It was Saturday and Mark had left early to play golf at the country club. There had been no kiss good-bye nor tender love-pats such as a young, new wife might expect from her husband, not even a word when he'd left her; but then, already she had grown accustomed to such treatment.
Dianne Coleman lay stretched out on their large, luxurious bed, a voluptuous, golden-haired Venus, the soft rounded contours of her breathtaking loveliness veiled enticingly by the diaphanous negligee she wore. Her wide-set; deep hazel-eyes bore an expression of sadness; her perpetually pouting lower lip trembled . . . her mind had suddenly conjured up the semblance of Phillip Gates . . . Too often, lately, that had happened . . . too often.
She struggled with her thoughts, forcing out all others but those of her husband. He would be soliciting support for his campaign from business and professional cohorts, the purpose of this rare day of leisure; at least, that had been what he had told her last night . . . one of the unusual occasions when she had been granted the pleasure of his company during the full month of their marriage. My God . . . it was unbelievable, wasn't it? A nightmare . . . ? No . . . no, simply a deception.
Tears clouded her eyes; she bit at her full lower lip and subconsciously reached for the book on the stand beside her. Something . . . anything, to absorb her attention momentarily.
We are never deceived; we deceive ourselves . . .
She read Goethe's words blurringly from the small volume of quotations she had taken from Mark's study. Good Lord, how appropriate, she thought. Then, she found herself wondering if her handsome attorney-husband had ever taken the time to read this, or any of the other dusty works that lined the walls of that room. She doubted it; there was hardly time in Mark Coleman's ruthlessly ambitious existence for anything that didn't have to do with his quest for political power . . . even his wife.
Dear God, how was it that she hadn't detected this from the very beginning, she wondered for the thousandth time. How could she have been so utterly blind . . . his secretary for six months, yet know so little of his personal traits?
Again, she forced her eyes to the printed page, and the words of Moliere seemed to leap out at her in answer to her question.
One is easily fooled by that which one loves.
She closed the book and sat up, disconsolately surveying the splendor of her surroundings as she contemplated the wise, philosophical words. Suddenly, a bitter smile caught at her pretty mouth as she thought: The first sight of love is the last of wisdom.
Who had made that brilliant quote? It had just popped into her mind, but good Lord, how well it pertained. Mark Coleman had simply overwhelmed her; she had fallen in love with him the moment she had first laid eyes on him seven months ago, but never in her wildest dreams had she even dared believe that one day he would ask her to be his wife.
It had all happened so fast . . . his sudden, almost spontaneous invitation to dinner . . . candlelight and champagne . . . bubbles up her nose . . . her head swimming giddily . . . his proposal . . . their elopement that very night . . . and then . . . oh God . . . the horror! No, she didn't want to think of that . .
! No, she didn't want to think of that . . .!
Was she living in some appallingly distorted dreamworld? Under the influence of some weird drug, perhaps? She shook her beautiful head, causing her long blonde tresses to flail wildly about her shoulders, then fall neatly and softly back into place. No, there were no artificially induced cobwebs distorting her mind; she had simply deceived herself!
She arose from the bed and slowly crossed the large, plushly carpeted bedroom on the huge draped window overlooking the spacious grounds of the Coleman mansion. The midday California sun cast cooling shadows beneath the cypress and pepper trees, giving the velvet-like lawns a bluish hue, broken only by the myriad beds of flowers, Eduardo, the gardener, kept so trim and beautiful. Her own domain, Dianne thought wryly; she was mistress of the realm . . . and like the forgotten princess, its prisoner.
Staring off at the small sprawling city below, She recalled the slim volume of Coleman history she had found in the study. For a century, it read, the palatial, grey-stoned mansion had stood, housing three generations of the politically successful family, their vast land holdings throughout the country and in this city of Rio Lado itself, the source of their comfortable wealth. All had been lawyers such as Mark, and all had begun their political careers as state senators, just as he was attempting to do now. But the wealth, the power, the name . . . none of these had mattered to her, nor even interested her; she had only been concerned to learn if all the Coleman males had been as coldly indifferent to their women as Mark had been to her during the one short month of their marriage . . . and she hadn't found out.
It was so awesomely unbelievable! She thought of how little she had even seen of him . . . actually, she had shared his bed only a half-dozen times, and each of these occasions absolute drunken horrors she had tried to blot from her mind. It was near impossible for her to believe that this handsome, thirty-three-year old man who had easily won her heart could treat it so brutally, so ignominiously. My God . . . it was almost as if she were some kind of tool he had purchased for a particular use, to discard when he was through with it.
Still, she felt certain that once the election was over, it would all be different. She had tried to understand the strain he was under with his campaign, while still endeavoring to handle his practice . . . a grueling combination for any man . . . especially the man one loved . . . and she did love him . . . she did!
She felt sure the tremendous draught he had placed upon himself- was the cause of his heavy drinking, and why he had been so short tempered with her when they were together . . . plus the fact that one did not domesticate an active, handsome man who had spent better than a third of his life as a bachelor, overnight.
Anyway, she loved him . . . regardless of all else, of all his failings . . . She was his wife! Till death do us part, she repeated softly to herself, tears once more glazing her eyes.
Abruptly, Phillip crowded into her thoughts again. She sighed and turned from the window, refusing to welcome his mental presence. She walked slowly toward the bath, deliberately filling her mind with other things.
She remembered the dance at the country club ahead of her this night and pondered on that. Their weekly social ritual. God, how she'd come to dread them. She'd never regarded herself a prude, but measured in this elite circle there was little doubt but what she was. Her conception of the envious country-club set had been more or less founded on the stories one reads in the women's magazines, never the hard-drinking, promiscuous, mate-swapping group her prominent and wealthy husband had introduced her into. Although she had seen only the superficial side and not the actual orgies she'd heard took place in different member's splendid homes, it was still difficult for her to believe that couples truly exchanged husbands and wives for purpose of sex . . . God, she could never . . .! Nor could she understand why Mark had sneered at her when she'd told him this. But then . . . there was very little she had been able to understand about her learned, ambitious husband since the moment they had exchanged vows in the home of a Reno Justice of the Peace.
Now, gracefully, she slipped out of her negligee and caught the reflection of her twenty-three-year-old white nakedness in the full-length wall mirrors. It pleased her to admire her flawless body. Good God, someone had to . . . She thought of the bestial expression of lust that had contorted Mark's drunken face each time he had taken her and a cringing shudder coursed over her soft sensitive flesh. She didn't want to think of that either. Instead, she gazed appreciatively at her high-set, rounded, wildly spaced breasts whose pink-tipped nipples had distended from the cool rush of air caressing them, down to her slender, girlish waist that gently swelled into round, provocative hips, a flat, smooth stomach and long, full, well-tapered thighs, curvaceous calves and nicely formed ankles. She caught at her shoulder-length honey-colored hair and lifted it in back to the top of her head, pinning it there, the movement causing her erect, rotund breasts to jut forth in full bloom. Then, narcissistically, she smoothed her hands down over them and along her slightly delineated ribs to the smoothness of her belly and through the soft golden down that verified her natural complexion . . . Again, she trembled and felt the flush in her cheeks at her wanton stroking of her own body.
Quickly, she stepped inside the glass shower-stall. What she needed was a cold spray to lower her temperature . . . No! No, what she needed was a gentle and understanding husband who would make warm. passionate love to her and truly consummate their marriage . . .! Oh God, what had she done?
Phillip . . . Mark . . . Mark!
Finally, she wept, even as the shower sprayed against her upturned face and her brain filled uncontrollably with memories she could no longer surprise . . .
Carrying their blessings, Dianne Lovell had left her parents' home in Concord, New Hampshire to join her fianc� with all intentions of marrying him immediately. Phillip Gates was twenty-five, tall, brainy, and delicately handsome. They had known each other a lifetime, were childhood sweethearts, and now he was studying law at the University of Rio Lado with two years left to finish; they hadn't wanted to wait.
When she'd arrived, there had been no one to meet her. Frightened in the strangeness of the bigger city, and three-thousand miles from home, she had nervously taken a cab to the address she knew by heart from writing it on Phillip's letters, only to learn from his landlady that he was in the hospital and had just undergone surgery for a collapsed lung.
Of course, she'd found him, but it would be weeks, maybe months, before he was on his feet once more. Phillip had been so happy to see her, and she him; yet, it wasn't long before his good, levelheaded reasoning had taken command. He'd insisted she go back home until he was well again, then, he would send her the money to return, but she wouldn't hear of it. She would get a job and stay right there with him, even help nurse him during his convalescence, until he was well enough for them to be married.
She hadn't been at all worried about finding employment having had three years experience as a legal secretary to an attorney in Concord, and had quickly located a position with Coleman, Wright & Davison through a placement bureau. From the beginning, she had been in love with the job. Although she was the legal for all three gentlemen, she was the personal secretary of Mark Coleman . . . and shortly she found that she was nourishing an unwanted secret infatuation for him.
The mere thought of her childish, rattle-headedness nauseated her. That was when she was alone, or with Phillip. When she was within view or earshot of Mark Coleman, she was a love-struck girl. She couldn't help it. Just the sight of his tall, handsome physique, his dashing smile, his keen laughing dark-eyes, sent tingles through her whole being. She found herself wearing special things she thought he would like, choosing her perfumes with him in mind, arranging her hair a particular way because he had once told her it looked becoming. Yet, weeks dragged by and their relationship took no decisive course other than professional. Factually, she had not known what she would have done if it had; she'd been that frustrated.
Phillip had left the hospital and was recuperating beautifully. He was back in his apartment, attending a few classes, and in the evenings they took long walks together. She'd found a place only five blocks from his with an understanding landlady who allowed her to prepare dinner for the two of them, as long as he left before midnight. Sometimes, they went to a movie or play, but more often Phillip left early to study. It was during that period Dianne had felt their association straining, while her dreams were filled with the face of Mark Coleman, and her frustrations grew proportionately inside her.
Then, abruptly, she saw less and less of her employer. He had entered the political race for state senator, a challenge which seemed to take up a great deal of his time. She found herself hating it because it kept her from seeing him, and accordingly, she grew irritable, an emotion she subconsciously took out on those around her . . . especially Phillip.
"What is it, honey?" he put to her one night at her place. They had just finished a light meal she'd prepared and had fallen into a senseless argument over the quality of different brands of wine. "I mean . . . no matter what I say anymore . . . you're right down my throat."
"It's not that at all, Phillip, and you know it," she'd snapped. "It's . it's simply that you think you know so damned much. Since when have you been a wine connoisseur?"
He smiled, she remembered . . . smiled in that inimitable touching way of his. "You're haggling pennies, Dianne . . . holding back the dollars and haggling pennies. Can't you tell me . . . ? Maybe I can help . . ."
"Oh, for cripes sake, Phillip," she'd countered almost disgustedly, getting up, going to the kitchenette and picking the dishes up from the table. "And . . . and you're building mountains again. God, you'd almost think we were married."
He'd stood and came into the kitchen. "I think we should be . . . and right away."
"Wh-what?" She had stared at him, the dreaded words she'd anticipated for weeks . . . yes, months, ricocheting in her brain . . . words she had not wanted to hear, or had she . . . ?
"I mean it, Dianne," he said, coming close and slipping his arms around her waist, drawing her against him. "I want us to be married right away . . . this very week . . ."
"This week!" she'd exclaimed, forcing a smile. "Well . . . you don't give a girl much . . . much of a chance do you . . . ?"
But he hadn't smiled. "Much chance for what, Dianne?" he questioned levelly.
"I . . . ah . . . ," she stammered, laughing and pushing free. "You . . . you just took me by surprise, Phillip. I mean . . . you've been so ill and everything . . ."
"And everything," he repeated. "The secret word . . . everything." He had turned away from her, then, swung back, his slender face drawn grimly. "What're you trying to say, Dianne? You don't want to marry me? Is that it? Well .. ?"
For one long, solid moment she had stood as if frozen, debating whether to tell him all . . . the truth . . . the whole bit . . . then : "Listen to me, Phil, I've got a problem. .."
"You mean, a man?"
"I mean, a problem!"
"Nicely put."
"Better now than later, isn't it?" she had snapped at him.
"What's his name?"
"There is no name," she lied. "It's a problem and I must solve it, first."
He had shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and walked with slumped shoulders back into the front room . . . she could see him now. My God, how forlorn he had appeared. Then, he had turned to her, raised his head and said : "One question, Dianne . . . do you still love me?"
What could she say? What could she say? "Of course, I love you . . ." And then, she had gone to him, her eyes brimming with tears, and they had kissed, kissed, kissed . . . falling back onto the davenport . . . God, it had nearly happened, it had been that close . . . and now as she thought about it, perhaps she had wanted it to . . . known deep in her heart that it was the only thing that could bring her to her senses .
She had felt his warm, wet kisses all the way to her very soul, expressions of physical love her body had craved so desirously in her dreams. She had closed her eyes and offered herself, her being suddenly enflamed with mounting tongues of lashing excitement surging through her . . . as if all of her frustrations had been unleashed within her at once. She wanted to laugh and cry, pity and love; her warm, soft, passionate body vibrated with its overflow of sensations.
In all the years of their courtship they had never gone all the way; somehow, she would gain control of herself and the situation, holding him back, pacifying him with semi-intimate caresses and promises, begging him to help her bring her virginity to their marriage bed, but this time she sensed even her own self-influence waning fast . . . His hand was beneath her blouse on her breasts outside her bra . . . and then he had unfastened it and was massaging the exposed firm, full spheres into maddening hardness. She gasped as he took one of the nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, his playing tongue driving her near out of her mind . . . blinding her even to the touch of his excited, warm hand slipping upward beneath her skirt caressingly, between her creamy white thighs.
"Oh, Phillip . . . darling . . . no, no . . . we mustn't," she breathed hotly down into his face kissing and sucking at her breast, while her arms embraced his head tightly to her.
But it was as if she hadn't spoken and his hands continued to fondle and graze her tingling flesh, exploring the full length of her soft, smooth body, roving over her flat white belly and downward to the nylon concealed suppleness of her pubic mound. He touched her there gently, his strong sensitive fingers stroking and fondling, until she was aware that he had slipped his middle finger inside the leg band of her white nylon panties and into the moist, virginal slit of her vagina. Again, she had gasped aloud as never-before electric-like sensations surged through her, causing her to writhe feverishly beneath his hand.
"Darling . . . darling . . . we mustn't . . . No . . . No . . . not now," she pleaded raspily, his hot breath against the soft flesh of her breasts coming in ever increasing gasps." "Oh . . . please, darling . . ." Then, she heard the metallic whisper of his zipper . . . and suddenly felt the hard, hot fleshy bluntness pressing against her upper thigh . . . My God! It was his penis! Automatically, her body recoiled at its alien touch, even as his finger probed deeper between her legs into the warm wetness of her vagina, causing greater intoxicating waves of inner excitement to ripple through her, nearly disarming her completely. She lay as if mesmerized, physically entranced by the pleasurable sensations soaring about wildly within her . . . and then he had taken her hand and placed it on his hardened penis, his own hand covering hers and enclosing her fingers around it.
She had compulsively squeezed tight, feeling its hot rigidness give slightly beneath the pressure and heard and felt him gasp excitedly against her breast, the sounds of her own breathing filling the room as she realized the enormity of its size. Momentarily, it frightened her. She had never dreamed they. were so big . . . so long . . . so thick . . . her fingers would hardly go around it . . .! And, suddenly she realized that she was stroking it . . . massaging the thick outer layer of skin back and forth to the same rhythm he had established with his finger deep inside her moist, young vagina.
Oh God . . . there was no stopping him now! She had let it go, even encouraged it beyond the point of no return. Her whole body vibrated passionately, hungrily, in the rapture of the moment, as did his pressed tightly against her and in her hand. She squirmed responsively beneath his finger sinking ever deeper into her cunt so wet from the juices he had stimulated there. She felt it seeping from her vaginal lips, moistening her entire crotch even to the cleft between her round full buttocks; and then, even through her excitement, it struck her that he would destroy her still intact hyman the way he was stretching her virginal channel, but she didn't care . . . didn't care . . . didn't, didn't care . . .!
His prick jerked in her hand at every stroke, and as he increased his maddening pleasure-inciting thrusts up into her, so did she quicken and lengthen the pumping of her tiny hand clutching tightly at his throbbing, fleshy, shaft, feeling it grow and grow into unbelievable male hardness.
Perhaps it was his sudden rolling on top of her between her legs that helped restore her reasoning, or maybe it was simply the reaction of a strong religious upbringing thrusting its way through the delirium of forbidden pleasure clouding her brain, whichever, she found herself fighting him, clamping her long naked legs tightly together, her thighs clasping his stiff, throbbing cock between them, as he struggled savagely on top of her to get the hardened tip of his prick into the moist opening of her excited and dilated vagina.
"Oh God, no, Phillip, we can't," she hissed up at him, her teeth clenched as she squirmed and struggled with every ounce of resistance she could muster, clenching his rock-hard cock tightly as it strained inside her panty leg, its nozzle splaying the lips of her throbbing cunt, inching even forward from the weight and force of his near insane attempt to penetrate her. "No! No, darling . . .! she half cried, and as she squeezed and writhed furiously she felt it lurch within her clutching fingers and heard his uncontrollable gasp of frustrated ecstasy.
He groaned and grunted as she felt the thick, hot stream of his sperm shoot from its jerking head, saturating her still tingling vulva, the palpitating open lips of her vagina and the
surrounding, golden pubic hair, until she was drenched with the warm, viscous liquid, even to the inner sides of her soft white thighs, dribbling wetly down between her legs to moisten the davenport beneath her lust dampened buttocks.
She had lain perfectly still and held him tight all through it, feeling his body convulse on top of her while his penis pumped spasmodically in her grasp, heard him emit his final groan of release as he seemed to collapse over her, his shaft rapidly growing limp in her hand, and it was then that she sensed an indescribable sensation of being cheated; yet, she said nothing, only held him, running her hand through his hair while he began to whisper apologies in a choked, almost shamed voice.
Chapter Two
Dianne could hardly remember now what Phillip had said, or how she had coped with it. They had gotten up, straightened their clothing and avoided looking at one another, saying little more. At the door, he had gazed at her for a long moment, his expression troubled, ashamed . . . kissed her quickly and left. She hadn't seen him again.
To say the least, he'd left her in a state of mental and physical disconcertion. She'd barely slept a wink all night. He hadn't been man enough to take her, and that was truly what she had wanted; yet, simultaneously she was aware that had he raped her she would've hated him for all time. She'd been terribly upset and confused; Mark Coleman couldn't have picked a more strategic moment to approach her.
The following afternoon he'd burst from his office a little before five, studied her for a passing of seconds, then, with a seemingly handsome impulsive smile, said : "Dianne . . . I want to ask you a question . . . a rather important question . .."
Her mouth had fallen open slightly; he'd never called her Dianne . . . always, Miss Lovell.
"Well?" he pressed.
"Yes . . . of course, Mr. Coleman," she'd managed after a moment. "What is it?"
"Over dinner this evening, eh?" He continued to smile.
"Dinner . . . ? This evening? Well . . . I . . ."
"Fine. I'll pick you up around seven." He'd spun away, then paused again before his door to turn back. "Don't forget to leave me your address, eh?"
"No-No . . . that is, yes, of course . . . I'll remember . . ."
God, he had simply overwhelmed her, Dianne realized as she stepped from the shower to towel herself . . . charmed her at a time when her defenses were at lowest ebb. The candlelight, the champagne, his handsome smile and gallant air . . . my God, she'd have gone to the ends of the earth with him that night.
"Yes . . . oh yes!" she'd answered with the same spontaneity he'd used in proposing the question. "I will marry you, Mark! I will . . .!"
And she had, that very night! Insanity! Wild, exciting, insanity!
She remembered how unbelievably happy she had been clinging tightly to him as they flew from Los Angeles to Reno . . . and the way both of them had weaved a little tipsily from the champagne while they held to one another before the Justice of the Peace . . . and then had followed the sudden horror of the bridal suite, shocking her back to the depths of reality, and beyond . . .
He'd started to drink heavily the moment they were alone, tipping the bottle up to his lips and angry with her because she wouldn't do the same.
"Please, darling . . . don't drink anymore?" she'd tried, forcing a little smile, the first twinges of apprehension beginning to stir inside her. She'd crossed to where he stood near the dresser, the half-empty champagne bottle in his hand, and slipped her arms around his neck. "We . . . we don't want anything to spoil this night . . . do we, darling?"
He'd stared at her through rapidly glazing eyes, his thin-lipped mouth suddenly quite bloodless and cold looking. At last he took her wrist gently but firmly and put her from him.
"It's already, a bit rancid, my dear," he said thickly. "The Justice of the Peace managed that . . . but I suppose it's a necessary evil . . . Damnit."
Dianne doubted that, he could've stunned her more had he struck her a vicious blow with his fist. She had stood there dumbfounded, staring at him in perplexed disbelief. His words had jarred her backwards several steps, and now she recalled how she'd begun to shake her head as she watched the almost salacious grin twist at his mouth while obvious lust mounted in his drunken eyes.
"Mark . . .! I. I don't understand . . . Wh-What're you trying to say . . .!"
"Trying to say?" he'd repeated, the champagne slurring his words. He chuckled dryly. "A wife I needed . . . a wife I got. A good politician should have a comely wife . . . or at least, so think the constituents. It has to do with the image, darling . . . pillar of the people and that sort of crap. So . . . I decided if I had to take on a millstone she was going to be the sexiest one I could swindle, a luscious dream who wouldn't make me sick everytime I fucked her . . . a virgin preferably, but not necessarily . . . not too intelligent and not completely stupid . . ." His eyes had raked her sensuous contours with increasing lasciviousness. ". . . And you just fit that bill, Dianne."
He was joking . . . had to be joking! It was all some horribly warped piece of macabre humor and done in very bad taste . . . and filthy words . . . dear God! It couldn't be true! Impossible! She'd backed further away from him, gaping in near horror . . . He was drunk . . . didn't realize what he was saying! Yes! That was it! She must help him . . . get him to bed. Sleep . . . sleep . . . he needed sleep . . .!
"You can strip now," he'd said, interrupting her frenzied thoughts, setting the bottle down onto the dresser and beginning to pull at his own clothing. "It's time you started paying for all the luxuries I'm going to be forced to lavish on you, Mrs. Coleman."
She had backed to the bed but caught herself before falling onto it. Then, she saw him stagger toward her causing her breath to catch in her throat, and in confused panic she had dashed to the door, pulling frantically at the knob.
Mark paused and laughed behind her. Too late, she'd realized that it was locked and he'd taken the key! She swung about to face him. He grinned at her loosely, almost evilly, his tongue slipping out to wet his thin lips.
"Strip, I said!"
"M-Mark . . . my God . . . no, please . . . not now . . . not this way," she pleaded. "I can't . . . I just can't . . ."
"A bit late, my pet," he said, a cold cruel grin beginning to play around his mouth. "Way too late for anything but fucking, now . . ."
"Oh, my God!" she'd gasped, cringing within at the vile sound of the obscene word she couldn't remember ever having heard uttered before this night, and its very significant meaning to her at that petrifying moment, while he continued to remove the clothes from his tall, muscular body; until, at last, he stood before her licentiously naked, his thick hard penis lancing out from his lean, hairy loins like some brutal instrument of torment.
She gaped in sheer disbelief as he dropped his hand to it and with a lewd grin, began stroking the heavy, uncircumcised foreskin back and forth over the purplish, bulbous head. It jerked to his own touch and as she stared in abhorrence she thought she detected several drops of white fluid seep from the tiny split at its tip . . .
"Fascinating gem, isn't it, darling?" he leered drunkenly, reveling obviously in the shameful torment he was subjecting her to. "I'll wager you had no idea that your new husband was so generously endowed . . . right?" He laughed lewdly. "Well now . . . just wait till I slip it into that tight little cunt of yours, then you'll really appreciate it. I'll tell you the truth, honey . . . it's made more than one bitch beg for mercy." He started to laugh again, then, caught himself. "By the way, you do have a tight little cunt, I hope . . . ?"
"Stop it! Stop it!" she had shouted at him, tears spilling uncontrollably down her cheeks as he went on with his tormenting, watching the contorted expressions of shock and near-paralyzing fear pass over her wan face in a kaleidoscope of sheer repugnance.
But he hadn't stopped . . . only continued to grin lewdly at her while she stood as if glued with her back to the door, watching, hypnotized by his stroking of the rigid fleshy shaft with his hand . . . the unbelievable thickness of it causing her subconscious to recall his words of a moment before . . . more than one . . . beg for mercy . . . My God, no woman could ever take such a thing inside her . . . it would tear her legs apart!
Again, he started toward her.
"D-Don't come any nearer, Mark! You hear . . . ? Don't touch me!" she'd managed to blurt at him through her loathing and fear, yet realizing that her words were futile . . . that he was going to take her helpless, virginal body no matter how she pleaded with him . . . and worse, dear God, that he had a perfect right to do so! She was his wife!
"Are you going to remove those pretty clothes, darling . . . or do you want me to rip them off your ass into shreds?"
She recalled how she had stood there completely defenseless, still frozen in semi-shock and near-terror, until he had reached out for her, jerking her to him and clamping her face between his strong hands, his wet lips encompassing hers tightly, his tongue bursting deep into her mouth while the hardness of his prick had gouged into the soft flesh of her belly . . . then he was stripping her.
She hadn't tried to fight him. As terrified and sickened as she was, she realized the uselessness of struggling, She was his wife and completely at his mercy to do with as he wished. Dear, God, she'd thought, what a monstrous farce she helped to perpetrate on her own self. . .
"That's my precious little wife," he'd hissed at her. "Come let Daddy prepare you for the fucking of your life."
Once more, she'd cringed at the vile sound of the obscene word he had breathed hotly into her tear-stained face. Actually, she'd been but dimly conscious of his eager hands moving over her body, tugging at zippers and unfastening snaps, until the air caressed her naked flesh, hardening the nipples of her unleashed, full white breasts, and then she felt her panties being pulled down over the softness of her smooth rounded buttocks.
He'd stepped back then and gazed at her while she closed her eyes and stood, chin high, trying desperately to control the tears attempting to flood from them, near losing her balance as she swayed dangerously in her self-inflicted darkness . . . There was nothing left but shame now. . .
"Christ, you're a luscious sight to behold!" he'd gasped, pulling her against his lust incited nakedness, crushing her breasts flat to his powerful, hairy chest, his hands cupping the round full globes of her buttocks and hauling her close until his hard jerking staff burrowed tightly into the white softness of her flaccid belly. "You're all that I thought you were going to be . . . when I watched this tight little ass of yours whip around the office . . . Damn, how I wanted to fuck that little pussy of yours, baby . . . but without -benefit of any wedding ring . . . just flip you onto your back and throw those long legs up over your head . . . and stuff this cock into that soft white belly until you could taste it . . ."
"Oh God," she had moaned almost incoherently, her face resting on his shoulder, suddenly unable to comprehend the erotic tingle of excitement his obscene description was arousing in her. And then, he had caught her by the hair, jerking her head back, his open mouth finding hers while his hand clutched and kneaded her left breast mercilessly, pinching and twisting at the nipple, immediately quenching the fleeting passion of a moment before.
She'd whimpered against his lips from the brutal mauling of her soft sensitive breast, her eyes blinded with the tears of her shameful and humiliating deception, while deep within she knotted with the dreaded fear of the inevitable moment when he would try to penetrate her virginal passage with the horrendous cudgel pressing hard against her stomach.
Oh, my God, what had she done? What had she done? And then, suddenly, he was leading her to the bed.
"Oh . . . oh, please, Mark. My God, be gentle . . . ," she'd tried as he moved her around and pressed her down onto the bed before him, quickly placing one knee between her automatically closing legs. "I-I've never . . . my God! I'm a virgin, Mark!"
He poised himself above her on all fours, only the one leg between hers, and grinned down at her in his lustful drunken state.
"Really?" he said thickly. "Well now that's some phenomenon these days, even for a successfully practicing attorney and future state senator." He chuckled excitedly. "All in your favor though, darling. At least, it makes me fell I'm getting my money's worth. So . . . spread them beautiful legs, and we'll change all that."
"P-Please, Mark . . . My God, be gentle . . ."
"Spread 'em damnit!" he'd snarled, as if nothing else mattered to him but burying his hard cock inside her chaste tender flesh, and reluctantly she had opened her thighs while he lifted his other leg and planted himself commandingly between the long white columns, his now red-rimmed eyes gaping down lustfully at the pink moist flesh of her slightly opened cuntal lips. Then, he sat back momentarily on his haunches, still staring at the completely exposed sight of her sparse, golden, hair-covered vagina, and as she watched in near-paralyzed fear, he placed his palms flat against the inside of her soft, smooth thighs, his thumbs resting on the soft downy flanges of her cunt. Her breath had hitched in her chest as with a slow, tantalizing outward movement, he drew the gently pulsating lips slowly apart, exposing the moist coral flesh to the mercy of his drunken gaze.
"Christ!" he gasped once more. "Baby, that's the tiniest little pussy I've seen in a long time!"
"M-Mark . .'. Mark, please . . . don't hurt me . . . ?" she'd begged; the words tumbling pleadingly from her trembling lips.
He'd said nothing, only sucked in his breath and suddenly dropped down onto her, his hands plundering greedily over the soft lush contours of her fear stricken young body, squeezing her full, succulent breasts sadistically, his mouth lowering to chew hungrily at one nipple then the other, while she had writhed painfully beneath him.
"Oh . . . oh, my God. .. ," she'd moaned beneath his depraved attack. He'd held her imprisoned to the bed with the weight of his strong sinuous body, her head rolling back and forth wildly while his hand sought his prick and jammed the blood-filled head between the moist,, tender lips of her vagina, working it up and down briefly to part the soft, sparse pubic hair, and thrusting it forward against the tight, cringing mouth of her reluctant cunt.
Abruptly, her terror had gotten the better of her; she'd tried to scream . . . couldn't! Then, she'd felt the agonizing pressure beginning. For one brief moment, she'd thought she could endure it, but-it quickly became obvious to her that it would never fit. Again, she tried to scream.
He flicked his hips forward.
"0000ooooohhhhh Godddd, noooo, nooo!"
Her brain reeled, but more from fear than the pain. She'd heard him curse vilely, then he'd pressed into her again, flexing his buttocks with brutal strength, until suddenly it gave. The tight elastic ring of her vaginal entrance had popped open with a snapping, unexpected sound and the huge spongy head slipped wetly inside her with a rush that left her gasping for breath.
"Aaaaaaaaaaagggggggggghhhhhhhh!"
She flailed her head insanely and tried to get her talon-crooked fingers up to claw at his face with her nails as she'd squirmed and twisted like a madwoman, endeavoring to escape the cruel and agonizing impalement of her helpless cunt.
She'd squealed as might a speared animal thrashing in its final death-throes while he caught her wrists and pinned them back to the bed; she kicked her legs out frantically in a futile attempt for relief, but the move only worsened her position, and he'd sunk his massive prick deeper into her yielding flesh without benefit of mercy while she'd begun to half-screech incoherently from the unbelievable pain. Brutally, his stone-hard cock had bored further and further into her unprepared, virginal passage, expanding the sensitive moist walls until she'd been certain her thighs would split asunder from the outward, relentless pressure . . . then, his pelvis had smacked resoundingly against her own and she'd felt his balls dangling heavy between the upturned cheeks of her tightly clenched ass.
She had tried to speak, beg, anything . . . but couldn't raise the words from her throat. He had whipped her breath away with his cruel penetration of her unreceptive and unwanting vagina, the scalding pain emitting from it and her whole crotch area assuring her that he had torn her badly, and as the vile, massive thing lay entombed beyond reason deep in her quivering belly, the warm and wet stretched walls of her cunt wrapped like a salved bandage around it, she'd been certain she could feel the blood trickling down the cleft between her buttocks to form a warm, wet pool beneath her on the bed.
But he'd never stopped. Like some mad rapist, he'd never even given her an acclimating moment of adjustment to his sudden invasion deep inside her womb. He'd simply commenced to fuck, plunging in and out of her in the manner of a feral, rutting animal. Half in shock from the pain, as well as the heartbreak, shame and humiliation, she'd gaped up helplessly at his drunken lust-contorted face, trying with all of her heart to fathom what lay beyond that mask as he hammered inhumanly in and out of her. Her eyes had blurred with her tears, but more from the mental anguish as the pain slowly began to subside and she determined that his only thought was to spew his waiting load of white, hot semen deep inside her in the age old heritage of the dominating male animal.
And he had! Again and again that night, he'd emptied his lust-filled loins into her, flooding her belly with the hot white liquid of his passion . . . but never once waiting for her own need to be fulfilled.
In time, when the pain had passed completely, and her moist tingling passage had flowered open to him, fiery tongues of ecstatic pleasure had begun to lick hungrily at her soft sensitive flesh. Uncontrollably, her whole body had begun an uncontrollable twitching and writhing beneath him and she'd found herself groaning incessantly up into the wetness of his mouth, shoving her tongue with wild and complete abandon deep into his throat. Her legs on either side of his impaling cock had jerked and quivered of their own volition, and she'd drawn back her knees tight against her throbbing breasts, presenting the naked plane of her loins wide-open to his pile-driving thrusts, and he'd ground hard and deep, his cock boring far up into the hidden, never before touched, sanctuary of her womb.
Oh God, yes! She loved him! Would always love him . . . no matter what he was or what he did to her . . . She loved him!
At that moment, she had nearly begged him! Her body had screamed for release; he had driven her desire to that point with his liquor-sodden lust; but seconds before she had reached the hair-away pinnacle he had again shot the warm white dregs of his loins into her . . . then, with a long groan, passed out cold on top of her . . .
Such had been her wedding night . . . and all nights she'd ever spent with him since. Now, as she came from the bath to her vanity, once more attired in the provocative sheer negligee, Dianne realized that she loved him no less than she had in the very beginning. Good God, she didn't know why she should . .. but she did. Perhaps it had become a masochistic thing with her, she thought, picking up the brush and beginning to stroke the heavy cascade of silken blonde-hair.
He didn't love her, nor had he ever. That much she knew. She supposed she should be thankful that he'd been honest enough to tell her that at the start. At least, there was no deception on the score; he'd married her to enhance his vote-getting image. In exchange, he had lavished her with every luxury wealth could buy. She wanted for nothing material . . , only his love . . . but he couldn't give what he didn't possess.
Over brandies at dinner last evening, he had remarked what a lovely first-lady of the state she would one day make . . . and momentarily she had thought she detected a softening to his usual ruthless eyes, a gentling to his cold hard smile . . . and then, he had left. Of course, she had no idea where he went or when he would be back. He never told her that.
It was almost impossible for her to believe that the man she had dined with and the man whose bed she shared on those rare occasions were one and the same. Dear God, what happened to him in the interim? Liquor? Perhaps. Anyway, she loved him; he was her husband. Forgetting all else, he was her husband, an he was taxing himself beyond reason, either for a personal or inherent family goal . . . she didn't know which. But whichever, she would stand beside him, through campaigns and country club dances, until all was right between them, even their lovemaking; then, perhaps, she would be his first lady.
Really, that was all she wanted . . . wasn't it . . . ?
Chapter Three
Mark Coleman maneuvered the T-Bird with remarkable skill considering the fact that he'd been guzzling scotch and sodas rampantly throughout the eight-hour round of golf. One nice thing about the Rio Lado Country Club, he grinned to himself, were the phones to the bar installed on every tee. They'd served their purpose well this day. Good Commissioner Faro had been stoned when he left him in the locker-room, but his mission had been accomplished. At least, he felt pretty damned certain it was. Anyway, he'd know in a few hours . . . if the Commissioner called him and invited them to dine at their table this evening . . . the old double entendre.
He continued to grin as he thought about that. Cripes, Dianne would flip if she even dreamed what might possibly be in store for her. Well, he'd leave that end of it to A.C. Faro; the lecherous bastard had certainly had enough experience at seduction in his time. The main issue was his securing Judge Reed and his powerful machine's backing, and no one ever got to first-base with old Julian without going through his top lieutenant, the Police and Fire Commissioner.
Yes, sir, he'd handled it all according to the prescribed channels of power. They were old passageways in Rio Lado Country, but still vigorously in use, and not to be idly short-cut by any ambitious politician. He'd seen too many die along the way to become a rebel. Even his own father might have been governor had he not bucked the Judge and followed along the narrow, but ordained paths. He doubted that he'd ever believe that the old-man's brakes had just suddenly given away. Perhaps he might have bought it had it not been right in the midst of the state highway expose . . . but to hell with that. It was another era. .. past and dead. His father had been a fool. . . he only wished his mother hadn't been in the car with the senator. . .
This was another time, another age, another generation of Colemans. A shrewder breed, he thought to himself as he wheeled toward Coleman Hill. He had contrived with well-planned stratagem, even to his marriage with Dianne. God, if there'd been anything he never wanted to do, it was take a wife. He'd had no right . . . He'd even delayed the launching of his political career more than five years in his frustrated effort to avoid the binding tie. Anyway, the swinging-bachelor routine had pleased him . . . satisfied him. He'd chosen his women to sate his lust, nothing more . . . uninhibited, salacious females who performed for a price and laid no claim, all of them at least as far away as Los Angeles from Rio Lado. In his own town he remained a professional gentleman, and a hell of a catch, he knew.
Dianne had just nicely fit his needs. She was a lovely, voluptuous creature, and a natural vote-getter . . . a bit naive but a long way from being a fool . . . beautiful, warm, passionate . . . just a natural, once Doe Everett had secured things for him, putting his mind at ease. But he had his doubts that she would ever fall into a place with the "set." Those damnable New England prudish morals of hers were too pronounced, too deeply imbedded. Still, that was the Commissioner's problem, wasn't it? Not his. Anyway, he'd long ago decided he could shed her if she became too much of a problem, once she'd served her purpose . . . and her luster had worn thin. But right now she was there whenever he wanted her . . . and Christ, what a fuck she was!
He found himself trembling somewhat nervously at the anticipation of A.C. Faro's call. He leaned against the door with his arm crooked out the window, one single finger guiding the wheel around the ascending curve up Coleman Hill. Someway, he felt certain, Faro would manipulate the Judge on his side . . . he was that hungry for a taste of Dianne.
Mark snickered aloud to himself. He wasn't exactly adverse to a tumble with Tonya Faro. She was at least ten years younger than the forty-four or five-year-old Commissioner, an exciting looking bitch, and he'd heard enough about her from a ,few of the swappers at the club to put starch in his prick. She had given him the eye more than once, but on those occasions she hadn't yet fitted into his plans. She, didn't now, come to think about it, but once the Colemans accepted the Faro's offer to dinner it was an unwritten and unencroachable law of the "set" . . . and that had been a major stipulation in A.C. Faro's consideration . . . that Dianne be made available for his use.
What the hell, he thought suddenly, his mouth pinching into a cold thin line as the T-Bird climbed the hill, Dianne had no complaints. So, he'd stretched a point with the love drivel. She'd been ready or she wouldn't have bought it. Anyway, he'd made more than a fair exchange. She had no goddamned complaints . . . more luxury than she ever dreamed of . . . And you didn't dance without paying the piper a little bit . . . did you?
Satisfied, he smiled to himself as he swung into the long circle drive. Many, nice things could happen to him tonight, he thought . . . including fucking Tonya Faro.
Chapter Four
A.C. Faro cut a striking figure at forty-four: tall, athletic and ruggedly handsome with graying temples and strong, hard teeth. You noticed the teeth, Tonya thought, as she lay on the bed watching him grin into the mouth-piece of the telephone; he smiled a lot. When he entered a room it was the first thing of him that you noticed, those gleaming, square white teeth. Damn . . . and he was her own virile provider, the Police Commissioner himself, no less. . . a considerable boast for a girl who'd spent her thirteenth birthday in a house of correction, not to see the "outside" again until she was eighteen. But who in Rio Lado, these many years later, would believe that? Call girl, dirty pictures, lewd movies . . . just who would believe that of Tonya Faro, the Commissioner's wife?
She tittered smugly aloud, catching his attention, and he raised his eyes in question as he continued to smile into the phone instrument. She shook her attractive head negatively and he went on with his conversation.
"As you know, I intended to feel him out, Judge, but it wasn't necessary; he came to me. I mean, hell, we don't have to solicit him . . . he wants our help too bad," the Commissioner said, still smiling. "The way I see it, he figures he can't be certain without Judge Reed behind him. . ."
Tonya rolled onto her side where she lay on the bed, facing her husband who stood beside it naked, having interrupted their little afternoon party to make his expected, punctual report; he was engrossed in his conversation. She loved him, she mused, and who on earth wouldn't. What a tremendous union they had. Her large dark eyes wandered down his big frame and locked on his beautiful, massive cock that was quickly losing its vigor now that his mind was elsewhere but on her. Not that it took any great amount of doing to stimulate it into an exciting hardness, but it occurred to her that to taunt him while he was conversing with the obese master would be amusing.
She slithered across the bed and reached out to take its limpness into her small, soft hand. She felt him jerk, heard him gulp, then apologize as she began to teasingly milk it and giggle at the same time.
"No," he said into the phone, the long muscles of his thighs twitching at her teasing manipulations. "I just let him think he was petitioning me, Judge. Then, I told him I'd speak to you . . . thought that was probably the way you'd want it . . . (Damn you, stop that. I'm talking to Judge Reed . . .) Yes, Judge . . . that's the way I see it, too. He feels he needs our backing to be sure . . . (You wait till I get off this phone!) Yeah, that's right . . . her name's Dianne. A real luscious dish, your honor . . ."
Tonya reached down beneath his re-erected prick and began to stroke the heavy velvet-textured balls. She smiled up at him innocently as she weighed them in her hand. She by-passed the urge to give them a slight squeeze at the mention of Dianne Coleman's name, realizing the powerful gargoyle had instigated the question. Obviously, he'd heard about the little stuck-up, blonde bitch and decided he'd like a sample. A tiny shudder coursed over her smooth, naked flesh at the thought. It took a pro . . . at least a girl somewhat hardened to the game to stomach the judge . . . and she ought to know. She'd had to spend more than a little time satisfying his perverted desires . . . but it was a small measure to give for what they received in return from the powerful "king-maker." And all she had to do was look around her at the plush luxury of her home, her wonderful husband and the full exciting life he'd given her to know that she'd service a horse if he told her to. She loved him that much.
"It's in the bag, as they say, Judge," A.C. went on, while she moved her hand back up to his prick, bending it toward her and forcing him to turn and face her.
Then, she took it into her mouth, slipping her warm, teasing lips down over its throbbing head wetly while she worked her tongue into its tiny split, finally swirling the oral projector around its blood-filled head wildly.
"Y-Yes . . . yes, Judge . . . I-I will . . . I will. N-No, I feel fine . . . sure, just . . . just excited about
"Coleman, is all. Y-You bet. 'Bye . . . What? Yes, I-I'll let -you know. Right. G-Goodbye . . ."
Tonya couldn't keep her face straight. She had her mouth filled with the head of his shaft, but she was grinning at the same time and looking up at him, her eyes like two brown marbles lying in milk.
Faro grinned down at her. He planted his hands on his hips and stood spread legged while she lay on her belly and sucked at his prick enthusiastically, those big dark-eyes gaping up at him innocently.
Christ, he loved her, he thought! What a wanton, beautiful, delectable whore she was. She'd struck him the same way the first night he'd laid her in San Francisco at the Police Officials Convention. Seven years she'd been his wife and never for one moment since Nora's death had he been sorry for marrying her. She's made it all worth while . . . worth coming home to . . . and that was more than he could ever say for Nora in twenty years of wedlock.
So, the kids didn't like her . . . to hell with them. They had their own lives now. And he'd bet his next year's income that their sex existence couldn't begin to match his. Damnit, he hadn't lived until he'd met Tonya. Call girl? Yeah . . . she had to be; she needed that much loving . . . at least, he satisfied himself with that explanation.
Now, he looked down at her . . . smirking as she continued to suck on the head of his prick. Cripes, he could fuck her all morning and all afternoon . . . yes, even into the night and she'd wake him up by squeezing his balls and cock, looking for more. She was insatiable . . . but goddamn, deliciously so, his true counterpart in lust, he knew.
She lay on her belly, her torso raised from the bed and braced by her elbows, one small hand encircling the base of his cock while the other cradled his balls; her high-set, round full breasts hung forward, their brown nipples hardened in her excitement, reminding him of a carved mermaid attached to the bow of a sailing ship, while his cock stuck from her mouth like its bowsprit. He ran his hands through her silky, raven-black hair, his eyes devouring the smooth, creamy skin of her back that narrowed into the girlish waist, then flared out into enticingly rounded hips, and full, globular buttocks. Her perfectly tapered thighs she had spread comfortably and her shapely lower-legs were raised, bent at the knees so that he could see the soft pink soles of her feet wrinkling as she twitched and curled her toes contentedly to the sucking and licking of his continually hardening prick in his mouth.
"You know," he said, clutching his fingers in her hair and giving his loins a little thrust forward, "I ought to spank your ass for being such a damn little pest."
"Um hum," she murmured nasally, accepting the extra measure of prick he pressed into the warm cavern of her mouth eagerly.
"Th-that was Judge Reed . . . and . . . and he's going to back . . . back Coleman, which . . . which means I'll be . . . be his campaign manager . . ."
"Um hum."
"And . . . and now I've got to . . . to call him and set things . . . things up for tonight . . . ooohhh . . . They'll . . . they'll be dining at our . . . our table, baby . . ."
Abruptly, she stopped her buccal nursing, raised her big eyes and slowly slipped back off the end of his hardened fleshy rod. She licked at her lips and smiled up at him.
"You mean, the Colemans' are going to be our partners tonight?" she questioned, her excitement obvious to him.
He continued to. smile as he nodded down at her. Their broad approach to mate-swapping and other extracurricular affairs were the secret ingredients that had made their marriage an average success. If anything, their mutual permissive arrangement had brought them closer together, and more than once each had helped the other accomplish a desired seduction.
"You like that, eh baby?" he said, her sudden elation no surprise to him: she'd had designs on Mark Coleman for months, along with a dozen other wives at the club, but the young attorney had seemingly followed a straight and narrow path, cleverly keeping himself a friend to all, but obligated to none. He was a discreet one, all right.
"I like it very much, Daddy," she crooned, raising up to sit back on her haunches while his eyes darted to her soft flat belly and downward between her slightly spread thighs where he could see through the dark pubic hair covering her loins, the fleshy pinkness of her vaginal slit glistening wetly from her arousal of a few moments before. "And I imagine the idea of getting into that little blonde wife of his isn't exactly upsetting to you, is it, Darling?"
A.C. grinned as he thought of Dianne Coleman's luscious young body. "That innocent little bitch makes my cock jump every time I see her," he said softly in concentrated thought.
"Hmmm, that's not saying too much for her," retorted his wife teasingly. "I know a couple of whores who've performed that effortless task . . ."
She saw the gleam of mischief leap into his eyes, but was not quick enough to escape his dive forward and widespread arms. With a little squeal she tried to roll clear of the bed and suddenly found herself flat on her back, her legs held high and wide apart, his rugged face grinning at her from where it was poised just above the split of her soft, dark-covered crotch.
"Oh, damn you," she half-smiled at him, her head raised so that he could see down between the full, erect mounds of her breasts, her breath catching in her throat at the mere anticipation of what he was going to do. "I-I won't be responsible," she stammered. Having her pussy licked set her wild and he knew it. "Y-You better not . . . if . . . if you ever want to get to the club for dinner with the Colemans . . ."
A.C. snickered as he placed the flat of his palms against the quivering inner sides of her thighs and with his thumbs resting on the soft fleshy flanges of her cunt, slowly drew the ragged pink lips apart exposing the moist coral slit before him; then, he softly blew his cool breath into it.
"Oooohhh . . . damn you, A.C. I can't resist that and you know it . . . ooohhh."
"I was going to have mercy on you this afternoon," he said, licking at his lips suggestively," . . . was going to let you get plenty of rest so you'd be able to handle Mark Coleman tonight . . . but you had to keep pestering me, now you take your punishment."
"Oohhh Honey . . . you better listen to me," she almost whined, her soft white body beginning to twitch before him even though he had not yet attacked. "I-I'll handle two of you and . . . and four Mark Colemans in a row, b-but I don't know what you'll ever do with that wife of his i-if you start this because I'll d-drain you, so help me I will . . ."
Again, A.C. snickered as he blew his breath into the moist pink flesh of her pussy that he still held splayed wide with the gentle pressure of his thumbs, raising another gasp from deep in her chest while his cock lurched and he ground it against the satiny coverlet beneath him. It was all a game they both loved to play, teasing, taunting, threatening one another in their sexcapades, yet their own private sincere way of expressing their love, each to the other. Even so, he knew that oral manipulation of her vagina drove her nearly out of her mind, to such an extent that a half-dozen orgasms might not satisfy her, but right now he felt as mischievous as she had, as well as elated over the Coleman accomplishment; an acquisition that was going to bring new gold into the coffers as well as some fresh sexual embellishments. Damnit, a little celebration was in order . . . and how better than his own wife's wildly exciting cunt!
"Darling, please . . . I'll go wild today . . . I know I will," Tonya begged. "J-Just let me do you. Honest, Darling . . . wait until tonight when we get home . . . please . . . I'm begging." She gaped down at him with open mouth to where he was raised menacingly above her widespread crotch, wanting it so badly, yet, knowing what it meant. "Please . . . please . . . just let me suck you. You know I cum too when I do that . . . please. .."
"Are you sorry for pestering me?" A.C. said, flicking his tongue out in a lapping movement only a fraction of an inch from her open palpitating pussy.
Tonya sensed a shudder ripple over her, almost as if the actual contact of his hot tongue with her seething vagina had been made. "Yes, Darling, yes . . . forgive me! I'm begging, sweetheart . . .!"
A.C. chuckled. God, what a woman! "Okay, this time I'll give in," he said, moving from between her legs to crawl up beside her and drop his head onto the pillow, then roll onto his back, the throbbing tower of his prick pointing, ceilingward. "But you better do a crackup job of sucking, baby, or I'm going to change my mind."
She laughed, kissed wetly, searching his mouth with her tongue, then scrambled down to haunch on all fours over his loins, stroking his rigid staff first with one hand and then between both at the same time, causing him to thrust his loins upward involuntarily as the warm moistness of her open lips closed over the jerking, sensitive head of his cock.
Immediately he reached down, entangling his hands tightly in her short black hair, guiding the cadence of her bobbing head below. He raised up from the pillow to watch her ovaled mouth, it added an excitement to the sensation watching the thickness of his massive tool buried between her sucking lips.
He felt the insane, educated twirling of her tongue about the moist viscidness of the blood-inflated tip and twisted his head to watch in the large, strategically placed, bedside mirror, getting a voyeur's-eye view of his wife's attractive face absorbing his ever hardening prick sawing in and out of her roundly stretched mouth. The mere reflected scene made his loins tighten and jerk up into her face, presenting a picture that would appear as if she were taking the full length of it all the way into her throat. Only a small portion of it remained white. and glistening as it protruded from between her lips.
God, what a woman, his mind repeated subconsciously as she did whatever it was she performed with her tongue on the upstroke that made the smooth rubbery head of his prick jerk as though all of his pulse were centered there. The scene the mirror reflected mesmerized him and his excitement grew as he saw the pink flesh of her lips being pulled out bizarrely, adhering to that of his cock as she sucked it greedily, her whole being seemingly devoted to the task. Her magnificent breasts were jerking and swaying in a wild rhythm, contributing unbelievable viewing pleasure to the lewd spectacle reflected in the mirror.
"Oh . . . you lovable bitch . . . suck it . . . suck it!" he groaned down at her through clenched teeth, flopping his head backward to the pillow momentarily, visualizing the beautiful face of young Dianne Coleman grotesquely absorbing his massive cock deep in her throat. What a delicious seduction she was going to be when he got her . It wasn't going to be easy, he knew, but he'd get her now, her own husband had agreed . . . that was part of it. And goddamn . . . he'd shoot his hot, sticky load right down her throat and make her beg for more!
"Oh Christ . . . suck that thing, damn you," he hissed, raising his head once more to watch her labors below. The late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window caused her body to sparkle from the pinpoints of sweat beading on her soft smooth skin. God! He'd like to piss right in her mouth this second. He wished he could! The pressure was growing unbearable in his balls. It wasn't far off now! His cock felt like a Roman candle that had been overpacked and its fuse just lit, and suddenly he wondered when it ignited if maybe it wouldn't shoot right through her and come out the back of her head as it soared off into outer space. He rammed his pelvis hard up against her receptive face, working desperately now to relieve the fantastic pressure mounting, expanding, building . . . and then he felt it!
It began deep in his groin somewhere, the telltale indication that the swirling pool was about to erupt. His balls tingled as if someone had jabbed a needle into them and he felt the scalding stream rush jet-like the distance of his thrusting cock. He roared a guttural sound and clenched his teeth in a conglomeration of pain-pleasure ecstasy.
His brain was suddenly caught in a sensation of suspended animation as his prick began an insane jerking and spewing, filling Tonya's voraciously sucking mouth with great gushes of his seething white sperm, expanding her soft cheeks unbelievably with every pressurized squirt, causing her to swallow and swallow and swallow . . . or choke . . . while he listened half-consciously to her mewling and crooning and realized that she too was experiencing her climax.
"Oh Christ, don't stop . . . don't stop now!" he pleaded. "Suck it, baby! Suck it . . .!"
He wound his hands tighter in her short cropped hair as he rammed his convulsively spurting prick farther and farther down her throat. And never once did she falter, but went on sucking insanely as he continued to shoot his load far into the hungry depths of her mouth.
Then . . . as if somehow he'd endured the volcanic eruption . . . he grunted and gasped, finally groaned, while he spilled out the last of his semen between her lips; still, she went on sucking, but more gently now, nibbling simultaneously and drawing every last drop of the vital fluid from him.
He raised to take one last look and watch his lifeless penis grow flaccid in her mouth. Then, he dropped back and relaxed in utter exhaustion. She had lowered her face onto his thigh, but had not yet given up his now lifeless penis from her mouth, only continued to lip and tongue it reverently. Finally, she did, crawling up over him to lean down and kiss him warmly on the mouth and smearing his lips with the remnants of his own orgasm.
"You know," she said teasingly, "You were doing so good, too. What happened, Darling?" "Cyclone," he muttered.
"Uh hum. And you were going to do that to me?"
"Cannonize you, I think."
She laughed warmly, cuddling down beside him to rest her head on his arm and raise one leg up over him. "You have to call Mark Coleman now?"
"Um humm. I've been letting him stew a little," A.C. replied with closed eyes. "Better that he thinks these things come hard. I'll call him shortly . . . tell him we're having dinner together."
"Which means, we offer and they accept," Tonya said softly, rubbing her hand in a gentle circle against the hair of his chest. "Does Dianne know that?"
"I doubt it. She will though, when the time comes."
For a moment Tonya was silent. Then : "Do you really want to screw that little bitch awfully bad, darling?"
A.C. pretended to think about that. At last: "No . . . not awfully bad," he lied. "But I think it's time she paid her dues . . . don't you?"
"Um hum . . . seeing you put it in like that, Darling," his wife replied softly. "But then, you always were the goddamned diplomat. Frankly, I think you ought to be the politician."
A.C. Faro laughed. "Jealous?" he questioned. "Should I be?"
A.C. shrugged and she jumped up over him immediately.
"You dirty old bastard!" she exclaimed. Then, they both laughed.
Chapter Five
Dianne was grateful for the shelves of books that lined Mark's study. She had always been an avid reader. Not that absorbing books could fill the void in her lonesome, love-starved new life, but it did help pass the time, and by reading and glancing through the dusty volumes she felt that somehow she was gaining a closer insight into the mysterious aura surrounding her ruthless, ambitious husband. Perhaps, if she learned everything she could about the family background she would not only better understand him, but might well be able to reach him and make him know that she truly, loved him.
It was a feeble approach to solving her problem, she realized as she sat on the shaded, side-patio with the elegantly bound book in her lap, but at least it gave her the feeling of doing something in that direction.
OLD FAMILIES OF RIO LADO was embossed in gold lettering across the cover of the book. She had first browsed through its entire contents, then gone back to read the Coleman history, gleaning little that pertained to Mark except the mention of his birth. Yet, there was something in the short genealogy that bothered her. Undoubtedly, the book had been published before Mark's parents' accident for no mention was made of that.
Mathew Coleman had been the original member to settle in Rio Lado around the year 1870. The mansion was built some decade later. He'd been Mark's grandfather, thirty years old at the time, but no wife was mentioned as having arrived in the area with him. He had come from a small family of Irish immigrants, it went on, the son of Paddy and Molly Coleman of Dublin, Ireland, had one brother Sean, and two sisters, Mary and Kate. Besides being an attorney, the original Coleman had homesteaded vast parcels of land and had later entered into the feed and grain business. At 37, a son, Timothy was born to Mathew and Catherine Coleman. Three years later, Mathew was elected to the state senate.
The vast holdings had passed on to Timothy at his father's demise, a young man whose interests had been strongly political. Although he had practiced law, he soon disposed of the grain business and devoted most of his time to politics, becoming one of the youngest senators in the history of the state. Timothy was thirty-six when he married Helen Freemont of Sacramento, and their only son, Mark, was born in 1935.
There was more, but of little importance and Dianne had gotten nothing but a cold empty feeling from reading it, as if she had just walked through a damp, ghost-filled mausoleum. She closed the book and looked up to see Mark coming through the doorway, a broad smile lighting his handsome face.
His greeting was an unexpected delight; he walked over to where she sat, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek . . . the first time ever.
"And how's my girl?" he said warmly.
The move had startled her so that she reached up and touched the spot where his lips had been with her fingertips. Then, she felt her face flush, like a schoolgirl receiving her first kiss.
"Wh-What was that all about?" she heard herself stammer.
"Good heavens, woman," Mark laughed. "Can't a man greet his wife with a kiss without explaining his reasons?"
Dianne returned his smile with one of her own. "Of course," she replied, looking closer to see if he was drunk. "Just any old time he wants."
"Good," he said. "And no, I'm not drunk. Had a few but, I've all my wits . . . just happy, Darling. That's all. Exceptionally happy."
"Things went well, then . . . ? I mean, you were hoping to solicit support . . ."
He stepped back and with hands on hips, still smiling, looked off across the well-kept lawns with a certain underlying proudness. "Yes . . . I'm quite certain of it. In fact, Darling, I believe I've secured the support . . . of Judge Julian Reed . . . If so, it's all a cinch, I'm as good as in office."
"Oh . . .? Dianne said. She knew of Judge Reed and his power from working in Mark's office, but she had never seen him, nor heard anything good about him, only that he wielded massive political weight. He was retired from the bench, a widower somewhere in his late fifties, and a terribly obese man . . . so the story went. Anyway, she was pleased because Mark was obviously so. "When will you know, Darling? I mean, for sure . . . ?"
"Any moment, I hope. I'm waiting now for a phone-call."
Dianne stood. "Can I get you something?"
"Great idea," he said, moving over beside her and slipping his arm snugly around her slender waist, drawing her against him. "How about stirring us up a batch of martinis. About that time, isn't it?"
"Just about," she replied, unable to believe this sudden wave of open affection. "I think I'd like one myself."
She picked up her book and they entered the house together, his arm still around her as they moved into the sitting room and she started behind the bar.
"No," he said suddenly. "I'll mix the drinks and you sit down right here." He twisted one of the four stools about and helped her onto it, then, lifting her chin kissed her full on the mouth. "Mmmmmm," he muttered, "nectar for the gods, I swear."
Dianne gaped at him. She couldn't help herself; she was that surprised and pleased. She tried to think of something to say, but there just weren't any words at her disposal that could possibly describe her sudden happiness. Instead, she simply smiled . . . almost simpered, as he jogged behind the bar and began to mix.
"You know, Darling, if everything comes off, and after the election while I'm waiting to take office, I think you and I should catch a bit of a honeymoon ..: say . . . Europe, maybe?"
"Mark!" she gasped, hardly daring to believe her hearing. "Do you mean it? I mean . . . honest . . . ?"
"Baby!" he exclaimed, coming back around the bar and standing before her. "Of course, I mean it!"
And then, before she realized what had happened he lifted her off the stool to her feet and was holding her tight in his arms, his mouth gently covering hers, his tongue taunting her lips, seeking entry which she happily gave him, as his hands caressed and smoothed over her back, finally dropping to her round, full buttocks and drawing her loins tightly against him until she could feel his stirring penis against her belly.
She clung to him passionately, sucking gently at his tongue while her pelvis responded almost of its own volition, pressing and undulating with hardly perceptive motions against him.
Oh, wonderful God, was it possible? Had they found each other. She would go to the ends of the earth with him or for him! She loved him so . . .!
He raised his head and smiled at her. "You're a wonderful girl, Dianne. You won't be sorry I promise you," he whispered.
"Sorry . . .? Darling, I'm the happiest girl in the world! I could never be sorry . . ."
"Being a politician's wife isn't always easy, baby," he said softly. "Sometimes, it calls for some tremendous sacrifices . . . but in the end comes the reward."
"I'd sacrifice anything for you, Mark," she whispered up at him. "Anything . . ."
"Anything?"
"I swear . . . anything."
Again, he kissed her passionately, his hands traversing over her warm soft body, gently moving up her ribs to cup and stroke her breasts, raising little uncontrollable whimpers of passion from her. Then, he said: "I may have to count on that, Darling . . . please, don't let me down will you?"
"Never . . . never! I'll never let you down, Mark, Darling . . ."
Suddenly, he held her from him and grinned. "Well, this isn't getting any martinis, is it."
Dianne laughed and climbed back onto her stool while he circled the bar once more. Actually, she'd rather have led him right up to bed and kept him there all evening, night and half of tomorrow proving her love, but she knew how deeply he felt his social obligations, and the damned country club affair was coming up. But, maybe she was thinking, she could entice him away early. A little sex went a long ways in getting a girl what she wanted, if she knew how to tease with it. And it seemed that at last, those gods were going to smile down upon her. She couldn't remember when she'd felt so wonderful . . .
"There," he said, pouring two martinis into long-stemmed crystal. "What will we drink too?"
"And . . . our European honeymoon," he added, lifting his own.
They touched glasses just as the phone rang. Quickly, he set his down and caught up the receiver.
"Yes? This is he. Oh . . . Commissioner. What's that? Dinner? We'd be honored. Let's say . . . eightish? Fine. Pardon . . .?" Mark laughed. "Don't worry, Commissioner, I'm not about to forget that . . . A deal is a deal. Of course. Right. Okay . . . 'bye."
Dianne waited, watching him turn slowly to face her, his handsome smile broadening. He chuckled, almost inaudibly. "That's it, Darling . . . the call I've been waiting for. The good Judge . . . he's backing me."
"Oh, Darling, wonderful!" Dianne said, leaning over the bar to be kissed.
He did. "We're having dinner with the A.C. Faros tonight at the club. He's Judge Reed's top man, you know, and now my campaign manager." He came around the bar, stood before her putting his hands on her arms. "Now, come all the tests, Darling . . . the chance for you to prove everything you've told me the last few minutes."
Dianne's head tilted somewhat in bewilderment. She half-smiled. "I-I'm afraid I'm a bit dense, Mark. You'll have to be more explanatory . . ."
He let free of her and picked up his drink, making an idle little walk of a dozen short steps that caused her to swivel on the stool.
"Nothing hazardous," he said casually, "But a bit rattling the first time, I suppose. I mean . . . well, it's a big wide old ugly world sometimes, Darling . . . depending what you're trying to extract from it. Just as long as we both understand one another . . . that's all that counts . . ."
"Mark!" Dianne gulped suddenly.
He stopped, turned, and stared at her, his eyes level even though his smile had disappeared. "Well?" he said.
"There's . . . there's an unwritten rule at the club . . . someone told me about it . . . I don't remember who . . . But if you're asked to dinner by a couple and you accept, it means . . . it means you agree to swapping mates . . . Am . . . am I right? Is that what you want . . . of me tonight . . .?"
She watched the expression of his handsome face slowly harden, a white line seeming to form around his mouth, a certain coldness chilling his eyes. But he wasn't looking at her; he was staring at the book on the bar beside her.
Suddenly, he seemed to leap at it, pick it up, then slam it down loudly.
"What the hell are you doing with this?" he shot at her.
"I was reading it," she answered, her stomach abruptly quaking at his tone of voice and the vehemence in his eyes. "An ignored wife has to find something to occupy her time," she went on, sensing her own anger arousing and momentarily feeling braver for some unanswerable reason.
He slapped her face hard, jarring the drink from her hand and she heard the glass shatter as it struck the floor.
"Damn you!" he spat. "Don't ever let me hear of you poking in my study again!" "I wasn't poking, Mark . . ."
"Shut up and listen to me! Don't you ever go in there again, you hear me?"
Dianne couldn't believe the violence in his eyes. He was like a madman. She stared at him in utter fright. My God, what had happened so suddenly . . .?
"All-all right, Darling . . . whatever you say," she managed, shaking her head slowly. "Only . . . only please, don't be angry. I was just . . "
"You were just poking and nosing! That's what you were doing!" he snarled. "Now, you listen to me. We're going to have dinner with the Faros. And I don't give a damn what you've heard, nor from whom. Just . . . just don't you do anything to upset my applecart . . . You understand? You understand?" He shook her violently, his hands gouging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. "Do you?"
"Y-Yes," she whispered from the pressure of his grip and the anger in his eyes.
"Goddamn you . . . you better!" He thrust her away, scooped up his drink, drained it, then smashed the glass on the floor. "You make one wrong move . . .!" He paused, swallowing tightly. "Now, go up and get dressed!"
"Mark . . ."
"Shut up, you hear? . I said, go up and get dressed!"
Dianne slipped slowly from the stool, hesitantly turned her back to him and walked from the room. Good Lord, what was it? What was this horror that was destroying both of them? The first time she had walked into the Rio Country Club it was like something out of a storybook to Dianne . . . tonight it was similar to a horror mystery. She gazed across the table at the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman whose bewitching smile could possibly enamor a priest or saint, yet, she was far from beautiful. Just seductive, Dianne thought, as she watched the manner in which the voluptuous female maneuvered her magnificent eyes. Mark was simply becharmed . . . or was he bemercinary ? These were the temporary gods, she thought, and it lay in their laps. Consequently, her husband was playing at adoring.
The sight sickened her, yet, what could she do? She had not gotten over the episode of the "smashed" cocktails to this point, or even begun to try and fathom why he had flown into such a rage for her being in his study. Nothing made sense . . . especially her being here . . .
"Isn't that right, darling?" Tonya Faro was addressing her.
"What's that?"
"I was just telling this handsome, talented husband of yours that a woman is worthless to her man unless she helps him further his career." She smiled venomously. "You see, Dear, that's what happened between Lydia and Jack Wellwood. Of course, you wouldn't know them, but they were very prominent in Rio Lado and the country . . . even the state. Jack had designs on the presidency of the University, and certainly would have made it had it not been for Lydia. She was so dull; so . . . so unimaginative."
Dianne watched her sigh expressively. "Poor Jack," she went on. "He's teaching now in some junior high school, I understand . . . divorced, of course . . . a rotten shame, don't you think, Dianne?"
"I didn't know them."
"Yes . . . yes, of course . . . you didn't know them."
A. C. Faro caused her to jump as he touched her hand with his own. "Would you like another drink, Dianne?" he questioned.
He could see it, too, she thought, and for a moment her heart went out to this man who was so much older than his wife. It was almost as if they had something in common . . . conniving a method of holding on to the ones they loved. She smiled.
"Thanks . . . maybe, that wouldn't be such a bad idea, but let's change to bourbon and soda, please."
"All right," he said. "I'll have one with you."
Dianne found a cigarette and A.C. lit it. Actually, she felt as if she were once again in the midst of some kind of nightmare, and there was no way of dissolving it to extricate its cause. Mark had ignored her since cocktails, speaking no more than one or two words like a master would to his dog. This broad, handsome gentleman . . . one A.C. Faro, was extending himself to be gallant, and all she could think of was the unwritten unencroachable rules of the club. Dinner was long past and Tonya Faro was holding hands openly with her husband . . . Dear God, wasn't there yet some measure of mercy . . . ?
"What say, you and I go to the bar for a drink?" A.C. whispered into her ear. "I'm not
saying it'll have any effect on those two lovebirds . . . but at least, we won't have to watch them."
"I'd love it!" Dianne said, pushing back her chair and standing.
A.C. arose with her, neither paying the slightest attention to their companions, and then Dianna had caught his arm as they walked off, thinking that ought to shake Mark a little.
If it did, she had no way of knowing. He hadn't followed, nor suddenly, did she expect him. She had been thrust into this man's hands in the manner of the "swap" . . . but thank God, A.C. seemed as unreceptive as she was to the forced arrangement. He seemed such a gentleman. They talked for a while about a wide variety of things as they drank until she could stand it no longer.
"I can't stand this!" she said suddenly. "I wouldn't dare tell anyone else, but I know I can tell you. I saw it in your eyes there when they were holding hands. Now . . . please, listen, I've got to find him and take him home. He's my husband . . .! Mark's my husband . . .!"
"Yes," A.C. replied. "Of course, Dear."
"It won't make any difference will it? I mean. Mark's election?"
"Well . . . the main thing is that you're happy."
"Oh God . . . thank you," she said, squeezing his hand. "Thank you . . . Now, let me look. .."
She hopped from the stool and moved rapidly back toward the dining room. She was convinced that she could persuade him to leave with her; if it was necessary she would imply that Mr. Faro wanted no part of this abhorrent escapade either. The man loved his wife and that was as obvious to her as daylight and darkness.
OH God, Mark, let's not make any takes than we already have!
She couldn't find them. She ran into the parking lot and saw their own car gone. Tears flooded down her cheeks. She wandered back inside, an emptiness gripping at her stomach. She found a secluded chair and wept awhile, then, tried to get hold of herself. She had to do something . . . at least, go home.
The open, balustraded stairway of the club loomed before her and she ascended it aimlessly to get away from the activity for a few minutes. She walked along a darkened, wide hallway with soft carpeting, her mind whirling in a maze of thoughts that she didn't want to remember. She couldn't think intelligently. At the end of the corridor she pushed through a doorway and suddenly found herself on the near-darkened sun-deck; she paused there and drew in a deep breath of warm night air.
God, she wished she had a cigarette. She'd left them somewhere down there. .. Oh, Mark, Mark . . . where are you?
"Yessss . . . yessss, Darling . . . lick it . . . lick it . . . Oh yes, lick it good!"
Dianne felt every muscle in her body tense, as if someone had clamped a block of ice to the back of her neck. She dare not breathe, and the words came to her, registering in her brain . . . It was a woman's voice, hissing the words in passion . . . She looked around, but could yet see nothing, only hear their movements and what sounded like wet, sluicing noises . . .
Dianne gave a start as the door behind her opened and a man came out quietly. It was A.C. She turned away, embarrassed, and he came up behind her. She felt that she was about to speak when the feminine voice in a choked whisper begged : "Ooooohhh oooohhhh . . . that's the way . . . suck it too . . . lick and suck, Darling . . ."
Faro placed his hands on her upper arms from behind, pressuring gently as if in signal to be quiet. She felt him move up close to her, then, he whispered : "We have company."
Dianne made a little nod of acknowledgment, a wave of shame for the unwary lovers, as well as the girl's vile language sweeping over her.
"They're over there," Faro whispered into her ear. "See . . . ? On that chaise lounge. . ."
Dianne saw them then, partially illuminated in the light reflecting up from the parking area, and the faint half-moon. The girl lay with her back propped up, her dress bunched around her middle and her legs raised and drawn back, her thighs widely spread before the man whose head was lowered into her loins. He, too, was naked from the waist down, his buttocks and legs glistening, in the pale light.
"My God, she couldn't believe the lewd sight! The girl had her hands in his hair and was writhing and twisting beneath him, as if she were trying to pull him deeper between her obscenely flayed thighs. Again, the wet sucking sounds drifted to her and she felt the warm blood pouring into her face. They were so engrossed in their vile performance that they hadn't heard either her, nor A.C., come out . . .
"Oooohhh . . . oooohhhhh, yes, Darling . . . like that . . . do it like that," the girl whimpered, while Dianne stared as if hypnotized by the salacious sight and sound.
She was hardly conscious of A.C.'s arm moving around her waist and drawing her back against him, and then the other arm had crept around until she was completely encircled and she could feel his hot breath against her ear and cheek. But for some unknown reason, she didn't feel any resentment, or that he was trying to take advantage . . . He'd been a perfect gentleman, and a partner in shared misery, so as to speak: if anything, he was only offering her his strength to lean upon.
Then, it occurred to her what they were doing . . . standing there listening and watching the unknown couple's lewd act, and once more, shame swept through her. Was she losing all sense of decency, herself? She made a motion to release herself from A.C.'s embrace and felt his arms tighten around her.
"Shhh," he whispered. "That's Byron Acker, City Councilman, and Betty Rhodes. We don't want them to know they've been seen like this, damned embarrassing, you know . . ."
"Betty Rhodes . . . ? You mean, Doctor Rhodes' wife?" Dianne questioned incredulously.
"The same, Honey . . . listen . . . he's sucking her cunt," the big man hissed into her ear.
Every muscle in Dianne's soft, voluptuous body tensed and strained at his casual use of the foul word and descriptive phrase, the blood flushing into her cheeks hotly once more . . .
"Ooooohhhh . . . come up and fuck me now, Darling . . . my cunt's on fire," Betty Rhodes gasped passionately, pulling him by the hair, trying to raise him up over her.
Dianne continued to stare in fascinated disbelief as Byron Acker climbed up onto his knees and moved between her wide-spread, raised and waiting legs; his long thick shaft standing out in silhouette from his loins like the wagging limb of a tree in the dim light.
"You love to fuck, don't you . . .?" Dianne heard him say to her.
"Oh, God yes, I love it!"
"Doesn't that doctor-husband of yours fill this cunt for you?"
"Not like you, my Darling . . . Wait . . . wait! I want to suck it some more, first. Bring it up here . . .!"
Dear God! Dianne thought. She'd never seen nor heard anything so utterly obscene in her lifetime. The lewd sounds of their foul words ricocheted in her brain as she watched him move up over her, his knees planted now on either side of her half nakedly exposed body beneath him, his vile shaft spearing out; then, she gaped in sheer awe as Betty Rhodes reached behind him, clasping her buttocks in both of her hands, drawing herself up lewdly until his hard penis disappeared right into her mouth.
"My God!" Dianne hissed, hardly aware of A.C.'s hand gently cupping her own round, firm breast, or the other hand that was softly stroking her lower belly even as he drew her back protectively against him.
"She's sucking him now," he whispered to her as she became aware of the growing hardness that had somehow insinuated itself between her full globular buttocks, and she caught at his hands gently but firmly in a quiet attempt to keep him from going any farther, as she tried to ease her bottom away from his growing, jerking hardness, but he held to her tightly.
My, God, she couldn't blame him for getting aroused . . . the lewd scene had instigated tiny prurient sensations to come alive in her own love-starved loins, and the lustful sounds they were making embellished with their licentious language was strangely exciting her. She had never watched, or even thought of two people making love before, and was amazed how strongly it affected her erotically, and not disgustingly as she might have expected.
Still, she had to keep her wits. A situation like this, she decided, could quickly get away from both of them, especially while nourishing the hurt and resentment that they both were . . . and with the stimulation of the lust-inciting exhibition taking place right in front of their eyes. . .
"Oh Christ . . . suck it . . . suck that prick, Baby!" Byron Acker groaned, and Dianne could see his buttocks thrusting back and forth as he sawed his long, thick penis into Betty Rhodes' face.
"Mmmmmmmm," the doctor's wife mewled and purled as she clung to his flexing buttocks, his huge prick seeming to go all the way down her throat each time he rammed it forward.
My God, he was going to choke her to death! Dianne gasped while a chill of unexplainable excitement swept over her and simultaneously she felt the Commissioner's warm, searching hand slip inside the low-neckline of her dress to push aside her bra and cup the softness of her firm, naked breast, trapping the tiny nipple gently between thumb and forefinger. She had offered him resistance, but not vigorously as he kept "Shhh-ing" into her ear knowing that she would not let him go any further . . . Besides, what were Mark and Tonya Faro doing, wherever they were, right at that moment'.' Probably, much worse . . . more like the lewd sight they were witnessing . . . Anyway, it felt good as the nipple stiffened and swelled under his massaging hand and tweaking fingers . . .
"Now . . . now, fuck me, Darling," Betty Rhodes groaned up at him, dropping her head against the chair and letting free of his raging cock, while A.C.'s hand smoothed down over her own belly . . . down . . . down to the soft rise of her mound to stroke and press gently, forcing her full round buttocks back tighter against his ever growing and hardening prick.
"I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked in your life, you little bitch," Byron Acker hissed affectionately, moving back between her spread thighs quickly.
Dianne gasped at the tingling sensations A.C.'s tenderly stroking hand sent surging wildly through her loins and belly, causing her to force her buttocks back tight against the hardness of his fleshy rod pressing into the sweat-moistening cleft separating her buttocks. Oh God . . . she was losing her sense of reason . . .! This was terribly dangerous ground they were treading on . . . but she couldn't bring herself to leave the sight of the licentious coupling about to take place before her . . .
"Yes . . . yessss . . . hold my legs way up, Darling . . . like that . . . yesss . . . squeeze my tits! Oooohhhh, fuck harder . . . harderrrr ., . . put your finger in my ass . . . Aaaaggghhhh! Yes . . . hurt me! Hurt me . . .! Oh God . . . I'm cumming. .. Cuuuummmmmiiinnnnnnggggg . . .!"
Betty Rhodes wailed a low, guttural sound as she writhed and squirmed insanely beneath the furious pummeling of Byron Acker's buttocks smacking loudly into her, and then, Dianne watched him throw back his head and bare his teeth like an animal as he reached his own climax.
A shudder of wild excitement suddenly spiraled the length of Dianne's spine, and it was then that she realized A. C. Faro had raised her dress and had his hand between her hot trembling thighs, beneath her wisp of nylon panties, one finger inserted deeply between the dampened, hair covered lips of her pussy and into her moist tingling vagina.
"Oh . . . oh!" Dianne gasped, the full realization of what was happening dawning upon her. "Oh God . . . please," she hissed, squirming and struggling to get his deeply imbedded finger out of her wetly excited vagina. "Please, Mr. Faro . . . I'm not that kind of woman . . . I love my husband . . ."
"I know, I know," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear as he continued to massage her throbbing naked breast and burrow his long middle finger up into her expanding, lubricated passage, the electric-like ecstatic sensations it was causing almost driving her mad. "And I'll stop . . . if you want me to . . . even though our respective mates are probably fucking themselves silly somewhere . . ."
"Oh God, don't talk that way, Mr. Faro. ..," Dianne pleaded, her frustrated brain caught in a whirlpool of opposing emotions. "Two . . . two wrongs won't make a right . . . At least, we must keep our heads . . . Please . . . ?"
A. C. Faro is no fool, baby, he thought, as he continued to slip his middle finger deeply in and out of her delightfully dilating cunt. She was reveling in it and he knew it. Christ, what a tight little hole it was . . . just as he'd imagined. And she wasn't going to be an easy lay . . . just as he'd imagined . . . so, play it cool . . . always, the gentleman . . . move it slowly . . . Besides, this was no place to put it to her, not the way he intended to fuck this little doll . . . Time, and room, and privacy were the prime requisites . . . and he had that figured out, too. He was certain he could break her down now, but with a little more clever, solid approach . . .
"All right," he whispered, reluctantly ceasing his finger fucking into her warm, velvety passage. "But I'm not sorry it happened . . . are you?"
Dianne sighed with both relief and regret as she felt him withdraw his finger from her desire stimulated pussy, then release her throbbing breast. Without looking at him, she straightened herself, then slowly turned to face him,.
"No," she whispered, "After what's happened between Mark and your wife, I'm not sorry."
Faro started to take her into his arms but Dianne placed her hand against his chest and looked up into his handsome face pleadingly. It was enough, she saw, to hold him off. He was a gentleman.
He smiled. "Okay . . . let's you and I go see if we can find them. They might well be at our place.
Are you game to break in on them?"
"Yes."
"No telling what we'll find," Faro reminded her.
"I know."
He took her arm, then paused to look over at Betty Rhodes and Byron Acker. He grinned and said: "Look."
Dianne turned and saw them again in the faint light. Now, he' was stretched out in the chair and she was haunched obscenely over him, her head bobbing up and down over his loins.
"She is really sucking him off this time," A.C. Faro whispered.
"Yes," Dianne nodded, hardly noticing the lewdness of his words this time. ". . . She really is, isn't she?"
Chapter Six
Mark had drenched himself in liquor purposely : yet, he was not drunk. Christ, he'd burned himself out when it carte to experiencing any effects from alcohol. He'd come to the conclusion that somehow he had built up some unheard of immunity to the filthy stuff, but there were still times when it brought him some solace . . . hardly tonight though.
He was still raging over learning that Dianne had been nosing about in his study, poking at forbidden things to learn what she could. He'd wanted to hurt her, he was so damned outraged; but after, as usual, he'd been sorry for losing his temper and striking her. There was little to be done about it now, though; the damage had been effected. Instead, he'd tried to forget : elated with the knowledge that the Reed Machine was behind him, and excitement mounting inside hint at the prospects of a bout between the sheets with Tonya Faro.
He had intentionally ignored Dianne all through dinner, lavishing his attentions on the Commissioner's sensually attractive, dark-eyed wife, his own version of public punishment. He read his beautiful blonde mate's hurt in her every longing expression toward him, her lovely hazel eyes dampened and ready to brim over at any given moment; there was a sense of power in that, too, he thought.
Tonya Faro stimulated him to no end. Once, she had reached beneath the table and caressed his inner thigh, making his penis jump like a surprised rabbit. He'd gulped tightly, wondering of a sudden just how he was going to whisk her away from in under the noses of
Dianne and the Commissioner without creating a scene. Not that he was worried about A.C.: that end of it was all understood, but Dianne was another story . . . then, Faro had suggested he and Dianne have a drink at the bar, and that was all the leeway they needed.
In the parking lot, before climbing into his T-Bird, Tonya had wrapped both arms around his neck, glued her lips to his own and slithered her tongue deep into his mouth. He'd placed both hands on her firm, round buttocks and clawed her to him, feeling her pelvis grinding tightly in lewd little fucking motions against his already hardening prick. Then, she had eased back and reached down to feel of it with her small hand.
"Hmmmmmm, I think I'm going to be proud of you, lover," she breathed warmly into his mouth. "It feels like a sizable ingot of iron."
Mark ran his hands down over the protruding, rounded cheeks of her buttocks, lifting them from beneath, then, traced the separating cleft with his finger all the way down to the backs of her inner thighs causing her to shudder excitedly against him. Her full firm breasts burrowed into his chest and he sucked at her lips, then shot his own tongue into her mouth, almost to her throat. She nibbled at it gently, another shudder coursing over her.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go to my place. I've waited long enough for this night."
"You've waited . . . ?" she said as he opened the door and helped her in. Then, as he was climbing in on the other side. "Do you know how long I've waited for this, Mark Coleman?"
He smiled over at her. "How long?"
"Never mind, damn you," she said, swiveling about in the seat crazily. The bucket seats didn't make it easy for her, but before he had maneuvered the vehicle from the parking area she had his zipper open and his prick out, both hands, one above the other, clutching it.
"My God, darling! It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, as she began to work the thick foreskin up and down, worming her head from beneath his driving arm.
Mark felt his breath lump in his chest as the unmistakable wetness of her lips slipped down like warm vibrant liver over the head of the jerking shaft. She went on sliding the heavy layer of skin up and down as her tiny tongue worked maddeningly, flicking into the split of its tip, then swirling in a wild rotation first clockwise then counter-clockwise around the smooth spongy head.
Christ, if she kept that up he'd cum right now! He had all he could do to keep the car on his side of the road . . . and then they were going up Coleman Hill, and finally into the big circle drive. At last, he cut the engine.
"We're here, baby," he said, running his hand through her short dark hair. "You really want to suck that . . . come inside with me . . . maybe, you'll even get your little cunt licked."
She raised up, her eyes glazed in the near darkness as she looked at him.
"Oh, my God!" she gasped heatedly at the mere suggestion of it.
"You liked to get your cunt licked, Baby?" he whispered, taking her face between his hands to kiss her.
"Oh . . . oh, God yes! Yes, yes, I do! Please . please, let's hurry . . ."
A.C. Faro drove slowly toward his home, pretending to keep his eyes on the near deserted street, but simultaneously watching Dianne Coleman's thighs beside him out of the corner of his eye. She hadn't spoken in the five minutes it had taken to come this far from the club, but he was determined that she would make the first effort toward conversation; then, he would proceed from there. It was an old police gimmick one used when he had a hard-nut, an untalkative one to crack . . . and well should he know, he thought, a momentary flickering of all those grueling years passing through his mind. It hadn't been an easy climb; whatever he had now, he'd earned . . .
"Do you think they'll be there, Mr. Faro?" she spoke suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.
"I . . . I don't know, Dear," he said, purposely faltering. "Sometimes . . . she takes them home . . . other times, she goes . . . God knows where."
He saw her looking directly at him.
"You mean . . . she'd done this before? Gone off with someone else . . .?"
He chuckled lightly, "I'm sure you're not that naive, Dianne," he said, using her name softly. "You've been at the club enough to know about the swap arrangements."
"Y-Yes . . . I know," she replied thinly. "So . . .?" he shrugged. "There's your answer."
Dianne twisted uneasily in her seat. She'd guessed as much all along, hadn't she? Mark had intended this . . . had even threatened her if she dare do anything to . . . to "upset his applecart" as he had so nicely put it. Thank God, she was with a gentleman, at least.
All of Mark's love-filled little petitions and questions of earlier in the day came back to her. "Being a politician's wife isn't always easy, baby . . . sometimes, it calls for tremendous sacrifices . . . I may have to count on that, Darling . . . please don't let me down, will you?" She sensed the hot tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks, and A. C. Faro's eyes were upon her.
"I-I'm sorry," she managed. "I just can't help it."
"No . . . no! I refuse to cry over that bastard!" she spat in sudden anger.
Faro nodded. "Just as well," he said. "I doubt that it'll gain you much."
Momentarily, Dianne was silent, but in spite of all the drinks she had had, her brain was beginning to function in more normal patterns. She was getting hold of herself. She said "We were supposed to swap . . . exchange partners tonight, weren't we?"
"Supposed to . . . yes. But of course, it has to be a mutual agreement . . ."
"You've been a perfect gentleman, you know," Dianne said meaningfully.
"Really? I thought I was out of line back there on the sun-deck . . ."
She made a little laugh. "Lord . . . who wouldn't be, with what we were watching? I-I've never seen anything like that in my life. I'm still . . . still upset."
"Upset?"
"Well . . . whatever you call it," she laughed again, embarrassedly.
A. C. Faro smiled. She was coming nicely, he thought. "Only a natural reaction to a natural function," he said.
Dianne could feel the anger rising up inside her at Mark's deception. She couldn't rid herself of the feeling, suddenly, of how she had been used, and what he .- .. her very own husband, had expected of her. Well . . . he'd never lied about it really, had he? He'd married her for a purpose . . . an image among other things . . . a vote-getter when all else was laid aside. She was a tool for the cause . . . arid God help her should she not perform to his advantage.
"Mr. Faro . . ." she started.
"A.C.," he cut her short.
"All right . . . A.C., what happens to Mark's political career if I fail him . . . refuse to perform?"
Beautiful, A.C. thought. Perfect. He managed a gentlemanly shrug. "In this county . . .? He's dead," he said flatly.
"Like that?"
"Exactly, like that."
"Why?" Dianne questioned. "My God, why?"
Again, the big man shrugged. "You barter what you have for what you want in politics, my dear. If you're lucky, you make an equal exchange . . ." He paused. "Listen to me, Dianne . . . politics is a dirty game . . . a powerful, exacting, dirty game that bleeds the soul . . . then, rewards with unbelievable riches . . . The Colemans have been involved for a century. What Mark is doing is as natural as tomorrow morning's sunrise. He can't help it. It's a part of him . . . "a family heritage, so to speak."
"And God knows what else is a part of him!" she spat vehemently.
A.C. Faro swung slowly into his driveway. He brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine. "Well," he said, "here we are. I don't see Mark's car . . . Would you like to go in and have a drink while we wait for them?"
Dianne turned to him. What a marvelous man. Handsome too . . . Why couldn't Mark be like him? How could he remain married to that woman? She was cutting him to the quick, Dianne was certain of it. God, she felt sorry for him . . . and here he was spending his time worrying over her problem, saying nothing of his own . . .
"Well?" he persisted.
"Yes . . . yes, I'd love to have a drink with you, A.C. I want to see their faces when they arrive and we're here waiting for them."
Chapter Seven
Mark could hardly believe the magnificence of Tonya's sensual, naked body. He set the drinks on the table beside the bed, then, leaned over her, pressing his lips tightly against hers. There was something about her that incited a driving sensation of lust inside him, like all of the whores he'd ever known in his life . . . like Dianne never could, he was certain. She reached up, encircled his neck with her arm and drew him down on top of her. He purposely thrust one of his naked legs between her slightly spread thighs. She was unbelievably supple, soft like velvet . . . like Dianne, and her body adhered to his as if it had grown there. She lifted her thigh until it was tight into his groin while he ground his mouth harshly against hers, making his cock lurch into a near-painful hardness . . .
He sensed the wetness of his own seminal fluid seeping from the tip of his ever hardening prick, and suddenly it occurred to him that he'd cum from just the manipulations of her leg against it if she didn't stop. That would be a fine thing, wouldn't it? Like some goddamned high school kid on his first date! Christ, she set him on fire and he couldn't fathom why! She was just a bitch and he knew it. He tried to move his prick from her gentle ministrations and at the same time sent his tongue deep into her mouth; she sucked at it, nibbling and nipping with her teeth, transmitting crazy chills along his spine. He raised his head, then lay his cheek along side her hair almost desperately, his hand caressing her ripe, full breast automatically.
"You're an odd one, Mark Coleman," she said of a sudden.
"Wh-What? Why do you say that?"
"You've been avoiding me for ages . . . steering clear of all the girls at the club," she half whispered. "Why?"
"Why . . .?" he managed, his brain fumbling; he'd always had a gift of words. It was his law training. "Why not? If what you say is so . . . but did it ever occur to you that I might just be playing it safe . . . avoiding the jealous husband and all that?"
"Nonsense," she replied, laughing rather crudely. "I know better than that . . . and so do you . . ."
"No, really," he interrupted her. "I didn't have a wife . . . didn't feel that I belonged to that extent . . . I mean . . ."
Again, she laughed. "You mean, swapping, don't you?"
"Yes."
"It wouldn't have mattered," she said softly, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair where he lay with his face against her head. "We're a pretty liberal group, you know . . ." She clutched at his hair and pulled, raising his face above her where she could see into it. "Why did you marry her, anyway?"
"Dianne?"
"Yes. Why? I want to know."
Mark shrugged his broad shoulders. "Why do people get married?" he countered.
"Numerous reasons . . . sometimes, even love.
But that wasn't yours, Mark Coleman."
"Oh . . .? Why do you say that?"
"Because . . .," she said levelly, her great eyes searching his handsome face. "I doubt that you could ever love any woman. You're too self-centered . . . too ruthless . . . too ambitious . . . and who knows, maybe a little incapable, too."
Mark felt his face reddening. "What the hell do you mean by that last part?"
Tonya Faro shrugged beneath him. "We girls discuss these things, you know. That idea has been tossed in several times . . . for what it's worth. Of course, I'm not saying that I feel that way, Darling . . ."
"Really!" he snapped. This was getting to be a hell of a sexual arrangement. He could feel his prick deflating like a punctured balloon. "Just what the hell is this anyway, an interview for the Country Club News?"
Tonya Faro laughed loudly. Finally, she said : "No, Darling, it's nothing only little old inquisitive me. I want to know why you married that nice sweet little girl? She's not like the rest of us, you know."
Her question twisted inside him. So, this was what she and others like her at the club had finally decided about him. Christ, maybe they even thought he was queer?
"Well .
." she persisted.
"A politician has to have a wife," he said, holding his voice to as casual a level as he could.
"Such a beautiful, innocent and sexy one?"
"Why not?" He grinned down at her, watching her tremendous dark eyes rove over his face, almost feeling them penetrate to the depths of his soul.
"Is she good in bed?"
"Yes," he answered, simultaneously giving it some thought and trying to remember. Then "But I don't think she knows it, yet. She was a virgin when I married her . . ."
"You're kidding?"
"I'm serious!" he snapped. "She was a pure, chaste virgin when I married her."
"Well . . . I'll be damned," Tonya breathed heavily. "I thought that specie went out with World War II . . . which makes it worse, Mark Coleman."
"Meaning . . . ?
"You're using her," the naked woman beneath him smiled and said. "You are, aren't you?"
Mark didn't answer. There were words at his disposal, but for some reason he didn't want to employ them. She was right and he knew it. This girl . . . this woman . . . she seemed able to root to his very soul; he hesitated to lie to her.
"Aren't you?"
"I-I don't know . . . I suppose so."
"You're a dirty, lousy, fucking bastard, Mark Coleman . . . but I love you . . . Did you know that?" she hissed up at him.
God yes . . . she was right! And he did know it! Finally, he nodded. "Yeah," he managed, "you're right . . . You're so goddamned right."
Tonya laughed. "You ought to make a good politician . . . even a good governor . . . or who knows what. You're rotten enough."
"Thanks."
"Can you fuck? I mean really fuck?"
He gaped down at her. "I . . . I don't know," he replied, her approach both surprising and exciting him, but suddenly making him feel awfully godamned inadequate. And, then, he realized suddenly that she was quivering beneath him. Her thighs were churning against his loins, once more. She was breathing deeply.
He sensed his own desire come immediately alive again. He started to lower, himself; he wanted very badly to lick her cunt. His prick was abruptly as hard as a cold chisel.
She caught him and drew him back up. Smiling, she said: "Not yet, Darling. I don't think you're up to that task. You might unleash a monster . . . Just fuck me first. Fuck me deep and hard. Would you like to do that?"
"Christ, yes!" he heard himself gulp, servile and angry at the same time, but not knowing which emotion to acknowledge. Godamn her! "Yes . . . I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked in your life, you teasing little bitch!"
"Oh God," she moaned, shifting him over between her now wide-spread thighs, while he moved his hands down beneath the smoothness of her rounded buttocks.
Damn her! They were gorgeously shaped, firm and solid as he'd felt them in the parking area of the country club. Her body was hot and supple beneath him and she raised her mouth to his, locking suction tightly with him, while her hands searched down between them for the long, thick hardness she had sucked all the way to this place.
Mark grunted animalistically as her cool fingers clasped his suddenly throbbing cock. He ground his mouth to hers and kissed passionately. Something about her, whatever in God's name it was, set him off . . . maybe it was her almost animal aroma . . . , he was beginning to feel like a lust-hungry beast. And, then, things like her lips gentled him. They were wine he'd once tasted, soft as the grapes that blended it, and she pressed her full length erotically to him, grinding her pelvic region tightly against his own, before finally throwing wide her legs and jerking them back, displaying the silken hair-shrouded warmth of her moist pink cuntal lips gaping upward at him and begging to be fulfilled.
Chapter Eight
In her frustrated state of mind, Dianne Coleman welcomed the cool, sweet-tasting drink A.C. Faro handed her before sitting down beside her on the davenport in the comfortable living-room. He had switched on soft, indirect lighting and soothing, listening music, the latter seeming to immediately react, as might a tranquilizer, on her frayed nerves. Thank God, she was very much at ease in his company; it had to do with them sharing the same plight, she supposed; for some reason, he made it all bearable and she was grateful to him.
Mark's horrible behavior of trying to pawn her off on another man, then, disappearing with the affable gentleman's wife for obvious . . . sexual reasons, had nearly unnerved her entirely, and probably would have had it not been for the noble Commissioner's behavior. As for the events that followed on the sun-deck of the club, she couldn't, and didn't, blame him for that. A natural reaction to a natural function, he had said, and she realized it had been just that.
Even so, recollection of the erotic episode embarrassed her now that she sat beside him in the light of his splendid living-room . . . the memory of his hand on her naked breast, and the other . . . petting and probing right up into her vagina . . . but she hadn't tried to restrain him with any great amount of vigor, either . . . Lord, she'd really acted like a wanton, hadn't she . . . ? But, at least, no damage had been done, and they'd had sense enough to stop . . . which was probably more than Mark and Tonya Faro could say right at that very moment . . . Oh God, she just couldn't think anymore about that or she would burst right out crying again. And heaven knew, this poor man beside her had as much reason to weep as did she.
Now, she looked over at him. He was staring blankly down at his drink. She couldn't help but admire his forced calm acceptance of the situation. Her heart went out to him; she tried to think of something to say that would take his mind from it, at least for a moment.
"What is it?" she asked, holding up the milky appearing liquid he had poured them, as if to examine it.
"Pernod, with water," he replied. "I thought it was what we both needed. It's very relaxing and you can drink considerable of it." He paused, studying his own glass. "It seems we're going to have that much time on our hands . . . We might as well try to enjoy it."
Dianne thought about that. God, how could she enjoy anything, knowing that Mark was someplace . . . making love to another woman . . . ? "Will . . . will they come back here eventually, do you think?"
"Yes, I suppose . . . eventually . . . when they've enjoyed their fill of each other . . . when they're all fucked out."
Dianne sensed her cheeks flushing hotly at the sound of the obscene word, and a little tightness gripped at the pit of her stomach. "Oh please, A.C. . .. don't use that language," she pleaded, reaching over and placing her small soft hand over his in sympathy. "I-I understand how you feel. Lord knows, I'm no better myself . . . but we must keep our heads, mustn't we?"
"Must we?" He looked at her, his gaze level, his eyes searching her face virilely, his big hand all of a sudden encompassing her own.
Dianne gave a little start . It was the first time she'd noticed any sign of sexual desire in his expression; even following the episode on the sun-deck, he'd shown no indication of further advances, although she knew he'd been greatly aroused, even as she had been. A little tremor of apprehension ran through her: she didn't want to offend him, but she had to put a stop to this right away. She sipped at her drink, then placed it on the table beside her, forcing a smile.
"You know we must, Commissioner," she managed, her tiny, pink tongue-tip easing out to run the length of her pouting lower-lip somewhat nervously.
"Do I? You keep telling me that, Dianne, but I haven't quite bought it, yet." He made an easy smile, his thumb rotating caressingly over the back of her soft, smooth hand. "You forgot . . . you were supposed to be my love-partner for the night . . . and that's damned hard for me to ignore. You're a very lovely girl, Dianne . . . and damned desirable. And . . . " he hesitated for the slightest of moments, "your husband is laying my wife at probably this very moment."
She felt a slight hitch in her breathing as he held to her hand and began to move closer to her.
"Please she said, making ac. effort to withdraw it. "I-I didn't know that . . . about the swapping arrangements, I mean . . . Mark didn't tell me . . . My God, I could never agree to such a thing . . ."
"Am I that offensive to you?" he put to her. He had set his drink on the coffee table, was still holding tightly to her hand, and now with the other was smoothing up her other naked arm as he inched even closer to her.
"No, no . . . you know it's not that," Dianne said, shaking her head over-enthusiastically, her eyes widening in growing alarm, the gentle touch of his warm hand moving over her flesh reminding her of the prurient sensations he had incited within her on the sun-deck not an hour before. Somehow . . . somehow, she had to put a stop to this . . . "It's simply . . . well . . . I'm just not that type of girl . . . I-I regard my . . . my marriage vows are being sacred . . . and . . . and I could never defile them . . ."
"And how do you suppose Mark regards them?"
"I--I . . . Oh God, I don't know . . . I don't believe he even knows. He's just all mixed up . . . so damned engrossed in this election . . . of becoming senator that he doesn't realize what he's doing. But Mark's my husband, A.C. . . . and I love him! It'll all work out, I know it will," she said emphatically, again trying to loosen herself from his grasp and move back away from him; he held her fast, his handsome face only inches from her now cringing, frightened one, until she could read plainly the mounting desire gleaming there.
"Sure . . ." he said, a strange change coming to his voice. "It'll work out . . . providing you do what's expected of you, Baby . . . Right now, you're the key to his future . . . and that's why you're here with me . . . I'm the lock controlling the door . . . and you're the key to open me." He grinned meaningfully. "Politicians are ruthless men, Dianne, especially the power-hungry Coleman clan . . . maybe, you've already discovered that for yourself. It's in their blood . . . inherent, so as to speak . . . and they'll sell their souls for it . . . or yours."
"I-I don't believe that!" Dianne lied, not wanting to accept his words even though deep
down she felt them to be true. She tried to lean back away from him as he continued to grin at her, his now, almost lecherous eyes suddenly dropping their level to the deep soft white cleft separating her rapidly rising and falling, breasts and absorbing them, hungrily. Slowly, they raked back up over her to lock with her confusion-filled eyes. He went on smiling, but the expression had transformed into a lascivious, suggestive one.
"There's no use fighting it any longer, my dear," he half-whispered. "We're wasting time . . . and there's no way out; except to fuck . . . or else Mark's, and your, whole futures go down the drain . . . ."
He was that close that she could smell the faint essence of cologne from his face, and for the first time she detected the near imperceptible age-lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. A shudder of fear mixed with a sudden obscene stimulation rippled over her at his lewd suggestion.
"Oh no . . . no," she exclaimed. "Please . . .!"
"Who're you trying to fool, little girl,, yourself?" he said, sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Because you're not kidding me one little bit. That tight, sweet pussy of yours wants it so bad that I'm almost afraid to shove my cock into it . . . it might eat it alive . . .."
"Oh God, please, A.C. . . . stop! Please stop!" she begged, feeling the hot tears seeping into her eyes once more.
"No . . . no, I'm not going to stop," he said evenly. "Because I know you want it just as bad as I want to give it to you . . . and because there's no way out of it, Darling . . . unless you're prepared to answer to Mark . . . Do you follow me clearly?"
Dianne couldn't hold back the sinking sensation creeping over her as she stared into his sudden lust-incited face. Oh God, yes, she followed him only too clearly! And she'd thought he had been go kind . . . such a gentleman! Then, Mark's words flickered through her mind once more: You do anything to upset my applecart . . . you make one wrong move . . .! Dear Lord, after the way he'd struck her for nothing . . . the vicious look on his face . . . She was afraid of him . . . afraid of what' he really might do to her should she destroy this alliance of his with the Reed Machine . . .!
She was trapped! Completely and hopelessly caught in a web of circumstances spun by unscrupulous, coldly calculating men . . .!
"Oh . . . please don't she gasped in surprise, making another effort to free herself, but it was useless. His hand had snaked around her slender waist and drew her tightly to him. "Please . . . please . . ." she begged.
He kissed her, his hot mouth crushing down hard against the soft petals of her lips, his other hand moving upward along her cringing ribs to her full, erect breast and smothering it in its huge palm, his long thick fingers kneading and caressing while the breath reluctantly seeped out of her.
Suddenly, she was trembling with strange sensations, a wave of mixed emotions spreading through her . . . shame, humiliation and anger, blended with the unsurpressable physical need of her love-starved body. Her loins tingled between her legs at his powerful masculine nearness; still, she struggled, though not violently, not hating or despising him for what he was doing, yet hardly appreciating or fully giving herself to the pleasure of it. His obvious lust frightened her, repelled her, and the fact that he was forcing himself upon her caused rage and humiliation to seize simultaneous control, momentarily; but she couldn't ignore the resurrected tingling sensations he had revived and sent racing vibrantly over her whole body at the gentle stroking of her breast.
Oh God, she had to fight him . . . she had to! He kissed her again and again, his hot wet mouth and tongue moving eagerly over her face. She sensed her wits leaving her as the hot sensuous craving increased in her belly; almost unconsciously she slipped her arms upward around his neck and opened her mouth to his searching tongue.
She gasped breathlessly into his mouth, the nipple of her breast hardening erectly as he pinched and rolled it gently through her clothes, initiating further little electric-like shocks of excitement to swirl through her, even as her shame rose up in her throat in an effort to choke and counter-balance this madness that was taking command of her.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Baby . . . and you're going to love it," he breathed hotly into her open mouth, running his hand down her ribs and over the full swell of her rounded hip and along her outer thigh, then back up to press beneath her and cup the softness of her buttocks.
Her whole voluptuous body recoiled and tensed against him and she tried to fight him in earnest, but it was simple for him to control her with his powerful hands and his heavy body half on top of her.
"You luscious bitch!" he repeated. "I'm going to fuck yon like you've never been fucked before . . .!"
"Oh God, no . . . no! Please . . . you can't . . . We can't . . . We just can't . . .!" Dianne moaned, her brain reeling in the throes of the strange conflicting emotions overwhelming her, wagging her head negatively and causing her long blonde silken-hair to whip back and forth; yet, even as the words tumbled from her lips she sensed the barriers of her restraint slowly crumbling, the very sound of the obscene words he used strangely exciting her.
"Yes . . . yes, we can, Dianne," he breathed softly, covering her mouth with his and sucking at her lips, his big hand suddenly moving up beneath her dress, smoothing along the soft skin of her tightly clenched, warm thighs. "I'm going to slip my cock right up into that tight little cunt of yours . . . hold that beautiful ass tight in my hands and fuck into you until you pour out every last ounce of this pent-up feeling that's tearing you apart," he hissed as she stared fixedly into his eyes, her breathing increasing with every licentious passion-building word that came from his mouth. "But first I'm going to lick and suck that little pussy like you've never dreamed of in your lifetime . . . ," he went on, his hand coursing up over the flat plane of her now quivering belly, then back down to the thin, nylon covered swell of her pubic mound to-gently stroke and tease at her dampening vaginal split beneath. "And you're going to love me for it . . . love and beg me to fuck and fuck and fuck you . . ."
"Ooohhhh," Dianne breathed heavily, her arms encircling tightly around his neck in a sudden uncontrollable burst of passion, her aroused body could not, and did not want to, harness. Her fear was still strong inside her, but it was no longer fear of her dilemma, nor of her husband, nor what she knew was to come . . . but simply fear at her own collapse of principals and morals . . . for as certain as she wantonly kissed him at that moment, thrusting her tiny tongue deep into his mouth, while his hand that she had let slip down between her soft yielding thighs pressed and rubbed at her nylon-shielded, palpitating, moist pussy, she knew that she was going to let this unscrupulous, handsome man make love to her. . .
"Are you ready, Darling?" he whispered, suddenly removing his taunting hand from beneath her dress and slipping it under both of her legs at the knees. "Ready to be sucked and fucked and made love to like you've never had it in your life . . . ?"
"Oh God . . . Oh God, yes, yes!" her mind blurted involuntary, hardly realizing the words had come from her own mouth. "Love me, Darling! Love me! I need it so bad . . .!"
Chapter Nine
A.C. Faro could hardly comprehend the meaningful depths of the passion-filled response spewing from her soft, wet lips into his face. He only knew that the heat and aroma of her hot, sweet breath was setting him wild . . . as if he were not already charged with lust from the mere sight and feel of her soft, supple body. Christ, he couldn't wait any longer!
He lifted her into his arms and stood. She clung to him, her arms locked around his neck, her head on his shoulder, and he carried her, still whimpering, along the hallway to a bedroom. There, in the darkness, he kissed her again and felt her tongue slide into his mouth almost wantonly. His prick throbbed and strained in his pant-leg, until he thought it was. going to break, rip out by the roots, if he didn't release it soon.
"Oh God . . . what are we doing, Darling?" she whined. "It isn't right . . . it isn't right . . but I want you to . . . I need to be loved so badly . . ." She moaned and A.C. felt her hot tears against his face.
"It's all right, Baby . . . it's all right," he whispered reassuringly. "We're going to do what's expected of us . . . We're going to make love . . . fuck and suck to our hearts content . . . until every muscle in your body is relaxed and filled with love."
"Yes . . . oh yes, Darling . . . I want you to! I do!" she gasped.
He kissed her. again: "Now, I'm going to put you down. Do you want to undress yourself . . . ?"
"Yes. Let's do it quickly. I'm frightened. I don't want a moment when you're not touching me. Please hurry."
"I'll hurry, don't worry. You want the light?" he asked.
"No! "No! Not . . . not at first, anyway."
He lowered her to the floor and Dianne began to almost hypnotically remove her clothes, shutting all else from her mind but the thought of the rapture to come. She could hear him and the rustle of his clothing as he removed them, and suddenly a tingling chill spiraled through her at the thought that in moments she would be in bed naked with a strange man . . . a handsome, wicked man, his hot hard flesh pressed tightly against her own, his maleness rigid and throbbing in anticipation of making love to her. It was wrong! Terribly, terribly wrong! But she had to have him . . . have it! Her body was going insane with its need . . . and then, a sudden thought flashed through her mind. Could he fulfill her? Make her know what a climax was? It'd never happened completely with Mark, almost, but not quite . . . Oh God! She was acting, thinking like a slut . . .!
And then he was behind her, his arms slipping around her waist as she stood there with her flimsy panties and bra her last useless protection. He kissed her soft, naked shoulder while his hands smoothed over the little bowl of her smooth, white belly. She shuddered delightedly at his touch.
"Let me help," he said, his hands moving up behind her to unhook her bra, then, slipping beneath her arms to her large full pointed breasts, his large, oversized hands sliding beneath to cup upwards and lift them as the cool air brushed teasingly against her unleashed nipples that burst into hard, berry-like solidness. She lay her head back against him, gently pressing her buttocks back to force his long, thick hardness up against his own belly with the upper portion of their round fullness. Oh God! She was nothing but a . . . a wanton whore!
Her breath caught in her throat as he massaged and kneaded, stroked and caressed her palpitating naked breasts, pinching at the tiny hard pink nipples and rolling them between his fingers, causing unbelievably wild sensations to jolt saturatingly through her ,whole body. At last . . . he was gently drawing her panties down over her buttocks and hips from behind and she closed her eyes and raised her head in the intoxicating excitement that enveloped her . . . his lips suddenly and wetly kissing each of her soft white buttocks making her tremble and then, as she stood there, she felt the worming hot wetness of his tongue burrowing into the cleft of her soft, quivering behind . . . and finally licking from the bottom of the smooth, white crevice to its top and following right up her back until he. stood again with his arms around her.
Christ! What a delicious creature, he thought. Of all the women he'd ever fucked, this one was unquestionably the most 'beautiful . . . the most desirable. Even Tonya . . . he couldn't remember her ever having moved him like this. Coleman was a fool! A stupid asshole, fool!
He had pressed the long thick length of his aching cock downward as he moved in close behind her, insinuating it between the soft voluptuous globes of her ass while his hands reached around to clutch at her full, firm breasts, then, he moved her forward to the bed.
She climbed onto it, stretching herself out on her naked back and he dropped down beside her; she rolled toward him, wrapping her arms around him to be kissed. He did, smashing his tongue into her mouth, almost to her throat, his one hand traversing over her breasts and down her side, across her belly, finally reaching the wet velvetiness of her hot, sensitive vaginal split, toying momentarily in the sparsely covered pubic hair, then, searchingly discovering her already excitedly erect clitoris. He tweaked it and she gasped into his mouth. He pinched it and she repeated the gasp, then he ran his fingers downward through the moist, sensitive raw flesh to the small opening of her vagina, and while he tongue fucked into her soft receptively sucking mouth, he slipped his middle finger up into the wet quivering passage.
Dianne moaned aloud. "Aaahhhhh, God!" She could never remember feeling such erotic bliss. Her whole being was alive with a seething of sexual lust. She was going mad! Losing all sense of moral right and wrong! Oh God . . . it was so beautiful! She'd never known anything like this . . .! And then, his finger was slipping wetly up inside her and a wave of new exciting sensations rippled over her flesh.
Oh . . . ohhh! He's inside me . . . his finger . . . shoved right up inside me! I'm a bitch! A whore! A slut! Oh God! But I need it . . . . need it . . .! Mark, Mark . . . where are you . . . ?
She hardly felt him slither down her, rolling her gently onto hex back and spreading her thighs as he crawled and placed himself between them, his face hovering just above her wet and excited loins. The room was dark and her mind was glazed in its rapture. She felt large flat palms of warm hands pressing against the softness of her inner thighs, holding them wide apart, and her breath caught in her throat as she waited with mounting desire for what would happen to her next.
"Oooohhhhh!' she lurched, as his hot moist lips closed over the soft mound at the base of her belly. Then, she sensed wet, tantalizing kisses being lavished on the hairlined slit of her gently palpitating pussy . . . just as he had promised, his tongue flicking snakelike at the soft quivering opening. Every muscle in her body tautened at the insanely pleasurable licking of her still-closed vagina while uncontrollable groans of ecstasy rolled from her lips. My God, he had said it . . . said he would lick her . . . lick and suck . . . but she hadn't really believe him! She knew these things were done by both men and women alike . . . but she'd never dreamed of it happening to her. . .!
Oh God, he was doing it again! And then, as though in a dream, she couldn't keep her hands from moving down over her sensuously throbbing breasts, the smoothness of her stomach, and coming to rest on either side of- her cunt-lips. She could hear him breathing from where she lay and felt his hot breath against her soft pubic hair. Slowly, deliberately, she spread the fleshy, hairlined lips of her split apart with delicate fingers her hands grazing the cheeks of his face as he lowered to her and drew his hot wet tongue up through the sensitive, exposed pink-flesh of her flowing cunt.
Diane gasped, moaned and twitched beneath him. He sensed the movement of her beautiful head, rolling back and forth as his spearing tongue shot out again, its smooth flicking tip circling her quivering, rigid clitoris. He sucked, drawing the warm soft folds of her inner lips deep into the hot cavern of his mouth, while his tongue maintained its moral-shattering licking against the tiny nerve plexus between her legs.
Oh Lord in heaven! She was lost . . . lost! Destroyed forever, and she knew it! But never . . . never had there been anything like this!
She groaned huskily from deep in her throat while the hot probing tip of his tongue worked its way up and down the length of her narrow wet silt, starting at the lower belly and slithering its way down, down over the elastic rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and into the crevice of her involuntarily flexing buttocks. She felt his hands move down to the backs of her knees that were splayed out wide and obscenely on either side of him, then lift and push them up over her body so the kneecaps touched her breasts, exposing the whole flat plane of her open loins to his eager mouth.
"Oh God!" she whimpered at the lewd depravity of her own animalism as he flicked his tongue into the tight little puckered hole of her anus and reveled in the erotic sensations it gave her. Truly, he had raised the wanton bitch in her! If there had been any shame or humiliation, it had long since been overcome with the licentious excitement flooding her whole being. She never wanted him to stop . . . never, never!
Faro couldn't believe it! The cold little bitch had seemingly gone completely to pieces, moaning and writhing beneath his slaving tongue in uncontrollable ecstasy. He'd realized that there was a latent hot streak lying hidden inside her when he'd finger-fucked her on the club's sun-deck . . . but never to this extent.
Christ, how beautiful this night was going to be before it was done, he envisioned, grinding his long, heavy, aching cock into the coverlet as he worked greedily, feeling the soft wet silken pubic hair brushing tantalizingly against his cheeks, a strong feeling of power enveloping him.
He'd figured to get her in the sack all right, one way or another, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected that she would be such a hot little bitch, squirming under his tongue like this . . . completely at his mercy . . . and her pussy loving it. He brought her legs back down and listened to her helpless moans as he increased the lapping of his tongue, slashing it up and down her steaming vaginal slit. That bastard husband of hers couldn't be taking care of her . . . maybe he wasn't capable, just as the girls at the club decided . . . either that,, or she was a latent nympho, and he couldn't settle for that . . . not that it made any damned difference, but he'd never seen anyone so hot, and he knew it wasn't all from the Pernod because they hadn't drank that much. She just needed it badly, and she was getting it . . . and this was only the beginning.
He was certain that already she was too far gone to resist anything he decided to do to her, and as he licked and sucked at her quivering loins he began to visualize obscene, erotic things he could perform at will with, and to, her receptive passion-filled body. Suddenly, he wished that Coleman and Tonya were there, or the Judge; that would make a real party. He smiled inwardly at the thought, then felt her hands desperately entwining in his hair, manipulating his face harder toward the small clasping, opening of her vagina. He rammed his tongue up into the soft-rimmed flesh and heard her groan of delight; then, she was pressing his mouth directly over the tight little hole in her squirming crotch. He complied, ovaling his lips and pressing tight to her hole; he began to suck, alternating with deep tongue thrusts that brought a low guttural groan from the depths of her chest. He felt the wet flesh slip moistly around his long extended tongue as the walls of her cunt opened and closed spasmodically in a tiny sucking motion trying to pull the invading implement deeper and deeper into it. Christ, he'd never had anything like this in his life!
Dianne whimpered and moaned beneath the unbelievable enchantment of. his voracious sucking and licking of her loins. She felt entirely out of control of both body and mind. Suddenly, he was drawing her clitoris up to its full, erect state, using lips and teeth and a liquid tongue. Her crotch was a whirlpool of rapture. And then, he was moving up over her. She sensed his tongue in her navel, again moving upward, leaving a wet hot trail as he slithered over her until he found the nipple of her left breast, and then her right, sucking and raising salacious gasps of additional pleasure from her. He kissed her while simultaneously he forced her smooth, white thigh wider and wider apart.
She clung tightly to him, kissing and sucking at the tongue that had brought her so much pleasure, tasting her own cuntal secretions there and gasping with the forbidden delight and the lewd thought of it. Abruptly, she felt the brushing of his long rigid prick against her thigh and immediately reached down for it. He raised up above her to give access and she clutched its heavy, solid thickness, her breathing catching momentarily at the feel of the hot massive rod she encircled with both hands, her long fingers barely going around it.
"My God!" she gasped. "It's tremendous! Can . . . can I take it . . . ?"
"Do you want to?"
"Oh yes . . . God yes, I do! I do!"
He bent down and kissed her once more, then she felt the bulbous, blood engorged head moving up and down parting the soft blonde pubic hair between the palpitating lips of her cunt and suddenly the small mouth of her throbbing vagina pressed open. The tight elastic entrance resisted momentarily; she held her breath as the tip pressed forward, coughing suddenly with the pain from the hard cruel pressure.
"Aaaggghhh," she groaned, automatically resisting as the harsh torment increased.
Faro liked her soulful protest and, with a wicked grin lining his lips, shoved a little further causing her to emit another long low groan from deep in her throat.
Aaaaaggghhhhhh! Oh God . . . darling, it hurts . . . it hurts!"
He grinned again, this time almost evilly, in the darkness, her agonizing pleas giving him a sadistic jolt of pleasure.
"Oooooohhhh," she whimpered as the huge head pressured further against the snug rubbery opening between her widespread thighs, and then the tip slipped inside just beyond its coronal rim and she couldn't hold back her scream.
My God, she thought, her thighs were splitting apart from the continual expanding of
the small wet hole in her crotch. He was too big! Too big! He was going-to split her open!"
Faro couldn't resist the excitement her wailing screams were bringing him at the slow, relentless penetration of her cunt, and again and again he flexed his hips to sink an inch at a time into her, until suddenly, he could stand it no longer. He had to fuck her! He rammed forward with all he could muster, dropping his weight onto her, crushing her full, firm breasts beneath his powerful chest as he thrust his hips simultaneously and his long thick cock plunged into her moist frightened cunt with the brutal force of a driven crowbar, spiraling the soft, tender walls of warm vaginal flesh in rippling waves before it. There was no holding it back and with a loud grunt he felt his balls smack loudly into the upturned crevice between the cheeks of her tightly clenched ass.
"Ooooohhhhh! My God! My God! You've ripped me! You've torn me wide open!" Dianne wailed, screwing her buttocks down into the bed in a futile attempt to escape the agonizing impalement of her cunt. Her legs splayed into the air helplessly on either side of his big, muscular body, kicking and jerking as he pinned her securely to the soft squeaking mattress beneath. "Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . ," she continued to groan; she lay beneath him completely filled with his prick, the massive, throbbing shaft sunk to the very depths of her belly and beyond. Dear God, she'd had no idea it would give her such pain, and abruptly, she realized that all sensual excitement had left her in its wake. She could feel every wrinkle of the huge rod inside her . . . enclosed in the moist, snug sheath of her own cunt! Her husband's cunt that had never been entered before by any other man! Good God! what had she done!
Suddenly, she felt him beginning to move and she sucked in her breath and held it in
fear of what was to come. He began to jerk on top of her, his hips flexing, the huge head of his prick burrowing deeper and deeper into her.
"Oh . . . Oh . . .! Please . . . no more . . . no more, A.C. . . .!" she begged. Then, she felt him raise his heavy weight up off of her, his hands pressing her shoulders tightly to the mattress, his widespread knees forcing her thighs wider apart, until the blood-filled head slipping further into her was pressing hard against her cervix . . . and then, slowly, he began to move in and out of her, picking up speed as he went, at last buffeting her whole body back and forth beneath him as he fucked furiously into her.
Damn! He had to see her face, he decided, reaching over and snapping on the bedside lamp. The sight of it and her whole soft, white voluptuous body spread in the obscene position beneath him brought a lascivious grin to his lips. Her beautiful face was contorted still with the pain of that first vicious stab into her. Her lips were drawn back from her teeth, pleading, little incoherent whimpers coming from deep in her throat. Her arms were outstretched, palms placed feebly against his hips, attempting to ease the attack of his rampaging cock battering against her sensitive womb, while her eyes stared upward unseeingly.
Coleman had never banged it to her like this, never sunk his cock to the depths he'd reached, Faro felt certain. Christ, what a tight little cunt it was. . . almost virginal, he thought, as he held her tight in the lewd, degrading position. Now, he looked down to see his kinky, black pubic hair tangling and meshing with her sparse, blonde silken strands, the head of his thick, fleshy shaft tunneled deep into the palpitating coral split that his tongue had nursed to wet rapture only a few moments before. He could see the tight lips of her cunt stretched to near ripping point, the elasticized outer pink rim clasping tightly around the white-skinned base of his cock like a hungry sucking mouth.
He held her like this for a moment, savoring the sensuous scene of her near-unbelievable beauty impaled helplessly beneath him, his huge cock entombed deeply in her white little quivering belly. Christ, the mere sight of her there, hopelessly subjected to his any and every whim, made his cock throb and ache, and his heavy balls churn with the pressure that was building inside them. Damn her, he was going to give her a fuck she'd remember as long as she lived.
Dianne lay frozen helplessly beneath him. She'd concluded there was absolutely no mercy in the man, that to beg him to stop now would be utterly useless. How could she have been so wrong about him. He'd become a lust-filled monster, and there was nothing she could do but lay there beneath him and degradingly let him ravish her until he'd emptied all of his lewd male sperm into her agonized passage. Oh God . . . what had ever come over her to let her succumb to this? She must have been out of her mind entirely. God, how lewd and debasing it all seemed to her now, with the pain that filled her loins instead of the bliss of such a short time before. She'd been mesmerized by the rapture, had completely lost all sense of fidelity, or reality . . . and now, she would pay. Oh, Mark . . . can you ever forgive me?
The sudden hot pain of his brutal entry still tore cruelly at her insides. His massive cudgel was moving in and out of her at a specific, not unbearable cadence, presently . . . if only he didn't increase it, or change it in a sudden burst of lust. She flexed her cuntal muscles tightly together in an automatic attempt of resistance, then was sorry, for the throb of her internal sinews seemed only to incite him more, and suddenly it was drilling its way deeper and deeper into her unwanting vaginal channel. She felt the walls of her recoiling cunt clinging to it like warm, vibrant liver . . . and then the hard rubbery tip pummeled her cervix and helplessly she clenched her teeth and endured it.
It surged in and out of her in an established rhythm she adjusted to, the pain slowly lessening as her cuntal walls stretched desperately in their attempt to accept it, until finally she could actually feel the tickling hairs of his balls slapping teasingly into the crevice of her ass when he came into her, and she began to lick at her perpetual pouting lower-lip. They returned then, the first sensations of desire . . . lewd desire coursing through her veins, arousing salacious little chills that began to run along the base of her spine as she felt the slow measured beat of A.C. Faro's great cock skewering wetly into her upturned loins.
And then, suddenly, her body began to twitch and writhe of its own volition beneath him, and she heard her lips begin making small mewling noises, an incessant sound that hummed up into the moistness of his mouth, and once again she was thrusting her tongue between his lips. She drew back her legs slightly, her buttocks moving involuntarily against the slippery softness of the silken coverlet, and her cunt contracted as the delightful lewd, lascivious inner sensations increased with his every stroke.
Faro felt her urgent answering throbs around the length of his buried prick. Her wet clasping cunt flesh had begun a vibrant opening and closing performance around the pulsating member. Her pleasurable mewling and purling sounds were suddenly filling the room, and her head rolled from side to side on the pillow while her hips had begun a slow rotation beneath his cock sunk deep in her soft white belly. He clenched his teeth tightly together as he sensed her incited nibbling crotch screwing itself up closer against his hair covered loins. At last, she was coming around!
Dianne could barely comprehend the abrupt new wave of entrancement saturating her whole being. All pain had left her, giving way to a maddening electric-like tingle that began deep within her womb and spread relentlessly through the raw nerve ends of her flesh. She was a mass of exquisite moisture between her thighs. She rotated her hips from side to side around his fleshy, impaling cock, feeling her cunt dilating and sucking in tempo to its rhythmic throbs. He had suddenly made himself immobile, resting still above her with hands placed on either side of her shoulders, and he was letting her trembling body pump up and down at will on the rigid column of hot wet flesh that bridged them into one.
Faro gaped down between them to watch her moist, grasping cunt slide up and down his thick rod, the thin pink ridges of coral-hued flesh pulling out and clinging to it as she. screwed her buttocks down into the coverlet, then the salacious mouth between her legs absorbing the soft folds back into her as it swallowed the slippery, glistening length of his prick on the slow tantalizing upstroke. He let her work and strain against him a while longer, listening to her whimpers of uncontrolled delight as she labored now with utter abandon, her sweat-filmed face contorted in a half-smile of sheer ecstasy.
She was gone now, completely lost, he gloated, watching her naked body increase its hungry gyrations and up and down motions faster and faster with the passing of each second, the urgency of her thrusts against him more pronounced, her ,lust-bared teeth chewing at her swollen lower lip as she strained toward orgasm. He felt the secretions of her sucking passage beginning to flow and heard the wet sluicing noises of the in and out sawing movement as she thrust greedily up his cock, drawing it deep inside her, her back raised high off the bed to arch her crotch tight up against him . . . It was then that he reached back, grabbing her ankles and shoved them brutally up over her shoulders, causing her to cry out as he rolled her into a contorted ball of helplessness beneath him. He held her there securely making the widespread slit between her legs completely open and vulnerable to his lust-filled cock.
Half crazed now with desire, Faro pulled his deeply buried shaft from her until only the tip penetrated her . . . then, he plunged forward with every ounce of strength in him,, ramming the full, aching length of it cruelly into her helplessly exposed vagina.
"Oh . . . unnnnggghhhhh!" she grunted as it raced into her and she could hear and felt the wet smack of his pelvis battering against her crotch. His heavy body dropped down on her brutally, crushing her full, tight breasts beneath her knees into her chest. His thick cock pummeled into her receptive cunt like a battering ram, pushing the unresisting moist folds of flesh again and again in rippling waves before its smooth, rubbery head.
He began long hard strokes into the seething channel, and the quivering moist walls clasped around the fleshy rod hungrily, slithering up wetly to devour its length to the hilt. His balls slapped into the damp of her buttocks with a vengeance. She groaned loudly in relief at the complete filling of her stretched passage as he began a heavy deep thrusting into her grinding cunt. Her head rolled wildly from side to side, her mouth gasping in abandoned ecstasy.
Suddenly, Dianne realized that this was it! This was it! His thick, expanding cock digging into her like an air-drill made the cords in her neck abruptly tighten in an unmistakable sign. She could think of nothing but the enormous, agonizing sweet buildup inside her.
"Oh God . . . oh God! I-I'm going to cum Yes . . . my God, yesssss. . . . I'm cumming . . . cuuummmmiiiinnnnggg!" Fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck hard!" she pleaded with a voice shrill with passion, her hands clawing out and behind his driving buttocks, pulling him in a demented frenzy deeper and deeper into her widespread crotch.
Her cunt walls opened like a thousand tiny springs, emitting a flood of warm, gushing secretion to bathe his insanely pummeling cock like a hand holding warm soapy water. He rammed harder, faster, burrowing deep, deep into the hot liquid depths of her steaming, spewing cunt, and the juice seeped wetly out around his still battering prick, flowing down the crevice of her ass and flooding his balls as they slapped rhythmically against her tightly puckered anus.
"Oh God . . . Oh God . . . Oh God!" Dianne chanted, twisting and writhing beneath him, and spurring him on to force her tortured legs farther and farther back over her head and fucking into her like a mad man. Bright flashes filled the room again and again as she continued to grunt out her climax, the juices still gushing in never-ending spurts down the full quivering cheeks of her bucking rear end.
Then, she felt A.C. jerk, tense and curse, followed by the hot jets of his sperm shooting deep up into the sanctuary of her dilating womb. Her head swam with depraved sensuality as the hot, powerful squirts splattered wildly into her, filling her to the bursting point with its sticky whiteness. The hot wet walls of her vagina clasped and unclasped desperately, milking at the jerking organ like a sucking, starving mouth . . .
Her firm young body seemed suddenly drained of everything and her limbs collapsed loosely on the bed as Faro released his grip on her legs. She lay spread-eagle, feeling the heavy weight lifting from her and the cool rush of air over her sweat-soaked form.
"Well . . . well . . . ," Faro sighed heavily, dropping onto the bed and stretching out beside her. "What do you think now, Baby? was it worth it?"
What did she think? Was it worth it? Oh God . . . she couldn't think . . . not really . . . It'd been wonderful . . . She couldn't deny that . '. . Dear God . . . she was nothing but a whore . . . just like all the rest of them in this horrible little community.
Chapter Ten
Mark Coleman was experiencing a state of irritation. There was no damned reason for it, he thought, but it was with him all the same and had been since the wild night he had spent with Tonya Faro, three days before. There was no question about it; the woman was a nympho. She'd near extracted the marrow from his bones. He'd slept the day through Sunday, inasmuch as he had to be in court the following morning, and had not seen his beloved wife since he'd skipped out on her at the Club with Tonya, Saturday night.
Dianne had moved out of his bed, obviously, and established herself in another bedroom in the house. She had kept the door locked, took her meals in there and refused to see him. Only the housekeeper, Mrs. Gray, had laid eyes on her during the three-day period. Not that he gave a damn about that either, he kept telling himself, but after all she was his wife and there were certain obligatory functions, as such, he expected of her, one of which was to appear on the podium beside him that night at an election speech he was to make. He had sent word up to her by Mrs. Gray some two hours before, but Dianne had refused to acknowledge his order one way or the other, and at the moment he sat in his study drinking scotch and sodas and working up to a slow boil.
He had no idea how far A.C. Faro had gotten with her, but he felt certain it hadn't been all the way. She was too damned prudish for that . . . maybe a little hot necking and petting, but never any further. .. and that made him feel a bit better, although for the life of him he couldn't reason why. That's what he'd acquired her for, wasn't it? For bartering power, the image, and for whatever other advantage she could be to him along the way? So, why the irksome fermentations at the thought of her and Faro together? He'd had Tonya in every way, shape and form, hadn't he? And now he had the Reed Machine behind him . . . Hell, it was all going beautifully, even better than planned. So why the gnawing grumble in his belly? Let her sit up there and brood her tight little ass away if that's what she wanted . . . just as long as she conformed to his programming . . . Damn her, she certainly had no complaints . . . and maybe it was just about time that he told her that!
He stood abruptly, set down his glass and stormed from the room, taking the wide stairs two at a time. At her locked door, he hammered authoritatively. When she didn't answer, he stepped back angrily and kicked it open with the driving sole of his shoe, splintering the casing around the latch, the barrier swinging back forcibly to bang crescenduously against the wall.
Dianne lay on the bed attired in nightgown and negligee. She sat up with a start as he burst into the room, then stopped short to stare at her, his eyes red-rimmed and enraged. The sight of him reminded her immediately of her wedding night and a shudder passed through her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he raged. "There's no doors locked to me in this house, lady . . . especially yours!"
She had been shocked more than frightened by his onslaught and quickly gained control of herself. Three long days and nights of shame, degradation, tears, and finally acceptance with purpose had wrought a changed girl in Dianne Lovell Coleman . . . at least, she had convinced herself of this. She gave him a twisted, little one-sided smile that was almost akin to a leer.
"Really?" she said acridly. "I didn't know, master. I thought that even your whores were entitled to some privacy."
He took a step toward her, balled his fists, but caught himself. "Damn you, don't provoke me," he spat at her. "I've taken your little mood bit for three days now, and that's long enough. You'll move your things back into the master bedroom where they belong and you'll share my bed. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," Dianne replied, her beautiful hazel eyes narrowed in a bitter loathing he had never dreamed possible.
"Good. Tonight, I have a speech to make at the Municipal Auditorium. . . you'll be on the stage beside me. Understand?"
"Whatever you say, master," she hissed back at him. "Only . . . don't you forget one thing, Senator . . . from this day forward I'm your wife in name only . . . nothing more. Do I make myself clear?"
Again, Mark sensed the rage mounting inside him and he clenched his hands tightly as it swept through him. "You're exactly what I tell you, you are!" he said through clenched teeth.
"I'm a whore!" she threw back at him, her eyes spitting venom. "And you made me that, my husband! Just a piece of human flesh to be used for the advantage of your career, remember? I'm a bitch and a slut . . . and I think perhaps I'm going to like it!"
Mark felt a cold, knotting sensation taking place in his entrails. It seemed to render him temporarily immobile. He could do nothing but stand and stare at her. He had never seen her this way . . . would never have believed it possible. Her whole being spewed vile hatred at him . . . but worse was the vicious implication of her self-denunciation. It could mean only one thing . . .
"Wh-What are you trying to say . . . ?" He watched her eyes, narrowed and gleaming with little pinpoints of wrath. "Well . . . ?"
"Just what the devil do you think?"
"Did . . . did you let Faro fuck you?" he shot at her.
Slowly, Dianne's smile broadened into a tight, almost bloodless grin. "Let him . . . I begged him to," she taunted. "And it was beautiful . . . the first time in my life I ever knew a real man . . . a fulfilling man! Yes, he fucked me but good, and if I'm lucky, he will again, damn you!"
Suddenly, the urge to beat her . . . to destroy her. . . to kill her was almost unbearable inside him. He felt the hot tears of bitter rage trickling down his cheeks and the aching lump in his throat nearly choking him. Oh God almighty! What had he done to her? He steeled himself, his nails digging into the flesh of his own palms, in an effort to keep himself from leaping on her and tearing her to pieces. He had to force himself to back away before he lost all control entirely. He moved in a backward motion all the way to the door, his tear-glazed vision filled with the magnificence of her beauty . . . the soft, chaste loveliness that he had selfishly bartered into defilement by another man . . . He read the continuous hatred she was hurling at him with her eyes until he could bear it no longer. He spun about and walked quickly from the room, the sobs choking up from his breast, and stumbling along the hallway, he cursed himself and all the Colemans before him who had doomed him to damnation.
Alone, Dianne's outward display of rancor quickly disappeared and she lowered her face into the pillow, her long blonde silken hair fanning out and covering her head and shoulders like a golden coverlet . . . then, she wept for a long, long time.
Chapter Eleven
Dianne sat on the dais in the background along with several other dignitaries listening to the drone of Mark's voice as he addressed this audience assembled in a Union Hall. It had been the eighth one in as many days, a tour that had taken them throughout the state, until tonight when they were back in Rio Lado once more. She was exhausted from the living out of a suitcase, the traveling, long hours and poor eating routine, but the campaign was going well and this was all that concerned Mark, or A. C. Faro who was managing all affairs. Public prediction was that Mark would win handily, and with the election only three days off, she was grimly determined to see it through.
It was what was to follow that absorbed most of Dianne's thoughts through her waking hours. The few minutes of an evening she and Mark had spent alone together since the day he had broken in the door were invariably strained ones. There had been no sex, no pretense at love, nor a seeking of forgiveness on either's part. Their association had been one of simple, affable understanding, but with the election, whichever way it went, that too would be over. She intended to divorce him.
There was little, if any, chance for a reconciliation, she felt. What he had done to her was unforgivable. She neither loved nor hated him, but in fact, had filled that void in her emotions with a new greed of her own she had- never before known. The luxury he had introduced her into had become a ,second nature; she had grown accustomed to its pleasurable benefits, and didn't intend to be without it again. Mark would pay, and pay handsomely. She had, with a little investigation, uncovered her secret weapon. It was to her advantage that Mark win his senatorial post; his position would be more vulnerable then, which was the main reason why she had endured the campaign and had gone out of her way publicly to pretend at being a devoted wife and helpmate. Her day was coming shortly.
Faro had never ceased at making advances. He continually watched her, the perpetual gleam of the lecher that was lighting his eye. Mark pretended to ignore it, but she knew it had begun to eat away at him. He had actually grown jealous of her, and that, for some reason, amused her.
Of course, there were no opportunities for A.C. to get her off somewhere without Mark's knowing, and had there been, she was certain she would've refused. Not that the memories of their erotic night together didn't move her when she thought about them; in fact, having tasted the full delight of satisfying sex, her voluptuous young body had sent off its craving desires to her brain too often of late, and there had been those moments when she would've openly welcomed A.C.'s long, thick penis slipping between her open legs . . . but such an act with him didn't fit into her plans at this time . . . and the new Dianne Coleman had become a terribly hard, mercenary girl.
Presently, she was experiencing a slight headache. She hadn't slept well the night before and had eaten only a small brunch early in the day. Mark had barely gotten into his speech, and of course there was always a question and answer period to follow. She felt if she sat there much longer she would certainly become nauseous . . . She leaned toward A. C. beside her.
"I'm not feeling well,": she whispered, "I think I'll run along home and get a night's sleep. It's all I need. .."
"By all means," said the Commissioner. "Look, I'll drive you. . ."
"No. That won't be necessary. I'll catch a cab," she said, realizing immediately what he had in mind.
"But, it's no trouble . . ." he tried.
"It might be," Dianne insisted. "And I doubt if I'm up to it tonight."
A.C. grinned. "Very well," he said. "I can wait a little longer."
Dianne returned his smile, getting quietly to her feet. "I'm sure you can," she said. "You're a dear, A.C., good night."
"Good night."
Phillip Gates sat engrossed at the back of the hall. He hardly heard a word that Mark Coleman uttered, but every sense of his being was occupied with the presence of the lovely blonde-haired girl who sat upon the dais behind him and to his right. The palms of his hand bore a thin film of perspiration. His dark, discernible eyes pierced the layers of smoke that hung over the room and dwelt upon the delightful feminine face and body unflinchingly. He bit at his thin lower lip and hoped that no one around him could feel the hatred he must be generating.
This was the third time he had seen her since she had eloped on him, and each one had been in the presence of her husband -the bastard, . . . and at a similar political function. He couldn't resist the temptation to come and stare at her, to sit anonymously among the sea of faces and telegraph his vehement animosity at her, hoping childishly that in some manner it would reach her and penetrate to the very core, turn her blood to ice. . . force her to jump up and leave the stage . . .
When she stood, suddenly, he could hardly believe it. She was saying something to the man next to her, but she was too far away for him to observe the expression on her face. He sat up straight in his chair. Was she leaving? It was a gamble, but if she were she would have to use the alley. He stood, moved out into the aisle and walked outside to the front of the building. She would have to come this way, and his car was parked not fifty feet down the street. He tensed and waited . . .
"Pardon me," he smiled, "but don't I know you?"
"Phillip! My God . . . Phillip!" Dianne exclaimed. She broke into a broad smile and bounded toward him.
The greeting surprised him. He caught her in his arms, held her for a moment, then backed off.
"Oh, Phillip . . . how wonderful to see you. How've you been? What're you doing here?
God . . . I'm so glad to see you. . ."
Again, he was taken aback. He'd expected anything but this type of salutation from her. His own smile burst forth uncontrollably.
"I came to learn what your husband has to offer the voting public," he lied. "But when you left the dais I thought there might be a chance of saying hello . . . for old time's sake."
Dianne looked at him for a long moment, her expression warm and receptive, then, she dropped her eyes consciously.
"I-I wasn't feeling well," she said. "These campaigns are kind of rough on a girl, you know . . ."
"I should imagine."
"I was just going home. . ."
"Can I drive you?" he asked in that straight-forward manner she remembered so well, the slightest of smiles playing around his thin, sensitive month. "For old times sake, that is.
She had been about to refuse until he'd used the last phrase. The warmth of his very presence caused the smile to well up from deep inside her. She couldn't have refused, even had Mark been standing beside her.
"I'd love it," " she said.
He led her to his ancient vehicle and held the door, apologizing for its humbleness meaningfully, then hustled around to the other side before she had a chance to change her mind. His brain swirled. He couldn't believe that it had come off so well, that she would've been so receptive to him. But then, why not? Pity on her part. Reveling in her luxuries, why not drip a little charm and pity on the childhood sweetheart . . . the ex-boyfriend . . . the almost, but never quite, lover? Kicks!
He drove, his eyes glued to the street, a waxed smile stiffening his face. She seemed filled with elation at their meeting, damned near drenching him in her sympathetic, pretentious joy . . . or was it sympathetic guilt for what she had done to him backing up and overflowing in her . . .? God knows, she must have known some feelings of remorse . . . or did she?
Well, it made no difference to him one way or the other! He'd formulated his plans should he ever again get her alone, months ago. The idea of such an occurrence happening had been as farfetched as he himself running for state senator; yet, he had provided for it, planned it, and dreamed of the actual occasion time and time again.
It was here! Now! At hand! His steeped brain fell into automatic function.
"Where are you going?" she questioned calmly. "This isn't the way to Coleman Hill."
"I know. I have something I want to show you."
"Out here? We're out of town, Phillip. This road leads to the river. . ."
"That's right," he smiled over at her. "It took me a time to find it, myself. I come out here often and sit quietly. I look around and think of you . . . Remember. . ."
"Ph-Phillip," she said in an alarmed voice as he turned off on a side, dirt tributary. "Y-You're frightening me . . .?"
"Really?" He turned again on a second side-road, suddenly coming into a clearing that overlooked the bank of the near dry riverbed. He jerked the keys, pocketed them and stepped out into the warm night. "I can't imagine why."
She watched him reach into the back seat, retrieve a blanket, then walk away with it to a large-limbed shadow of a tree. Inside her, a hollowness had begun to form as she studied his decided movements, watched him spread the blanket and his silhouette move toward her side of the car. When he was close enough, she saw his smile . . . cold and determined.
"Phillip . . .. ?"
"I thought you'd like to see where I come everyday to think about you," he said levelly, almost menacingly. "Sit with me, perhaps . . . or even lay with me . . ."
"Phillip . . . please . . ."
"Get out, whore," he said. He jerked the door open.
"Phillip. .. darling . . . no, please . . . ?"
"Get out! Get out, or' I'll pull you out!" he spat sharply.
Dear God! Dianne gasped within herself. It's come to this . . . He intended to have her . . . to rape her if necessary. There was no question about that . . .! And God, could she blame him? After what she'd done to him? But this was not the point in question! How could she make him under. . .?
"Goddamn you! Get out of that car before I drag you by the hair!" he suddenly screamed at her.
She did. She walked to the blanket and lowered herself down to it. He followed close behind her and dropped less than an inch away from her. His body touched hers. She could hear his heavy breathing.
"You know what I want," he said. "I want what's left of that marriage-bed cunt I spent a young lifetime waiting for. Then, you can go back to your fink of a husband."
"Phil. . . ."
"Shut up! I-I just want to know for certain that what I waited for wasn't worth it.. ,"
"Oh God, Phillip," Dianne moaned. "Oh, my God. . .!"
He clutched her to him suddenly, his tongue splurting into her mouth, crushing her breasts against his chest, his hands smoothing over her back and hips. He lay over until he was prostrate on his. back, pulling her on top of him and his long, sinewy hands moved down over the rounded orbs of her buttocks, hauling her into him, then down the backs of her thighs and back up to repeat the performance.
She whimpered loudly as she returned his kisses, grinding her pelvis against his and feeling his hardness there, her breath catching in her throat at the uncontrollable passion welling up inside her.
"Oh God, my darling!" she groaned into his mouth.
"I'm going to fuck you!" he said.
"No . . . no," she bleated. "You can't, darling. You can't!"
"Why?" he hissed at her.
"Because . . . because, you're the only thing I have left to believe in!" she whimpered feebly. "You're my god of purity . . ."
"Oh . . . go to hell!" he blurted. He shoved her off him, arose to his knees and ripped his pants open. In a flash, his prick leaped out, long, thick and ugly, jutting forth in its upward arch and jerking savagely in its need. "There's your god of whatever you call it! Now. .. you either take your clothes off or I'll tear them off . . . because I'm going to fuck you tonight . . . willingly, or otherwise!"
Dianne felt the tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight of his member made her want to grasp it and love it, but she was not yet free to do that. Her vows bound her. She couldn't drag him . . . her own Phillip, down to the degradation she had sunk to. Dear God, how could she make him understand?
"Please, my darling . . . ?" she begged . . . and then he was on top of her, ripping at her clothes.
She felt her dress bunched up beyond her waist and her flimsy nylon panties ripped away. She even tried to fight the joy she felt as he brutally climbed between her legs, forcing them wide apart until her sparsely haired loins were made helplessly available to him. And then, she felt his hands at the lips of her cunt, not brutal, but not tender either, and she felt her whole being lurch at the initial contact of the turgid head of his prick with the moist, soft delicate flesh; she knew there was nothing more to say . . . He was going to fuck her . . . and dear God, she wanted him to! Oh, how she wanted him to!
"Oh no, darling, no!" she moaned in confusion. "Not this way . . . please?"
"Go to hell, you bitch!" he snarled, pushing her legs back and flicking his raging cock against the smooth, hairlined mouth of her unready and reluctant vagina.
"Aggghhh!" Dianne grunted as he ground the hate-filled cudgel into her unprepared channel without benefit of mercy, ramming it into the barely moist, raw sensitive flesh with a wicked rush that left her gasping for breath. She tried desperately to put her hands between them, to grasp his hips and hold them back, but he pinned her arms down and held them there.
His penis tore into her, scraping her tight vaginal walls painfully, causing the passage to contract and squeeze desperately around him as if it were trying to force him out as he thundered into her. He, too, gasped, at the sudden deliciously clamping enclosure hugging his rigid cock and he continued to pound deeper and deeper into her, forcing the warm, moistening flesh of her cunt in rolling ridges before it.
Lying helpless and dominated in under him, Dianne started to cry, completely going to pieces, but now firmly embedded in her, he began to fuck her pitilessly, trying to hurt her, she was certain, bending her thighs back to her shoulders, raising far out of her then thrusting right up to the cervix with brutal jabs so that she coughed and choked with the abrupt agony and humiliation.
"Good! Good! You bitch! That should make it somewhat even!" he sneered down at her, panting and snarling, his strong fingers digging and gouging into her soft white flesh as he twisted her body this way and that, trying to stuff the expanding circumference of her hole. Then, he was plunging to such depths in her that at the apex of every lunge a spasm of torment jolted through her loins, and she bit at her lower lip and rocked her head back and forth on the blanket in an effort to endure it.
"Oh . . . please, please, Phillip . . .."
"Please what? You're no godamned virgin!" he spat at her. "How many filthy pricks have shot their loads in this slut-hole of yours anyway? A dozen . . . two-dozen . . . or maybe you've lost count! Hell, this is just another fuck, pig . . . just another fuck!"
"No . . . no! It isn't true, Phillip . . . I swear . . . Ooooooh, Dear God, please, you're killing me . . .!" she pleaded. "I beg you . . ."
But he ignored her, beginning to go wild with passion and bitterness, his rock-hard penis battering into her with vicious, relentless strokes, his face a twisted mask of sadistic hate. His hands clawed and tortured her flesh and she writhed painfully away from them. She couldn't believe the horror of his attack as he drove deeper and deeper into her with each buffeting of his hips. His prick hammered into the moist clinging passage, his balls smacking resoundingly into the smooth crevice of her ass. Suddenly his hands went beneath her to cruelly cup the soft, white mounds of her buttocks, and he dug his fingers deep into her anal crevice.
"Oh, my God almighty!" she screamed. "Stop! Stop!"
She might just as well not have spoken, for he ravaged her with unheeding savagery, twisting his hips and crashing his throbbing organ deeper into her from every angle, feeling the swollen. head tear at the lining of her raw vagina, raising gasps of bitter lust from him to match the moans of pain, degradation, guilt and misery from her own contorted lips.
The tender walls of her womanhood felt as if they were ablaze, her whole womb and belly being gutted and destroyed by the inferno of his hate-filled lust. Oh, dear God . . . it was too much . . . too much! She wished she could die! There was nothing left . . .!
Suddenly, he was ripping at the front of her dress, clawing at her bra until his hands found her soft, white breasts, and he began to maul her like an animal. His nails ground into her supple flesh and raked at the tiny erect buds of her nipples fiendishly. He squeezed harder and harder and she knew, even through her agony, she'd be a mass of purple and black bruises as her chest constricted from the pain . . .
It happened then, in the very midst of what she had thought was a never ending nightmare that would live with her forever. She saw the tears streaming freely down his sensitive face, his lips drawn back baring his teeth in a grimace of mental anguish. He was crying! He stopped fucking into her and she felt his hot tears dripping onto her exposed breasts . . .
"Jesus Christ! What am I doing?" he blurted at her, shaking his head as if in sheer disbelief. He didn't see her, even though he gaped down at her.
She lay beneath him unmoving, momentarily welcoming the respite in his savage rape of her aching body. Her mouth opened and closed as little gasps of breath gulped from her tortured lungs. His tears continued to wet her breasts hotly and she saw his chest convulse with a sob. At that moment, something lumped up into her own throat to choke her as her whole being seemed to overflow with pity, love and understanding of him; she reached upward for him, pulling him down tightly upon her.
"My darling, my darling!" she moaned, covering his slender, handsome face with wet, warm, sobbing kisses. "Oh Phillip . . . what have we done to each other . . . ?"
For a brief moment, he lay as if stunned, succumbing to her words and caresses of love, then, with a jerk, he freed himself from her arms and raised up over her again. He gaped down at her, his hardened rod of flesh still lewdly connecting them together.
"You bitch! You dirty filthy bitch of a whore!" He shook his head wildly, hatefully, his mouth spread in a bloodless leer of vicious hatred. "You don't understand, do you? You can't realize how a man could feel that he's lowering himself by stooping to animalism . . . by stooping to your level! It's hard for you to understand that I think of you as dirt, isn't it?"
"Oh Phillip . . ."
"Isn't it, bitch?" he spat at her. "You pig You slut! You rotten cunt-whore! You make me sick to my stomach . . . but I'm going to finish . . . I'm going to shoot my load of hate as deep as I can into that hole of yours and hope to God you're knocked up . . . Because then, my kid could grow up and learn to hate you as much as I do!"
"Oh God, Phillip darling, stop it . . . stop it!" she begged, her own tears dribbling down her soft cheeks. "You don't know what you're saying . . ."
"Don't I ? Bitch! Whore! Cunt! Slut!" he half screamed, beginning to fuck into her once more like a demented fiend.
"Agggghhhh . . . oooohhhh . . . pleeeaaassseee . . . oooohhhh!" Dianne cried out as suddenly he used brute force to ram her legs back over her head and pounded his fury-incited long, thick cock into the already ravaged depths of her vagina.
She screamed and screamed as he continued to ram into her, breaking beyond all reasonable barriers, the swollen head of his prick pummeling and mashing her every intricate part. She begged and pleaded, wept as might a ravished child at the insane force and cruelness of his inhuman attack. Oh God, how he hated her! How he hated her!
He came then . . . with a sudden wet, hot relief that was almost too much for him to shoulder. He shot into her, into the very depths of her belly, knowing the clam-like mouth of her womb was open to him . . . shot into her in shattering long jets of hot, white sperm that spewed, and squirted and squirted, emptying all of the pent-up bitter hate of months in one great overwhelming release that Dianne could do nothing to avert . . . and she lay beneath him helpless, filled with shame, guilt and remorse, degraded, humiliated . . . destroyed . . . absorbing deep in her belly the life-giving liquid of this boy she had loved so much deep in the core of her battered and bruised body.
When it was done, he immediately kneeled back from her. Slowly, she let her legs down on either side of him. He stood, gaping down at her in the half-light as he straightened himself, finally zipping his trousers.
"It's done," he said coldly. "A . . . a kind of vendetta fulfilled. Now, I don't give a godamn. Die if you want to, bitch. My debt has been taken care of."
"Ph-Phillip . . . oh Phillip . . . please listen . . ." Dianne heard her own feeble voice and could hardly believe it. She raised to her elbows and saw her splayed legs, her naked breasts . . . the obscenity of herself. Again, tears gushed down her cheeks. "Ph-Phillip, please listen to me. . ."
"Get up, pig. Now, I'll take you to the Coleman Mansion but don't speak to me again. Just get up and do whatever you have to do. I'll be in the car waiting. You've got five-minutes."
He bent down and pulled the blanket from beneath her and she watched him walking away folding it. Then, slowly she got to her knees, the agony of her assaulted loins sending electrifying spasm of pain through her. Her vision was still blurred from her wet eyes as she tried to adjust her appearance, and as she stood, she felt her inner-thighs saturated wetly from the still warm drenching of his curse-filled semen that was seeping slowly down her legs from between the inflamed lips of her vagina.
For one brief moment, she lowered her head and prayed; then, she straightened, chin high, and walked to his car.
Oh well, she thought miserably, there was always tomorrow.
Chapter Twelve
The celebration following Mark Coleman's election took place at the country-estate of Judge Julian Reed. It was well underway at one-o'clock in the morning when Dianne arrived with her husband and the Faros, immediately after the opposition's announcement of concession. The sprawling, two-storied temple of luxury was filled with chosen political dignitaries, their wives and women, along with selected couples from the country club set . . . all Mark Coleman supporters and Judge Reed serfs.
Dianne couldn't help but smile inwardly as she observed the gathered clan of insidious politicos, and professional leeches; a more lecherous conglomeration of males hadn't been assembled since the days of Nero, she mused, nor was one apt to find a more promiscuous group of eager, anticipating females than the mates accompanying them. Her own eyes blurred from the excess of liquor she had consumed throughout the long tiresome evening, still her wits were keen enough to see that the swapping process was progressing nicely, with couples slipping off toward the second floor at an ever increasing rate, along with some rare and stimulating performances taking place in darkened corners, nooks and crannies . . . wherever one might turn. Soft music composed the background, accompanied by an ample supply of absinthe and Pernod. Couples danced . . . rather, remained on their feet in a dry-run semblance of the sex-act they were working up to. It was a celebration all right, she decided, but Mark's victory was not the reason for it, merely the excuse . . . if such was necessary.
Following their entrance and the brief congratulatory well-wishes of the more experienced sycophants, Dianne saw the "kingmaker" rolling his wheelchair toward them. The sudden shock of the repugnant sight caused her to momentarily freeze and stare. His tremendous obesity was unbelievable. She was aware that because of it, he had taken to a wheelchair to make himself more mobile, that he suffered no crippling of limbs . . . simply that walking was too much of an effort with his vast bulk, but she'd had no idea of the enormity of his massive body. It near-nauseated her, still, she managed a smile when he said:
"And you must be the delightful creature I've heard so much about." He grinned with a small, baby like mouth set in the middle of what seemed an acre of fat. Multiple chins hung below it. Tiny, wet, blue-eyes on either side of a button-nose raked her body lasciviously and a little pointed tongue popped out to lick at the red, wormish lips. His hair, straight and sparse, was jet-black, his flesh 'pink-hued; he looked thirtyish rather than a man in his mid-fifties.
Dianne swallowed tightly and heard Mark introduce her. With an effort, she responded to his compliments, remained stark still while he continued to ogle her, then, let off a little inward sigh as he acknowledged the others and moved into political conversation with the new young senator. Abruptly, it was done, the Judge suddenly wheeling about and disappearing through a doorway, leaving them.
"I-I had no idea," Dianne said, looking at Tonya Faro.
"Handsome, isn't he?" Tonya commented, smiling. "You must get to know him better, dear . . . and I'm sure you will."
Mark cleared his throat nervously, and Dianne watched the nasty glare he tossed in Tonya's direction. She hadn't quite caught the meaning of the attractive, dark-eyed woman's words, but frankly, it mattered little to her anyway. Nothing much in the last few days . . . since the horrible episode with Phillip, had moved her. She had emerged from that, heartbroken at first, then bitter, and finally more resolved than ever. The Dianne Coleman who stood amidst these cruel, greedy, licentious people, she knew, was now as cold, as calculating and determined as any one of them . . . and soon they'd know too. But right now, she was more concerned with keeping the semi-stupifying alcohol glow alive inside her. During the past week she had drunk more than ever before in her life, knowing that it was not an answer, merely a tranquilizer, but it had helped her from completely shattering after Phillip's brutal raping of her soft young body.
"Well, are we going to have a drink, or are we just going to stand here throwing dirty-looks around?" she said, abruptly walking around them toward the small self-service bar.
Mark caught up to her and took her arm. "Don't you think you've had enough?" he said, a touch of concern in his voice and expression.
Dianne returned his gaze, not quite contemptuously. She smiled. His growing attention and seeming regard for her welfare of late, amused her.
"I beg your pardon, Senator," she said. "But I thought this was a victory celebration . . . a party of some such nature . . ."
"Come along, Dear," A.C. Faro interrupted. "I'll fix you a drink."
Dianne slipped her arm through the handsome Commissioner's, gave him a warm smile as she saw the look of anger blanch from her husband's face.
"And you can pour me one of those nice Pernods, Darling," said Tonya wrapping a naked arm about Mark's waist. "Then, I have some other plans for you and me, involving, shall we say, the ardent pursuits of amour . . ."
Mark had reached one of his unpredictable, liquor-sodden moods in a matter of an hour's time, openly kissing and running his hands over a most receptive Tonya Faro. Dianne had purposely retired to the lap of A.C. in a partially secluded corner armchair where she could watch and be watched by her husband. She, too, was playing little kissing and hand games with the handsome Commissioner, but her enthusiasm was pretended, projected solely for the purpose of torturing her husband . . ..if such it was, for to hurt him and keep hurting him as deeply as he had hurt her had become a monomania with her. Not that that alone was going to satisfy her . . . indeed no, it wasn't. There was much, yet, to come!
The sweet, licorice taste and effect of the multiple absinthes she had drunk spurred her on and helped loosen her morals enough so that she stopped the infernal blushing as A.C. caressed and stroked her breasts, ran his strong, large hands down her side and over her rounded hip and buttock to her thigh, smoothing with warm, arousing strokes that Mark couldn't miss seeing. However, she hadn't expected that his massaging and stroking would awaken the little prurient sensations in her . . . that was contrary to her purpose . . . but they did. She found herself responding more intently to his kisses, his tongue slipping between her lips into her mouth and she shifted on his lap, squirming her buttocks down against his leg nervously, feeling his strong thigh muscle brush electrically against the soft swelling of her vulva. She jumped at the contact and the more unexpected shock it brought, her breath quickening.
Faro sensed the sudden excitement surging through her and made his kisses more fervent, increasing the urgency of his caresses. He felt his prick leap beneath her thigh and her responsive little pressure against it.
The presence of Mark and Tonya Faro in another chair somewhere near them, drifted for a moment from Dianne's fogged mind. The heat and excitement of their own actions was, contrary to her plans, begging to stimulate her hotly. She couldn't resist squirming down .against his thigh again, feeling the hardened sinews of his leg push dress and panties into her slightly moistened crevice; she rubbed herself gently upon it, working the lips of her vagina open slightly against the hard flesh. Her body rocked on it in almost indiscernible rhythm while his rigid, jerking member responded in tempo against her thigh. She could feel the wetness spreading further between her thighs and she opened them slightly to gain greater contact with his leg; its hardness and her motion causing her panties to rub tauntingly upon her tiny, rising clitoris.
It was then that she shifted once more and turned enough to see that Mark and Tonya were no place to be seen. She sat up quickly.
"Where did they go?"
"Upstairs probably to find a stall," A.C. said smiling, his hand continuously kneading the firm, voluptuous protuberance of her right full breast, tweaking its erect throbbing nipple and sending a rich little shudder through her.
Dianne jumped off his lap. She grabbed his hand. "Come on. I want to find them and watch this. I want to see the whole damned show," she said, an unexplainable and exciting. desire to play voyeur filling her.
Her glazed hazel-eyes sparkled with a tempest of flushed eagerness that stimulated A.C. Faro even more so. He got to his feet and led her off toward the stairway.
"That shouldn't be hard," he said. "The good Judge has a game-room with a row of plexiglass, soundproof, walled cubicles, each equipped with a bed. Little masks are available for those who want to wear them, but that's all. It's a unique setup, and of course you can watch your neighbors on either side."
"My God . . . I never heard of such a thing," Dianne gasped, the salacious idea seeming to incite her even more. "Are they lighted?"
"Oh yes . . . you see, the Judge likes to watch," A.C. informed her, grinning lewdly. "He has a private corridor with a door that leads into each cubicle, but he usually watches through the door's peek-hole."
"My God! Dianne gasped again, her excitement rising at the lewd scenes flooding her mind. "Hurry. I don't want to miss a thing."
The evil fascination of the impending show between Mark and Tonya and others hotly piqued her liquor-aroused salacity. She almost ran up the stairs and along the hallway, then A.C. opened the door and she saw the large, long room, just as he'd described it; but it was almost impossible to comprehend with the lewd and obscene acts that were taking place in the occupied booths almost whichever way she turned.
Never in her most wild lustful fantasies had she ever imagined such a bacchanal circus! Naked bodies, mostly couples, but sometimes in trios and foursomes were involved in sexual action in every conceivable approach and combination! There were no masks being worn, nor sounds except for soft music that filled the long room, and Dianne suddenly had the feeling she was watching a series of silent stag movies. She saw many faces she recognized from the club and each time an identification would jar her to the heels.
"Look there," A.C. said suddenly, pointing to a familiar trio as they walked along the narrow aisle observing the lascivious acrobatics in each sound-proofed room. "Doe and Betty Rhodes making a threesome with Byron Acker."
"My God!" Dianne exclaimed, the sight of their three naked bodies stacked on top of one another with the Doctor's wife sandwiched in between sending wild fermentations of lust shooting through her.
"Byron's fucking Betty in the cunt while the Doc sodomizes the Councilman," A.C. chuckled. "That's one thing about doctors, Baby . . . never expose your ass to them."
Dianne stood close to the glass with A.C. tight against her, his arms around her waist, his hands massaging and tweaking the nipples of her throbbing breasts beneath her dress while the hardness of his cock insinuated itself tightly into the crevice of her full, round buttocks. She felt agitating throbs pulsing in the tiny bud of her clitoris and she bit her lower lip tightly to hold back the growing. sensations building between her legs.
"Come on . . . I want to find Mark," she panted excitedly.
"And I want to fuck you," A.C. hissed into her ear.
"We've . . . we've got to find them first, and . . . and then you can," she insisted. "Come on. . ."
They did find them, several stalls beyond, and the one next to them was empty. They went inside, closing the door and A.C. began to immediately undress her while she watched fascinated at Mark's licking and sucking of Tonya's wide open loins. Tonya lay on her back, her legs jacked back and spread wide, her hands wound tightly in his hair. Mark had worked her up to a fevered pitch and Tonya's mouth hung open wide in ecstatic rapture . . . her glassy, great dark-eyes staring off into nothingness. Mark raised his head up and grinned at his prey, not yet seeing Dianne who was shivering beneath the gentle teasing hands of A.C. undressing her. She felt those hands slip beneath her now naked, vibrant breasts and lift them, one in each hand as if weighing them, then taunt the protruding button-hard nipples as he pressed his long thick cock into the crevice of her panty covered buttocks.
Momentarily, Mark's face hung but inches above Tonya's soft pubic mound below. His hands were pressed down on the smooth flat plane of her stomach and his thumbs lay against the fleshy outer flanges of her cunt lips. Dianne tucked in her stomach with a gasp as his thumbs massaged a moment, then pulled outward slowly, parting the soft pubic hair and exposing the moist red slit of Tonya's vulva. The dainty bud of her clitoris was clearly visible, throbbing into hardness just above the stretched elastic opening of her vagina. Simultaneously, Dianne felt A.C. kneel down behind her and his soft wet tongue slip hotly into the crevice of her now naked buttocks, just as he had done that first time, and a violent shudder rippled over the soft supple flesh of her body.
On the other side of the glass partition, Mark's head dropped, his long wet tongue snaking out to flick teasingly at the quivering little nub of raw nerves at the top of Tonya's thin hairlined cuntal slit. Her body jerked wildly at the electric contact and Dianne's mouth gaped limply open in disbelief as she watched her naked torso twisting lustfully to the depraved sucking Mark was submitting her to.
Oddly enough, she realized, there was absolutely no feeling of hatred or bitterness at the sight of her husband performing such a. vile, obscene act on another woman . . . no emotion whatever, except that of lewd voyeurism, and that was what she wanted to know . . . to be certain of . . . and now she was.
Suddenly, A. C. was pushing her back from the glass and getting in front of her on his knees. He slipped his hands between her legs, gently spreading her hot receptive thighs. She felt his wet lips pressing tightly into the nude flesh of her belly, the sudden contact sending a chill racing the length of her spine and she automatically reached forward, locking her hands in his hair as he dropped his lips to the gently throbbing mound of her sex, spreading the soft blonde pubic hair with his thumbs and flicking his tongue lizard-like into the now wet, flowering slit of her vagina.
Dianne jumped and gasped from the sudden shocking contact with the tiny bud of her clitoris.
"Ooohhh," she moaned. "Yes, yessss . . . lick it, Darling! Lick my cunt for me while I watch my husband doing it to your wife!"
Her own body began a rhythmic swaying motion against A.C.'s hungry oral ministrations at her cunt while she watched that of Tonya squirming in lewd surrender to the nerve-shattering slavering of Mark's tongue, lips and mouth glued leech-like to her open pussy. The whole erotic happening was immediately almost more than she could bear. The furiously wild fermentations saturating her loins and belly caused her to release her grip in A.C.'s hair and clutch at her throbbing breasts. Already the pressure of climax was mounting in her belly, and then she felt A.C.'s long thick finger slip up into her vagina, its tip flickering at the mouth of her womb as his tongue and lips laved at the plexus of her clitoris in a hot liquid envelopment of bliss.
My God, she would cum in an another second if he kept this up! She had never been this hot in her life! Her whole being seemed alive with ecstatic sensations of rapture. Oh God, she'd never get enough this night and she knew it! She closed her eyes and rolled back her head, throwing it from side to side and causing her long blonde hair to flail wildly, her firm large breasts swaying with the motion as she entwined her finger once more in A.C.'s hair to keep her equilibrium.
Then, when she reopened them, her mouth fell open in loose amazement as she watched Tonya squirm frantically from beneath her husband's mouth, twist herself over to a kneeling position and back her full round buttocks toward him as he, too, lurched upward to his knees.
Dianne watched in half stupefied amazement as they positioned themselves, still unmindful of any audience, Tonya with her face on the pillow and her soft round buttocks thrust back openly with wide-spread thighs toward Mark's jerking, rock-hard prick. Greedily, she reached behind her while Dianne watched, clasping the rigid shaft and bringing it into the cleft between the white round cheeks of her ass.
"My God!" Dianne gasped, watching the other woman place the swollen, blood-filled head tight against the small dark entrance of her puckered anus. And she continued to gape while the mounting pressure in her own loins expanded toward a pinpoint of blazing fire that seemed to be generating in tiny fulgurations from the aching tips of her breasts.
Dianne couldn't contain the moans and gasps that. A.C.'s fluid tongue and thick plunging finger were causing to erupt from deep inside her. To cum, she thought . . . to cum standing up and watching her own despised husband fuck into the ass of another woman was too much! Her legs began to quiver, the full round suppleness of hidden muscles in her upper thighs and buttocks trembling with galvanic sensations pressuring there: he would die with the bliss of it!
Then, she saw it . . . Mark's long, thick cock plunge into Tonya's tiny anal passage . . . inches at a time, while the helpless girl's small hands clutched insanely at the pillow, even as she grunted and skewered her beautifully rounded buttocks back onto Mark's long, fleshy rod . . . and as he thrust into her, she lurched backward at him, until rhythm was established. Unbelievably, Diane watched Tonya's mouth gap in distressed joy, saw her hand move down between her thighs to her cunt lips and begin to manipulate her own vaginal slit while Mark sawed brutally and beautifully into her back passage, his head tossed back, his teeth bared.
"Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh!" Dianne blurted, A.C.'s unceasing lovemaking undeniable. The pinpoint in her loins had been reached. She was about to burst. She grunted, then managed : "I want that! I want . . . fucked in the asshole Oooooh, I want it, Darling! Next! Next! Oh my God! I'm going to cum! Darling. . . I'm going to cum! Suck my cunt . . . yessssssssssss!"
It was as if she had been struck across the small of the back with a tremendous blow. Wild and unbelievable sensations of rapture ground through her loins, filling her belly and breasts. The room swam and her knees, jelled. She felt herself being propelled backwards even as the insane ecstasy continued as she floated through air, something soft and bouncy catching her, then, A.C.'s mouth and tongue were there to lick and suck at her wildly spewing cunt, and momentarily, she wondered if she were losing her mind . . . moving onto another plane in this corporeal realm of existence. Her legs jerked out on either side of his head, the furious pleasure continuing to permeate her whole soft, sensitive body, and again she clutched at her breasts while rhythms of incessant, passionable release splurged through every muscle, nerve and cell of her being.
My God almighty, I'm in heaven!
She lay prostrate for a long time, staring up at the glassed ceiling unseeingly. Eventually, the earth steadied. She raised her head to see him down between her thighs, kissing . . . tenderly caressing the seething split in her crotch with his tongue and lips . . . knowing how so as not to torment her . . . soothing, making it all believable ecstasy. Her hands found his hair and gently ran through it. Her body quaked; his tongue tip brushed her clitoris in a second spasm and she felt desire ripple through her once more . . . yet.
Oh God, she thought, would she even get enough of such bliss? She rolled her head and saw Tonya with Mark still mounting her, pounding feverishly into her bottom while she pummeled at her own cunt with her fingers. Dianne raised her head to watch more ardently and could see the little ridges of inflamed pink flesh extracted with every out-stroke of her husband's thick member, only to disappear as he thrust forward savagely burying his whole cock up her rectum until his balls smacked hard down against her wide-spread cuntal slit.
Just the thought of the erotic, forbidden pleasure she must be enjoying was enough to re-stimulate Dianne. The very idea of having a man's huge prick thrust to its utmost depths in her back passage sent new prurient sensations of excitement spiraling through her. Her sensual craving was still a long way from being fulfilled. Perhaps she had drunk to much, or maybe it was what she drank . . . she didn't know . . . didn't care . . . only that desire still raged inside her.
Suddenly, and gently, she pressed A.C.'s face away from between her thighs, withdrew her legs and turned, getting to her knees. She remembered vaguely how Tonya had done it, lowering her face to the pillow, spreading her thighs as widely as she could and pushing her smooth, white buttocks back toward him. She felt the pressure on the bed behind her as A.C. moved between her legs, hot against her thighs . . . and then, the sudden sensations of his massive organ between them.
Momentarily, her breath caught in her belly and she reached back to grasp the forgotten size of the brutal staff. Her breath eased out of her in gasps as she half-encircled its thickness . . . but committed, not stopping. Slowly she drew the blood-engorged head upward between the wet lips of her vulva . . . then, a second time, almost hesitantly, finally raising it to where its tip pressed against the tiny cringing orifice of her rectum.
At its intimate touch, a sensation of excitement rippled over her. She left it there, drawing away her hand and stared at the erotic face of Tonya in the next stall absorbing all of Mark that way. The mere sight was sufficient to make her press her buttocks back toward A.C.'s massive cudgel. She wanted it this way! She did! She did! The pleasure on Tonya's face more than inspired her . . . it made her covetous.
"Now, A.C.! Fuck me there, now! In my ass . . . and if I cry out don't pay any attention, you hear? Just fuck me there!"
He wet her back passage more with spittle. Then, he eased one finger in while his other moved down and between the lips of her cunt to massage her clitoris enticingly.
It was more than she had ever imagined. The penetration in her rear channel excited her to no end . . . and then, came a second finger, at first somewhat painfully, but in her determination she threw her ass back at it feeling the excitement grow within her.
"Now, Darling, now! Fuck me there with your cock! I want it! I need it, my Darling . . .!" she hissed back at him, her eyes trained on her husband's soaring member smashing into Tonya's receptive anus, the thought of the rapture she must be enjoying driving Dianne wild with anticipation.
Then . . . it came! The finger withdrawn and the pressure of his prick working against the exceedingly tightened aperture of her tiny pink anus. She gasped aloud as the turgid head shot forward, expanding the sphincter mouth beyond reason. She felt it pushing into her . . the almost audible snap of the protective entrance as it dipped over and closed behind the coronal rim of the head of his prick and she screamed.
"No' No! No! Stop! My God! Jesus, I can't stand it! You're killing me . . .! Take it out! Take it out!"
But he didn't. Instead, he continued to move into her as gently as he could, unheeding of her pleas, clutching tightly at her upper thighs and pulling her beautiful round white buttocks back toward him onto his throbbing prick, sadistic pleasure rapidly building inside him as he watched the slow penetration of his long, thick cock slipping inch by inch into her helplessly exposed rectum.
"Oh my God!" Oh my God! You can't! You can't! Take it out! Please, A.C. take it out, I beg you!" she pleaded.
Now, he eased back, using an in and out motion several times that seemed to let her release a breath, then, he moved forward again feeling her rectal muscles tighten as might the width of a male-hand about his prick. Still, he moved into her while she cried back at him, twisting and grinding the pillow into little spirals of foam simultaneously. She was in agony all right . . . and maybe that was where she belonged, he thought.
His loins ached for release. His brick was as hard as a -railroad tie, and his balls throbbed with the sperm bloating them. This woman crouched before him with her magnificent ass thrust upward into his face was a bitch . . . maybe not born that way, but a bitch nevertheless . . . and she deserved everything he was going to give her. No mercy! No respite Christ, she was voluptuously breathtaking' But dangerous too . . . He didn't know how . . . only that she was.
"Scream, Baby," he blurted down to her all of a sudden, the first words he'd uttered since sending his prick up her ass. "Go ahead . . . scream! Because I've only got it halfway in, and you're going to take it all . . . Then, I'm going to fuck you there . . . maybe for an hour . . . maybe two . . . until I blow every drop of jizz from my guts!"
"Oh . . . Oh . . . oh, my God!" Dianne exclaimed wildly as the thick, never ending rod moved into her back passage. She must have been out of her mind! Faro's wife was a fiend! Maybe she liked pain . . . torture. My God, hadn't she heard of those people too?
A.C. could stand it no longer. His cock ached with its need for release. He spread his knees, driving her legs outward even more: and hearing the gasp come from her tortured lips. A ripple of pleasure moved over him at the sound. He pressed tight to her, then, drove forward mercilessly, his wide, lengthy prick moving right up her warm, dark rectal passage until his balls slapped and swung down against the gaping split of her vulva.
Dianne screamed, nausea almost overwhelming her as the head of his organ tousled her entrails . . . and then, he was withdrawing and soaring the full length into her, his pelvis smashing against and flattening the soft whiteness of her buttocks, his balls thwacking into the split of her cunt in a steady cadence that was numbing her belly and ripping her back passage wide open.
It was then that the big door on the far wall opened and she saw Judge Julian Reed wheel his chair into the room. He wore no covering over the lower half of his huge body. She rose to her elbows to gape at him even as A.C. soared his mighty prick relentlessly into her wide stretched rectum . . . but the agonizing plunder of her rear channel was nothing compared to the visual horror of this monster's exposed body; she was certain she was going to vomit.
Chapter Thirteen
Contrary to the pinkish cast to his facial flesh the mountain of amorphous rolling flab that composed the Judge's exposed stomach and lower extremities was a fish-belly, gray, an abominable spectacle causing total revulsion to overwhelm Dianne. She could see no part of his genitals although he was naked there; they were completely hidden somewhere amidst the multiple billows of puttyish fat.
She gaped at him open-mouthed as he paused several feet from the bed grinning at her licentiously, his small beady eyes raking her naked body that A.C. was pummeling mercilessly from behind, his huge penis surging right up into her rectum, solid and very painful, but now better because there was no more for her to absorb there.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! Ooooh God!" she gasped, fighting to keep the tears of pain from gushing to her eves. She'd had no idea it would hurt like this. It felt like an enormous, splintered log, shredding the soft raw skin of her passage.
He grunted and groaned and rammed into her with long, powerful strokes, continually pounding the whole length of it far up into her. She heard him gasping and mouthing obscenities, and she heard the heavy breathing of Judge Reed who watched with wild lust-filled eyes, his small tongue licking at his red worm like lips.
Gradually the pain eased a little, though it was still a blend of uncomfortable hurt and stimulation; yet, she found herself moving backward to meet the forward thrust of his cock, undulating her body and swinging her buttocks in tiny rotating circles, clasping it tightly with the flexing throb of her rectum on the out-stroke.
A.C. began to gasp and croon with delight as he sawed rhythmically and sadistically up into the soft confines of her ass. He watched from above, the reddish pink skin of the tiny round hole draw back with his prick and felt the sudden voluntary movements of her buttocks before him.
"Fuck her, A.C.!" Judge Reed leered excitedly. "Hard! Hard! Pound it into the little bitch, damn it! Pound it, you hear?"
Dianne groaned and Faro plunged into her with increased vigor. He knew now that she was gone, that her back passage had acclimated itself to his blunt intrusion, that he could do whatever in hell he wished and she'd accept it. She was a slave kneeling before him, prepared to follow his every wish and command; there was no resistance left in this girl impaled like a skewered pig on his cock. He'd hammer it to her now, damn her, as she'd never had it before, and she'd loved it . . . she was loving it, the beautiful bitch!
He watched the movements of her buttocks and the aching hollows of her back as she worked and ground back onto him like a street slut, her long blonde hair falling over her face and around her neck and back while she squirmed lewdly before him.
To Dianne the pain had become weirdly pleasurable. It was as if her mind had lapsed into an erotic coma and she was hardly aware of anything around her but the thrusting cock sodomizing her defenseless rectum, filling her with sensations of masochistic joy. If she saw the Judge manipulating his mechanical chair so that the back lowered, then lifting his massive legs onto the bed and moving forward, it didn't register in her brain. And she made no effort to struggle against Faro who was turning her around bodily, so that she was still on her knees with him tight behind her, but they were now crossways of the bed with Dianne imprisoned between the huge columns of fat that were the Judge's legs.
Then, it dawned, as she gazed down at the blimpish ponderosity of flesh and saw the thick, stubby shaft that was his prick straining up at her from between his wide-spread legs, its purplish head half protruding from the reddish, circumcised foreskin, the sudden smell of his sweat coated body stinging her nostrils. The filthy gargoyle wanted her to . . . to take him in her mouth.
"Oh God, no!" she gasped.
"Suck it!" the Judge snarled, lying almost prostrate on his back, lifting the vast bulk of his stomach back with both hands to give her greater access to his near smothered loins.
"Oh God, no!" Dianne moaned again. She had never done that to any man, let alone this inhuman freak!
Suddenly, she felt A.C. laying his heavy weight over her, pressing her head downward and grasping her hands to push them back between her thighs.
"Hold my balls and suck him!" Faro ordered.
"I can't, I can't!" she moaned, but then Judge Reed had her by the hair and was drawing her down cruelly toward the short jerking rod, forcing the large bulbous head against the moist softness of her lipstick lined lips.
She tried to resist, the repugnant odor nearly sickening her, but the hand wound in her hair was the deciding factor. When he twisted, she opened her mouth to scream and his cock shot upward and into the warm moist cavern almost to her throat. She felt it on her tongue, pungent and foul tasting as he smelled, a blunt, hot thigh tearing her attention in brief spasms from the continuous piercing of her rectum, sliding in and out of her lips, never quite withdrawing, always leaving an inch or two within the warm wet shelter of her mouth. She closed her eyes. Saliva filled her mouth as he held to her head and worked it up and down the thick short fleshy shaft of his prick. Once or twice she coughed and spluttered, but then she grew accustomed to the choking entry and let it move in and out as he bobbed her head with increasing fury, ramming at a faster pace than the Commissioner's burrowing into her back channel.
Behind her, A.C., his eyes bulging wide at the sight of the Judge's fat, stubby cock soaring upward wetly between Dianne's tender, open lips, began a desperate, wild thrusting into the expanded hole in the wide split crevice of her, once more, salaciously moving buttocks.
Again, she found herself moving backwards to meet the forward thrust of his loins. She repeated her undulating movements, rotating her buttocks in tiny circles as she sucked at the Judge's rock-hard cock. Subconsciously, she raised her hands still extended down between her legs and scratched at Faro's swinging balls gently, wishing she could turn her face just so that he could see the effect he was having on her.
She felt the spongy head of the Judge's cock continue to rub the full distance of her tongue, almost imbedding itself deep in her throat, the sharp, racy taste and odor now causing her nostrils to flare slightly as her mouth salivated and she began a hungry nibbling action with her teeth, gentle but firm, her tongue beginning to swirl lasciviously around the small fleshy ridge separating its length from the pulsating head. She could feel the moist, lubricated tip brushing tantalizingly against her tongue, and she began to think of the moment when the glan in her mouth, slippery from her own saliva, along with the massive prick thundering into her ravished anus, would erupt inside her and fill her as she had never been filled before with their hot, lewd sperm.
"Damn! Damn!" the Judge rasped, his elephantine bulk rippling and jiggling like a great mass of queasy gelatin. "Suck it, girl! Tighten your lips! Suck harder! Suck harder, damn you!"
Dianne responded, feeling at the same time the lust-filled excitement mounting again inside her at the vile, debasing thought of her mouth being used this way by such a foul creature. She hoped Mark was watching! God, how she hoped he could see it all! She sucked demon-like, pumping her own head up and down the fat, throbbing rod, swishing her tongue with vengeance around and around the jerking head sliding in and out of her tightly ovaled lips, the helpless, degrading, masochistic joy of being used like a filthy tramp, saturating her whole being with tingling, submissive, mewling sounds that came from her lips locked tightly around his thrusting cock. Soon, he was going to spew his despicable white sperm into her until it dripped from the edges of her lips in sticky white trails of blissful sensation that were unmatchable in this human existence, while A.C. filled her rectum from behind with the hot jetting sperm of his orgasm.
Oh, God, if only they'll both cum together!
Mark Coleman's cock felt as if it had been rolled in ground glass, its narrow passage ramroded with it. His loins ached, but not for release . . . rather from strain. He'd lost count of the time he'd cum in this insatiable pig's cunt and back passage, and the orgasms she'd squealed out to saturate his dripping crotch. She was some kind of nightmare . . . he didn't know what . . . a witch, perhaps . . .
"In my cunt now!" she wailed back at him from her all-fours position, waggling her white round buttocks wildly back at him.
He did, roaring his stone-hard, agonized organ up her unresisting, salacious hole with the force of a pile-driver, the numbed head battering her cervix and causing her to grunt from the brutal pain-pleasure she was deriving from his sadistic ravishment of her genitals.
"Oh . . . Oh . . . ohhh" she choked at his vicious pummeling of her vagina. "I-I've got to . . . to cum again! I've got to! Fuck harder, damn you! In my ass now! Quick . . . in my ass!"
He complied, his pelvis smacking loudly against the softness of her twin white buttocks, his rampaging cock buried to the balls in her nearly split anus. He watched in a daze his raw, reddened prick disappearing all the way up her gyrating ass in a series of cruel strokes. Not a fraction of an inch remained visible as it sunk into the velvety passage, reaching far into her quivering belly.
"My cunt! My cunt! Quick . . . in my cunt:" she hissed again and he alternated once more, smashing his bruised prick into the gluttonous, insatiable cavity.
Good Christ! He was being eaten alive! Devoured by this twin mouthed carnivorous monster masquerading as the secret, soft bewitching genitalia of a woman. He'd licked her cunt and unleashed a demon. Her body glistened with sweat before him and she was squirming and bucking back against him like a mad woman . . .
"My ass! My ass! Shove it in my ass!"
He did, automatically . . . but at the same moment he turned his head and saw through the glass-wall the orgy taking place in the next stall. Something knotted convulsively in his belly at the depraved sight! It was the Judge and Faro with a girl . . . the repulsive bulk of Julian Reed spread sickeningly with the girl on all fours over his loins, his great fat absorbing her as she sucked him, while Faro sodomized her voluptuous white body from behind, and unbelievably she seemed to be reveling in it. His dazed, fatigued brain made no effort to analyze the salacious spectacle, only observe it. The sight of the girl's long blonde hair covered head bobbing up and down on that vile judiciary prick seemed to incite new lust in him at the sadistic thought of such a luscious looking creature forced to degrade herself . . .
Blonde hair . . .! Luscious! Faro . . .! Jesus God! It was Dianne! It had to be! Oh Christ!
Mark jerked his cock out of Tonya, falling backwards and struggling to get off the bed. His prick wilted like a heat-softened candle.
"What're you doing?" Tonya wailed desperately, dropping onto her side. "Christ, you can't stop now! I was almost there . . . almost there!" she panted, her mouth wet and loose, her dark-eyes glazed. She plunged her hand down to her crotch between the lips of her quivering wet pussy in an effort to keep her near-climax alive. "Please, Mark! My God, I've got to cum, you hear . . . ?"
"Dianne! Look! That filthy bastard's got Dianne sucking him off!" he blurted, getting off the bed and stumbling toward the door. "The dirty, lousy bastard! Godamn him, I'll kill him!"
Tonya caught him before he reached the door, setting her heels and holding tightly to him, trying to swing him around as she shouted at him.
"Don't be a fool, Mark! Wait . . .! You don't realize what you're doing . . .!"
"I'll kill the sonofabitch! Both of them . . .!" he cried, wrestling to free himself from her clinging hold around his neck from behind.
"Mark! Listen to me, damn you! You go over there and break that up and you're finished, you understand? Judge Reed'll destroy you . . . ruin your whole career over night!"
"Fuck the career!" he screamed, still struggling with her. "You don't mean that!" she shouted back at him. "You don't mean it and you know it, Mark! Now, get hold of yourself before it's too late! So she's sucking him off . . . so what? I've had to do it many times and will, undoubtedly, again . . . and unless I miss my guess, so will she!"
Mark shook her off, swung around and stared at her. Slowly, her shrill words sunk into his infuriated brain. "Oh my God . . . ," he hissed.
"And just why in hell the big surprise? And why the sudden noble husband gestures, Mark Coleman? You've known all this right from the beginning. Wasn't that the reason you married her . . . to help you climb your warped, vicious ladder?"
He couldn't answer, only gape at her, his eyes growing moist with the tears of rage and shame of what he had done to her. Of course, Tonya was right. There wasn't one godamned thing he could do about it . . . not yet, unless he was prepared to give up everything he had worked and planned for . . . and God knows, he couldn't do that . . . he couldn't! No matter what they did to her . . . there was nothing he could do about it . . . absolutely nothing! And . .. and . . . Oh God, he loved her! He did! He realized it now . . . He really and truly loved her!
Tonya tried to draw him back toward the bed, but he shook her off. Instead, he went back to the plexiglass wall, pressing himself masochistically against it until his nose was flattened like a child looking through a window, his arms outstretched, his spread hands tight to the cool transparent material.
Oh my-God almighty! Look at her! My own sweet, beautiful Dianne, sucking his foul prick like a common whore! My-own love! My darling! What . . . what have I done to you, darling?
Tonya was saying things to him, but he didn't listen, didn't hear. Then she was worming between his lower body and the glass, dropping to her knees. He felt her take his deflated prick into her mouth and start to suck gently while he lay against the partition above her, his eyes wet with his tears. He watched" with increasing rage as Faro reached down and pulled his wife's soft white ass cheeks wide apart to better drive his pelvis into her tender yielding buttocks with his had vicious stroke. His sweating face dripped onto her lovely hollowing back making it glisten in the light of the cubicle. He wanted to scream . . .!
Godamn her! She looked as if she were loving it!
"Fuck her!" he spat aloud. "Fuck her! She's just another cunt like all the others, anyway! Godamn her . . . I'll be damned if I'll sacrifice my future for a slut! Look at her . . .! She's loving sucking his filthy prick while Faro fucks her ass . . . the little bitch! She's nothing but a whore . . . a dirty slut-whore!"
"Mmmmmmmm," Tonya hummed her agreement as she nursed his cock in the warm, saliva filled cavern of her mouth.
"Suck it, you pig!" he snarled down at her, entangling his hands cruelly in her hair. "Get it hard and I'll fuck you blind, you little cunt! Blind, you hear . . . ?"
Tonya moaned excitedly as his cock began to thicken again in the soft, now slippery warmth of her mouth. She licked it and bit it gently, her delight building inside her at her power to bring it to life again after its cataclysmic collapse. This time, it would be better than ever!
. . . And the tears streamed down Mark Coleman's face . . .
Dianne, completely oblivious to everything but the lewd ravishment she was being subjected to by two men at one time, aware only of her uncontrollable desire to reach that point that was building . . . building madly inside her had no idea of what had occurred in the next stall when Mark had discovered her engaged in her totally depraved performance, nor was she aware of the gathering naked audience, both male and female in the aisle outside their glass wall, who were watching lustfully and with bated breath her voracious sucking of the Judge while Faro pummeled her near-split rectum with his massive cock racing furiously into her between her beautiful white, round buttocks.
In the heat of her passion she was conscious only of the increased vigor of the thrusts into her rectum behind, and the repulsive flab crushing up tighter and tighter into her face. She could feel the prick that was rigidly poling into her mouth, begin tensing in great quaking movements and the hands now clutching her face grip harder. He levered upward into her mouth until it felt as though he were trying to force his shaft all the way down her throat to meet the other coming up from far back in her rectum. Suddenly, she was almost suffocating and piteous groans of protest burst from her lips around the cramming instrument, only to be muffled again as the sounds were shoved back down her throat by his brutal inward thrusts. He screamed and rammed it far into her mouth until the tiny strands of pubic hair sparsely covering his flat-layered loins pressed tightly against her nose.
And abruptly her mouth was flooded with a great undamming of hot, white liquid that gushed uncontrollably down her desperately swallowing throat like a raging river of seething lava that had no end. She fought for breath and gulped hungrily at the thick, milky fluid wildly ejaculating from the jerking cock sunk deep down toward her contracting tonsils. And then, as suddenly as it had erupted in her mouth, the spurting, convulsing organ began to lose its rigidity and she could feel it slipping wetly from between her sucking lips. She was able to catch her breath again and ran her tongue around her slippery sperm-coated lips, snatching in the last of the remaining pungent tiny drops of semen that had trickled there from the corners of her mouth.
Simultaneously, she was aware of the greater assault against her behind and the screaming within her belly for her own release. She screwed back against the driving cock wildly, little pleading mewls of passion tumbling once more from her freed lips. She was almost there . . . almost . . . almost . . .
"Oh . . . yes . . . oh . . . yes," she chanted, her hips forcing themselves back as the hammering cock worked demon-like in and out of the hot, vibrant flesh of her anal passage making her strain and grunt feverishly. She had never felt so completely abandoned . . . such a wanton slut, and her body contorted, writhed and quivered as if she were trying to show herself off . . . to show Mark and the Judge . . . especially the Judge, just how lewdly wild she could really get.
Behind her, she knew that A.C., too, was ready. She could hear him wheezing and panting, faster and faster, and he forced her thighs so wide with his knees that she was almost flat on the bed, but the pain didn't matter.
Nothing else matters! Nothing! He's going to cunt in me there! I'm going to cum . . .!
"Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh God almighty! Now! Now! I'm cumming . . . yes, yessssssss!" she wailed from between her tightly clenched teeth, her body exploding in what seemed an inexhaustible array of colorful bursting stars . . . and then she felt the first delicious waves of the hot, white liquid creaming into the depths of her rectum. She felt his loins jerk spasmodically against the flatness of her upraised buttocks while his hot swirling semen flooded deeply into her back passage, filling her quivering belly almost to the bursting point. She screamed again and again as she skewered back onto his spurting cock and the orgiastic fluids gushed from her open cunt, drenching his testicles pressed tightly against the spewing opening. His cum ran down the crevice between her wide-split buttocks to blend with her own in a single stream of thick viscous fluid . . . then, he fell back from her and she could feel the welcome cool rush of air tickling against the raw, unplugged hole of her anus as she slumped forward onto the bed, her breasts heaving convulsively down into the mattress . . . the room beginning to whirl before her glazed eyes.
"She'll do . . ." The voice . . . the Judge's voice drifted to her seemingly from a great distance off. ". . . Christ yes, she'll do all right . . . Any woman who can suck a cock like that ought to have a governor for a husband . . ."
"Hell, Judge . . . she ought to be governor . . ."
She heard them laugh, the gargoyle and his lieutenant, and then she slipped off very peacefully into silent oblivion.
Chapter Fourteen
Senator elect, Mark Coleman paced the floor of their palatial bedroom restlessly. It was mid-afternoon and he wore only a dressing gown over his nudeness. On the large bed, Dianne lay naked, one leg propped up lewdly, a cigarette in her hand, a glass half-filled with straight bourbon on the night-stand beside her. She had slept long and sound, awakening only moments before to find her handsome husband moving about the room uneasily.
She had swung her feet to the floor and stood, callously, ignoring the propriety of a robe and walked to the cabinet where Mark kept a moderate liquor supply for convenience sake. He had been facing the window at the time, his back to her, and wheeled about at her sounds to see her voluptuous soft loveliness brazenly crossing the floor. His eyes fastened on the bounce to her round, full white buttocks and he saw the purplish bruises there and on her upper thighs that A.C. Faro's hands had caused only hours before. The sight aroused a bitter, but stimulating, little charge to churn in his stomach and he felt his penis give a lurch beneath his robe.
He watched her pour liquor into a glass, light a cigarette and walk back to the bed to sprawl obscenely on top of it, the whole performance carried off as if he were not in the room. Slowly, he approached her where she lay, his hands shoved deep in his robe pockets, his eyes feasting on her full, well rounded curves, tiny ripples of desire beginning to run swiftly over the sensitive nerve-ends of his skin. He drank in her naked contours sprawled unashamedly now before him, from the high-set, round, firm breasts down over her flat belly to the enticingly rounded, ivory-sheened hips that led to the delicious sweep of long gradually tapered thighs. Between her carelessly spread legs he could see clearly through the soft, golden pubic hair covering her loins the fleshly pinkness of her vaginal slit glistening wetly in the daylight flooding the room. He swallowed tightly . . .
"A drink the first thing you wake up?" he said softly. "Has it come to that, Dianne?"
She eyed him coldly, observing him now as if for the first time, but only after he had spoken to her.
"It helps make it all tolerable," she said flatly, lifting the glass to her lips and consuming a portion, the liquid burning rawly in her throat and stomach and causing her to grimace as she swallowed.
He bit nervously at his lower-lip and she read the frustration, pain and bitterness in his eyes. Something of compassion . . . and maybe even love became suddenly evident, too, and the little gleam of desire rapidly growing there didn't go unnoticed.
"Dianne, listen . . . I . . . ," he stammered. "Oh, damnit . . . I'm sorry, Baby . . . You understand? I'm sorry . . . for everything."
"Everything?" she repeated.
"Yes. Everything I've done to you . . . and let be done to you. Listen . . ." He paused, gaping at her, his eyes growing wet, his mouth trembling. "Damnit, I love you! I-I didn't realize how much . . ." He dropped onto the bed beside her, his face above hers and started to put his arm over her, but she stopped him.
"And . . . when did you first notice this great surge of love, Mark?" She spoke bitingly up into his face. "Was it when you saw A.C. fucking me like a bitch dog in the ass? Or when I was sucking off the Judge . . . ?"
"Shut up!" Mark spat, recoiling as if she had struck him across the face. He was on his feet again, his mouth stretching into a bloodless slash. "There was nothing I could do . . . don't you understand? I had to agree . . . otherwise, I didn't stand a chance in this election. Everything I worked and planned for would've been lost . . ." Then, his expression softened once more, and he said: "But now it's over with. Mark Coleman's going to move into the driver's seat, Baby . . . I'm going to finish Judge Reed's hold on this country." He grinned wryly. "You're looking at the new kingmaker, Sweetheart, and you're going to be my queen."
"Really," said Dianne, her expression unchanged. "So that's what my noble husband has in mind . . . a little upheaval in the ranks . . . an usurper, no less."
She shifted lewdly on the bed, spreading her thighs even further apart in a nonchalant, obscene gesture. Mark felt his prick lurch again and the excitement rumbling in his loins. He moved back to sit on the bed beside her once more, this time quickly draping his arm' over her softly rounded belly as he leaned above her.
"Listen to me, you luscious creature . . . I love you," he whispered down at her. "You're my wife and I love you! I'm going to make it all up to you, Darling . . . I swear I will . . ."
He started to bend down to kiss her, but she held him off again with hands against his chest.
"No, husband," she hissed coldly. "There's no love inside this whore any longer . . . especially for you. You killed that, completely and utterly . . . just as you destroyed the naive girl that once was me. In her place is a little monster you created, a greedy, sex-hungry bitch who intends to take a lover or two in the local country club tradition . . . one in particular, my Phillip, if he'll have me . . . and if he won't, well, there's plenty more I'm sure, who'd like to get into the hungry pant's of the state's future first lady."
Again, Mark Coleman drew back from the exquisite naked girl sprawled carelessly beneath him, stunned, her words cutting him as might a keen edged blade. He bolted to his feet, starting down at her beautiful contemptuous face, almost cringing at the hate he read there. Something vile and galling erupted into his throat and he swallowed its bitterness away as he gaped in disbelief at her.
"You . . . you are a bitch!" he hissed. "A-A vicious little bitch!"
"Exactly," she agreed. "I'm just what you made me, Senator . . . and from now on, for the rest of your life, you're going to be reminded of that . . . and more." She raised her glass, draining the raw liquor from it, then smiled wrappedly as she said : "But you have, one thing twisted, Darling. Little Dianne is going to be kingmaker in this realm . . . the power behind the throne, so as to speak. Otherwise, the whole world is going to know about the hush-hush Coleman curse . . . that juicy little tidbit where one Matthew Coleman had a son by his sister, Catherine, or Kate, if you prefer . . . your grandparents, Darling . . . and you know how society regards the offsprings of incest. Something of a mental deficiency that's inherent, isn't it?"
Mark's eyes slowly widened in his horror. She had learned the truth! A skeleton that could destroy him immediately if it were publicly known . . .. Good God! He was finished . . . finished!
"Damn you!" he spat venomously. "Now . . . I see. This is how you plan to get even . .. by destroying me . . ."
She cut him short with a little shrug. "I don't know what you're thinking of, Darling, but if it'll put you at ease . . . I intend to do nothing with my little weapon . . . except hold it over your head. I have, however, put the whole sordid story in writing and placed it in a secure place, to be opened and made public should anything happen to me . . . if I make myself clear."
Dianne continued to smile icily as she watched the expressions on her husband's face change in a kaleidoscope of horror, hate, and finally defeat. A sensation of sadistic pleasure rippled through her. At last, the sweet taste of revenge permeated her whole being, raising goose-flesh along the sensitive areas of her smooth, naked skin. She felt them on her breast and her tiny pink nipples distending; her hands moved there to caress automatically, narcissistically. What a shallow man he was, she mused, and what a delightful little puppet he was going to make. Again, tiny prurient sensations stirred within her.
She spread her thighs wider apart, drawing them up in a purposely obscene position as she continued to smile domineeringly at him. She said, finally:
"Isn't it pretty, Darling? Doesn't it make your mouth water and your cock strain to get at it?"
Mark said nothing, only stared, the undeniable desire mounting in his eyes mingling with his rancor and vanquishment. . .. but she had not yet seen subjugation, and this she must read there . . .
"You may lick it," she said softly. "Lick it and suck it for awhile, then . . . you can fuck me in the customary fashion you've always used on me . . . No love, just a fuck," she went on, the lustful idea causing further tingling excitement to race through her.
"My God!" he gasped. "And . . . and if I'd rather not put my hands on you . . . ?"
"You'll do exactly as I say, Darling," she hissed softly, but acidly, her wicked smile continuously prevalent. "Exactly as I say . . . and when I say . . . I'm ready to be licked and sucked . . . do I make myself clear? NOW!"
Dianne watched the tears of helpless rage fill her husband, the Senator's eyes, at last giving way to crushed subjugation, as slowly he moved forward, slipping out of his robe, his reluctant long thick cock caught in a half erection the sight of which sent a series of shivers along her spine . . . onto the bed . . . crawling between her legs subserviently, until his face was directly above her loins only inches from her now gently palpitating vaginal split. She could feel his warm breath against the silken strands of her pubic hair and wild sensations of dictatorial lust swirled within her sensuous, vibrant body as she reached down and grasped his head, pressing his mouth tight against the soft flanges of her cunt lips.
"Lick, Senator!" she ordered, her breath catching ecstatically in her throat. "Lick my pussy damn you!"
And he did, obediently, as she lay back sighing, the words of Boufflers suddenly coming to her: How beautiful is victory, but how dear!
