in this strange-looking room!
A wave of jealous bile seared the back of Joan's throat. With a strangled cry she darted toward the oblivious couple on the bed. With clenched fists she beat on Harry's bare back and shoulders frantically. "You-get-off-of-her!" Joan panted. "You're married-to me!"
So immersed was her husband in his obscenely offensive performance that he didn't even notice her pummeling of him, but Alice slowed the movement of her incontinently heaving ass. Thrown off stride by the change in rhythm, Harry raised his head from its cushion on Alice's delightfully fleshy breasts, saw her looking over his shoulder, and half-turned himself. He stopped in midplunge upon Alice's genially receptive cunt as he became startledly aware of Joan's angry, red face staring down at him.
Tom Carter moved to the bed and seized Joan's elbow with fingers of steel. "I'm sorry your wife doesn't have better manners than to interrupt a couple before climax," he apologized to Harry, "but you've only yourself to blame for not disciplining her better."
Harry was speechless. He had lost half his erection; after all, it was his boss's wife in whose cunt he was immersed! But Alice's clinging sheath-walls nipped lightly at the tip of his prick, begging for more of the same.
Joan tried to wrench free from Tom's iron grip. "You-let-me-go!" she cried out. With her free hand she tried to push Harry off Alice's belly.
It was his turn to become angry. "What the hell were you doing just a few minutes ago while we were watching?" he demanded of his wife between deep breaths.
"W-watching?" she stammered. "You say-?"
"We saw you getting fucked and wallowing in it!" he snapped.
"Ohh-h!" Joan faltered. "But-but I couldn't help it! You know that!"
"I know what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," Harry retorted.
"Correct," Tom said smoothly. "And now I think it's time we taught your wife there are certain social occasions which don't bear interruption, Harry."
Tom sat down on the side of the bed and pulled the surprised Joan over his lap. Before she realized fully what he was up to he had raised her dress, pulled her panties down to the backs of her knees, baring her desirable, full-fleshed bottom, and clamped her ankles between his own.
"What d'you think-you're doing?" Joan blurted, struggling ineffectually to release herself from the clever tactical waist-and-ankle pinioning which rendered her immobile.
"I'm going to teach your bare behind better manners," Tom said. There was a gleeful note in his voice as he stared down at Joan's squirming nude buttocks, the only part of her she could move. "But first-"
He leaned forward slightly, fumbled along the underside of the bed, and pressed something. There was a slight whirring noise and the octagonal wall panels slid slowly aside into hidden slots, revealing angled-forward floor-to-ceiling mirrors previously concealed behind each panel which afforded a multi-dimensional view of the guest room. Joan, across Tom's knees, stared in horror straight ahead of her as the four mirrors on that side of the room reflected from the four behind her every detail of her plumped-out bare behind right down to a tiny blonde tuft of damp-looking body hair peeping from between her tightly-clenched thighs. The four mirrors reflected four views of her childishly-presented nudity to her mortified gaze. "You let me up!" she cried shrilly to her tormentor.
On the bed Harry's attention had been attracted by movement over his head. Ceiling panels had moved aside to disclose a large double-swiveled mirror which reflected two views of his own hairy buttocks atop his boss's wife's belly while her pretty face stared serenely upward. Two of the side-view mirrors showed his prick immersed in her cunt! In the overhead mirror the underside of Alice's round white thighs in their doubled-back position and the lower slopes of her soft-looking buttocks could also be seen.
"This is something I've been wanting to do for a long time," Tom Carter said with satisfaction. He spat coarsely on his palm, then rubbed the palm over Joan's shrinking, malleable bottom, working the saliva into her flesh and into his palm. He repeated the performance twice more. "Take a good look now," he invited Joan who was staring horror-stricken at the mirror-eye view of his saliva-moistening of the four bare behinds appearing before her. "I wouldn't want you to miss anything going on behind you." He raised his right hand and brought his palm down with a pistol-like report upon Joan's taut, naked rear.
"Ohh!" she cried out as a hot flame gripped her spanked buttock. "Stop it! That-hurts!"
"Correct," Tom repeated, and delivered a resounding spank to the other buttock which quivered, flattened, and rebounded with the imprint of Tom's palm appearing upon it. "Owww!" Joan wailed.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Owww! Ohhh! Stop-it! Owwww! Oooooh! Stop-itttttt!" Joan shrieked as the merciless hard palm blistered her saliva-dampened nether rotundities. The angle mirrors faithfully portrayed four bare behinds writhing frantically and pinkening rapidly as the crackling spanks upon bare flesh resounded throughout the guest room. Joan had never dreamed that a hand-spanking could be so painful, despite girlish experience.
On the bed Harry had raised himself slightly to see better. He felt an odd mixture of sympathy and satisfaction as he watched his wife's immolation. So she enjoyed getting fucked by his boss? Then let her enjoy this, too. Beneath him, Alice watched in the mirrors the familiar wild dance of Joan's naked rump as Tom's hard palm rebounded stingingly from it, and she felt a hot stirring in her own depths. Her cunt grabbed spasmodically at Harry's penis which had begun to swell again at the lewd sight of his wife's frenziedly plunging crimsoning hind end. Surprised, Harry looked down at the silent plea in Alice's eyes, and began to fuck in and out of her again in slow strokes while he continued to watch the spanking.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Ohhhhhhhh!" Joan shrieked. "Owww! OWWW! pl-please! Owww! N-no-oooooooh! -more! Owww! My-bottom! My-ohhhhh! -b-bottom!" Through tear-filled eyes she could see in the mirrors the reddened behind squirming so furiously that occasional flashing glimpses of pink-lipped pussy encased in blonde curls was visible. Her flaming behind hurt so much she broke down completely and sobbed like a child while the relentless rain of spanks cascaded upon her blazing, tender flesh.
"There!" Tom announced with satisfaction after another dozen harrowing spanks that convulsed Joan's suffering backside. He stopped spanking and watched both first hand and in the mirrors as Joan's luridly-inflamed, twitchingly red-fleshed gluteal region galloped madly all over his lap.
When he turned his head, Tom saw that he had lost his audience. He grinned ironically as he saw Harry once more pumping in and out of Alice's wet cunt while she whimpered her satisfaction. Tom saw Alice's plump thighs raise up and grab at Harry's waist while his prick-movements upon her quickened and she gasped hoarsely. "Oh, ohh, ohhhhh, I'm-coming!" Alice vocalized in a rising threnody. Harry rose up on his knees and groaned heavily as his prick shot a huge load of sticky liquid up into Alice's gaping maw. "Ohhhhh!" Alice moaned as Harry collapsed upon her perspiring belly.
Tom returned his attention to the spanked bare behind on his lap. Joan's wild gyrations had slowed to an uneasy rotating movement as the hot burn in her soft hind cheeks seemed to permeate her entire body. She was still crying helplessly but was unable to avoid seeing in the mirrors the multiplied version of her glowingly-rubicund spacious haunches.
Harry rolled off Alice's belly, his diminished cock emerging with a sucking sound, and Alice looked at Tom for instructions. "Stay put," he instructed her. "We'll put this little darling to work for a while." He put his hands under Joan's stomach, quivering from her sobs, and lifted her bodily. Tom faced the bed and lowered Joan upon Alice's still-prostrate body but with Joan's head at Alice's middle and Joan's middle above Alice's face. "Spread your legs!" he ordered the well-spanked Joan who complied weakly, and Tom settled her knees on either side of Alice's head. Tom put a hand behind Joan's blonde head and pushed her face down into Alice's greasy twat. "Clean out your husband's leavings!" Tom rapped at Joan.
Hesitantly, but forcefully reminded by the still-burning smart in her upraised crimson behind that obedience was the better part of attempted resistance, Joan inched her mouth down Alice's warm belly through her soft, thick, black, curly pubic-tresses to the oozing cunt-lips presented fully by Alice's doubled-up legs. Tentatively Joan licked at the friction-reddened sex-slit that was inundated with Alice and Harry's combined spend. She tongued the pouting outer lips steadily while her tears dripped upon Alice's exposed crotch.
At the other end of the line Alice stared upward into the lower edge of Joan's deep cleft and the shadowy embrasure contained within it, a scant two inches above Alice's mouth. Writhing slowly at the delicious feel of Joan's quick tongue licking at her own satisfied cunt, Alice raised both hands and pressed downward upon Joan's bare behind, still warm to the touch from Tom's hard spanking, and maneuvered Joan's cunt onto Alice's mouth. Alice darted a questing tongue along the pink fissure she had so recently seen accepting her husband's big prick, tasting Joan's and Tom's combined spend.
Harry sat on the bed and Tom stood beside it, both men watching curiously as the two women tongued each other. Ripples of movement agitated the soft female flesh of both Joan and Alice as Joan craned her neck downward and plunged her tongue inside Alice's cunt-hole, twirling it all around, while Alice replied in kind. Tiny shuddering tremors vibrated through Joan's elevated soft hind cheeks, pink now rather than scarlet. Harry, watching, let out a sigh, and looked down at his rising re-erection.
"Yes," Tom said softly. His own penis was bunched in his shorts as it swelled from the stimulation of watching Joan and Alice lavish wet, clinging tongue-caresses upon each other's quiveringly-palpitated moss-lined exposed cunts. Alice's hands petted and cuddled Joan's spanked posterior above Alice's head, her own large unblemished fundament sympathetically in tune from shiveringly well-remembered spankings delivered by Tom.
Tom ripped off his clothes and stood naked by the bed with his jutting prick emergent from his lower belly in a slightly larger version of Harry's newly aroused fleshy expansion. "God, what a picture!" Harry said huskily as the fully endowed female bodies blended in fantastically easeful sexual harmony while the busy female tongues courted each other's swimming pussies. He looked at Tom. "Let's reverse them. I want to see Alice's ass on top."
"Good idea," Tom said. They both moved closer and together lifted Joan from Alice's plump stomach. The two mouths parted from the hairy-lipped female slits in squishy-sound-ing synchronization amidst muffled murmurs of protest from both Joan and Alice. Harry and Tom placed Joan on her back, then picked up Alice and put her face down on Joan's stomach. The same tongues located the same hot cunts, and Alice's uplifted bare bottom, more plump even than Joan's spherically-brimful globes, waggled gently as Alice's neck muscles jerked from her vigorous tonguing of Joan's slippery hot-box. Tom's hand descended upon his wife's trembling hind cheeks in a series of reassuring pats, and sensing that it was her husband's approving palm on her bare seat, Alice redoubled her efforts.
Harry glanced at Tom, all facets of employer-employee relationship forgotten. It was strictly man-to-man. "Ever wish you had two pricks so you could fuck two at once?" he said to Tom.
"When you get a pair like this, it's really something," Tom agreed, watching Joan draw Alice's loins down more upon her mouth so she could penetrate Alice's love-incision more deeply. "Of course there's a way as good. Maybe better." Harry raised an inquiring eyebrow while he played lightly with an exposed quadrant of Joan's upraised dusty-pink bottom-cheeks. "We'll give them another couple of minutes and then I'll show you," Tom continued.
Both men fell silent again as the sweetly felicitous double-tonguing by Joan and Alice continued. Joan's tears had long since dried on her cheeks which were now enfolded warmly by Alice's inner thighs. It had almost become a contest. Both were determined to show their men that they were best at this arousing form of sexual stimulation, and each worked mightily at giving as good as she received.
It was Tom who finally called a halt.
"I'm going to squirt if I watch them kissing each other's cracks any longer," he said, indicating the throbbing tip of his big cock. "Help me lift Alice off Joan."
Harry eagerly lent a hand.
Chapter Viii
"Get down on your back," Tom said to Harry who at once complied. He didn't know what was coming next, but despite having come in Alice's delicious cunt so recently his prick was so hard again he was ready for anything Tom suggested. "Hold your prick straight up in the air," Tom told him.
Again Harry obeyed, and Tom turned to Joan who had been watching while she unconsciously licked her lips clean of Alice's clinging juices. "Sit down on his cock," Tom said to Joan.
She looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Sit-"
"With it in your cunt."
"Oh." Joan looked at Harry's rigidly upstanding erection. It certainly would go into her a long way if she sat down on it. The prospect excited her. She climbed to her feet on the bed, balancing unsteadily as it sagged with her movements, and straddled Harry while standing upright. Then she squatted until her mouth-washed pink cunt-lips were just above the rubbery tip of her husband's stiff erection. She lowered herself again until the bulbous head prodded her slot-opening; she reached beneath her with her hand and guided it exactly until the head disappeared between her thighs. She relaxed her legs and glided slowly down the upright pole that slid straight up into her clutching firebox. "Oooooooh!" her breathless sigh sounded in the bedroom as an itchy-tickling feeling invaded her pussy in the depths Harry's prick was probing.
"You're doing fine," Tom encouraged her. He took first one and then the other of Joan's legs and pulled them behind her so she was resting on top of Harry but with his prong buried more deeply in her than she ever remembered.
Tom moved closer to the coupled pair and stroked Joan's upturned buttocks. Then he inserted a finger into her cleft and felt her tight anus. Joan turned her head uneasily-she hoped he didn't intend to-? But obviously he did; she flinched as the hard fingertip forced a slow passage into the constricted ring of her bottom-hole. "It hurts, she complained softly, her slender legs moving disquietedly. She gasped as the finger burst through the constriction and dipped inside her to the first knuckle. But she was quick to note that it didn't hurt nearly as much as it had the first time Tom had done it to her.
And he was quick to note her comparatively calm acceptance. "Yours isn't a virgin asshole any more," he said to Joan while his finger squirmed busily inside her rectum. "And I'll bet the body-heat that developed from the whaling I gave your bare ass loosened you up inside, too." He addressed himself to Harry. "Jiggle her up and down a little bit. Get her hot."
Harry put his hands on either side of Joan's nude waist, lifted her slightly, and then let her slide down his greased pole until his pubic hair once again merged with her blonde fleece. He repeated it half a dozen times, and Joan's breathing became labored as the stiff prick buried in her twitching quim flooded her nerve-ends with pleasurably carnal gratification.
She felt Tom move in behind her and lower himself on her back, and she tensed again. He raised her upper body slightly until he could slip his hands under her breasts and hold her more tightly to him. Then he advanced his heavy prick between her hind cheeks whose instinctively clenched posture kept him away from his target.
Tom looked around for Alice. She was resting on her side, her naked body relaxed, taking in the copulatory bound-together trio, her eyes gleaming. "Come over here and spread her ass cheeks for me so I can get at her buttonhole," Tom said to his wife.
Alice immediately knelt beside the grouping, her voluptuously bouncing breasts brushing against Tom's arm with pleasing sensations for both. Joan felt Alice's warm hands on her buttocks, spreading the soft flesh, and she panicked. "Harry!" she pleaded. "H-he's going to put it into my ass!"
But Harry was busy bridging himself under their combined weight, savoring new sensations along the entire length of his cock as Joan's cunt clasped it with intermittent little squeezing grabs of her agitated sheath-walls. He scarcely noticed any pressure from their combined weight.
Tom watched until Alice's hands forcing Joan's buttocks apart disclosed the downy-gold hairline running down her deep crevice and the dark ring of her anus. Then he brought the head of his prick to bear on her tiny circlet and pressed forward. Joan whimpered, but she could go nowhere, impaled as she was upon her husband's upstanding prick and also held in place by Tom's cupped hands upon her breasts.
Tom thrust firmly and squeezed the head of his prick inside Joan's asshole. "Ouch!" she said clearly, wriggling her bottom unavailingly. "You're-owwww!" Her voice trailed off in a gasp of pain. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"It's going in," Alice observed, watching from close range.
"You're damn right it's going in," Tom grunted. "Like right now." He slammed his hips forward with a mighty shove.
"Aieeeeeeeeeeee!" Joan shrieked as she felt herself rent by a piercing, lacerating excruciatory pain. "H-help me, Harry! Help m-me!"
But Tom was in to the hilt and he remained motionless for a moment before extending himself along Joan's back where he kissed and nibbled at the nape of her neck while little shivers shot through her. The pain died out in her rectum to be replaced by an intolerably stuffed feeling. She felt she had the largest of all possible turds lodged in there and couldn't get it out.
Tom began to move on her back, thrusting with his hips as he slid his prick in and out of Joan's tight-straining asshole for short distances which gradually lengthened. Joan's wide-gauged behind began to stir itself unconsciously in time to Tom's ass-fucking of her. The feeling of the two cocks inside her so close together with only a slender tissue of her soft flesh separating them was indescribable to Joan, but a warm glow began to build in her stomach.
Tom had released her breasts and had his hands on her waist near Harry's. Both of them rocked her up and down on Harry's prick while Tom's bored into her with less pain and more gratification. She rose up and down herself and was pulled up and down until Harry's cock in her cunt had her ablaze. Tom's belly slapped her bottom-cheeks as he plowed in and out of her rubbery-feeling rectum.
She turned her head to look at the side-wall mirrors, and felt a slow, blooming blush enveloping her features as she saw her softly rounded female body pinioned between the two hard male ones as one prick jogged in her cunt and the other in her anus. The spectacle was indecently exciting.
And then she saw something else.
Alice Carter, her duties concerning the spreading of Joan's white buttock-cheeks completed with Tom's penetration of Joan's asshole, had moved around behind her husband. Alice had both hands on Tom's hirsute bottom, spreading the cheeks, with her face pressed tightly to it and her pink tongue licking at his rectum while her own big behind bobbed up and down from the intensity of her efforts.
Harry jerked up suddenly into Joan from below with a quick tattoo of prick-thrusts signaling his orgasm. "Ohh, hell, I wanted it-to last longer!" he groaned as he pumped jets of sperm into Joan's deep well which seemed to catch fire from the onslaught. Even without Harry's hands on her waist helping to raise and lower her on his slick prong, Joan pumped herself up and down as best she could to promote her own come which she sensed in the offing.
She was thrown off stride by a sudden acceleration in Tom's bottom-fucking of her. Tom's hands went to the back of her neck and gripped her, almost chokingly, while his prick slashed into her fidgety effervescent anus with shocking force. Tom's hoarse shout presaged his own come as his tight target writhed furiously while his prick spewed into Joan's bowels in what seemed an endless succession of spurting geysers from the tip of his deeply-lodged cock.
Tom's hands fell away from Joan's neck as he fell forward upon her slackly, breathing heavily. Joan worked both cunt and asshole feverishly against the slackening pricks inside her. For one instant she thought she'd lost it, for another tightroped her way along the top of a picket fence, and then felt herself wrung out as she came and came and came while a succession of little yelping cries were wrenched from her straining throat. "Ohhhhhhhh!" she mourned when her quivering thighs stopped jerking. "I'm not s-sure which-prick m-made me come!"
Tom pulled out of her anus with a sound like a popping champagne cork and a twinge of acute suffering. Joan gasped and tried to relax her tight sphincter which seemed to be holding the discomfort inside. Tom's rough exit left her feeling as though she had a small glowing coal inserted in the depths of her ass-crevice instead of a snugly-fitted anus.
Harry's erection had shriveled to the point Joan was able to raise herself slightly and back away from it as it slurped out of her twat.
She stretched out tiredly on the bed on her stomach and reached around behind herself to gingerly insert the tip of her little finger into her sperm-wet anus. It wasn't as tender as the first time but it still felt achingly afflicted.
Alice Carter's chubby nudity crawled over Joan's prostrate figure and tried to pass between Harry and Tom on some errand of her own. Harry captured her and flattened her across his thighs, face down, immediately separating her wide-beamed globular hind cheeks while he probed with a finger at her revealed brown buttonhole as Tom had with Joan. Alice wriggled coyly.
"Sure," Tom said when he saw what Harry was doing. "Let's have the girls suck us up and you can take a hack at that." He pivoted on the bed and sat with his feet on the floor.
Harry joined him, glancing over his shoulder impatiently at Joan. "Come on," he said to his wife.
Joan stirred herself reluctantly. Between her spanking and her ass-fucking she felt sore and weary, but she slid from the bed and walked around to the other side. Alice Carter was on her knees between Harry's open thighs with Harry's limp prick in her mouth. Joan perforce knelt down in front of Tom.
She made herself lip his cock into her mouth, sucked it, and swirled her tongue around it. Slowly the quiescent organ began to grow in her mouth.
The two men could see multiple images in the mirror-lined walls of the female bare be-hinds crouched in front of them, expansively roomy and wide-spanned. Joan's bottom had bleached out to a point where it lacked only a shade of matching Alice's pristine shining milkiness. Just the faintest blush remained in the flesh of her soft hind cheeks.
Joan was relieved when Tom's prick suddenly enlarged to the point her mouth was crowded and she had to back off. She wasn't going to let her husband's boss's wife outdo her at anything, and from the corner of her eye she could see that Alice's hard-working mouth on Harry's previously soft little worm had brought it up to near-rigidity.
"Okay," Tom said to Harry. "I'll get underneath and you sandwich her. She's had the Mexican Army in her asshole so you shouldn't have any problem."
He stretched out on his back with his renewed erection standing stiffly, and Alice rose from her knees without instruction. Joan remained kneeling. Alice sat down on Tom's prick with a placid expression on her pretty face, and the prick glided up into her to the hilt. Harry moved in behind her eagerly and drew her legs backward so he could get at her upturned buttocks. Joan watched curiously as Harry's thumbs parted Alice's silky globes and he bent his head and deposited a gob of saliva upon her brown-ringed tight-looking shrunken indentation which he worked into her nether orifice with a fingertip.
Alice's strapping spherical moons jiggled uneasily from the movement activated by Harry's fingertip. Joan watched her husband move in closer behind Alice's bottom, his prick still glistening from Alice's hard-sucking revival of it. Harry placed the blunt head of his throbbing cock against Alice's shriveled-looking anus and shoved. The tip went in, but that was all. Harry waggled his hips and gained a half inch, then rested.
When he was ready, he grabbed Alice by the teats as Tom had Joan and really rammed her. He went in so deeply and so easily that Joan thought he had lost his foothold, missed his target, and angled down between Alice's plump thighs. Harry was just as surprised as Joan. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "Like a knife through butter!" He looked down unbelievingly at his cock stoppering Alice's wrong-way-corrigan, and Joan could see the hilt of the prick shafted into Harry's boss's wife's flowerlike anus.
"Told you she was loose as a goose," Tom grunted, fucking upward into Alice's cunt from beneath her. "Bang it around in there and listen to your hooves rattle."
Harry removed his hands from Alice's large breasts to her round belly which he clutched for support as he began to fuck her rear entrance. He met so little opposition that to Joan's eyes he looked exactly as if he were fucking another cunt. The two men swung their axes at the soft female flesh sandwiched between them, and their hard-working grunts intermingled with Alice's soft little cries of pleasure as she was speared fore and aft.
Remembering Alice's contribution when it had been Joan who was the sandwich, Joan climbed up on the bed and approached Harry's rear. She got her face down against his funnel-ing hips, getting her nose bumped in the process, and then grabbed his thighs after forcing her mouth into his aperture. She held on for dear life on the wild ride, tonguing everything she could reach. It wasn't her idea of a Marie Antoinette party, but she had vowed not to be outdone by her female competition. A mingled odor of sperm, sweat, and shit assailed her nostrils.
She could tell when Harry started to come because his hips flailed about so furiously Joan had to let him go. She watched with mingled emotions as Harry flooded Alice's interior. What would it be like to have her own husband fuck Joan in the ass? Exciting? For one thing, Harry's prick was smaller than Tom's and shouldn't hurt as much. Joan was willing to bet that after this weekend Harry's inhibitions would be far fewer.
"Agggggrrrrhhhhhhh!" Tom bellowed suddenly, lifting hairy buttocks up in the air as he plowed Alice's quim with short jabs. "Jesus-to-God-Almighty, I'm-shooting-my load!" Alice's handsome behind looked as though it was going in several directions at once as Harry's dying thrusts mingled with Tom's furious ones. When Tom subsided with a throaty growl, Harry pulled out of Alice's rear window, experiencing nowhere near the severe extraction problem that Tom had with Joan.
"Alice didn't come," Joan remarked to the room at large.
"I seldom do," Alice explained somewhat breathlessly. "Like that, I mean. The second prick distracts me." Joan nodded. It had almost happened to her.
Tom sat up in bed after removing Alice from his stomach.
"Okay, folks," Tom announced. "Ten minutes to shower, five minutes to dress, half an hour for cocktails, three brandies after dinner, and then back upstairs for the Sexual Olympics."
Joan found herself marveling at the seemingly inexhaustible elan of this man. "Which consists of what?" Harry asked drily, in apparent agreement with Joan.
"First contest, for a case of beer," Tom said. "Both wives with their husbands. Both men flaccid. For every minute it takes a wife to get her husband up, it's a minus point. Once up, for every minute the husband stays in the saddle it's a plus point. Every time a wife comes off, it's five bonus points. Last man in the saddle gets five bonus points, and highest point total wins. Anything goes except pretending to groove when you've shriveled. Got it?"
"Got it," Harry said. To Joan he sounded grim.
"Let's go, Alice," Tom said briskly, and strode from the room. He paused in the doorway. "Oh, thirty minutes after Event Number one ends, we have Event Number two. Same thing, except we change wives." His palm spatted on Alice's bare rump as she passed him in the doorway, and then they both disappeared.
Joan looked at her husband. "Is this really happening?"
"You have the ass and the asshole to prove it," Harry retorted.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Joan sniffed, "regardless of what happens to me."
"D'you think I'm going to let that bastard put me down?" Harry rasped. "We're as good in bed as they are any day in the week." He circled Joan's arm with his waist and gave her a quick squeeze. "You didn't look as though you were getting killed when Tom was spanking you."
"That's what you think!" Joan flared. "I'm not crazy about sitting down on that toilet seat right now."
"Did you see Alice moving over to get a better look at your rump when Tom finished with it?" Harry inquired. "Her expression was something to see. Half-fearful, half-envious. I'll bet she gets it from Tom three times a week and twice on Sundays."
"I don't envy her if she does," Joan sighed.
"I get the feeling a little of that around the house might spruce you up at home," Harry said coolly.
"Don't you ever dare, Harry Welby!" She hurried on before her husband could say anything more on that subject. "D'you realize we came out here to avoid all this if possible and here we are more deeply embroiled than ever?"
"So we'll sweat it out for the weekend," Harry shrugged.
"And after the weekend?"
He pursed his lips. "I should be able to straighten out the Baxter account in a couple of months. Then we'll kiss the Carters off." He grinned at Joan. "And find another couple our age. I never realized it could be such a kick to mix it up. Alice's big boobs and ass really turned me on."
"I noticed," Joan said drily.
"Well? You hated it when Tom was screwing you?"
"Not exactly," Joan confessed. She felt it wise to change the subject again. "Isn't Alice really something, though? To look at her you'd think she was the most innocent, chaste, angelic housewife in the world."
"She's very much in love with Tom," Harry pointed out. "It sticks out on her like the nipples on her teats." He bent his head and kissed Joan warmly on the lips. "C'mon, let's get that shower."
"Do you realize it's only Friday and that maniac Tom may have us on Event Number 204 by Monday morning?" Joan asked.
"We're younger than they are," Harry said. "And I'll guarantee you we're going to win that case of beer." He crossed the bedroom to the bath.
Joan shook her blonde head wonderingly.
Event Number one!
Who'd ever heard of anything so foolish?
She ran through it again in her mind. Get your husband up, get him in the saddle, help him to last. Despite herself a picture crept into her mind: Joan Welby on her back with upraised bare thighs melded over Harry's back while his nice cock fucked her steadily in long, slow strokes for minute after minute after delicious minutes. A teasing tremor stirred in Joan's depths and goosebumps mottled her forearms, breasts, and legs.
She almost trotted into the bathroom to rejoin her husband.
Two could shower more quickly than one.
She found a shower cap for her hair, slid aside the glass door in the shower cubicle, and stepped under the steaming water. Harry's arms welcomed her, and Harry's hands soaped her glistening flesh. He was very, very gentle in the area of her bottom-hole. Joan stood passively and let him minister to her.
"Harry?" she said above the sound of the rushing water.
"Yes, honey?"
"Is Alice better in bed than I am?"
"Different, yes. Better, no. I found out today that something strange does something for a guy with his own little split-tail." His hand went between Joan's legs. "But when it comes to the crunch, there's only one cunt I want to wake up beside in the morning."
Joan took the soap from his hand and soaped her husband from neck to heels. Her hands lingered longest in the area of his prick and hairy balls. She finally had to remove his hand from between her legs. "We'll be late for dinner," she warned.
"Don't you realize this might be Event Number Seventy-nine in the Sexual Olympics, Making It Standing Up With The Shower Running?" Harry said. "I think we should get some practice."
There was impressive evidence prodding Joan's round belly that he was serious.
So with the steaming water cascading down upon them, Joan stood on tiptoe while she eagerly assisted her husband as he connected them with his fleshy linchpin.
They might never make it to Monday morning, Joan thought to herself dreamily, but Friday evening was going to be difficult to improve upon.
Chapter Ix
Joan served the cup of tea and sat down in a chair opposite her guest, admiring the statuesque dignity and beauty of Cynthia Moore despite the uncomfortable awkwardness of their first meeting.
"It's awfully nice of you to have me over. Mrs. Welby. Dick speaks so highly of your husband. That is, when we have a chance to talk at all. He's gone so much that I feel like an office widow."
Cynthia was tall and had breasts out of proportion to her size. A perfect catch for a big tit fancier, Joan noted. Her long naturally curly blonde hair fell past her shoulders and reached down to the outstretching breasts. The bosom stood out over a flat newlywed stomach yet to be made pregnant. The belly flared out at the sensuous full hips to complete the hourglass effect of her figure, a shape Joan knew that men would fight over to fuck.
"My Harry tells me that your husband has a very promising future in the organization," Joan told her. "He's starting from a very good spot. He has the job that Harry had until his promotion two months ago."
Joan wanted to smile at the look of flattered pride on the innocent face of Cynthia Moore, whose husband was humping all the old broad clients of the firm in order to keep his job. Joan wondered how the virtuous young wife would look if she knew her precious hubby was sticking his thing inside aged old cunts who loved feeling clean young cock and who would double their business with the office to keep up a steady supply.
Joan knew from experience, because Harry had been forced to play the gigolo until Tom finally approved the change. But, of course, there was a condition. Tom never gave anything unless it had a condition attached.
Tom wanted the new man and his wife introduced into their swapping circle. Harry was working on Dick Moore while Joan had to do the sales job on Cynthia.
"Yes, Dick studied and worked very hard. He wants so much to be a success."
"That's where we wives can help. It's amazing how much we can do to help push ahead the careers of our men without them knowing it," Joan said.
"What do you mean, Mrs. Welby?"
"Please call me Joan, dear. I think you'll agree that half the battle is the right social contacts. For example, what if you and your husband had the chance to mingle socially with Tom and Alice Carter, the boss and his wife? Maybe even join us on a weekend at their country house."
Cynthia leaned forward, interested in any way she might help shape and advance the position of her husband in the business world.
"That would be perfect, Mrs. Welby... I mean, Joan. Only how?"
Joan reached out and patted the young woman's hands.
"Just leave all the details to me," Joan said, a strange satisfied smile on her lips.
